#14 Days With You smut

[mosaickiwi]

Hide and Seek

950ish word Ren(dacted) drabble off a spicy hide and seek prompt from da discord except I didn’t do the NSFW ending because I’m cringe, my bad. GN reader.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Prompt: Playing “Hide and Seek" with Ren in his spacious apartment, except no room is off limits, and he has to wear a Ghostface mask while seeking you out. And if Ren manages to find you, he gets to fuck you. I'M SORRY

~

Ren had given you fourteen minutes to hide. Fourteen much needed minutes to take stock of his pitch black apartment while he waited outside. 

You'd been overly thorough, going room to room, crossing off some spots and keeping note of others, both silly and serious—you were momentarily tempted to hang ass-out of the washing machine for a cheap laugh. At the moment, hiding in the shrine-turned-storage room was your top choice. It was piled high enough with stuff that you were sure you'd sneak by him to some other hiding spot if he tried to corner you. But just in case, you made your way into his bedroom to find another option or two.

You hurried across the room to open his closet door and turn on its light. The rows of hanging and neatly folded black clothes on either side of the spacious walk-in didn't give you much to work with; even if you crouched down, he'd find you in an instant. Maybe you would hide in the storage room.

As you flipped the light switch and turned around to do just that, the front door loudly slammed shut. Your heart sank. You were out of time. There was no way you'd make it to your hiding place now. Halfway panicked, you fell to your knees and slid as quickly and quietly as possible under the bed. An obvious cliche—but it was already too risky to leave the room. You thanked your lucky stars you’d closed all the doors on your way here. It’d at least buy some time.

With bated breath, you waited in the dark, heart practically beating in your ears. The noisy sounds of them opening and closing doors echoed through the apartment. You could clearly hear his footsteps as well. He wasn’t normally anywhere close to loud, so he was definitely making all that commotion for your benefit. You weren’t sure whether to appreciate it or not, thanks to your steadily growing fear mixed with anticipation.

The noises got closer much faster than you expected them to. You only pressed yourself tighter against the floor. It was impossible to see much in the dark, but not even a brief flicker of light showed through the gap at the bottom of the bedroom door. He wasn’t bothering to turn the lights on. You were a bit miffed that he knew the layout of his apartment this well.

A few more loud footsteps, and you knew he was just outside the room. The doorknob faintly clicked as he turned it. The door opened, but thankfully you didn’t hear it shut. You could feel his footsteps, heavier than usual, thumping against the floor. Barely visible, the toes of his boots came into view right in front of you.

“I know you’re in here, Angel,” sang his voice from above you, the taunting muffled by the mask. The bed slightly dipped from his weight as he began to kneel down. Your heart only beat faster against your rib cage as you tried to stay calm. Did they really find you that quickly? You silently cursed yourself for being so picky.

All of a sudden he seemed to change his mind. The bed shifted and he moved back into complete darkness, out of your limited field of view. You squinted, trying your best to keep track of him. But it didn’t do any good. His footsteps reverberated once again as he walked around the room. There was a faint creaking noise from what must’ve been the closet door, then the footsteps got the tiniest bit quieter and quieter until they stopped once more.

You had to take the chance while he was occupied searching the closet. Otherwise, they’d just come back to look under the bed. With your heart in your hands, you trembled as you inched out on the side furthest from the closet, getting ready to bolt. If you were lucky, you’d make it to the storage room. One deep breath, and you started to run like your life depended on it.

Except you didn’t get far at all. You reached blindly in the direction of the door as an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, then a hand clasped over your mouth to mute the absolutely terrified shriek you let out.

“Y’really thought I’d gone in the closet, huh?” they laughed from behind while you struggled for a moment. “Of course you’d try to run.” 

The rather violent thrumming of your pulse seemed to settle in his embrace. He moved his hand away from your mouth once you stopped flailing, and you heard fabric and rubber rustling as he took off the mask. You forced yourself to speak—in spite of the adrenaline still coursing through you, “I thought… I thought a chase would be more fun.”

His arm still around you skimmed low on your stomach before his other hand came to toy with the hem of your shirt, making you tense in excitement. “It would be fun, but we’re not in a movie. Can't make things that easy f'you,” he teased, along with placing a soft kiss to your temple.

You were thankful not to see whatever smug face he had. "You could've humored me a little bit." Your prep time felt like a waste, so you really wanted to put up a better fight.

He pulled you closer in response. The press of his body against you served as a crystal clear reminder for how your little game was meant to end. Eerily confident, his words took a moment to sink in when he began to push up your shirt, lips lingering at your ear to whisper, “Sorry, Angel. You aren’t ever getting away from me.”

