“you taught me ruin taste like honey if you close your eyes long enough.”
[Warnings for this chapter: Extreme Misogyny, Domestic/Emotional Abuse, Sexual Violence, Dubious Consent, Coerced Intimacy, Consensual S/M, Hate-Fuck, Psychological Manipulation, Abuse as Coping Mechanism , Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mutual Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat]
"There is no force so final, nor freedom so costly, as the daughter paying the debt of the sword."
Summary : She was the final coin struck from a broken mold—minted in shame, spent in panic. When the pillars of her lineage splintered, she was surrendered as tender: a breathing, trembling reprieve purchased for the already condemned.
A Note from the Author
This work is a dark and unromanticized exploration of trauma, abuse, and political coercion set within the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen.
I must state clearly: I do not condone, romanticize, or endorse any of the abusive or violent behaviors depicted within this narrative. The actions of Naoya Zenin are portrayed as monstrous, toxic, and unacceptable. This story is an unflinching look at a character’s survival against systemic violence, and her eventual, destructive quest for liberation.
This is my personal, non-canon interpretation of Naoya Zenin and an Original Character's journey through absolute political and emotional degradation.
Reader discretion is absolutely essential.
The moment a mother gives birth to a daughter, she was already doomed from the fall of the brutality of this world they lived in.
It does not matter if she was the first in line, if she has a promising future, or she has the potential to be the greatest, in the piercing eyes of the time, the daughter will always be the one to pay for the crimes of men who cowers behind tall walls of their home.
She could only remember how fast the wedding went by.
The wife could remember how heavy the silks that wrapped her body, how she barely moved, her body was constricted in tight clothing, funny how she thought of that; might as well get used to it when she married to the Zen’in clan, because in the next seconds of her life, she’s expected to act as a gentle, obedient wife.
But what stuck to her the most was the sight of her father. He was not in the front, nor even in the middle, but relegated to the far back of the solemn, formal, and quiet Ancestral Hall. That was the true price of the contract: their family, now low-ranking scum who were desperate enough to give away their only potential to be one of the greatest. That was all she was. A wasted potential.
She looked at him, swallowing thickly at his sight, he is really pitiful, wasn’t he? He was once a protector of their clan, a leader, and a core defensive strength that acted as a pillar of this family. Now he was just a pitiful man with burn marks all over his skin, eyes losing its sight, and with a tight deadline on his life. He sustained a debilitating injury that resulted in permanent, severe Cursed energy depletion, he is a useless as lamb for slaughter.
Ever since this happened, his rivals that used to sit back quietly had moved in to dismantle the infrastructure of the family. It was like a domino effect. First, a major funding contract was suddenly and unjustly revoked due to political maneuvering, they took the advantage like hungry sharks waiting for its food. Then the clan took out its generational wealth to fund their small barrier, a safehouse, some guards and essential Cursed Tools, until there was none left.
So what was the last wealth a man to give in times of desperation and humiliation?
His daughter.
The woman could only remember how fast the wedding went by.
Her cheek twitched when she felt Naoya’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer, his lips pressed to her ear, the sound barely audible over the chanting. “Smile.” He squeezed her in disguise of affection. “You’re spoiling this happy occasion with that frown on your pretty face.” His hand slides down, slipping beneath to grope her tit, giving it a squeeze.
Fucking shameless.
Her lip twitched before she gave him a side glance. “This entire banquet could almost resemble a damn funeral.” Though there was amusement in his eyes, he squeezed harder as a warning, this made her whimper out of her lips. She could only clenched her fist in her lap. "Maybe it does, woman. A funeral for your former life. And speaking of funerals, do you know why women don't belong at them? Because they can't help but make a spectacle of themselves when quiet composure is required."
She glared at him, only for him to sneer before pulling away, fixing a hair behind her ear. “Just shut up, will you?” It was almost a sin how charming he sound. “Be glad you’re part of this family now, the only reason I agreed to this farce is that your technique is an asset for our defenses, and at least you’re pretty enough to look at when I fuck you later.”
“Ha!” She looked at him in disbelief, she knew he was vile, but not to this extent. “You are really a fucking pig.” Naoya let out a low, smooth chuckle that didn't reach his cold eyes. He leaned back in slightly, the amusement in his sneer now palpable.
"A pig who just purchased the finest broodmare in the region," he purred, deliberately using the most degrading term he could think of. "And you know what broodmare do best? They squeal when they're finally bred, and they keep the farmer rich."
She could only looked down when he raised his sake towards his father’s speech, not even wanting to listen to whatever traditional beliefs they’ll shove down to her throat.
--------------------------------
It was expected of her. She knew that. The women before her knew that. It does not mean she likes it still. The bathing, the oils, the robing, all leads to one road. Consummation.
Or how she likes to call it— a humiliation ritual.
“For a man who’s supposed to be the fastest, you’re late.” She says when she heard the door slide open before closing, she had her arms crossed against her chest, looking outside the window just to watch the leaves moves at the gardens.
Naoya paused, his hands still resting on the shoji screen door latch, letting the silence draw taut. He didn't rush, which was ironic even for him. He turned slowly, his eyes—cold, sharp gold—taking in the sight of her in the subordinate kimono, the new Zenin colors a stark contrast to her freshly washed skin. "Patient," he corrected, his voice a low, smooth purr that was infinitely more menacing than a shout. He pushed off the doorframe and took a slow, deliberate step into the room. "I was giving my newest toy a chance to appreciate her new cage and worry about what happens next."
He let a chilling smile spread across his face, his gaze focusing on her mouth. "I suppose you are more eager for this than you let on.”
