Synopsis: Caleb sees you holding a baby and suddenly realizes how much he NEEDS to see a mini-you.
Warnings: Breeding, Baby Fever, Mentions of Pregnancy, Public Smex, Use of ‘Gege’, Size Difference, Sort of Dub-con for half a second.
Caleb always knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. That was a given. But the thought of kids didn’t really fancy him that much, after all, he was so selfish.
Wanting you all to himself at all times.
But today, something had snapped. It was all because of the Farspace Fleet Annual Dinner. He had brought you in like a pretty thing on his arm. Families young and old from his subordinates had gathered in the ballroom.
He had went to fetch you drinks and when he returned, you had a gurgling little boy in your arms. All wide-eyed and chubby fingers grasping at strands of your hair.
He had been uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the evening. “Caleb, are you alright?” You whisper to him as you find your seat at the table.
He clears his throat and tries to force a reassuring smile. “Yeah Pips, of course.”
He was absolutely NOT fine.
You had just meant to grab your jackets from the coat closet before leaving. But somehow that resulted in it being locked behind you with Caleb so fucking deep in your guts you couldn’t breathe.
He hadn’t even bothered to pull the pants of his uniform down all the way. He tucked the band of his boxers right under his tight balls, slipped your panties to the side and fucked you in the extremely small closet.
“C-Cal-mmhh! F-fuck!” You gasped into his ear. The little prep work he had done made the stretch burn so much more deliciously. His Colonel Cap slipped down to shadow his eyes as he growled against your pulse point.
“Oh no Pipsqueak. You knew exactlyyyy what you were doin’. Holding that baby, bein’ all fuckin’-ngh-motherly.”
Your breath caught in your throat, you weren’t sure if it was from the way he was pulverizing your guts or from his words. “I just-b-baby was cute. Ah…~”
Your words cut off by his thumb rubbing tight circles around your sticky little clit. He chuckled in your ear, palm pressed firmly against your tummy where he was so deeeep inside of you.
“Uh huh, sure. Doesn’t matter,” his teeth are nipping at your throat as his shoulders knock dozens of coats into the floor. “-our baby is gonna be 10 times cuter.”
Your hands scramble to find any purchase on his shoulders. His breath is hot and heavy against the crook of your shoulder. “S’-too much Caleb! I-I can’t-not on the pill!” You try and muffle your moan against his uniform.
Caleb just chuckles at that, his swollen cock-head leaving wet kisses against your cervix. “S’ like you wanted me to leave a baby in here Pips. All swollen, achin’ for me huh?”
His thrust grow erratic, your cries building to a crescendo in the Ballroom coat closet. “Caleb I’m gonna-…out! Ngh, pull out!” It’s a half-hearted request really. You KNEW Caleb would be a good dad, would take care of you and a little one with no problem. Caleb clicked his tongue disapprovingly and simply pressed your face against the wall, before wrapping his arms around your waist.
Even though he could’ve easily lifted you with his Evol, it was strong, battle worn arms that held you up so your cute kitten heels were dangling helplessly. He used you like that dumbass pocket-pussy he bought back in his academy days.
Your cunt kinda sounded like it too. All gooey n’ wet n’ all fucked out.
“Yeah, yeah tell me again you don’t want my kid in your belly. Go on Pips. Tell me to stop, and I will.” He’s slamming you up and down his cock to the point you can’t even see straight.
“I-I want it!” You finally admit, walls clenching around his length like it was trying to milk him dry. “Want your babies, w-want you to fill me up-ahhh!”
The little bit of restraint Caleb had, shattered. He’s murmuring absolute filth into your ear as he feels you cum around his throbbing cock.
“Yeahhh, that’s it Pips. Gonna carry Gege’s baby? Gonna have ya all round n’ full of me. Gonna feel soooo nice and tight around me after I pump ya full of my kid. F-fuck I love ya-ngh!” He buries his face into your neck with sloppy kisses as his swollen balls tense up and pump load after load into your quivering pussy.
You don’t trust yourself to walk, and neither does Caleb when your feet touch the ground again. He’s giving you smooch after smooch as he pulls back up your panties, but not before giving your sloppy pussy a few pats for a job well-done over soaked panties.
But damn, poor Gideon only wanted his suit jacket and got free trauma for life!
I don’t have an explanation for any of this. Nothing good is happening here.
Warning Dead Dove Do Not Eat: pseudo!incest (mostly one sided. It’s ambiguous for mc), caleb x mc AND Sylus x mc, hint of SylusxCaleb and SylusxMCxCaleb, manipulation, mind breaking, VERY mean to Caleb, mc is pregnant, ambiguous ending. No explicit sexual content.
——————
Caleb didn’t listen when you said no to his advances.
He thought your infatuation with the infamous Onychinus leader, Sylus, was your punishment for him making you think he was dead.
That’s okay, Caleb would have his sweet little meimei back eventually. In this case, collaborating with EVER as the Colonel was fast tracking how to get Sylus out of your life. Permanently.
The guy was a monster. Case report after case report of failed attempts. Poisoning didn’t work. Bullets were a joke. Physical crushing wasn’t even an option. His evol made all these things trivial. His information network eliminated any potential surprise attacks. Getting a foothold in the N109 Zone was impossible as well. Any attempt lasts only a short while before Onychinus sniffs them out.
How do you kill the unkillable?
Caleb was having a rare stroll through Skyhaven’s open shopping center after the fleet was delayed by some repairs. He thought the carefully crafted artificial environment would do something to clear his mind. Of course his fingers had itched to call you. See you. Hear you. Anything. But you were supposed to be working right now and he did try to not distract you from that when your job was killing Wanderers that could hurt you. It’d kill him if his own selfishness put you in needless danger.
That’s when he thought maybe he really was going insane when he heard your laughter. The soft sound sinking into his bones and easing a tension in his muscles like some Pavlovian response. His head snapped in the general direction and it was a conscious effort to not sprint when he was the sunlight bouncing off the color of your hair.
He could feel his heart leaping to his throat as your back face him. God you were beautiful. You were everything to him. That’s why when two same-sized figures bracketed you between them while pointing to something you held made his blood boil.
He could hear their voices intermingle with yours, all of you laughing at something that he wasn’t part of.
His feet were moving before he processed it.
In an instant the air shifted as the two figures beside you went silent and he could see the way they tensed up as if ready to fight or run.
“Pips.” Caleb called out. You hardly visited Skyhaven anymore after he… you’ve just been busy.
You whirled around, some kind of bird in your hands covered in audacious clothing that would better fit a little doll or a baby. All the fear in his stomach disappeared when he watched your face bloom into a sweet smile.
“Caleb!” You released your bird-thing and it was a shock when the thing squawked and flew into the air much to your mischievous giggles.
Caleb shouldn’t have been so worried that you’d still be upset with him. He’s your gege. You always forgave him easily, even if he didn’t deserve it. He should really stop taking advantage of that.
You rushed into his arms when he opened them for you and Caleb did his absolute best to not let his mind wander about how good you felt pressing up against him like this. His whole life has been spent aching for you, yet it’s never gotten easier to ignore the desire burning him inside and out.
Still, he ruffled your hair in a way he knew you hated and just like always you whined and slapped his hand away with a pretty pout pulling at your soft lips.
“Pips…?” One of the guys muttered behind you. They both wore hoodies, said hoods up, with dark sunglasses and medical face masks. Their identities were impossible to tell, which was probably the intention. The dressed up bird landed on the other one that didn’t speak.
He already hated them, because their noise made you pull away from him. You scoffed, turning back towards the pair with a cross to your arms.
“His stupid nickname for me.” You huff.
“Hey- it’s not my fault. You’ll always be small to me, pipsqueak. I’m just calling it like it is.” The words flow naturally to him after years of you complaining about it, but ‘Pips’ notably made you more bashful than exasperated. Special in a way the two of you would only understand.
“Ohhh so we should definitely-“ the one with the bird started and you cut him off with a jabbing finger.
“Absolutely not. First off I’m older than you, so you both should treat me with respect. Secondly, he’s gege so he can get away with it.” You certainly sounded serious, but the two boys only split into laughter like strange mirrors. Caleb was too caught up in your reference to him. Still calling him gege. It did awful things to his composure.
“Don’t worry.” One finally sighs.
“We wouldn’t want to make boss-man mad.”
“But also we super respect you and stuff.”
“Caw!!”
It dawned on Caleb then. These two boys were Onychinus. Were you not even allowed to roam on your own? Were you trapped? You must have know he’d be around and that’s why you were loud enough to catch his attention.
“Pips, you look tired. Do you want to go home to take a minute…” Caleb settled his hand on the small of your back, leaning over you like a protective cloak. “I can make you your favorite snacks. You look like you’re hungry.”
He loved the way your cheeks went pink. It always made you shy when he wanted to spoil you. It was so adorable it made his want to eat you up.
“Ah- no. I’m okay! We were just in the area looking at-“ your eyes settled on the bird. “New outfits for Mephie.”
The indignant caw of the crow and a flutter of feathers said just how much he appreciated your designer touch.
“We realized none of us really got a chance to see Skyhaven outside of business related stuff too so-“
“You always can visit, Pips.” Caleb really tried not to sound too desperate, but the sad smile you got told him he failed.
“I know. We’re all just busy. I thought you would already be back with the Fleet today or I promise I would’ve said something.”
That’s right- you have each other’s schedules. It made the jealousy and bitterness dull somewhat.