[soluversworld]

𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐨 - 𝐓𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐱 𝐆.𝐍 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭)

14 DAYS WITH YOU is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-

Words: long

Genre: ????? IDK

If you find mistakes I'm sorry I did not proof read

(Reader is G.N)

Summary : You had a hard day, But Worry not- The pressure will be gone soon

Trigger warnings

Explicit sexual content

Power dynamics

Rough sex

Domination and submission

Consent and aftercare discussions

Graphic language and description.

Explicit sexual language

Erotica with intense, explicit themes

Intense physical and emotional interactions

There's two extra specials! (Both are smut prompts from the server Thank the server lords) The last's extra, was just a small added up from this art Yummy Teo.

Extras are! Thigh Riding and Teo being a sub for a change <33

You work at the corpse of a company.

A gray, soul-sucking machine that drains every ounce of energy you have the second you step inside. The office is lifeless, filled with people who don’t talk about dreams or hobbies—just deadlines and quotas. Your inbox is a battlefield, every email another landmine of demands.

Your boss? A perfectionist who seems to thrive on your suffering. Every report needs revisions, every task is urgent, and every mistake—no matter how small—is met with a sigh that makes you feel like dirt under her expensive heels. "I need this done by EOD." "You can do better." "I expect more from you."

You don’t remember the last time you had fun. The last time you did anything just because you wanted to. The last time you felt like a person, not just a cog in a machine.

This isn’t living. It's just… existing.

The elevator doors slide open with a dull chime, the artificial glow of the overhead lights casting a sterile white sheen over the brushed steel walls. You step inside, dragging the weight of the day behind you like a corpse, already dreading the long commute home. Your fingers press the button for the ground floor, and you lean against the cool metal, exhaling a sigh that tastes like exhaustion.

Then, just before the doors close, someone slips inside.

A man.

He moves like he owns the space, like gravity bends just a little in his favor. One hand rests on his hip, the other lazily hanging by his side, fingers adorned with silver rings that catch the light when he flexes them. His black hair—messy in a way that looks deliberate—falls over sharp green eyes, the ends dipped in the same vivid color. Tribal tattoos coil around his tanned arms, disappearing beneath the loose sleeves of his black V-neck. He smells like trouble: expensive cologne, alcohol, and the faintest trace of something metallic.

He leans back against the opposite wall, his head tilting just enough to get a good look at you. A slow grin spreads across his face.

“Damn. You look like someone just ran over your dog.” His voice is smooth, teasing—like he already knows he’s going to get under your skin and is enjoying every second of it.

You don’t respond. You’re too tired to entertain some random guy’s bullshit right now.

But that doesn’t stop him.

"Long day, huh?" He hums, shifting so his shoulder presses against the wall, his stance loose and relaxed. "Lemme guess—some old bastard breathing down your neck? Boring office, soul-crushing deadlines, no time for fun?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head like it’s the worst tragedy he’s ever heard. "What a waste."

Your fingers tighten around your bag strap. "Do you always bother strangers in elevators?"

His grin widens. "Only the ones who look like they need a little excitement in their lives."

The elevator descends with a low hum, and for a moment, you think he might lose interest and go back to minding his own business.

But the thing is…

You are bored.

The elevator lurches, and then—

Blackness.

A sudden, all-consuming dark swallows you whole. The soft hum of machinery dies, leaving behind a silence so thick it feels suffocating. The only sound is your own breathing, shallow and a little too fast.

Your fingers instinctively reach for your phone, but the screen stays black no matter how many times you tap it. Dead.

Of course.

You almost curse out loud, almost let out the frustration bubbling under your skin, but before you can—

A hand claps onto your back.

Not hard, not threatening—just firm enough to remind you you’re not alone. The warmth of it seeps through your clothes, and the weight of his palm lingers a little longer than necessary.

"Jumpy," Teo teases, voice smooth and unbothered in the darkness. "What, you afraid of the dark, starshine?"

You stiffen. "No."

"Mm. Yeah, sure." You hear him shift, leather creaking as he moves. "You sound like someone who's not afraid of the dark. Real convincing."

You roll your eyes, even if he can't see it. "This is just—unexpected."

Another low chuckle. "Unexpected," he echoes, tasting the word like it’s amusing. "Yeah? Guess you’re not used to shit not going according to plan, huh?"

You don’t answer, because he’s not wrong.

Your senses are suddenly too sharp, hyperaware of every little detail—the faint, mechanical whirr somewhere in the walls, the weight of his presence beside you. And then, worse, the way he smells.

Cologne—deep, expensive, just a little spicy. But underneath that, something rawer. Sweat, heat.

Masculine.

Shit.

Your shoulders tense. You exhale through your nose, willing your thoughts to go literally anywhere else.

"Uh. Thanks," you mutter, barely above a whisper.

"For what?"

"...I dunno. Not making it worse, I guess."

Teo snorts, amused.