“Eager?” she spat, her tone razor-sharp with venom, looking back at her husband who just looked at her with disinterest and somehow that annoyed her more, there was a beat of silence, his eyes looked at her face and linger down to her body before his lips twitched as if he was disgusted she even spoke without his permission. “There’s nothing to be eager about, especially from you—“ And in the space of a single breath, his hand was on her throat. He moved with the impossible, cutting speed of his technique. The other hand violently snagged the silk of her kimono. Naoya made a squeeze that instantly crushed her air, forcing a soundless gasp and twisting her face into a grimace. Her own hand instinctively clamped down on the wrist that held her.
"You know," he spat, his eyes alight with cruel amusement, "I'm getting real fucking tired of that mouth. Makes me wonder if your pathetic family did anything to discipline you to obey, or if I have to teach you from scratch what submission feels like."
There it was, she was wondering why it took him long to snap. She could only laugh mockingly at his face when she hears the word submission. “Fuck you, Naoya. You think you can break me? Me?”
Naoya moved fast, he ripped the silks off her body and he immediately lunged to her neck, his teeth biting down her skin before he pressed kisses frantically down the length of her neck. His hands palmed her tits, humming in delight as he marveled how they fit perfectly on his. A soft moan escapes her and she immediately snarled at him like a ferocious animal who was about to fight back, her one hand clutched his collar when his thumb brushed over her nipple that immediately perked up from the attention of the cold air.
“I don’t need to break you.” Naoya rasped out, pushing her forward the wall and ripped away her panty without hesitation, his leg slotting between her legs, forcing her to grind her clit on him. “I just need to fuck this cunt over and over again ‘till you give this clan a brat.” Her free hand reached out and slapped his face, his head turned and there was only a beat of silence, she couldn’t tell if the heat rising in her chest was panic or rage and she saw— she saw how his lips curled to a sadistic smile, his hand palmed his hard cock underneath his hakama while he still pinned her to that wall.
“Bitch—” he sneered, slamming her to the wall that nearly took her breath away. And her hands grabbed his hair, yanking him back with force but that didn’t stopped him, instead he teared his own clothing off, hell, she didn’t even realized how fast he moved until he spread her when he hiked her leg up his waist and his cock buried inside her pussy without any preparation. “Fuck!” She screams out with tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Gods, he was fucking big, her walls hugged his cock and she hated how it made her feel good.
Naoya didn’t even spared her a damn second at all, the moment he was buried inside of her with his fat dick kissing her womb, he could only sneer down at her before he leans down, biting down to her lips to make sure it bled. “Look at you,” he growled against the shell of her ear, pulling back to make sure she felt every inch of him and slamming it back with no regard for her at all. He was relentless, his thrust rough and deep, each one driving a ragged moan from his wife’s lips that he drank it like it was a reward. “You’re pretty pussy is soaking up my cock, already taking me so damn well. Ha, I didn’t know your family raised a fucking slut.”
She threw her head back, and a sound like a small, dry branch snapping echoed in the quiet room. Naoya hissed a sharp curse, the sickening crack of his nose instantly followed by the hot, metallic slide of blood streaming over his lips and chin. He froze, momentarily stunned. The silence was absolute—then it broke, he pulled out of her and his hand clamping down on the nape of her neck. He slammed her back onto the futon. “You still got some fight, huh?” He spat, holding the squirming woman underneath him. She growled at him and his hand made a sharp contact on her ass, making her mewl out in pain, her hand reaching out to crawl away from. “I’m going to kill you.” She barked at him.
“Whatever.” he muttered at her, pinning her down while his hand pumped his glistening cock before he slides inside her again with a groan. “Fuuuck, you’re tight.” He pressed his chest down to her back, nipping her shoulder as his hand grabbed her waist, he didn’t even care when the blood from his nose splattered down from her shoulder, he rut his hips to fuck her into oblivion.
The woman panted with every thrust, she could feel his cock deep inside her pussy and she knew she hated herself for even enjoying how her cunt sucked him in as if it was desperate to be filled up with him. He snickered the moment his eyes were drawn to her parted lips leaving soft pants, he nipped the shell of her ear. “See, you’re much more better when your moaning like a bitch in a heat.”
This made her turn her head and looked over her shoulder to give him a disparaging smile. “Funny you say that,” she panted. “‘Cause you fuck like one.”
He met her smile, and she finds herself laid on her back. He grasped her hips, the movement swift and decisive, pulling her back and rolling her onto the futon in one fluid motion. Before she could process the shift, he was between her thighs, his weight settled and familiar, and he bullied into her puffy pussy again. “You just don’t shut up do you?” He grunted with every thrust. “I think I'll have to teach you the difference between speaking and submitting, won't I?"
She reached out, her manicured sharp nails finding purchase on his chest, raking deep trails of crimson along the taut skin, while her other hand flew up and connected sharply with his face, leaving three vivid, bloody scores across his sculpted cheekbone.
And Naoya fucking loved it because he felt how tight, wet heat clenched like she was just made for this, her hips were meeting up to meet his thrusts like she was defying him. His hand wrapped around her neck and his pace turned brutal that she couldn’t even get a word in. He slapped away her hand to pin it down beside her head and he leaned down, kissing her lips messily, she could taste the metal. “Hear that?” He growled against her. “Your needy little pussy wants me, sweetheart, gonna spill every fucking drop inside you and you better take it.”
She spat on him, her saliva and the blood from his nose mixed and he gave her a feral grin from above, he let out a filthy groan as she clenched around him again, his cock twitching inside her. He could feel every ripple of his pleasure, like her sweet cunt was squeezing the life out of him on purpose. “Ha!” he breathed out, he held her cheeks to make her to look at him. “You liked that. You like to hear how much I want to paint this greedy pussy up white.”
His hands slid down to grip the back of her thighs, spreading them just enough so he could see where they were joined. His thumb pressed down to her swollen bud and she twitched at that, sensitive from the way he’s fucking her. “Look a that, got the prettiest goddamn pussy I’ve ever seen— fuck, tight little thing takes me so damn well, makes me forget you’re a disobedient slut.” His thumb brushed over where they were joined again, before slipping between their bodies to circle that sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s not like he cared for her pleasure, but there was a sadistic feeling in him liked how desperate she looked.