“Unexpected repairs on a ship.” Caleb supplied with a shrug. “Since you are here though, come on. Lets go check out some nice spots here.”
Caleb was quick to take your hand, reveling in how it still fit perfectly in his palm. He could handle two interlopers following the two of you around if it meant having this unexpected moment become a date of sorts.
—
The twins, Caleb learned, were named Luke and Kieran. They were quite a bit younger than both you and himself, but what became clear was that he knew their names from another source. EVER. They were a batch of kids meant to be eliminated and managed to get free in the N109 Zone. The shocker was that everything suggests they should be dead by now. They had been showing that crystallization growth, but both of them seemed perfectly healthy.
Caleb wanted to feel a kinship with them. They were used and abused just like himself. Just like you. He didn’t have the capacity for it though. He could only focus his care to you. You carried every piece of who he is that the implant tries to rip away from him like it does everything else.
There’s an unspoken energy to the four of you. You all know the truth of things. Of what Caleb is- what he became in the name of protecting you. He knew what the twins were and who they worked for. Then there was you, caught in the middle.
All things considered though, the day was quite enjoyable besides the fact. An easy rhythm of surface level amicability. The twins were chaotic and lively and in another life Caleb might’ve found himself wanting their friendship. You were positively glowing. You wore some baggier clothing today, admitting to Caleb you gained some weight, but between himself and the twins, you were back to oozing confidence and wearing a pretty new outfit that showed off your legs and cleavage that made his mouth water.
The only sour note was the black card you’d pull out to pay for things. Of the name printed on that black card. The colors you picked, even, were silent declarations of who funded this excursion.
Caleb tried not to dwell on it, but the day was starting to come to an end. The sky tinted in oranges and purples and restaurants with open kitchens had delicious scents drifting into the air. Walking by one, he nearly made the suggestion to eat when he saw your face.
You’d gone pale, a sheen of sweat on your forehead. He couldn’t act fast enough; the twins were faster. They dragged you away from the restaurants to someplace more removed from foot traffic and hidden. They hovered as you hunched over and vomited. Even the crow, Mephisto, perched nearby with a hanky in his beak.
Caleb drowned in self-loathing as they all effectively overtook his caretaker role right out from under him.
“I’m okay.” You gasped after several minutes of dry heaving. “That place’s smell just really made me nauseous for some reason.”
You tried to wave the twins off, but they were stubborn.
“We should probably head back.” Kieran offered.
“I already have a car on its way.” Luke added.
When had you become so out of his reach was what Caleb couldn’t figure out. He was so stuck in his own mind that he barely registered someone even bigger than himself passing by him. The twins recognized their boss immediately though and backed off as Sylus took the little hanky from Mephisto and kneeled at your side.
A gentle hand gripped your jaw to tilt your face towards him. Your heart melted when Sylus carefully cleaned up your face and wiped your tears. The nausea promised his work would be wasted though.
“I’m probably gonna barf again…” you mumbled to him and he only cocked his head with a brow raised.
“And? I’ll still clean you up all the same. As often as you need.” Sylus murmured, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead.
Something had been nagging at Caleb as he watched this sickening display. Everything was too coincidental. His heart felt like it was being torn from his chest and even that desperate clinging to everything about you was breaking apart. The words between Sylus and the twins and you weren’t even reaching anymore.
It only registered that you were growing distant from him as the twins and your figure became smaller blobs in his peripherals and the panic that gripped him was so sudden and violent he couldn’t even get his feet under him to move fast enough, stumbling over himself in blinding desperation.
“Wait-“ his voice cracked.
That’s when a strong hand was gripping his outstretched wrist and Caleb felt first hand the touch of an evol that could destroy him at an atomic level. Part of him wished it would.
The world around them shifted until there was nothing but darkness. Caleb was alone with Sylus in someplace unknown.
“You gonna kill me…?” Caleb croaked. Suddenly all he fought for- his desperation to keep you safe- it all seemed so pointless. He needed you, but you no longer needed him.
“That’d be letting you off too easy.” Sylus said plainly. “Dying is easy. Living with the consequences of your life… there’s no better cruelty.”
Caleb could feel the disdain radiating off the Onychinus leader. He could recognize it because it mirrored what he felt for himself too.
“Then what are you doing.”
Sylus took a moment to pinch his brow, as if internally debating himself. With a quiet scoff, he crossed his arms.
“What I’m doing is I’m going to offer you an out. Freedom from the Fleet. EVER. That little chip messing with your biological circuitry.”
Caleb couldn’t hold in the mocking laughter of disbelief. He dragged his hand down his face. His real one. The sensation was grounding as these offerings all seemed like impossibilities.
“And why… would the leader of Onychinus do that?”
Sylus cocked his head, hands shoving into expensive pants pockets.
“Why indeed.” He murmured, then shrugged.
“She’s pregnant.” Despite how Sylus tried to remain impassive, he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. The warmth that blossomed inside him and softened his hard edges.
For Caleb, it was enough to suck the air from his lungs. His mind reeling.
“Pregnant…?” He whispered. The reframing of their whole day now with that knowledge made him sick. She was supposed to be-
“Despite all you’ve done, you still hold a space in that big heart of hers.” Sylus continued as if Caleb wasn’t seeing his whole point of living well and truly being ripped away from him.
“To her… you’re the only family she has left in this life, and she desires you to be… involved.” Sylus stalked around Caleb, the right eye glowing in a way that made Caleb’s head ache.
“Your own greed is why you’ve lasted as long as you have against EVER. An effort worthy of praise. I doubt anyone else could manage what you have.”
Something about the way Sylus spoke made Caleb shiver. A true demon baring his sins right before his eyes without the dressing of more noble intentions.
“Her desire for your freedom is why I offer you an out.” Sylus softened in his voice, his body making Caleb of all people feel small when he stood behind the colonel. “I’ll give her anything she desires. Even her deranged gege that wants her in a way he shouldn’t.”
Caleb felt shame creep up his neck and burn his cheeks. Something about this whole thing felt dirty. He squirmed under the weight of his own desires, feeling it drawn out of him in a way he couldn’t control.
“Yes.” He gasped. “It’s wrong. I shouldn’t- I can’t help it.” He finally breaks down in a whine. “She’s everything to me. I’ll do anything for her. I’ll be whoever she wants me to be. I just need her.”
Sylus let out a dark chuckle, a hand on Caleb’s shoulder pressing the colonel into a seat his evol pulled over.
“That’s right. You need her like you need to breathe, right? It’s understandable. That’s why you’re going to take my offer, aren’t you? You wouldn’t want to disappoint your sweet little meimei anymore than you already have.”
Caleb wanted to scream and cry. He wanted to touch himself and bask in your attention even if it was your disgust. He wanted to be with you even if-
“My my… you are a freak.” Sylus murmured in his ear. “So desperate you’d take even glimpsing how I treat her in bed for your own sick pleasure.”
“Yes.” Caleb whimpered, unable to deny it even if he wanted. It was a compulsion when Sylus was in front of him. When he stared into that glowing eye.
“I’ll give you your freedom, colonel.” Sylus promised, a rather gentle hand grabbing Caleb’s jaw. A thumb rubbed against his bottom lip that Caleb’s tongue reflexively chased.
“And you’re going to be a perfect older brother for her. That’s your role. Your existence. You get pleasure from seeing her happy, don’t you?”
“I do.” Caleb nodded even with Sylus gripping his jaw like he was.
“Good.” Sylus purred. “Then that’s what you get long term besides your freedom. You’ll get to see her happy everyday. She’ll want for nothing.”
That sounded… wonderful. Caleb couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than that. He was nodding before he realized it.
“If you do anything to hurt her. Anything to put her at risk. I’ll paint the wall with your brains.” Sylus promised.
“Good.” was all Caleb had to say about the matter.
——————
Sylus gave you your Caleb back. When he told you how he got Caleb from EVER and had the best neurosurgeons getting that stupid chip out of his head you couldn’t stop crying. You knew things were messy… but he still did it.
Caleb was getting the best care because you really were the only one in this world that loved him like you did. You didn’t blame Sylus for his personal dislike either. How could you when Sylus could put it aside to help just because it was important to you?
“He has valuable experience and skills.” Sylus had said at one point. “Im hoping to get something out of this on top of doing it for you.”
That had only made you tease him more, happily boasting about how cool Caleb was. Sylus did also caution you that recovery could change Caleb in ways you, or anyone for that matter, couldn’t predict.
Yet Caleb was back in your life and he was doing his best in his recovery. Caleb promised he was happy with how things are, getting to just be Caleb again. It was all you could want for as the life growing in your belly promised a future you never thought you’d get to have. A real family. It was a strange one, but it was yours.
Summary: a continuation of a cat hybrid!mc/reader x sylus story. After Sylus kills your owner in a business deal gone sideways, you follow him home without asking for permission. This part is a story about some of the consequences of that decision, and how you unintentionally returned to your human form. To be continued in part 4. 4,268 words.
Content: mass murder, sushi, eyeball licking, fluff and angst, Sylus having the time of his life.
And thus begins your life of fable—the dread dragon, feared by all, rumored to cannibalize his enemies and scorch the territories with flames and salt the fields of anyone who dares oppose him—now always appears in public within his empire with a little black cat on his arm, who lounges in his lap as he negotiates deals in the most exclusive night spots in the N109 zone.
The dread dragon, Mr. Qin, is known to always get what he wants.
But everyone knows black cats bring bad luck.