Your stomach drops. "What—"

"Y'know. Hot as hell in here." A smug pause. "Literally. Feels like a sauna. I'm sweatin'. Can't blame a guy for wantin' to cool off."

Oh God.

You can’t see his expression, but you feel the smirk radiating off of him. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

The darkness cloaks you both, amplifying everything else—the heat rolling off his body, the rise and fall of his chest, the way your fingers twitch at your sides like they’re waiting for permission to move.

What the hell is happening to me?

Your breath feels too heavy, your skin too sensitive. Your mind short-circuits around a single, intrusive thought:

You almost want to explode at the realization.

No, no, no—this isn’t you. You don’t get like this. You don’t crave like this. But here you are, pressed up against him in the dark, warm all over, thinking about how his mouth might feel on you.

Maybe—fuck—maybe he was right at the start. Maybe you do need to let off some steam.

Your hand moves before your brain catches up, pressing against his chest, feeling the solid heat of him through his shirt. You can feel the faint pulse beneath your fingertips, steady, unrushed. He’s not nervous. Not hesitant.

Your hand presses against his chest before your brain fully catches up to your actions.

Shit.

You should pull away. Should make up some excuse, brush it off, pretend the thought never crossed your mind. But your fingers stay put, sinking slightly into the warmth of his shirt, feeling the way his body tenses—just for a second—before he lets out a slow, amused exhale.

"Huh."

His voice is lower now, quieter. Not teasing. Just… interested.

Your breath catches.

What the fuck are you doing?

You don’t do this. You don’t make impulsive choices. You don’t get tangled up in reckless bullshit with guys who smell like trouble and expensive cologne. You don’t—

But then again, when was the last time you let yourself do anything just for the hell of it?

It’s been months—years, maybe—since you let yourself feel something other than stress and exhaustion. And right now, standing in the dark with his body heat pressing against yours, you’re feeling a lot.

Maybe too much.

Maybe just enough.

Your fingers curl slightly against his chest, and you force yourself to say something. "You’re right."

Teo tilts his head. Even in the pitch-black, you feel his smirk. "‘Bout what?"

"...I need to let off some steam."

There’s a pause. A loaded, heavy silence that makes your skin prickle.

Then—Teo huffs out a soft laugh. This time, it's not obnoxious or cocky—it’s almost pleased.

"Well, shit, starshine. Didn’t think you had it in you."

You should be embarrassed. You should be regretting this.

But instead, you just let out a slow breath and press a little closer.

"Shut up," you murmur.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself—before you can talk yourself out of it—you pull him down into a kiss.

His lips are warm against your skin—slow, deliberate, nothing like the messy, impatient fumbling you expected. A shiver runs down your spine as he drags his mouth along the curve of your neck, his breath hot, teasing.

God. Thank God the lights are out.

If you could see yourself right now, if he could see you—this wrecked, this pliant—you don’t think you’d survive it. Your pride would never recover. But in the dark, with only the press of his body and the steady, measured way he’s mapping you out, it’s too easy to let go.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

You know that.

But when his hands settle on your waist, firm but unhurried, fingertips pressing just enough to ground you, you don’t pull away. If anything, you find yourself leaning into him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt like you need him closer.

A deep chuckle vibrates against your throat, low and indulgent. “Damn,” he murmurs, his voice rich with amusement. “Didn’t think you’d be this easy to crack, starshine.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when he’s tilting your chin up slightly, giving himself better access to your jaw, your throat. Every press of his lips is calculated, paced just right—not greedy, not rough, but undeniably good. The kind of good that makes your breath hitch, your knees feel a little weaker than they should.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

That realization should scare you.

But right now? It doesn’t.

Right now, you just tip your head back a little further, giving him more room.

And he takes it.

The second his lips brush against your neck, you freeze—just for a moment. It’s barely a touch, a ghost of warmth against your skin, but it sends a sharp jolt down your spine. Your grip tightens against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and you don’t know if you want to push him away or pull him closer.

Teo doesn’t rush. He moves with confidence, like he already knows you won’t stop him. His lips press against your throat, slow and teasing, before parting just enough for the heat of his breath to linger there. Then—just when you think that’s all he’s going to do—his tongue flicks out, a lazy drag against your pulse.

God. Thank god the lights are out.

If you could see yourself right now, you’d be mortified. You’re warm, too warm, your body tilted into his without thinking. Every nerve ending feels alight, too aware of the way his broad chest presses against yours, the way his arm has settled around your waist—holding you there, just enough pressure to remind you he could keep you like this if he wanted.

And maybe you want him to.

You shouldn’t. This isn’t you. You don’t do impulsive. You don’t do messy.

But you also don’t let yourself have things, do you? You don’t let yourself want.

"Fuck it," you whisper, barely a breath. Then your hands fist into his shirt, and you surge up to kiss him.