“Shit,” he growled out, voice rough and broken. His hips snapped forward with one last brutal push— deep enough to make sure she felt every inch of him before spilling inside exactly where her cunt begged for it. “There we go.” He rolled his hips languidly, the ropes of his cum filled her up while he bites down to her shoulder. The sudden, sharp weight of his body ceased. He rolled off her without a word, leaving the oppressive space between them cold and suddenly vast. She felt the heavy, wet evidence of his satisfaction, but inside, there was nothing. No release, no relief—only a vast, ringing hollow. Her body was still humming from the exertion, but her mind was terrifyingly quiet, the emptiness a stark, cold counterpoint to the heat he had just abandoned.
“You finished. That quick?” She curled her lips, a jab to his performance, her eyes watched him spread her legs to watch the bead of his cum rolling out between her folds before he push them back with his finger. Naoya snickered. “I spent exactly as much time on you as you are worth.”
This made the sneer on her face drop to glower at him. A small, bitter laugh escaped her throat, utterly devoid of humor. "Is that all you have, Naoya?" Her eyes locked onto the blood drying on his face. "Funny. I thought the price was my whole life, not five minutes of your strained performance.”
The wife immediately push him down, she didn’t even let him speak before she spat on his softened cock, pulling a sharp, involuntary hiss of breath from Naoya. Her soft hand wrapped around him, and she felt it twitch. He didn’t even try to stop her; he watched with that same dangerous glint. “If I’m going to be stuck to this shitty family, might as well get my enjoyment for what I’m actually here for.”
She did not look at his face. She looked only at the livid, fresh scratch marks running down his cheek, and squeezed. In that moment, the wife wasn't seeking pleasure; she was simply proving that even his body was hers to violate and control like he will.
I will be posting the first chapter here, then the whole story along with the following chapters on AO3 because that platform allows for proper tagging and warnings to ensure everyone reading is fully informed about the content.
Follow for the full, detailed warnings and chapters here
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“you taught me ruin taste like honey if you close your eyes long enough.”
[Warnings for this chapter: Extreme Misogyny, Domestic/Emotional Abuse, Sexual Violence, Dubious Consent, Coerced Intimacy, Consensual S/M, Hate-Fuck, Psychological Manipulation, Abuse as Coping Mechanism , Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mutual Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat]
"There is no force so final, nor freedom so costly, as the daughter paying the debt of the sword."
Summary : She was the final coin struck from a broken mold—minted in shame, spent in panic. When the pillars of her lineage splintered, she was surrendered as tender: a breathing, trembling reprieve purchased for the already condemned.
A Note from the Author
This work is a dark and unromanticized exploration of trauma, abuse, and political coercion set within the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen.
I must state clearly: I do not condone, romanticize, or endorse any of the abusive or violent behaviors depicted within this narrative. The actions of Naoya Zenin are portrayed as monstrous, toxic, and unacceptable. This story is an unflinching look at a character’s survival against systemic violence, and her eventual, destructive quest for liberation.
This is my personal, non-canon interpretation of Naoya Zenin and an Original Character's journey through absolute political and emotional degradation.
Reader discretion is absolutely essential.
The moment a mother gives birth to a daughter, she was already doomed from the fall of the brutality of this world they lived in.
It does not matter if she was the first in line, if she has a promising future, or she has the potential to be the greatest, in the piercing eyes of the time, the daughter will always be the one to pay for the crimes of men who cowers behind tall walls of their home.
She could only remember how fast the wedding went by.
The wife could remember how heavy the silks that wrapped her body, how she barely moved, her body was constricted in tight clothing, funny how she thought of that; might as well get used to it when she married to the Zen’in clan, because in the next seconds of her life, she’s expected to act as a gentle, obedient wife.
But what stuck to her the most was the sight of her father. He was not in the front, nor even in the middle, but relegated to the far back of the solemn, formal, and quiet Ancestral Hall. That was the true price of the contract: their family, now low-ranking scum who were desperate enough to give away their only potential to be one of the greatest. That was all she was. A wasted potential.
She looked at him, swallowing thickly at his sight, he is really pitiful, wasn’t he? He was once a protector of their clan, a leader, and a core defensive strength that acted as a pillar of this family. Now he was just a pitiful man with burn marks all over his skin, eyes losing its sight, and with a tight deadline on his life. He sustained a debilitating injury that resulted in permanent, severe Cursed energy depletion, he is a useless as lamb for slaughter.
Ever since this happened, his rivals that used to sit back quietly had moved in to dismantle the infrastructure of the family. It was like a domino effect. First, a major funding contract was suddenly and unjustly revoked due to political maneuvering, they took the advantage like hungry sharks waiting for its food. Then the clan took out its generational wealth to fund their small barrier, a safehouse, some guards and essential Cursed Tools, until there was none left.
So what was the last wealth a man to give in times of desperation and humiliation?
His daughter.
The woman could only remember how fast the wedding went by.
Her cheek twitched when she felt Naoya’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer, his lips pressed to her ear, the sound barely audible over the chanting. “Smile.” He squeezed her in disguise of affection. “You’re spoiling this happy occasion with that frown on your pretty face.” His hand slides down, slipping beneath to grope her tit, giving it a squeeze.
Fucking shameless.
Her lip twitched before she gave him a side glance. “This entire banquet could almost resemble a damn funeral.” Though there was amusement in his eyes, he squeezed harder as a warning, this made her whimper out of her lips. She could only clenched her fist in her lap. "Maybe it does, woman. A funeral for your former life. And speaking of funerals, do you know why women don't belong at them? Because they can't help but make a spectacle of themselves when quiet composure is required."