And so, at first, rivals and begrudging business associates assume he's lost his touch. Maybe gone a little soft, or daft.
So, like sharks circling chum in the water, failing to see the wicked hook in the bloody gloom, they begin to test their luck.
Previously reliable suppliers start 'misplacing' certain parts of shipments. The best parts. Rivals begin to edge in on the dread dragon's turf, causing ruckuses at businesses he is known to own—nightclubs, casinos, and a chain of cat cafes he recently acquired. They intimidate the employees, the nearby residents, offering better 'protection' than what the dragon can offer these days, what with his true colors showing as a frivolous peacock with a weakness for literal pussy.
After all, as quickly as a king can rise, a king can fall, they say.
Mr. Qin takes it all in stride, receiving the increasing reports of insulting chaos encroaching into his domain calmly, only tapping his finger against the kitchen counter as he lounges on a stool, idly watching you eat your weight in perfectly seared wagyu beef on a delicate plate of china.
"You gotta do something, boss-man," one of the magpies, the one with the scar—Kieran, says agitatedly one night. He's almost vibrating with indignation.
"We can take care of it. Just give us the word—we can have charges in every single one of the upstarts' bases within twenty-four hours," the other magpie, Luke, shifts from foot to foot, just as restless as his brother.
They're both clothed, now—all black ensembles, cargo pants with as many belts and buckles and pockets as Mr. Qin seems to have on his 'casual' outfits. Unfortunately, they've have never appeared before you naked since that first night.
"And just one detonator! One click and—" Kieran cries.
"Boom! Like the end of Fight Club!" they crow together, miming entire skyscrapers collapsing one by one, complete with sound effects.
"Only the film version,"Mr. Qin just sniffs disdainfully. "The film was completely unfaithful to the book."
"Not the point, boss! The point is, BOOM!" Luke's eyes are wide, like a little kid who thinks that if he just explains his genius plan to the grown-up slowly and loudly this time, the grown-up will eventually come around to seeing his genius vision.
Leaning forward, Mr. Qin rests both elbows on the counter. "Many bases these fools own are prime real estate. Destroying them would be a waste, when I can simply take over and lease the premises to tenants with a better sense of self-preservation than their current occupants."
The twins' shoulders slump in unison.
"However, I do have some small fish that need frying, so you're welcome to throw grenades into their ponds instead."
Immediately perking up, the magpies are so overjoyed that they'll get to blow anything up in the near future even if it's not as cool as Fight Club that they shift right out of their clothes, winging around the room in a flurry of chittering, dive-bombing Mr. Qin's head, and then zooming out of the kitchen when your back has arched enough to let them know that if they continue, there will be Consequences.
Luke had to lose a few feathers before they both understood that you mean business when it comes to protecting Mr. Qin's glorious hair.
"Did you eat your fill, Kitten?" Mr. Qin asks idly.
You answer with a satisfied purr, slinking over to him and rubbing your cheek and body along his arm and chest leaning over the counter.
Thoughtfully running a hand over your back, he scritches behind your ears. "Good. I hope your appetite is as endless as always, because it's time to kill two birds with one stone, and you're going to help me do it."
More food, and helping Mr. Qin?
A truly fabled life indeed.
Later that night, you find yourself in a familiar setting. To the average patron, it's a small place. So small that the waiting list for a reservation is known to stretch into years, and not just months. Just a few stools along a bar, a few small tables for two along the windows facing a quiet city street. The waiting list is so long because it has always been, essentially, one person operation. The art of sushi has been passed down for generations in the same family, with the parent training their child who then takes over the business and continues the family legacy. All they make is sushi, and they simply make the best sushi in the world. No wonder that the menu prices reflect such exquisite offerings.
However, to those in the know, beyond the tiny dining area, there is a back room. Larger than the dining room out front, but still small as far as rooms that serve its purpose typically are. Back here, there are no chairs.
The room itself, windowless, only narrow enough to contain the long table, still feels light, airy, with its blond wood-paneled walls lined with alcoves containing lovely vases and elegant flower arrangements. The effect is serene, a counterpoint to the blood soaked, high tension decisions that are made within its walls.
At the far end of the room, next to the door leading to the front and the kitchen, a beautifully carved liquor cabinet sits. The respective lackeys accompanying their bosses mix the drinks and serve —warm sake. Whiskey and soju. Bourbon and scotch. Serious drinks for supposedly serious people.
The clientele sit on cushions, shoes off, socked feet whispering across the tatami mat floor when they must move around to obsequiously pour their boss's drinks or discreetly hand them documents for review.
To enter this dining room, weapons must be surrendered at the door to the restaurant's only staff aside from the chef—the sous-chef, in training under her mother, this generation's current chef. This is a neutral location, after all, and all must walk in having surrendered their means of harm to others. That is the sacred rule of this hidden room, inviolate for years stretching back into memory.
Mr. Qin sits at the head of the long, low table. He has said nothing, simply nodding his head as the guests initially filed in and took their seats. He's relaxed as you curl into his lap, cradled between his crossed legs. The picture of indolent insouciance, his serenity sharply contrasts with the acrid stench of nervous fear wafting through the air from most of those seated around the table. All but one person reeks of guilt—not remorse, but the feeling of having done something that, if discovered, will warrant swift, horrifying punishment.
The sous-chef, tall and svelte, enters repeatedly, bringing in each round of sushi, carefully plated, one item at a time, to be savored in its individual glory before the next round is brought.
As the food arrives and empty plates depart, the guests share surface-level pleasantries, innocuous and polite.
All lies. Tigers wearing bow ties.
You don't pay attention to the particularities of meetings like this—they mean nothing to you, provided no one smells of violent hostility towards Mr. Qin. They can hate all they like. They can look all they like. And so long as Mr. Qin smells calm, you don't trouble yourself with his fleeting anger or amusement, with what's actually being said underneath the sheathed words.
As Mr. Qin's silence stretches, the discomfort in the room rises. But he waits, patiently, occasionally sipping some fizzy concoction that reeks of gin, as the people in the room grow increasingly restless. They desperately try to avoid staring as he hand-feeds you a portion of each priceless dish carefully prepared by the internationally-renowned chef, even as indignant disgust thickens their already foul scents.
After more than two hours of his silence, and as the meal is entering its final course, the sous-chef brings one of the highlights of the menu: fugu sashimi. Or, raw pufferfish.
A delicacy, and incredibly dangerous if prepared by inexpert hands due to the neurotoxin naturally occuring within it. You perk up, having heard of fugu before, back before, before, before…. you shake your head, ears flapping.
It's prized as such a delicacy not only because of its taste, but because the thrill of eating something so deadly often evokes a euphoric feeling in the one eating it. Some even report an aphrodisiac quality to their experience of consuming it.
As the sous-chef places the dish before Mr. Qin, you lean over to take a lick, but for once, his large hand slips between your nose and the fish.
"Not tonight, Kitten. I'll share fugu with you another time, under more convivial circumstances."
This gentle denial, given as if you're an actual person, is the final spark that ignites the simmering, resentful ire of the gathered guests.
"How much longer must we endure this grotesque display of poor manners before we get down to business?" One of the guests demands, loud and irritated. Many others grunt or nod in accord, finally brave now that someone else has drawn a target on his own back.
Mr. Qin simply hums, not taking his eyes off you. "Would you say that bringing an emotional support kitten to an establishment that allows them is less polite than say… theft or extortion from your valued business partners?"
The room goes quiet as the clink of chopsticks against plates and everyone's breath ceases.
Finally, the mutinous guest who was brave enough to initially complain clears his throat. "That is a serious allegation, Mr. Qin." He glances around the room, as if gathering support from his counterparts. "Do you have proof?"
"Proof, hmmm," your human, ruby eyes glinting in the low light, muses. "My kitten is all the proof I need."
"Ha, yes. We've all noticed lately how your… behavior, has changed recently. As if you've become more… distracted." The leader of the mutiny, though his confidence is growing with Mr. Qin's seemingly bizarre behavior untempered by shame or concern, remains cautious in choosing his words. The scent of fear, but also derision, intensifies.
"If I were distracted, you would be free to continue your unwise flirtation with my ire without consequence," Mr. Qin slips a thin slice of the fugu into his plush mouth. His subsequent noise of pleasure elicits a purr from your own throat, as you enjoy seeing him happy as much as experiencing your own happiness.
The leader of the mutiny has the audacity to roll his eyes. "You must be confused, if you think anyone at this table would dare cross you." His fear fades as his conviction that Mr. Qin has lost his marbles rises.
"Let's find out, then." Mr. Qin runs one long, elegant finger along the top of your head, down your spine. "Kitten, could you kindly indicate everyone at this table who is currently gambling with their life?"
The noises of disbelief, confusion, and disgust shatter the otherwise quiet room as you, without hesitation, rise to your paws, tail straight up in the air, and hop lightly on the table. Winding your way around and over the plates of each guest, you stop to sniff, growl, and then turn, showing your own asshole to every single asshole in this room who reeks of the scent of smug betrayal and lies.
When you stop before the one person who now smells of fascinated curiosity, the same one who hasn't smelled guilty since the beginning, you flick your tail in satisfaction and briefly nose her palm in respect, and then trot your way back to Mr. Qin's lap. He rewards you by lifting your small body into the air and nuzzling into your furry tummy. "Thank you, sweetheart."
The leader of the mutiny scrambles to his feet rather ungracefully from a cross-legged position, and seethes over the table. "This is absurd, and exactly why we can no longer trust your grip on the N109 zone. This dinner is over!"