It’s messy, all teeth and heat, more force than finesse. You don’t know what you’re doing—just that you need more. Teo groans into your mouth, surprised for all of a second before he takes control. His fingers flex at your waist, his other hand threading into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss.

Fuck. He’s good at this.

You expected him to be reckless, to take without thought, but he’s slow, deliberate. He kisses like he’s tasting something he wants to savor—like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you and is enjoying every second of it. His teeth graze your lower lip before he sucks it into his mouth, tongue sliding against yours with a confidence that makes your knees weak.

You gasp against him, and that’s all the opening he needs. His hand at your waist drags you flush against him, erasing any space left between you. You can feel everything—how solid he is, how warm, the way his muscles tense beneath your fingers as he keeps you exactly where he wants.

"Thought you were gonna be a good little corporate drone," he murmurs against your lips, voice thick with amusement and heat. "Guess not."

"Shut up," you snap, but your breath hitches as his teeth graze your jaw, nipping just hard enough to make you jolt.

"Make me," he challenges.

You do.

Your hands slip under his shirt, dragging over bare skin, the taut lines of muscle beneath. He shudders—just barely—but you feel it, and the realization sends a rush of heat through you. You press closer, letting your nails scrape along his sides, feeling the way his stomach tenses at the touch.

Teo groans, the sound vibrating against your throat as he dips down, mouthing at the sensitive skin just below your jaw. His hands tighten at your waist before one slides lower, over the curve of your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make you squirm.

"You’re enjoying this," he murmurs against your skin, voice smug.

"Shut up," you repeat, but the breathlessness ruins any bite it might’ve had.

He laughs, low and rough. "Cute."

You don’t have time to snap back before his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and pressing you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders for balance, but he doesn’t let you fall—just holds you there, his hips slotting between yours in a way that makes your breath stutter.

Oh. Oh fuck.

His lips are back on yours before you can think too hard about it, hungry this time, like he’s finally lost his patience. His fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread around him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. You don’t even realize you’re rocking into him until you feel the pressure, the heat pooling low in your stomach as he rolls his hips against yours.

"Fuck," you breathe, barely recognizing your own voice.

Teo smirks against your lips, but he doesn’t tease this time. Doesn’t taunt. He just moves, rolling into you with slow, deliberate motions, like he’s testing how far he can push you before you break. His breath is hot against your ear when he speaks, voice low and dark.

"You’re fucking soaked," he murmurs. "How long have you been wanting this, huh?"

You don’t answer. You can’t.

You just pull him closer, letting yourself get lost in the heat of him, the way he touches you like he’s got all the time in the world to ruin you.

And maybe you want to be ruined. Just for tonight. Just this once.

Maybe that’s okay.

Your back presses against the cool metal of the elevator wall, a stark contrast to the heat coiling between your legs. Teo keeps you pinned there with his body, the weight of him deliciously grounding, his hands gripping your thighs with just enough pressure to make you squirm.

And then—fuck.

You feel it.

Hard, insistent, pressing against you through the layers of your clothes. There’s no mistaking it.

Your breath hitches, heat blooming in your chest, spreading downward, pooling between your thighs.

Teo chuckles, low and smug, like he knows exactly what just clicked in your head. His fingers flex against your thighs, holding you open around him, and he rolls his hips again, just enough to make sure you feel it this time.

"Yeah?" he murmurs against your ear. "That doin’ something for you?"

You don’t answer, but your body betrays you. Your fingers tighten in his shirt, your hips shifting just slightly—seeking.

Teo groans, breath hot against your throat. "Shit, you’re needy."

You want to snap back, want to tell him to shut the fuck up, but then he’s moving again, rolling against you slow and deliberate, dragging a sound out of your throat you don’t even recognize.

The bastard laughs.

"Didn’t peg you for the type to get this worked up from a little dry humping," he teases, voice thick with amusement. "But hey, I’m not complaining."

You do snap then. Hands tangling in his hair, you yank him into a messy, desperate kiss, swallowing whatever bullshit he was about to say next.

Teo groans into your mouth, and fuck, you feel it everywhere. The way his body moves against yours, the way his cock presses against you with each slow grind, the heat of his skin beneath your hands.

You want him. Bad.

And you’re done pretending otherwise.

Your hands move, dragging over his chest, down, down—

He catches your wrists before you can go further, pinning them against the wall on either side of your head.

"Uh-uh," he murmurs, smirking. "Not yet. Wanna take my time with you."

You groan, frustrated, and he laughs again, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then lower.

The darkness is suffocating, but you don’t need to see to know exactly where he is. You can feel him—everywhere. The weight of his body pressing you against the elevator wall, the heat radiating off him, the dampness of his breath ghosting over your jaw before he finally—

Finally—

Latches onto your throat.