She glared at him, only for him to sneer before pulling away, fixing a hair behind her ear. “Just shut up, will you?” It was almost a sin how charming he sound. “Be glad you’re part of this family now, the only reason I agreed to this farce is that your technique is an asset for our defenses, and at least you’re pretty enough to look at when I fuck you later.”
“Ha!” She looked at him in disbelief, she knew he was vile, but not to this extent. “You are really a fucking pig.” Naoya let out a low, smooth chuckle that didn't reach his cold eyes. He leaned back in slightly, the amusement in his sneer now palpable.
"A pig who just purchased the finest broodmare in the region," he purred, deliberately using the most degrading term he could think of. "And you know what broodmare do best? They squeal when they're finally bred, and they keep the farmer rich."
She could only looked down when he raised his sake towards his father’s speech, not even wanting to listen to whatever traditional beliefs they’ll shove down to her throat.
--------------------------------
It was expected of her. She knew that. The women before her knew that. It does not mean she likes it still. The bathing, the oils, the robing, all leads to one road. Consummation.
Or how she likes to call it— a humiliation ritual.
“For a man who’s supposed to be the fastest, you’re late.” She says when she heard the door slide open before closing, she had her arms crossed against her chest, looking outside the window just to watch the leaves moves at the gardens.
Naoya paused, his hands still resting on the shoji screen door latch, letting the silence draw taut. He didn't rush, which was ironic even for him. He turned slowly, his eyes—cold, sharp gold—taking in the sight of her in the subordinate kimono, the new Zenin colors a stark contrast to her freshly washed skin. "Patient," he corrected, his voice a low, smooth purr that was infinitely more menacing than a shout. He pushed off the doorframe and took a slow, deliberate step into the room. "I was giving my newest toy a chance to appreciate her new cage and worry about what happens next."
He let a chilling smile spread across his face, his gaze focusing on her mouth. "I suppose you are more eager for this than you let on.”
“Eager?” she spat, her tone razor-sharp with venom, looking back at her husband who just looked at her with disinterest and somehow that annoyed her more, there was a beat of silence, his eyes looked at her face and linger down to her body before his lips twitched as if he was disgusted she even spoke without his permission. “There’s nothing to be eager about, especially from you—“ And in the space of a single breath, his hand was on her throat. He moved with the impossible, cutting speed of his technique. The other hand violently snagged the silk of her kimono. Naoya made a squeeze that instantly crushed her air, forcing a soundless gasp and twisting her face into a grimace. Her own hand instinctively clamped down on the wrist that held her.
"You know," he spat, his eyes alight with cruel amusement, "I'm getting real fucking tired of that mouth. Makes me wonder if your pathetic family did anything to discipline you to obey, or if I have to teach you from scratch what submission feels like."
There it was, she was wondering why it took him long to snap. She could only laugh mockingly at his face when she hears the word submission. “Fuck you, Naoya. You think you can break me? Me?”
Naoya moved fast, he ripped the silks off her body and he immediately lunged to her neck, his teeth biting down her skin before he pressed kisses frantically down the length of her neck. His hands palmed her tits, humming in delight as he marveled how they fit perfectly on his. A soft moan escapes her and she immediately snarled at him like a ferocious animal who was about to fight back, her one hand clutched his collar when his thumb brushed over her nipple that immediately perked up from the attention of the cold air.
“I don’t need to break you.” Naoya rasped out, pushing her forward the wall and ripped away her panty without hesitation, his leg slotting between her legs, forcing her to grind her clit on him. “I just need to fuck this cunt over and over again ‘till you give this clan a brat.” Her free hand reached out and slapped his face, his head turned and there was only a beat of silence, she couldn’t tell if the heat rising in her chest was panic or rage and she saw— she saw how his lips curled to a sadistic smile, his hand palmed his hard cock underneath his hakama while he still pinned her to that wall.
“Bitch—” he sneered, slamming her to the wall that nearly took her breath away. And her hands grabbed his hair, yanking him back with force but that didn’t stopped him, instead he teared his own clothing off, hell, she didn’t even realized how fast he moved until he spread her when he hiked her leg up his waist and his cock buried inside her pussy without any preparation. “Fuck!” She screams out with tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Gods, he was fucking big, her walls hugged his cock and she hated how it made her feel good.
Naoya didn’t even spared her a damn second at all, the moment he was buried inside of her with his fat dick kissing her womb, he could only sneer down at her before he leans down, biting down to her lips to make sure it bled. “Look at you,” he growled against the shell of her ear, pulling back to make sure she felt every inch of him and slamming it back with no regard for her at all. He was relentless, his thrust rough and deep, each one driving a ragged moan from his wife’s lips that he drank it like it was a reward. “You’re pretty pussy is soaking up my cock, already taking me so damn well. Ha, I didn’t know your family raised a fucking slut.”
She threw her head back, and a sound like a small, dry branch snapping echoed in the quiet room. Naoya hissed a sharp curse, the sickening crack of his nose instantly followed by the hot, metallic slide of blood streaming over his lips and chin. He froze, momentarily stunned. The silence was absolute—then it broke, he pulled out of her and his hand clamping down on the nape of her neck. He slammed her back onto the futon. “You still got some fight, huh?” He spat, holding the squirming woman underneath him. She growled at him and his hand made a sharp contact on her ass, making her mewl out in pain, her hand reaching out to crawl away from. “I’m going to kill you.” She barked at him.
“Whatever.” he muttered at her, pinning her down while his hand pumped his glistening cock before he slides inside her again with a groan. “Fuuuck, you’re tight.” He pressed his chest down to her back, nipping her shoulder as his hand grabbed her waist, he didn’t even care when the blood from his nose splattered down from her shoulder, he rut his hips to fuck her into oblivion.
The woman panted with every thrust, she could feel his cock deep inside her pussy and she knew she hated herself for even enjoying how her cunt sucked him in as if it was desperate to be filled up with him. He snickered the moment his eyes were drawn to her parted lips leaving soft pants, he nipped the shell of her ear. “See, you’re much more better when your moaning like a bitch in a heat.”