He turns to leave, only to stop abruptly as he almost runs into the sous-chef. She stands, relaxed, legs spread a bit, one foot in front of the other. It's almost a boxer's stance, if not for the razor-thin sushi knife held, blade down, in her fist.
A knife-fighting stance.
"The meal is not quite over," she says calmly. "I must ask you to return to your seat."
The mutineer sneers as the rest of the patrons stiffen, reaching for holsters and knife sheathes out of instinct, only to remember that they're empty. "This place's neutral status is sacred. How dare you threaten us within its walls? We'll raze you to the ground if you don't stand down this instant."
The sous-chef remains unruffled. "Mr. Qin's house, Mr. Qin's rules."
The mutineer spins around, raising a finger to point at Mr. Qin, but stops, a confused look crossing his face. He lifts his fingers, now trembling, to his lips instead. As if they're already tingling as the puffer fish's neurotoxin surges through his veins. "What the fuck have you done?"
Mr. Qin ignores him, turning instead to the only person who hasn't double-crossed him in the room. "Please, continue. It would be a shame to leave this divine dish unsavored."
With wide eyes, she lifts her chopsticks and slips another slice of fugu into her mouth, as the mutineer drops to the tatami, unable to breathe another word. The remaining patrons begin to slump in turn, some straight backwards with quiet thumps, some sprawling forward onto the table, the cacophony of dishes clinking and drinks spilling rising into a crescendo until the only sound remaining is the quiet chewing of the person left alive at the table.
"Thank you for another lovely dinner, Rin-san," Mr. Qin nods to the sous-chef in appreciation. "My regards to your mother." She nods in turn and slips out of the room. Turning back to the final guest, he waves his hand. "Stay, if you'd like. But when you are done, spread the word of what happened here tonight. I'd rather focus on my Kitten, instead of fools, for the near future."
"Of course, Mr. Qin."
And that, was that.
Your days continue—nights, really, drifting along at the dread dragon's side. The unrest in his domain evaporates, so much steam from screaming kettles boiling empty into silence. Now, when business partners or rivals see the black cat on his arm, the only scent in the air is terror.
Everyone knows black cats bring bad luck, after all.
To them. Not to Mr. Qin.
Mr. Qin's house, Mr. Qin's rules, after all.
This makes you purr, eliciting an answering pleased rumble deep in Mr. Qin's chest. You don't question why, simply reveling in the satisfaction of enemies quivering in fear and your human's pleasure in their amenability to his desires.
One night, months later, Sylus lounges in his huge, standalone marble bathtub. It sits before a soaring window as the N109 zone's sky lightens almost imperceptibly, signaling the coming dawn that this rancid part of the world never sees.
You slink along the rounded edges of the tub, enjoying the challenge of not slipping from either side while still remaining as close to Mr. Qin as possible as he soaks in a place you will not follow, mo matter the depth of your devotion to him. He twirls a glass of wine from languid fingertips, steam rising from the warm water, rippling with every little movement of his powerful body.
"You could join me," he offers, offhandedly. He's not looking at you, instead gazing into the wine before taking a sip. In his scent, a deep interest belies his seeming indifference to any response from you. "If you wanted to change into… something more comfortable."
Continuing to glide along the smooth stone, you ignore him. No way you want to get wet. If you need to get clean, which you do not, thank you very much, as you are already pristine and perfect in every way at (least in terms of hygiene, even if not in temperament), that is what your tongue is for, not a death pool ready to drown you and make you look ridiculous with flattened fur if you do manage to escape.
"Shame." His gaze, which you are pointedly ignoring, is so heavy behind you that it slightly raises the fur along your spine. It remains on you for a beat before he sighs and casts it toward the window and the glittering city below. "Perhaps I am losing my mind, after all," he murmurs, but there is no conviction in this assertion in his scent. Whatever is puzzling him, he is sure he knows the truth of it.
More months pass. You don't know how long you've been with him. Only that he has never stopped showing you the kindness, the care, and the companionship that he offered you from that very first night.
Perhaps you should have seen it coming. Perhaps you should have run long before it was even a possibility.
But how could you know to run, if you didn't think it were possible?
One can't return to the past, after all. Time doesn't flow backwards, no matter how much you throw yourself against the bars of the cage.
What's done is done. Caleb is dead. And with Caleb, your old self died too.
You are a cat, with a dragon-like human who needs to be protected, and cherished, and adored, as he does for his cat.
That is all there is. That is all you need.
Mr. Qin reads aloud to you every dawn before bed, as the morning sun spills over everywhere that is not here, signaling his night, and yours as well.
Whatever he happens to be reading, he reads out loud, with his rimless, gold accented reading glasses glinting in the light of the lamp on the nightstand, some kind of stained glass, Tiffany-style thing, designed to look like a crimson flower with wicked points. His words are the lullubies to your dreamless, peaceful nights curled at his side. By the dawning of the night, you often wake, curled up on his chest instead.
One such night, you wake to find that he is already awake too, staring at you with calm, curious eyes. You have the strange sense that he has been awake for awhile, but for some reason has made no effort to move you aside all the while, no effort to get up and start his version of the day. You've trained him well.
It's as if he's waiting to see what you'll do, now that you're awake too.
You roll a little, crouching on your belly like you're on the hunt for a mouse and want to remain as low as possible. The corners of his full lips lift slightly, the interest sharpening in his ember-eyes. Creeping forward, you brush your nose against his.
He doesn't move, just continues to watch you. There is something about his eyes that is so maddening, if you look into them for too long. Especially his right eye, the same one that glowed so bright, almost be blinding when he took you to the mall. You haven't seen it glow like that since, but you have the urge, all at once to—
you surge forward, as if pouncing on a mouse, and lick his right eyeball.
From him, both his face snd scent reveal shock, fading to surprise, and then amused disgust.
"I don't know what I expected," he laments, a low laugh rumbling through his chest and through your body still crouched on him.
He lifts you into his arms and swings out of bed, and thus your day begins.
That night, he reads The Traveling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa as you're falling asleep.
"As we count up the memories from one journey, we head off on another." His rich voice is a soothing bass rhythm as he reads. "Remembering those who went ahead. Remembering those who will follow after. And someday, we will meet all those people again, out beyond the horizon.”
The words melt into you, fusing into the marrow of your brittle bones, seeping into spidering fractures you hadn't realized were there. Somehow, these words are comforting. Deep lilac, shot with sunset orange and pink, fills into your half-asleep consciousness. But for once, that strange mewling is nowhere to be heard.
All the while, Mr. Qin's voice cradles you, a steady vessel carrying you safely on an endless river free from memory as you drift into dreamless sleep.
The waking is easy.
The waking has been easy, for months now. Maybe over a year?
You don't know how long you've been with him.
You should have seen it coming.
The waking is easy.
Warmth. Smooth skin, soft silver fur under your cheek. Long legs, entwined with yours. Your body rises and falls with his breath as you're draped over his soft, firm, pillowy steel-muscled chest.
The waking is easy.
You should have seen it coming.
The past can't be undone, nor can a leopard change its spots.
A cat who is not only a cat can't stay a cat forever.
The waking is easy.
Red eyes meet yours, crinkling at the corners with such genuine, unguarded joy that they are briefly rendered unfamiliar to you. You've never seen him smile so fully.
"There you are, sweetheart."
You can only live your head, chin resting against his chest, gazing placidly at him, easy in your waking, not suspecting anything amiss. Yet his handsome face with its severe contours, his long nose and the regal profile—it all seems … smaller. Everything about him seems smaller, somehow.
He's still huge, but he's less… giant, somehow.
He's gorgeous, actually. He's gorgeous not just as a sculpture in a museum, but attractive in a way that is physically painful, not just in your chest from your heart squeezing in the face of such artistic, divine beauty, but painful everywhere. His bulk under the entire length of your body. The soft hair along his legs brushing along your own legs. His heart jack-hammering in his chest underneath yours, matching your own jack-rabbiting beat. His skin against yours, silk and electricity.
His skin against your skin.
Not your fur.
You should have seen it coming.
He lifts his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheek. "I knew you'd be magnificent, if I were right." His voice is soft, steeped in awe. "But I hadn't realized just how truly breathtaking reality would be."
You should be able to smell the truth of his words, not just hear it in his voice.
But your nose, the scents in it—muted, and yet more colorful. He still smells delicious, musk and sleep, warmth and citrus, clean sweat. But all the layers of his feelings—
You can't feel his feelings from the way he smells anymore. He's an opaque polaroid instead of a neon mural, and you can only fumble for the clues of his feelings by the crinkling of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the slowly tightening lines of his full lips as his smile fades into concern.
His soft silver eyebrows draw together, the furrow between them deepening.
"Kitten," he says, cautious. "I'm still me."
You wonder why he's saying this until his other hand joins his first, both palms now cupping your cheeks.
"And you're still you."
Oh.
You're shaking. Rolling tremors, an earthquake under your skin.
He thumbs along the sensitive skin under your eyes soothingly. "Breathe with me." Taking a deep breath, expanding his big chest where its pressed under yours, he coaxes your breath from your body.
After all this time, under his shelter, in his care, sheltering him, caring for him—what can you do but follow where he leads?
He's still him.
Even if you don't know what you are, anymore.
"Mr. Qin," you croak, helpless. Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Moisture slicks the paths his thumbs take, back and forth. The air is thick with its salt.