A sharp inhale gets caught in your chest, your body stiffening for a fraction of a second before melting into the warmth of his mouth. Teo doesn’t rush it. He takes his time, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, sucking just hard enough to make you arch, make you gasp, make you clutch at the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his voice sinfully smooth, hands shifting down your waist. "Loosen up for me, starshine."

A sharp nip at your pulse sends a shiver straight down your spine, and Teo feels it, chuckling against your skin. His fingers press into your hips, firm and possessive, keeping you pinned in place as he works his way lower, dragging his mouth down, down, until he’s nosing against the collar of your shirt.

You should stop this.

You should.

But fuck, you don’t want to.

Not when he’s got you trembling under his hands, not when your body’s already betraying you, hips subtly rocking up to chase his heat, not when he knows exactly what he’s doing and is loving every second of making you fall apart.

His grip tightens. "You’re so fucking responsive."

Your breath stutters when he slides a knee between your thighs, pressing up just enough to make you see white behind your eyes.

"Shit—"

Teo groans, tilting his head, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Yeah? That’s what you need?" His knee presses again. "Want me to make you come like this?"

You hate how much you want that.

Your fingers dig into his arms, nails pressing into warm skin. He’s solid under your touch, strong, holding you in place like he owns you. The thought makes your stomach flip.

"Fuck," you breathe.

Teo grins. You can hear it.

"That’s a yes."

His hands slip lower. His fingers tease at your waistband. You should push him away, should tell him no—

But instead, you help him.

You shove your pants down just enough to give him access, just enough to let him press against you without the barrier of fabric in the way.

Teo groans at the feel of you, muttering something low and filthy against your mouth before kissing you hard enough to bruise.

He presses his palm between your legs, teasing at first—just enough pressure to make you gasp, just enough to make you chase it.

"So needy," he taunts, voice low and pleased. "Look at you, already falling apart for me."

You don’t have it in you to argue. Not when his fingers slip lower, not when he starts moving, slow and deliberate, teasing you, dragging you higher and higher until you’re a mess in his hands.

"Fuck, Teo—"

His lips find your throat again, sucking a fresh mark into your skin. "That’s what I wanna hear."

And then—he slides two fingers inside.

Your head tips back against the elevator wall, a broken sound escaping you.

Teo groans at the reaction, curling his fingers just right, rubbing his thumb against the most sensitive part of you, watching—feeling—you unravel.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Come on. Let go for me."

You don’t have a choice.

The pleasure crashes over you too fast, too intense, stealing your breath as you clamp down around his fingers, shaking, barely holding onto reality as he works you through it.

Teo grins.

"That’s one," he murmurs, dragging his fingers out—slow, teasing. "Think you got another in you?"

And fuck—fuck—you might.

You scramble to gather yourself, but the moment the elevator's dim light flickers on, reality crashes down on you like a freight train.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Your reflection in the metallic doors is a mess—flushed, sweaty, lips slightly swollen, shirt stretched in ways that make it very obvious what just went down. And Teo—Teo looks infuriatingly smug, running a hand through his slightly mussed black-and-green hair like this is just another Tuesday for him.

The elevator jerks, the hum of the motor returning, the world resuming as if it hadn’t just tilted on its goddamn axis for you.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. Your body still hums with the aftermath of what just happened, legs barely steady enough to hold you upright.

Teo, the bastard, grins.

"Hope that helped ya blow off some steam," he drawls, voice rich with amusement.

Your stomach flips.

Shit.

Your hands move on autopilot, shoving yourself back into your clothes, fingers shaking as you fumble with your belt. The sheer audacity of what you just did—the way you completely lost yourself—this isn’t you. This cannot be you.

You don’t do this. You don’t just throw yourself at some cocky stranger in a broken elevator like a goddamn heat-starved animal.

You tighten your grip on your bag, shoving your feet into your shoes as Teo watches, amused but surprisingly unbothered. Like he knew this was coming. Like he already knew how this would play out.

It only makes your heart race more.

The doors slide open.

And before he can say anything else, before you can even process the way his eyes linger on you like he’s memorizing the exact way you look ruined, you bolt.

Out of the elevator. Out of his sight.

And straight into the cold night air—where you can finally breathe again.

You sit at your desk, head in your hands, praying—no, begging—for divine intervention.

That wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. I am a respectable, unlucky little angel who just happens to have bad days. That’s all.

Yesterday? Didn’t happen. It was a fever dream. A trick of the mind. The darkness and stress of your soul-sucking job must’ve finally made you snap, that’s all. You did not make out with some cocky, rule-breaking stranger in an elevator. You did not let him wreck you against the wall.

…And you definitely didn’t run away like a scandalized Victorian maiden afterward.

Nope. Fresh day. New you.

Then your phone rings.

Your boss is calling.