This made her turn her head and looked over her shoulder to give him a disparaging smile. “Funny you say that,” she panted. “‘Cause you fuck like one.”
He met her smile, and she finds herself laid on her back. He grasped her hips, the movement swift and decisive, pulling her back and rolling her onto the futon in one fluid motion. Before she could process the shift, he was between her thighs, his weight settled and familiar, and he bullied into her puffy pussy again. “You just don’t shut up do you?” He grunted with every thrust. “I think I'll have to teach you the difference between speaking and submitting, won't I?"
She reached out, her manicured sharp nails finding purchase on his chest, raking deep trails of crimson along the taut skin, while her other hand flew up and connected sharply with his face, leaving three vivid, bloody scores across his sculpted cheekbone.
And Naoya fucking loved it because he felt how tight, wet heat clenched like she was just made for this, her hips were meeting up to meet his thrusts like she was defying him. His hand wrapped around her neck and his pace turned brutal that she couldn’t even get a word in. He slapped away her hand to pin it down beside her head and he leaned down, kissing her lips messily, she could taste the metal. “Hear that?” He growled against her. “Your needy little pussy wants me, sweetheart, gonna spill every fucking drop inside you and you better take it.”
She spat on him, her saliva and the blood from his nose mixed and he gave her a feral grin from above, he let out a filthy groan as she clenched around him again, his cock twitching inside her. He could feel every ripple of his pleasure, like her sweet cunt was squeezing the life out of him on purpose. “Ha!” he breathed out, he held her cheeks to make her to look at him. “You liked that. You like to hear how much I want to paint this greedy pussy up white.”
His hands slid down to grip the back of her thighs, spreading them just enough so he could see where they were joined. His thumb pressed down to her swollen bud and she twitched at that, sensitive from the way he’s fucking her. “Look a that, got the prettiest goddamn pussy I’ve ever seen— fuck, tight little thing takes me so damn well, makes me forget you’re a disobedient slut.” His thumb brushed over where they were joined again, before slipping between their bodies to circle that sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s not like he cared for her pleasure, but there was a sadistic feeling in him liked how desperate she looked.
“Shit,” he growled out, voice rough and broken. His hips snapped forward with one last brutal push— deep enough to make sure she felt every inch of him before spilling inside exactly where her cunt begged for it. “There we go.” He rolled his hips languidly, the ropes of his cum filled her up while he bites down to her shoulder. The sudden, sharp weight of his body ceased. He rolled off her without a word, leaving the oppressive space between them cold and suddenly vast. She felt the heavy, wet evidence of his satisfaction, but inside, there was nothing. No release, no relief—only a vast, ringing hollow. Her body was still humming from the exertion, but her mind was terrifyingly quiet, the emptiness a stark, cold counterpoint to the heat he had just abandoned.
“You finished. That quick?” She curled her lips, a jab to his performance, her eyes watched him spread her legs to watch the bead of his cum rolling out between her folds before he push them back with his finger. Naoya snickered. “I spent exactly as much time on you as you are worth.”
This made the sneer on her face drop to glower at him. A small, bitter laugh escaped her throat, utterly devoid of humor. "Is that all you have, Naoya?" Her eyes locked onto the blood drying on his face. "Funny. I thought the price was my whole life, not five minutes of your strained performance.”
The wife immediately push him down, she didn’t even let him speak before she spat on his softened cock, pulling a sharp, involuntary hiss of breath from Naoya. Her soft hand wrapped around him, and she felt it twitch. He didn’t even try to stop her; he watched with that same dangerous glint. “If I’m going to be stuck to this shitty family, might as well get my enjoyment for what I’m actually here for.”
She did not look at his face. She looked only at the livid, fresh scratch marks running down his cheek, and squeezed. In that moment, the wife wasn't seeking pleasure; she was simply proving that even his body was hers to violate and control like he will.
I will be posting the first chapter here, then the whole story along with the following chapters on AO3 because that platform allows for proper tagging and warnings to ensure everyone reading is fully informed about the content.
Follow for the full, detailed warnings and chapters here
5 times laios almost says he loves you + 1 time he does
2 k words / warnings - momentary lead up to smut (foreplay/roleplay), modern au w fantasy elements
summary - laios wants to tell you he loves you, but keeps getting interrupted.
~~~
When Laios was a kid, he'd imagined a tri-headed beast crossbred from reptiles, mammals, and birds attacking all his problems. Recently, that image has been… tweaked…
Now when he's afflicted by demeaning nightmares or stiff social situations, the power he summons to crush all which is dark sided is, surprisingly, a human.
A mere person.
His partner.
Every time you appear in his dream, Laios wakes up in a massively good mood. Whenever Laios pictures you over the unpleasant sight of strangers, he can suddenly bear unwelcome conversation. Whenever Laios so much as spots you, his whole day elevates -- swirling into something brighter and sweeter. Misery to melon juice, he’s absolute goo as soon as you’re in the room.
And everybody except him knows what his deal is. Similarly, they know it’ll take a miserably long while before he can spit it out.
the time where you’re naked
“I wanna learn human anatomy, can you pose nude for me?”
You choke on your water, trying to laugh off the awkward question with a couple chest-pats, “Can't you just look at porn for that stuff? I don't mind, you know?”
“Nah, I wanna draw you.”
“Oh! Uh, okay…” you cross the floor, drawing the curtains to your living room before stiffly beginning to disrobe, “Like… right now?”
“Mhm,” Laios nods excitedly.
“‘kay then.”
Sweat practically oozes down Laios’ forehead, shoulders knotted towards his jaw as he obsessively studies each roll and dip along your body. Trying to copy you down on sketch paper that’s now marred with charcoal and eraser strokes. Drawing has never been something Laios cared to prove himself for, he knows what he’s skilled with and doesn’t fret over what he isn’t. Until now, now he feels the utmost need to prove himself.