The furrow between his brow fades, his lips curving in pleasure again. "Surely we're on a first-name basis by now, Kitten, what with you watching me bathe and piss for over a year, and now waking up naked in my bed. Call me Sylus."
You look down, see the truth in the swell of your chest pressed against his own, feel the truth in the silk sheets along your bare back and ass.
Of course. It's not like you can take your clothes with you when shifting from human to animal, animal to human . Any movies or games that depict such idiocy are just censored nonsense.
But that's unimportant. You frown back up at him, the inexplicable tears fading as indignation rises. "If you didn't want company while you were on the toilet, you should have locked the door, Sylus."
He blinks in shock, eyes widening ever so slightly, but recovers quickly. "It took you long enough, but oh, were you worth the wait," he laughs—hearty, breathless, excited.
You don't need his scent to know that he's delighted.
Thank you for reading! there will be a part four with you learning how to human (or trying) and Sylus courting his kitten. I'm having a great time writing this. I'd love to hear what you think in tags or comments! People asked to be tagged so I'm going to try to do that in the comments.
Also, please note that for dramatic effect, everyone was affected by the pufferfish neurotoxin at the same time. This is not realistic at all, so Rin-san convinced her mother to add a little extra 'seasoning' to the sashimi to ensure the dramatic end that Mr. Qin was aiming for. So don't come at me if you're some kind of marine biologist or pufferfish connoisseur. Or actually do, I love all feedback. Okay bye!
18+ You could barely keep your eyes open, the heavy weight of the day’s work dragging them down. “My love… let me…” but you only moved harder, head falling forward, hair cascading around you.
Your hips drove down with surprisingly devastating force for someone who could barely drag themselves through the front door only thirty minutes ago.
“Q-quit talking.” You rasp, fingers curling against Zayne’s pecs, leaving little crescent shaped indents in his pink flushed skin. You were beyond tired, body screaming for you to collapse and maybe just let him take care of it all for the both of you.
But your frustrations were winning out.
If Zayne hadn’t seen it for himself, he would’ve reprimanded you for being such a brat right now. But he knew that whatever this was? It was needed. You needed him, you needed this. So, he’d indulge.
His lips remained sealed, hands splaying across the fat of your ass — holding not assisting. Every drop of your hips had his head spinning, cock throbbing deliciously in the warmth of your velvety soft cunt. You were soaked, had been soaked, you had shoved him down on the mattress and refused to let him do anything to prepare yourself.
He couldn’t gather why until you had plopped yourself down on him, the moan that left him had nearly been a whimper. Despite the burn in your thighs, the ache in your abdomen as his tip kissed your cervix, the black spots blurring your vision, you kept moving.
Every movement had pleasure thrumming through your veins, limbs trembling as you tried to find some sort of stability without crumbling into him entirely. Though, at this rate, you didn’t think Zayne would mind it very much if you did.
You managed to crane your neck upwards, carrying the impossibly heavy weight of your own head to look at the flushed face of your husband. “Zayne, m’gonna cum.” Your eyes were shutting as you spoke, your cunt clenching desperately as you tried to dive head first into your release before giving out all together.
Despite your previous warnings, Zayne’s hands tightened on your bottom, dragging you down and holding you tightly. You cried out, the pressure of him filling you so fully had stars littering your eyes.
He started rocking you, grinding your puffy, sensitive cunt into his groin. The sensations enough to finally, finally bring you the release you so desperately craved.
Zayne jumped slightly as you collapsed into him, completely dead weight. “Hey…” he nudged you, his own orgasm trailing off to the back of his mind as he tried to decipher if you passed out or simply fell asleep. “Leave it to you to cum and…” he brushes your hair aside, noting your color, your breathing, before concluding.
“…fall asleep before I can even pull out.”
Got that magic dih 🪄 put your ass right the fuck to bed yup 🙂↕️ of course this is the first thing I can write in a while and it’s dumb asf LMAOO but heyyyyyyy hope you enjoy :3
Zayne had once again pulled a way too late all-nighter at the hospital, and your very understanding self reassured him you could schedule the date at another time. Though that didn't stop him from still trying to make it up to you.
Hence why, after his shift, he dropped by a nearby convenience store and picked up your favorite snacks before coming over.
Using his spare key, he entered your home and when he saw that you weren't in the living room, placed them in the kitchen. You were probably asleep, so the snacks could wait until the morning, and he'd crawl into bed with you until then.
Until he heard it.
"GET OFF!" your annoyed screech echoed throughout your apartment, and if it didn't sound so aggravated, he might've been concerned.
But there was a crucial piece of evidence that Zayne spotted when he first entered ; the pair of far too large shoes by your door, and Zayne didn't recall leaving any of his the last time he slept over.
So that left only one possible result.
"Now I know why you were so easily pacified earlier," you stop shoving Sylus away at the sound of Zayne's voice, smiling as you all but shoot up to greet him.
"Zayne! You didn't tell me you were coming over, whoa---!"
"Not just yet, sweetie."
Sylus had grabbed you by the ankle just as you moved to embrace Zayne, who watched in mild amusement, mild concern as the white-haired man dragged you back to him, stubbornly nosing his way into your neck as you groan.
"Sylus enough, seriously!" you groan, trying again to push him away but he is relentless, and you can feel him smirk against your skin too, not at all minding your current, sticky, sweaty state.
The doctor moves with quiet efficiency as he stalks towards your bed, finally seeing the problem. He doesn't sit yet when he gets near, knowing you'd scold him if he dared sit on your bed in his "outside" clothes. Instead, he kneels by the bed, before placing his hands on your shoulders, fingers just gently brushing your neck as a subtle frost begins to permeate your skin.
Relief floods you almost immediately, a complete change from the earlier sweltering heat that had made its home in your skin. Sylus feels it too, a pleased hum vibrating against your neck as he gives Zayne a glance.
"You're pretty handy in the summer, doctor," he muses, watching as you finally relax against him.
He'd been clinging to you for the past three hours, arms very much unrelenting. While you would normally welcome his clingyness, it was disgustingly hot tonight, more so than usual, and you were not in the mood for cuddling when you were already uncomfortably wet without someone draped over you.
But the leader of Onychinus cared not for your summer-related woes and made it his mission to stick to you like a leech.
"Am I nothing but glorified air-conditioning for the two of you?" Zayne almost huffed, though there was the unmissable lilt of his lips. One you notice more and more as you cup his face, before bringing placing your lips upon his brow. A sweet gesture of thanks for cooling you both down.
"Don't be silly, you are very much more than that," you smile, continuing to kiss him as Sylus smirks.
"Yes, much more than that. Maybe like a pet."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sylus, behave."
🌷 NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR
snowcrowmc save me, save me snowcrowmc
This heat is absolutely abhorrent, I'm going to shoot the sun I swear to God.
having memory issues while also being mutuals with several people who like to change their url & pfp on the regular is really funny bc its like. ok i dont recognize you but you Smell Familiar so i guess you can come in.
Back with another Mortality's Tenderness fic because I recently went back through these cards (I just love them so much) Xavier and MC in this AU were so peak.
~~~~~~~
(Mortality’s Tenderness AU) Xavier seems to have no regard for Ariadne’s feelings. Every time she thinks she understands him he goes and makes her mad again. But ignoring him becomes difficult when he comes down with a wound fever.
Lads Masterpost
Lads Whump Masterpost
Tag List
Read on Ao3
~~~~~~~
Ariadne marched through Zuiyue Pavilion, a restless energy sparking under her skin, brow furrowed in annoyance. Xavier had already disappeared on her, likely running away from her intent to tend to his wound. She had been unsuccessful in finding him in his room when she had brought him medical supplies.
She decided to go fetch food instead, knowing Xavier would likely be hungry if he hadn’t already sought out dinner. Running into Ms. Liu on the way, she inquired of the woman if she knew where Xavier might be.
“I believe some of the girls are tending to his injuries,” the proprietress told her. Supper became a second thought as Ariadne decided it was time to go track him down.
She hated the feeling of the women from the establishment watching her as she made her way through the halls, whispering under their breath and shooting patronizing smiles at her from behind their fans. After the giggling answer she got from the dancer she asked Xavier’s whereabouts from, she was just about ready to drag him outside and kick him down the street, injured or not.
She had been against coming back to the Pavilion at all, had begged Xavier to find an inn instead, but he had insisted that it would be the best place and they would get a good discount on their rooms because he knew the proprietress.
Of course he’s getting a good discount on a room if he’s sharing it with someone, Ariadne bitterly snapped to herself, her fists clenching tighter around the tray of food. She doubted Xavier would be so lucky for her to find him in the presence of a rabbit this time.
She made her way to the room that had been indicated to her. She reached out to knock when she heard surprised gasps and titters coming from within, punctuated by Xavier’s soft, slightly hesitant voice.
“Here, we’ll help you with your clothes!”
“Ah…it’s alright, I can do it myself.”
“No, no! You’re hurt.”
“Lay down, Xavier, we’ll take care of you.”
“That’s quite unnecessary—oh…”
“My, my, what a fine form you have, Xavier!”
“Built like a man who wields a sword!”
“And I bet he wields it well indeed!”
“Oh, undoubtedly!—Both swords…”
The accompanying giggles had Ariadne pushing the door open without preamble, stopping in the doorway to cast a disparaging look at the scene in front of her.