You groan, rubbing your temples. What now? Did they finally realize you spend half your work hours mentally cursing them out?

With a sigh, you pick up.

“Yeah?”

“You. My office. Now.”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Your stomach sinks.

You march to your boss’s office with the same energy as a condemned prisoner heading to the gallows. And when you get there?

They’re not alone.

Because sitting at your boss’s desk—calm, polished, and exuding power—is another man. One you don’t know but immediately recognize as important.

Christian Alvarado.

The name rings a bell in the worst way. You don’t know him, but everyone knows of the Alvarados.

One of the wealthiest families in the country. Untouchable. Powerful. They own everything, from luxury brands to tech startups to half the city itself.

What the hell does he want with me?

Your boss clears their throat. “So, um. We got a request. From the higher-ups.”

Your hands tighten at your sides. “What kind of request?”

Christian Alvarado steeples his fingers. He’s refined, calculated—everything about him oozes authority. And when he speaks, his voice is smooth but firm.

“We need you to do us a favor,” he says. “It comes with a promotion and a substantial financial incentive.”

A favor? Money? A raise?! You lean in, intrigued despite yourself. “...What kind of favor?”

Christian exhales, like this conversation is beneath him. Then—casually, like he’s asking you to fetch him coffee—he says:

“We’d like to hire you to date our son.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“…What?”

“To clarify,” Christian continues, “you won’t be actually dating him. You’ll simply act as his partner for a while. Keep him out of trouble. Ensure he doesn’t tarnish our family name. Essentially, you’ll be his personal handler.”

Your eye twitches.

“...You want me to babysit a grown-ass man?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Why the hell me?!”

“You were personally requested.”

You explode.

“BY WHO?!”

Christian Alvarado presses a button on the desk.

“Teodore. Come in.”

The moment you hear that name, your stomach drops.

The door swings open.

And there—standing with his signature cocky stance, black-and-green hair slightly tousled, tribal tattoos peeking from under his fitted shirt—is him.

Teo.

Elevator guy.

The man you absolutely did not let wreck you against the wall last night.

You choke on air.

Teo’s grin widens the second he sees you.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, stepping into the room. “Ain’t this a fun little coincidence?”

You, meanwhile, are having a full-on meltdown.

Your entire body locks up.

Christian Alvarado’s sharp gaze sweeps between you and Teo, assessing, calculating. Then, he asks, “Do you two know each other?”

Your lips part—but nothing comes out.

Because, oh god, how do you even answer that?!

Do you know him? Well, if knowing someone means having your back slammed against an elevator wall while they kiss your neck until you nearly melt into a puddle of sin—

NO.

No, you do not know him.

You desperately look at Teo, silently pleading for him to not ruin your life right now.

His green eyes gleam with mischief.

Then, with a casual shrug, he says—

“Dunno. Not really.”

You nearly collapse from relief.

Christian narrows his eyes, clearly sensing something off, but doesn’t push.

Teo strolls further into the room, his entire vibe radiating reckless indifference. He flops onto the couch like he owns the place, legs spread out, arm draped over the backrest.

“So, what’s the issue now, Dad?”

Christian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s seconds away from exploding.

“The issue, Teodore, is that your name is once again making headlines for all the wrong reasons.”

Teo snorts, amused. “What, they didn’t like my latest stunt?”

“They didn’t like the street racing or the casino brawl or the hundred-thousand-dollar bill you racked up at that club last week.”

Teo waves him off. “Pocket change.”

Christian’s jaw twitches.

You, meanwhile, are just sitting there in pure horror.

What the fuck is your life now?!

Yesterday, you were just a normal—albeit miserable—corporate drone. And now, suddenly, you’re supposed to babysit a chaotic, law-breaking rich boy who is way too hot for his own good?!

This is a nightmare.

You start reconsidering your life choices.

But before you can reject this insanity, Christian Alvarado levels you with a piercing stare.

“You’ll be compensated well for this. A salary increase. Access to our connections. Your debts—cleared.”

Your breath hitches.

Wait.

Did he just say—

Debts?

Your pulse pounds.

You do have debts. Crippling ones. Soul-sucking ones. The kind that will keep you chained to a desk job for the rest of your miserable life.

And now—

This man is offering you a way out.

All you have to do… is handle Teo.

You glance at him.

He catches your gaze, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk—

—and you realize you are absolutely fucked.

After that little incident—because, really, what else could you call it?—things settled into something weirdly normal.

You and Teo? You were just buddies. That’s all.

Nothing serious, nothing complicated. Just two people who happened to be stuck in an arrangement neither of you had asked for.

And, well… Teo got comfortable around you.

It wasn’t surprising—he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who gave a shit about formalities or keeping up appearances. If anything, he thrived on breaking expectations.

And you? You weren’t a relationship person. You didn’t have the patience for all that messy emotional investment—and neither did he.