To prove how devoted he is to perfecting your body on paper because how else will his adoration be known?
Because trust: he does adore your body. So pretty. And tender. And so very welcoming to him, just like you. Laios adores your personality more than your body -- you’re nice and funny and understanding and, most importantly, you like him. You seriously like him. His rants about monsters, his social ineptitude, his shameless nature: you’re verily into all of it.
And, in turn, he’s into you. He’s so into you it makes him want to choke himself in excitement whenever you lock eyes.
He’s so into you he thinks he loves you.
Laios pauses mid stroke on your thigh: it’s a little skinnier than the fleshy counterpart. So he erases again and lets the realization fizz over him slowly.
He definitely loves you. Unfortunately the sudden thought makes him so emotional he’s tearing up.
the time you’re on a date
Flickering overhead fluorescents are hideously unflattering to customers and staff alike at the diner. Not you, though. Somehow you make them work, even though everytime Laios catches his reflection in a window he looks absolutely ghoulish. The pale wash of sickly light almost makes you seem like a varnished painting.
You’re not even aware of his obsessing, too busy scanning the menu, “I’m looking at the breakfast for dinner options, but I dunno what I want…”
Laios wants you, and he figures the best way to get it out is just saying it.
“I lo- !” he’s silenced by a woman cheerfully greeting the both of you.
Her broad grin tackles him like a personal slight.
“So, what can I get started for you guys?”
Laios swallows his frustration with a wash of chilled water, letting the rhythm of your voice soothe him. Now the mood is ruined. Too stuffy with this onlooker.
Oh, well, he sighs quietly before ordering his own dish; paying no mind to how the server silently questions his moody demeanor.
There’s always more chances.
the time where you’re naked pt. 2
When you’re genuinely asleep, your lashes consistently flutter against your cheeks with each jerk beneath your eyelids. Your lips are parted to let air puff between, and usually you’ll curl your arms towards your chest -- which Laios finds so cute it makes him want to bite you. Sweetly, of course. Not enough to draw blood, unless you say he can.
Either way, he’s fully aware you’re not really sleeping. Which he considers preferable since the secondary act of roleplay doesn’t work if you aren’t awake.
Suddenly, you roll onto your stomach and stretch along the bed -- perking your ass up with a faux drowsy mumble. Laios can register you’re trying to spur him on, a more emotional exhaustion gnawing your spirit the longer he goes without touching you.
Laios has never been able to fanatically explain Incubi mating before he met you (well: he skimmed through it with Kabru, but that didn’t feel impactful), and furthermore, he’s never been able to act it out. Nobody before you seemed the type to accept his interest in portraying a sleeping body about to be bred by an Incubus.
Nobody before you is even worth remembering, Laios steps forward with fingers trailing up the bed and teasing your ankle. Mouth opening, he’s gearing up to confess when suddenly a voice not his own breaks the scene first:
“Laios, please,” you mutter, pouting so adorably he feels like his chest is about to explode, “I don’t wanna be mean, but I need you to hurry it up.”
“Now we have to restart,” Laios steps back until he’s pressed against the bedroom door, “Okay, I’ll go faster this time,” then he grins, “That’ll be even more realistic if I rush in! You’re so smart!”
By the time Laios re-enters the room, his confliction of pure love has been stifled in favor of lust.
the time you’re out with friends
Earplugs are snug in Laios’ ears, cushy and pressing against every crevice of his ear, as he slouches into the booth across from Senshi. He’s sliding a mug of beer from hand-to-hand, leaving a condensation trail along the shiny veneer of the table. Beside him is a gaping hole he laments, belonging to you, as does the margarita saucer. Melting ice chips and an olive Laios promised to eat are the only remnants of your drink.
Otherwise, it all seems to be pumping through you like hot blood. A beaming grin alight on your face as you and Chilchuck bounce around each other on the dance floor. You’re holding hands in the cramped throng of guests so as to not lose each other, and Laios shocked Marcille by not getting the least bit jealous.
“I trust them,” he reasoned, “It’s not like I’m the only person allowed to touch their hands now.”
Not that he’d like to be, either. Laios thinks everyone should touch your hand at least once: it’s soft and warm and you’ve got the perfect grip strength. Just holding your hand makes Laios want to be a better, more upstanding citizen that votes and volunteers. That sort of inspiring spirit is something he couldn’t dream of caging.
You’re like a human morphine injection confounded with pure sunlight, and Laios is already a baked sucker.
“Don’t wanna join?” Senshi slides along the black leather seat until he’s squeezed out from their booth, “You won’t be so young forever, you know? Best to take advantage while you can.”
Laios can barely make out what his friend says, combining muffled gibberish with the shape his lips made and praying he’s assumed correct, “I like just watching them.”
Senshi’s gaze follows Laios’ pointing, he nods slowly and pitters off with another few mumbles.
Laios cannot handle anything outside the safety of your group’s booth. Music too loud and air too hot the further he crawls along the dance floor, so he leaves that to you. And Chilchuck. But mostly you.
Life has many opportunities for him to sway with you to music: in your shared apartment, at friends’ weddings, and fairs. He can handle not taking this particular once to dance with you, and besides just watching is enough.
He whispers affection into the club, naturally you catch none of what he says.
the time where you’re naked pt. 3
Your nails scratch over Laios’ scalp, rinsing bubbles from between sandy strands of hair. His head is tilted, neck beginning to ache from the angle as you finish scrubbing his hair clean. Fingers snatch him by the chin, forcing his head back until water is trailing down his spine and shaking out his head with finality.
“There,” you push onto your toes to kiss his cheek, making him hurry to stabilize you by snagging your hips, “All clean!”