Xavier lay against a pile of luxurious pillows, surrounded by no less than five of Ms. Liu’s beautiful girls. His outer robes had been taken and cast aside, while his undershirt had been opened and pulled down to his waist. One girl was holding a bowl of water, another was applying a cloth to his wound, while yet another tore bandages. One held his hand tenderly, and other braided his hair back, stroking the luxuriously locks—a sight which made Ariadne’s fingers twitch in envy. Fury boiled up inside of her.
They all looked up as Ariadne came in, anger obvious on her face. The girls’ heckles raised and Xavier stared at her with an astonishingly pitiable look as if he were begging her to come help him.
Ariadne swallowed hard, wetting her lips. She hated to admit how much the sight of his bare torso was affecting her. Her eyes trailed briefly down his—indeed—finely formed chest and abdomen before dragging back up to his face as her resolve returned.
He could perish for all she cared.
She stepped forward and set the tray of food down on a nearby table so hard that some of the soup spilled and the clatter echoed pointedly through the room.
“I brought you supper,” she said shortly. “But I see you already have enough attendants to make sure you have what you need, so I’ll take my leave.”
She spun on her heel, not wanting to see another second of this ridiculous scene.
A rustling and sharp breath from Xavier came behind her. “Ariadne—mmph.”
“Lay down, Xavier!”
“Don’t move, we need to finish cleaning the wound.”
“You poor thing, here, let me feed you.”
The sound of the women fussing made Ariadne see red and she shut the door a little hard behind her. She stood there for a long moment before heading back to her chambers. Xavier could suffer the consequences of his own actions. She would give him no aid. It’s what he deserved for allowing those woman to fawn over him like that.
It had already been bad enough when he had been injured in another one of his ridiculous duels that she had warned him against engaging in, aware the opponent was a man known for tricks. And sure enough, Xavier’s skills and confidence had only gotten him so far, leaving him with sand in his eyes and a gash across the ribs.
The injury had indeed been shocking in the moment, Ariadne had rarely seen Xavier injured since he was so skilled with the blade, but her worry had been blown away in the wind as Xavier shook off her attempted care, insisting they return to the town instead. And then he only made it worse by insisting they stay at Ms. Liu’s.
Why am I so upset? Ariadne wondered in annoyance, splashing cold water on her face once she got back to her room before angrily throwing her sword belt and outer clothing to one side, planning to dress for bed. Her eye caught on the trunk sitting against the side of the wall and her stomach twisted slightly. She recalled the beautiful dresses Xavier bought her last time they were here. She turned her nose up at it. She’d never let him see her in something like that again. He could eat dirt if all he wanted to do was pay attentions to women like Ms. Liu’s girls.
But her clothes were dirty from travel and she felt grimy. The temptation to wear something clean overcame her anger, and she opened the trunk, rummaging around the fine materials until she pulled out a delicate nightgown. Her fingers slid across the silky material and with a sigh, she set it on the bed, washing up a little before slipping into it.
The silk felt luxurious against her skin and she briefly caught sight of herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the young woman standing there. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the delicate purple nightgown on her body—she actually looked…pretty.
Would Xavier think so too?
She instantly flushed, turning away, wanting to take the nightgown off again at the very thought of him seeing her in it. She knew she still wasn’t as pretty as any of Ms. Liu’s girls. Her skin had been touched by the sun from her travels and her hands were rough from years of practice with the sword; she was sure Xavier would find their tending to his wounds much more pleasant.
She huffed as she slumped down onto her bed, punching the pillow rather violently before yanking the covers over herself.
She hoped he would recover swiftly so she could beat him for all the annoyance he put her through.
Despite her tumultuous feelings, she was quite exhausted and fell asleep easily. The moonlight shining on her face through the window.
***
Xavier watched as Ariadne stormed out of the room, an odd feeling settling in his gut before he was instantly swarmed again.
“Here, your wound is clean—does it hurt?”
“It’s fine,” he tried to reassure them, glancing at the bloody water smeared across his skin with little skill as his wound was gently dabbed. He made to push himself up, only to have his hair tugged.
“Careful! You’ll hurt him!”
“Xavier, I’m still braiding your hair! Stay still!”
He squirmed, flushing as one of them approached with bandages, practically embracing him as she began to wrap them around his torso, hands connecting with his skin far too often.
“You poor thing, you’re so brave, Xavier, enduring this injury with the utmost manliness.”
“Well, it’s not so bad…”
“Here, please drink some of this for the pain.”
“Oh, no, I—”
Before he could finish his protest, a small cup of strong wine was pressed to his lips and he was forced to drink it down or choke. The liquid burned down his throat, settling into his stomach.
“Have another glass, wine is medicinal!”
“I really—”
Delicate hands grabbed his chin, holding him still as he was forced to drink yet more wine to the light giggles of his captors.
The girls made it impossible for him to get up, fingers tangled in his hair, rubbing his shoulders and arms, one practically sitting in his lap as she fed him the food Ariadne had brought him.
Ariadne…he needed to go find her.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I need to go find my junior…”
“Oh, she’s fine,” one of the girls said quickly. “I’m sure she’s already asleep.”
“Yes, you wouldn’t want to disturb her, would you?”
“Besides, Xavier, you need to rest! Your wound won’t heal if you don’t!”
“Here, have some more wine to help you sleep.”
Another cup forced on him. His head was starting to feel fuzzy.
“How about a bath?”
“Oh yes! We can bathe you right here so you don’t even have to move!”
“No, thank you, I…would rather rest.”
He yet again tried to get up only to be pushed back against the cushions.
“Rest here, Xavier, you shouldn’t be getting up.”
“No, please, sleep here. We’ll look after you tonight.”
Another cup of wine was forced between his lips as he decided laying down was the only option. His body did hurt anyway, and Ariadne was mad at him. She wouldn’t be any less mad if he went to find her tonight. Best to wait for tomorrow morning.
His eyelids fluttered as he felt warm bodies press close to him. Part of him wished it was just one woman, but he had made Ariadne mad and would be unlikely to get this kind of treatment from her, ever. He would have to make it up to her somehow, but for tonight, he would rest.
***
Ariadne slept deeply despite her tumultuous mind. Yet something woke her in the dead of night when the rest of the Pavillion was silent.
A fumbling at her door, accompanied by heavy, shuffling steps.
Her hand reached unconsciously for her sword where it rested beside her mattress and as she felt, rather than saw, the figure looming over her, she rolled over, about to brandish the blade when…
“Ah!”
The figure simply collapsed onto her mattress, familiar silvery hair glowing in the moonlight as the heavy figure wrapped his arms around her legs, nuzzling his face into her knees like a pillow.
“Xavier!”
“Mm, found you—was looking everywhere.”
His words were slightly slurred—was he sleep walking? But no, the telltale scent of wine drifted up to her.
“Are you drunk?” she demanded in disgust.
“Hm? Oh, yes…the girls made me drink.”
Ariadne huffed and shoved him off her legs. He sprawled to the side and let out a small, pained grunt.
Brief guilt washed over her as she remembered his wound. “You should go back to bed,” she said, starting to get up. “Come here, I’ll help you.”
She threw back the covers, and only as Xavier’s eyes fell on her figure with slight, drunken surprise, did she remember what she was wearing.
“It looks nice on you,” Xavier said softly, suddenly not sounding drunk enough.
She snatched the blanket back up to her neck. “I-I didn’t have anything else clean!”
Xavier swayed closer, practically crawling on top of her. “Please don’ make me leave,” he murmured. “Too tired to…”
His head drooped dangerously close to her chest and she reached out to grab his shoulders before he made a soft landing against her breasts.
“Xavier, you…” she trailed off as she felt the heat pouring off of him. She reached up to press a hand to his forehead, finding him indeed fevered.
“Xavier, you have a fever,” she murmured.
“Mmm,” he moaned a little, trying to chase her hand as she pulled it away and shifted so she could lay him down on the mattress, giving up the idea of getting him back to his room at the moment.
“Stay here.”
She got up to light some lanterns, finally illuminating the room. It revealed how flushed Xavier’s face was, and she knew it wasn’t all from the wine now. Sweat beaded on his brow and he curled slightly onto his uninjured side.
“I’m going to go get some things for you. Stay here.”
He looked forlorn lying there, and it was almost enough to make her sorry for her feelings toward him earlier. Almost. She wouldn’t forget that he only bothered to seek her out second.
She was quick to fetch what she needed, coming back to the room with bandages, cloths, a bowl of water as well as some salves and a brewing cup of tea that would help reduce his fever.
“Let me see it,” she said.
Xavier’s brow furrowed but he dutifully rolled onto his back. Ariadne carefully undid the ties on his loose undershirt and opened it up, revealing the haphazard bandages, blood already soaking through them.
She clicked her tongue. “Those girls did nothing for you.”
“They were only trying to help,” Xavier murmured.
“The only thing they did was get you drunk,” Ariadne snapped.
She reached out to undo the bandages and Xavier hissed as the dried blood stuck to the bandage from a lack of proper cleaning, leaving the little scabbing that had occurred to be ripped off, causing the wound to bleed again.
Ariadne lips formed a thin line as she pressed a cloth to the wound once she had finally freed it of the soiled bandages.
“You must have a wound fever,” she said, brows pinching in slight worry. “You should have let me tend to this first thing!”
Xavier looked away, avoidant. Ariadne ignored him and reached for a wet cloth, wringing it out before she cleaned the wound properly. Xavier flinched and whined, the wine making him more honest.
“It stings…can you be more gentle?”