Teo hated buzzkills. He hated being tied down.

And you? You just wanted an outlet. A way to let off steam when life got suffocating.

With that understanding between you, things were… fun.

Maybe a little too fun.

EXTRAS, Just some drafts I did!!

Thigh riding him

The thing about Teo? He knew exactly what he was doing.

And you hated that.

Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you liked the way he grinned at you, like he already knew how this was going to end. Like he knew you’d break first.

That cocky, insufferable smirk was right in front of you now, his hands lazy where they rested on your waist, fingers tracing idle circles over the fabric of your shirt. His touch wasn’t demanding—it didn’t need to be. You were already wound tight, already needing something.

He’d been teasing you all night, pressing up close when he didn’t need to, murmuring in your ear about how damn tense you are, starshine, like he didn’t know exactly why. Like he didn’t know how every brush of his fingers, every slow drag of his voice, was making your stomach twist into knots.

And now? Now you were in his lap, straddling his thigh, trying not to shudder at the solid heat beneath you.

“C’mon,” Teo murmured, voice low and coaxing. “You wanted to let off some steam, didn’t you?”

Your hands curled into his shoulders, gripping him maybe a little harder than necessary. But it wasn’t your fault—he was the one making this difficult, with his lazy confidence, with the way his fingers dug into your waist just enough to anchor you there.

“I—” You swallowed, unsure what the hell you were trying to say.

“Mm?” He tilted his head, pretending to be innocent. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Bastard.

You glared at him, but it lacked any real heat—not when you were already shifting, testing the way it felt to move against him.

His thigh was firm beneath you, warm even through the layers of clothing, and—fuck—you could feel the muscles flex slightly as he adjusted, giving you just enough resistance to make you clench your teeth.

“Don’t think about it too much.” Teo’s voice was all silk and smoke, coaxing you forward, his hands helping—not pushing, but guiding, his grip tightening just enough to encourage. “Just move. Feels good, huh?”

You hated how right he was.

A shaky breath left your lips as you rocked against him, testing, feeling the friction build, the pressure sending slow, curling heat through your stomach.

Teo was watching you, green eyes dark with something dangerous, something pleased.

“There ya go,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your waist, settling on your hips, fingers digging in. “See? Knew you’d get the hang of it.”

He wasn’t leading—he let you set the pace, let you grind down at your own rhythm, but fuck if he wasn’t making it worse, whispering shit against your skin, teeth grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your throat.

“You look real pretty like this,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ needy.”

You almost bit back a retort—almost—but the words melted on your tongue when his hands tightened, when he shifted just slightly beneath you, making you jolt, making heat spike through your stomach.

A breathy sound slipped past your lips, and that—that—made Teo grin, slow and filthy.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, rougher, amusement curling at the edges. “That’s what does it for you? Just my fuckin’ thigh?”

You wanted to hit him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight as you moved again, chasing friction, chasing heat, chasing something—

And Teo, the absolute asshole, let you work for it, let you take what you wanted while he just watched, his expression smug, lazy, utterly in control even when he was letting you do all the work.

But then—then he shifted, his hands suddenly pulling you down harder, dragging you against him at just the right angle, and—fuck—your head tilted back, a sound breaking from your throat before you could stop it.

Teo laughed, breath warm against your skin.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” His voice was filthy, low and rough, like he was savoring every damn second of this. “You like that, huh?”

You weren’t going to answer. Couldn’t. Didn’t trust yourself to.

But he didn’t need a response—he already knew.

And he was enjoying himself far too much, hands guiding you into a steady rhythm, murmuring in your ear about how good you looked like this, how much he liked watching you come undone.

“C’mon, starshine,” he whispered, voice all heat and honey. “Show me how bad you need it.”

You don’t remember how you got here—straddling Teo’s thigh, hands gripping his shoulders like they’re the only thing keeping you from collapsing. But you are here, and he’s watching you with that lazy, cocky smirk, like he knew this would happen all along.

“Damn, starshine,” he drawls, fingers resting light on your hips, not pushing—just there. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You don’t dignify that with a response.

You can’t.

Because the moment you shift, the rough fabric of his jeans drags against you, the pressure making your stomach tighten, and fuck—fuck.

His smirk widens.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, trying to act like you have any control over the situation. But he’s warm under you, solid, letting you set the pace, letting you use him.

And god, you are using him.

You move again, slower this time, testing. The friction is just enough—just enough to make you bite your lip, just enough to make your fingers dig into his shoulders.

Teo groans, low in his throat.

“Shit. Keep doin’ that.”

Pillow Princess Teo <33

Pillow Princess Teo—Let’s Fix That Attitude

Teo Alvarado wasn’t used to not being in charge.