“Thanks,” Laios fails to release you, instead letting you spin in his hands towards the wall for your body wash -- the brand he bought you for your birthday once and you always kept going back to.
“If you’re gonna keep groping me, wash my back, yeah?”
“I’m not groping,” Laios protests weakly, frowning at the perverse accusation. Though he doesn’t pause before uncapping your soap and squirting a heap into his palm, then yours when you hold your hand out expectantly.
You scale down your legs, from the inside of your thighs to your shins as Laios lathers your back. He shifts a step aside to let water coax soap foam down the curve of your spine. Then he’s stepping back entirely, eyes lingering inappropriately. If he was able to die staring at you, then he’d take that certainty in a heartbeat.
Now, right? Now is the perfect time for him to get it all out there. Nobody else is in your apartment. It's domestic and quiet and so, so peaceful.
“Hey,” he calls over the thrumming showerhead, and you hum sweetly in reply, “I lo- !” he bravely takes another step, a lost bar of soap slotting perfectly under the arch of his foot, “Fuck!”
“Huh?” you turn in time to gasp as Laios tumbles forward. Yanking down the shower curtain in a feeble attempt to catch himself before his skull thuds loudly against the tile wall, “Oh my God, Laios!”
His body collapses against the wall before limply sinking into the shallow tub. Your petrified face blurring out in favor of deep,
rich
black.
+1 - the time Laios had a head injury
“Can you see straight? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Laios smiles at your flagrant concern, enveloping your shaky hand with his own and bringing it toward his thigh -- still damp from the shower and barely covered by the boxers you hastily dressed him with, “I can see fine. Let’s leave the doctors to do the testing stuff.”
“I thought you were done for! I was so scared,” you don’t fare much better than Laios in the clothing department: shorts he knows are his wrapped around your waist, and shirts clinging uncomfortably to both your wet bodies.
“Aw,” he coos, leaning closer to peck your cheek, “I wouldn’t go down from a hit like that. My head’s a lot sturdier than some shower wall.”
“I know, but still! How terrifying, you just- !” you slap a hand against your thigh, “Boom!”
“Well, you got me to the hospital pretty fast,” Laios squeezes his hand around yours, “So even if I was dying -- which I wasn’t -- I definitely would’ve lived with how fast you were going.”
“I almost didn’t dress us, and then I spent the whole time you were asleep wondering if I got you killed by wasting the time.”
“Like I said, I wouldn’t die like that,” he shrugs, “I can’t die before I tell you I love you.”
“Huh?!”
“I love you, by the way,” he sighs, a hand splayed over his chest with apparent relief, “Now I can die.”
You laugh, head throwing back in glee before you can catch your breath, then patting his thigh with a smile, “No, you can’t die. Because I love you too, so you can’t just die on me.”
Laios’ cheeks flush, he nods curtly, “Cool.”
“Cool?”
“I spent so long trying to get it out that I never planned what to say when you told me you loved me back.”
Laios is so cute you want to bite him in half, and you’re unbelievably relieved to hear he feels the same.
~ As i just started to play this game Sylus will be OOC! ~
Authors notes: I feel like I'm cheating on Zayne but that's ok I can just take both at the same time ehehe I JUST KNOW ITS BIG! I CAN FIX HIM!!!!!
✦𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♔
Warnings!!: Creampie, BDSM, Nudes, choking, Teasing, orgasm control, sex toys, Dacryphilia, Hand cuffs, Roleplay, Slapping, Rough sex, Switch Sylus, Public sex, Markings, Biting, Big dick Sylus, Blindfolds, Knife play, Blood kink.
MDNI!!!
SFW!
major fluff ahead!
✫ Sylus hates staying away from you to long like this man is obsessed with you from top to bottom, inside and out.
✫ this man loves everything about you! your scars, your crooked teeth, your acne EVERYTHING!!! he just can't get enough of you.
✫ This man loves PDA he loves to show who you belong to in front of people who flirt with you
✫ Whenever a girl or boy flirts with him he gives them the stink eye and gets sassy with them because he belongs with you. (cause we all know he is a sassy man).
✫ He loves to go on rides with you with his bike at night to just look at scenery and play around.
✫ He loves surprising you with random kisses on your cheek, lips, forehead it doesn't matter to him.
✫ Sometimes he makes his cook have a day off just so he can cook for you all day or so you can cook for him.
✫ He loves coming home to warm cuddles in your shared bedroom
✫ He always make sure you don't see blood on him when he comes home so he sneaks into one of the guess bedrooms to get a quick shower and change.
✫ This man loves pet names so he loves calling you kitten, sweetie, honey, etc.
✫ On his days off he loves when you make him breakfast in bed, he loves your cooking even if it's simple.
NSFW!!
sexual content ahead!!
✧ One of his favorite thing in bed is when you cry, he loves the face full of pleasure as you cry and moan.
✧ He loves to tease you to the point you beg for him in any way possible just to cum.
✧ He loves when you try to dominate him, so he lets you play with him for a while until he's had enough, so he switches on you and punish you.
✧ When ever you let him, he loves knife play he makes tiny cuts on your chest, your neck, anywhere he just loves to lick up the blood that trickles down your beautiful skin.
✧ He has special hand cuffs made for some of your punishments, he loves hand cuffing you to the bed.
✧ Sometimes when he gets so into roleplay, he lightly slap's your face a couple times.
✧ When he's not home he often sends you nudes to tease you and to get you all hot and bothered so he can fuck you when he gets home.
✧ He made a dildo that's a replica of his dick so whenever he's not home you still have a piece of him plus, he loves the videos you send him when your riding the dildo!
✧ When the both of you go on your nightly rides on his bike he loves to stop at a secluded area and just fuck you on his bike, since he loves both his bike and you, he feels like he's in heaven.
✧ This man never wears a condom because he said he loves how you feel wrapped around his cock tightly whenever he releases in you.