“No,” Ariadne replied. “You might have gotten gentler ministrations from those girls, but they didn’t do you any favors. A wound needs to be cleaned properly.”
His brows scrunched as she refused to stop and coddle him. Ariadne ignored him for the most part, but she couldn’t deny his pain hurt her. The wound was a lot worse than she had thought too. It stretched about five inches across his left ribcage and was quite deep. Not deep enough to need stitches, she thought, but enough that it would need tending and proper care.
She reached for a salve and started to spread it on before bandaging him again and he flinched and grabbed her wrist.
“Hurts.”
“Yes, I know. That means it’s healing.”
He frowned and turned his face away as she continued. When she was finally done, she set a clean cloth over the wound and reached for the bandages.
“I need you to sit up for a moment.”
He sighed and tried to push himself up. Ariadne helped him, getting him into a sitting position and started to wrap the bandages around his torso when Xavier slumped against her.
She froze in shock at the sudden proximity, his hot, bare chest pressed against her as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, seeming to be completely shameless at the moment.
She swallowed hard, reminding herself that he was drunk, and it was better to just get this over with. She easily wrapped the bandages around him, trying to ignore the touch of his bare skin. Why was she just thinking of it now when she didn’t have his wound to occupy her?
Finally, the agonizing event was over and she let him slump back against the pillows, quickly tying his shirt up again so she didn’t have to be tormented by his well-formed figure.
“Okay, now I have some medicine for your fever. You need to drink all of it.”
He moaned, trying to turn his head away as she picked up the teacup and pressed it to his lips.
“Don’t be difficult.”
He cringed and coughed as he swallowed the first mouthful. “It’s bitter.”
She was unrelenting though, making him drink the rest of it. “You drank their wine, now you have to drink my tea.”
He coughed again, pulling a face, but she was satisfied that he swallowed it.
“May I have some sugar now?”
“No, you’re a grown man. You don’t been to be pampered like a child,” Ariadne told him firmly.
“My Junior is indeed cruel,” he sighed, settling back against the pillows.
Ariadne pressed her lips into an angry line as she tossed the soiled cloths back onto the tray. “You need to rest.”
“You’re angry with me. Why?”
Ariadne scoffed. “You don’t know?”
“I’m sorry I fought the duel when you told me not to.”
She spun around to face him. “You think that’s the only reason?”
He stared at her with those wide, too-innocent eyes in the darkness.
“It was bad enough you didn’t explain to me who Lady Rong was when we first came here, but this time, you ended up precisely where I thought you would be then!”
He looked away slightly, eyes flicking to watch the flame dancing in one of the lanterns.
“I thought I would give you time to cool off.”
“Cool off!” Ariadne demanded, suddenly incensed. “And let me see you with a bunch of random women fawning over you and touching you like that?”
“I see it really bothered you,” Xavier said slowly.
She loomed over him. “I just don’t understand what you want from me, Xavier! I never have. You’re so incredibly infuriating that I—”
He tugged on her arm and she suddenly found himself pulled toward him. She barely caught herself before she fell on him and injured him further, but Xavier’s hand was already on the back of her neck, pulling her in.
“What are you—”
His lips met hers. All breath left her body, as she stared at his closed lids, her own eyes wide. She was too much in shock to pull away, the soft, warm press of his lips with the lingering taste of the tea and wine were all she knew for what felt like an eternity.
Xavier finally pulled back, opening his eyes halfway. “The taste is less bitter now,” he whispered.
Heat flushed through Ariadne like a tidal wave. How could he just say something like that?
“Wha—are you—are you trying to seduce me to make me less angry?”
He looked genuinely confused this time. “No. I’ve just wanted to do that for a while.”
An embarrassing sound left her throat. She had to remind herself that he was drunk and fevered, that this was a result of that combination. She should certainly not be thinking too much about it. But before she could reprimand him further (or say anything to make this worse) his eyes fluttered and he let out a genuine sound of discomfort.
“Xavier?”
She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and found his fever still rather hot. It would take a while for the tea to work.
She fetched a clean cloth and wrung it out in the fresh bowl of water before pressing it to his forehead, bathing his face and neck.
He seemed to relax slightly and reached up to take her hand. “Thank you for taking care of me anyway. Even if you’re mad.”
Her resolve wavered. She refused to admit that it was partly due to the kiss. At the end of the day, she just hated seeing him hurt like this.
She sighed and resigned herself to letting him have her bed that night, pulling the blanket up over his shivering figure.
“Don’t worry about it, Xavier. Just rest.”
She was about to get up, but his hand was still clutched around her wrist.
“Stay,” he murmured.
She shouldn’t allow this. It was highly inappropriate. And yet, he shouldn’t be left alone that night, in case his fever took a turn for the worst.
Either way, he was already tugging her down onto the mattress, and Ariadne ended up allowing it, despite her better judgement.
She curled slightly awkwardly onto her side, facing away from him as Xavier settled in, cuddling against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist. His breathing evened out quickly into deep sleep.
It should have been uncomfortable, it should have been awkward, but all she could think of was how warm and nice it felt to be like this.
His warmth and breathing lulled her to sleep before she could even fight the urge.
***
Ariadne slept deeply, and woke to an impossibly warm blanket and sunlight filtered through the window, accompanied by singing birds.
She blinked a few times, before fully realizing that Xavier was sleeping with his head on her chest. Her stomach flipped slightly as all the memories of the previous night filtered in. Particularly the kiss. Had that even happened? It was too real to be a dream, she decided. The memory of how his lips felt…
But reality crept in and she reached a hand to his face to check his fever. His brow and neck were damp, and she was relieved to see that he was less warm, his fever had finally broken.
Taking advantage of his sleeping state, she brushed his hair away from his face, stroking the silky strands between her fingers. There were several mussed braids left in from the girls’ ministrations the night before and Ariadne spitefully started to undo all of them, smoothing Xavier’s hair against his back.
A soft murmur came from him as he nuzzled closer to her, pressing his nose against her collarbone. Ariadne froze instinctively, heart flipping as an unbidden affection rose up, stronger than she had ever allowed herself to feel before.
Xavier blinked his eyes open and shifted so that he could stare at her blearily. “Good morning,” he said hoarsely.
It took everything in Ariadne to keep her cheeks from heating. “Good morning. How do you feel?’
“Mm, tired, my wound aches a little and my head…” he cringed.
“Well, you drank a lot last night, apparently, so that’s understandable.”
He furrowed his brow as Ariadne reluctantly got up, shifting him back against the mattress.
Xavier frowned at the loss of warmth as she got up to get him a cup of water.
“I’ll check your wound in a moment,” she told him, handing him the cup.
Xavier downed the water thirstily as Ariadne gathered fresh bandages and salve.
When he set the empty cup aside, she knelt beside him. “Okay, let me look at the wound.”
He nodded and pushed the blankets down, fumbling to untie his shirt.
Ariadne glanced away briefly. This was not the same as it had been last night when he was drunk and fevered. When he had…
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop thinking about the kiss. Xavier probably didn’t even remember that. He hadn’t been in a clear state of mind anyway.
When she turned back to him, she was glad to see that he hadn’t bled through the bandages again. But the fever breaking had left them damp so she decided it best to change them.
She braced herself for the close proximity, trying to be ambivalent about Xavier’s muscled chest and stomach, especially as she felt those lean muscles shift under her fingers as he flinched at her application of the salve.
She was sure her face was red all the same by the time she had finished bandaging him up.
“There…it’s looking good.”
“That’s good,” Xavier replied simply.
Before she could help him tie his shirt back up, voices could be heard in the hallway outside, leaving them both to freeze.
“I don’t know where he is! He was gone when we got up.”
“Why would he wander off?”
“What if he’s lying hurt in a dark closet somewhere!”
“Xavier! Where are you?”
Ariadne swore and one desperate look from Xavier had her shoving him onto her mattress and yanking the covers up over his head as she slid in next to him.
It was hot under the blanket with his shared warmth, his breath grazing her chin, hair tickling her cheek. Her heart pounded impossibly fast and it had nothing to do with the possibility of being found out.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, whispering ensued until finally a knock came on Ariadne’s door.
Her and Xavier both jumped. Xavier grabbed her wrist, as if begging her not to give him up.
Ariadne waited for another knock before she called out, “What is it?”
“Miss Ariadne, have you seen Xavier anywhere?”
“No,” she replied simply.
“Ah…never mind.”
Their footsteps retreated, leaving Ariadne and Xavier to both sag in relief.
“Ugh, we should get out of here today, they’re not going to leave you alone—”
Her words were halted as Xavier pulled her back under the blankets and pressed his lips to hers. She was just as shocked as she was the night before, staring at him blankly as he pulled away, eyes slightly shadowed underneath the blanket.
“Xavier—”
“Sorry,” he said in a way that made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “I just wanted you to know that I remembered last night, but figured you thought it didn’t count since I was drunk and fevered. I wanted to make sure you understood my true feelings.”
Ariadne flushed, covering her face with her hands as Xavier’s lips curled up.
“You’re impossible,” she said.
“You didn’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Mm,” he hummed and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Then let us stay like this for a while longer? I’m tired and injured. I don’t want to face those girls again right now. I didn’t intend to get caught by them originally, you know. I would always rather have you tend to my injuries—even if you aren’t the most gentle.”
Ariadne laughed despite herself. “Then make sure I’m the first one you ask to tend your injuries in the future. No more seeking attention from other women.”