✧ When he releases he cum's a lot, he loves to take pictures of his cum dripping down from your wet cunt onto the bed or floor, etc.
✧ He loves to put you in blindfolds so you can't see what he's going to do to you next, he loves to surprise you.
✧ He loves to leave markings on your neck and body rather it be hickeys or bite marks he just loves how his markings look on you.
✧ The both of you kind of have a Dom and a Sub relationship in bed it depends on how the both of you feel or if you're up to it.
✧ Before the both of you have penetrative sex, he has to open you up with 4 fingers because his dick is so big he might tear you apart.
✧ When you have sex its mostly rough because he loves how much control he has in bed but he loves making love just as much because he loves how your body slots against his like you were made for him.
დTHAT CONCLUDES THIS POST! i hope you loved reading this please make sure you support me by liking and reposting i would appreciate it!!დ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)
in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.
♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader
♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+
♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to
♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.
Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different.
Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.
After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her.
So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life?
Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.
And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”
“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.”
That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.
When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?
“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”
It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”
“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added.
The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now.
“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?”
Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.”
“Well.. what is the HIS?”
“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.”
Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”
Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”
“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.”
“Roger that, boss!”
It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.
~~
It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.
Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences.
And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?
“Caw! Caw!”
The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.
But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.
He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.
“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”
As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.
“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”
“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”
Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.
Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.
“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”
To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission.
Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense.
That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.
He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for.
Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things?
Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him.
But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away.
It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer.
However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.
With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.
“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.
“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.”
Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”
“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.
“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”
He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.”
“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”
“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice.
But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”
~~
Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.
Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.
“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.”
When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed.
She’s a traitor.
Punish her.
Hurt her.
Devour her.
While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you.
“I betrayed you because of her!”
His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”
You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her.
“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”
It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said.
“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”
Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.
You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved.
“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.”
“...I was never playing one with you.”
Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.
Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?
His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”
“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.
But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head.
It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor.
Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.
His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake.
No… no!
He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”
Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever.
Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.
But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?
Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.
“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”
Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.”
Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”
He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”
~~
Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.
Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.
Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”
That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”
The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”
Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”
~~
Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another.
They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either.
“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first.
Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”
“Why’d you ask to meet?”
“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”
Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”
“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”
Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.”
~~
If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind.
Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life.
You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure.
Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.
After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.
But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”
Bullshit.
Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.
Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.
As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”
Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”
“Ha ha! Let’s do that!”
“Boss, let’s go!”
“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”
The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about.
Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital?
It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter.
“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer.
Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.”
“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you.
But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life.
“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”
~~
There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café.
At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.
Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.
And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you.
“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”
There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute.
Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?”
“Caw! Caw!”
“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.
“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.
~~
And then, that day happened.
The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.
Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with.
So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.”
That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman.
When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you.
And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of.
But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment.
“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?”
“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.”
“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”
“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.”
~~
Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional.
Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.
No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.
That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso.
It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look.
“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”
You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”
Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”
“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.”
The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.
“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”
He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”
Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”
“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”
His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love.
“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.”
You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”.
“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”
Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.”
Like me.
“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.”
“...Sleep tight, kitten.”
You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.
And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.
~~
However, that same night was a different story.
No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.
He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.
What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?
The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”
You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.
“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.
“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness.
“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”
Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”
But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”
The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.
His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”
The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”
“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”
But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again.
“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”
His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.
He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.
~~
A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.
As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.
“Sylus?”
He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him.
“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.
He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.
On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”
The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.
Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”
But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.
He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face.
“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”
Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”
~~
February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too.
Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.
The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone.
She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up.
As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body.
“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.”
You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?”
With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night.
Do you even recognize it?
“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”
As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.
“Sylus…”
His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.”
Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”
Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”
Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”
Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”
Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.
And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.
Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?
But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would.
When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”
Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”
“Until we meet again.”
As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.
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love is when you’re wrestling for control of the gun and there’s only one bullet left. love is when you grab the knife theyre swinging at you by the blade and look into their eyes and laugh. love is when someone is so obsessed with you they have to kill you. love is [he is forcibly escorted off the stage by armed guards]
y’all love the morally gray, snarky, grief stricken characters until it’s a woman. i’ve seen so much discourse regarding female characters who display the exact same character traits as male leads and are criticized for it while the men are praised. let women be cruel and vindictive. let them deal with their grief and trauma in destructive ways. let them be real. give them the same treatment you would give to your favorite male love interest.
I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Jason would probably wouldn't know he has daddy kink until you call him that in bed. Then when it gets him going, he makes sure you call him daddy in privacy only.
OMG YES WAIT IANFVKANSFK ITD GO SMTH LIKE THIS
“mmfh- fuck, daddy,” you whine form under him, lost in the pleasure of his cock stretching you wide open and his large fingers swiping across your clit.
his hips stutter for a moment before continuing with a newfound vigor. he stares down at you with low, almost predatory eyes as he mockingly murmurs, “aw yeah? you like daddy’s big dick fuckin’ you stupid, huh?” you moan in response, mindlessly nodding along to his velvety voice.
you can’t call him daddy in public because he’s developed a sort of pavlovian response.. if you call him daddy, within the next few minutes hell be sporting a semi hard-on in his jeans.
hell brush past you, intentionally pushing his bulge into your ass before grumbling, “look whatcha did, sweetheart,” and “ya gotta come fix this for me, baby.”
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Summary: “Princess, you don’t mind Roy hanging out with us, do you?”. Jason avoided your eyes for a few moments, on purpose you knew. He was waiting for you to calm down. He knew that you couldn’t stand the auburn haired man Jason insisted was his best friend.
Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Threesome.
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: Well today is the day. It’s my birthday!!! As I hit the infamous dirty thirty this year, enjoy this thirsty fic and celebrate with me. 🥳😈💋 xoxo
You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?
You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.
You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.
You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.
You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.
You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.
You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.
You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!
You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!
You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.
I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.
And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie
this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.
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