“Don’t worry,” Xavier said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I only want the attention of one. Nothing will ever change that.”
You and Zayne had only been dating for a few weeks at this point. Of course, a few weeks was all it had taken for you to lose your virginity to him, but still. Unfortunately, that was what had led to your current predicament.
"So, what brings you in today?" Zayne adjusts his glasses, studying you carefully. You're sure he notices your watery eyes and slight runny nose, just as he notices the way you shift uncomfortably in your seat.
Damn your gynecologist and her stupid vacation to the Bahamas.
"I noticed some...hives. The other night. And they haven't gone away." Zayne frowns in confusion, but his eyes widen when you gesture weakly towards your lower body.
"I see. May I?" His chair rolls as he moves away, giving you space to put your legs up and let him check you out. He looks for what feels like the longest minute of your life, and then has you sit back up and gives his prognosis.
"...I'm allergic to condoms?"
"Latex." He corrects gently, though the tips of his ears have gone red. You see a flicker of guilt of his face, but it's not as if either of you could have known.
"So your official advice is we shouldn't use condoms?" You ask, mostly shocked despite the grin splitting your face. Zayne balks, though there's a hint of interest in his eyes that quickly gets masked.
"Of course not. There's other...alternatives we could use." It's his turn to be nervous as you lean in, suddenly feeling a lot lighter.
"I think my idea is much better, wouldn't you agree?"
onychinus wasn’t really an official office, but there existed a home-base of operations.
with clean-cut interior, bulletproof glass conference rooms, desks scattered with both paperwork and technology alike under the ambient warm light surprisingly considerate of people who are sensitive to brightness, the building stands central north of the N109 zone.
this, as far as dwellers and factions know, is the home of the infamous ruler of onychinus. the dragon’s den. the keeper’s castle.
and this young, new assistant who is trying to make something of himself in the tower of bodies trying to climb upwards on the social ladder starts work today.
onychinus promises worth in exchange for loyalty. no questions asked.
he can do that.
he hasn’t even been sat an hour yet on his new desk before the phone started to ring.
briefed that all calls should be handled with promptness and professionalism, he takes it barely at the first ring. not expecting the voice that comes through.
“helloo?”
it takes him a moment to recall the script. “service?”
“can talk to papa?”
papa? he’s spent all week memorizing the names of the organizations affiliates. not one is called papa. had he missed something? so soon shall this be the end of his career?
he swallows. ponders—this can either be an enemy with technology to change their voice, or… no, how could a child know this number?
“hello? can talk to papa?”
“who is this?” he demands, harsh.
it is lost on the voice. he dictates his own learned script slowly. “my name… is… keewo.”
keewo… neither was that on the list. had he missed a page? was it the phonetic alphabet? code?
his palms begin to sweat. phone calls should never last more than a minute unless necessary. and the time ticks dangerously closer to forty seconds.
and his supervisor seems to he counting with him, because across the room, polishing a newly shipped in protocore weapon, his eyes meet ones behind a crow’s mask.
“you are not in our system.”
“what tissem?” the voice breathes, mouth too close to whatever receiver he was using. “can talk to papa pease?”
“are you a child?” forty seconds… the masked man rises from his seat.
“no. i boy.”
“how old are you?” forty-three. he’s placing the weapon down.
“i two. oh-most, twee.” the boy says happily. “can talk papa now, pease?”
forty-nine. his eye twitches. “who is papa?”
“my papa!”
fifty. shit. the supervisor is a few steps— “what’s his name?”
“uhh… uh…” fifty-three.
fifty-four.
fifty-five.
“papa name is… uh—“
“you dialed wrong.” fifty seven.
“no! i pwactice.” he harrumphs on the other end. fifty eight. “my papa name sy-woos!”
fifty-nine.
sylus.
his blood runs cold.
at sixty, like clockwork the phone is snatched from his hand. but the masked man who’d given him strict instructions that day has frozen in his own place a few paces away.
behind him stands a ghost never meant to be witnessed by mortal eyes. this shadow clad in darkness that only allow his red irises’ glow to pierce through. he lowers his head—respect, fear— he cannot say. but his heart beats like hooves in of a stampede.
“kyros.” says sylus. mister sylus— he would be instructed to call him were it not deemed unnecessary because he never comes in. “papa is working, angel.”
he barely hears the commotion on the other end. doesn’t even register the way the ominous entity of a man’s voice softens to an unbelievable timbre just above him.
“i know, i miss you too.” he says. footsteps fade along with the voice as he retreats with the wireless into the private office reserved for him alone.
he’s done for, surely. how could he have dismissed the boss’s son? how could he have known? no matter; he should have. and now—
“hey.” the masked supervisor squeezes his shoulder and he jumps like a cat.
the man— he isnt sure which twin this is but there were two of them earlier— snickers. “scared?”
he swallows.
“don’t worry about it.” he points to the dock missing its handheld, towards the light glowing orange. “forgot to mention, if it’s this color, always redirect to the main phone.”
he swallows. the boss doesn’t like to be bothered with trivial things, is what he knows. right?
but his supervisor adds. “he doesn’t like missing calls from very important people.”
he has no time to process before sylus returns and the handheld clicks in place in the dock before him.
crimson eyes examine him and he feels like his skin is peeled apart and soul exposed for a moment before sylus slowly turns away.
I was feelings bad for some time now and I guess my brain decided it was enought and gave me this to think about instead, let it be on this blog jussttt in case.
There's 3 scenarios, don't judge me too hard lmao
nsfw, massive ovi warning yall, dragon spice, breeding
Dragon's struggle
Dragon Sylus jorking it, struggling to get his eggs out. His other cock is hard, tip angry red and leaking, craving attention too. Once the first egg starts crowning at the tip of his ovipositor it suddenly stops, almost as if refusing to leave his body with no mate in sight.
His eyebrows furrow, sweat dripping from his forehead as he slowly squezees his lenght, urging it to get out. And finally after a few minutes of hard work the first egg is finally out which triggers his orgasm, his secound cock spilling buckets, trying it's best to fertilize the egg in his nest. Dragon Sylus sighs from releaf but that is quickly replaced by a groan as he feels another egg getting in place, ready to be released.
After an hour or so, there is only one more left and it's annoyingly stubborn. It got stuck midway and it refuses to move so he ends up humping the closes thing just to get it over with. Finally, they are all out and he can rest, he will clean later.
Bonus! In case this happens in a pre relationship period - he waits for her to go to the village for the day so he can borrow her clothes. When her dragon is having a hard time, her smell eases him, as if she is there, and this little problem of his gets over with in half the time it usually takes him. And of course he doesn't get her clothes dirty but still ends up washing them, as if water will take away his guilt too.
Two dragon mates are better then one?
Full form Dragon Sy and dragon Zayne. After hour of careful prep, Sylus finaly has you on your hands and knees, you pushing back agenst him as he fills you up with his heavy clutch. Dragon Zayne is not that expiriance in... anything like this really. He never had a mate so he doesn't have eggs perhaps he cant have them, there was never a need to.
That being said, Sylus doesn't knot you, but rather leaves you a bit frustrated by slipping out once he lays his eggs without cumming. He does this to tease you but this time he noticed the way dragon Zayne was eyeing you two even if he tried to hide it, so Sylus decided to share and let Zayne take you and expiriance this pleasure for the first time.
Dragon Zayne is unsure, but seeing you so eager to be bred made him move into position behind you faster then his brain could process it. Once inside, he is quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of you, of this new warmth and ends up flooding your already stuffed womb even more with hot freash loads, fertilizing Sylus's eggs. Let's just say, the hatchlings would look really interesting this year.
Ohh imagine dragon Sylus's rough tongue cleaning her after. Or maybe even something nastier, cleaning her thighs and their joined point while her and Zayne are still knotted, making them both overstimulated. They are probably hybrids but can change in full dragons when needed.
Bonus idea because I also started imagining it before the other two ahem
Full form dragon Sylus in research facility. He was there for years, captured as the strongest speciment of his dying spicies. Researchers wanted to find him a sutible mate but he rejected every potental partner he got presented. Some attempts of breeding even ended up in tragedy, well for the other creature that is. They may have been able to captured him in his weaker state, but they surly won't make him do anything by force. They coudn't. Not to mention making this sacred special bond with another he didn't belong with. After so many years and filed attempts, he finaly found interest in the new biologist on the team. She was the first to get close to him to be able touch him, really take a look at him, wanting to learn more just by observing his unknown behavior.
Something something they ended up trying to mate these two together after they saw how much progress she made with him as well as his sudden shift in behaviour which was never seen before. After months of preparing for it, she took some special medicine to be able to handle him, waiting strapped on the breeding rack for safety purposes. Four geared up professionals led him in by chains.
He was rearing up, massive wings flapping and tail trashing behind him as he got closer. Draconic instincts are testing him more then ever, but he knows this is not right, not how it was ment to be done. Dragon Sylus was here long enough to know that they were being watched and recorded by the research team. Once the guards tied his chains and left the room, he made quick work of breaking them, melting the room with his fire and taking his love far away from that place. Then, once they are free and safe, she can decide for herself if she really wants this or if this was pressured onto her.
And if she's is still up for it, they can explore this new relationship by their own pace.
The fact that I want to dive deeper into all of these- Anyways this is what I had in mind, hope you guys liked it and that it made some sense.
Oh yeah I know you two wanted to hear this so heres the tags! @nezuswritingdesk @thatweirdomidas
janainaart
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
dededos