He was the one who teased, who pressed his luck, who pulled reactions out of you like it was a game and he was always winning. Confidence oozed off him, easy as breathing, and his smirk never faltered—always cocky, always assured.

But right now?

Right now, he was beneath you, stretched out against the mattress, his usual grin replaced with something softer. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths—like he was pretending to be relaxed. But you could feel the tension in him, coiled tight beneath his skin, just waiting to snap.

And that? That was satisfying as fuck.

You leaned over him, hands braced against his toned stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. He watched you, green eyes sharp despite the lazy way he lay there, arms thrown up above his head like he was perfectly fine with being at your mercy.

A lie.

"Yeah?" you murmured, voice low, teasing. "You're actually letting me take the lead?"

Teo scoffed, tilting his chin. "I ain't lettin' you do shit—"

You rolled your hips down against him, slow, dragging, and his words cut off in an exhale that was way too sharp to be casual. His fingers flexed in the sheets.

That’s what I thought.

Teo was all talk.

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. But when you traced your fingers down his chest, dragging over muscle, teasing at the waistband of his pants, you could feel the way his stomach tensed—like he was waiting for it.

Like he wanted this.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Relax, Teo," you drawled, letting your nails graze over his skin just enough to make him twitch. "Thought you were all about having a good time?"

He shot you a lopsided smirk, but it was weaker than usual. "I have a good time when I’m in charge."

You hummed, letting your lips ghost over his jaw, warm breath fanning against his skin. "Yeah? And yet you're still under me."

His smirk twitched. His hands gripped the sheets tighter.

You knew him. He liked to chase, to push, to win. But now, he was fighting himself, caught between instinct and curiosity.

So you kept going.

Slow.

Deliberate.

You rolled your hips against him again, feeling the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath hitched. His heartbeat was steady—but fast.

"You can stop me," you murmured against his ear, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss beneath it.

Silence.

A long silence.

And then, barely above a whisper:

"...Ain't gonna."

Oh, fuck.

The moment you heard those words, something dark and eager curled in your chest.

You dragged your lips down his neck, slow, lingering, feeling the way his pulse thrummed under your mouth. His breath hitched when you bit down, not hard, just enough to make him jolt.

His hands twitched. He still wasn’t touching you.

Good.

"Teo," you murmured, letting his name drag off your tongue as you licked over the mark you just made. "You’re real quiet all of a sudden."

His fingers twitched again. "Shut the fuck up."

You laughed, low and satisfied. "Make me."

That got a reaction. His hips jerked, just slightly, like he wanted to move but refused to give you the satisfaction. He was holding back.

Oh, but you wanted to ruin him.

Slowly, you dragged your hand down his stomach, over the waistband of his pants, pressing just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

"You're really fighting yourself, huh?"

His teeth clenched. "I swear to god—"

You cut him off with another roll of your hips, pressing down, slow, grinding. His breath punched out of him in a low groan, sharp and frustrated.

And fuck, did that feel good.

The shift happened fast.

One second, he was holding himself back, trying to stay in control.

The next?

His hands finally moved.

One gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he wasn’t even thinking about it. The other? Sliding up your back, gripping the nape of your neck, pulling you down.

And fuck—his mouth on yours was a mess.

Sloppy, needy, tongue pressing deep like he was finally letting himself have you. He groaned into it, a low, wrecked sound, and the grip on your waist tightened.

Gone.

Fucking gone.

And he knew it.

Because when you pulled back, breathless, his lips were kiss-swollen, his pupils blown wide, and that cocky smirk?

Nowhere to be found.

"You good?" you murmured, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

Teo blinked, hazy, and then huffed a sharp breath, smirk flickering back—but barely.

"You tryna act all sweet now?" His voice was rough, breathless. "Nah, nah, fuck that—"

You rolled your hips down hard.

His words cut off in a sharp, wrecked sound that had your stomach twisting in the best way.

"Fuck—okay, shit—"

Teo Alvarado, lost for words.

Who knew all it took was breaking him down slow, making him wait, teasing him until he had to give in?

His hands dug into your hips, like he didn’t know if he wanted to pull you closer or push you off before he lost every ounce of control he had left.

Too late.

Way too fucking late.

"That’s better," you murmured, leaning down, lips barely brushing his. "Thought you were supposed to be having fun?"

Teo huffed, half a laugh, half a groan. "Fuck you."

You grinned. "You wished."

And then you really started moving.

You both laid there, bodies tangled, sweat cooling against your skin. The room was too warm, the sheets a mess beneath you, and Teo?

Teo looked wrecked.

Hair mussed, lips red from too many kisses, his chest rising and falling like he hadn’t fully caught his breath yet.

And you loved it.

You traced a lazy pattern over his ribs, smirking at the way he twitched beneath your touch. "You good?"

Teo cracked an eye open, staring at you like he wanted to say something smart—but he was too relaxed, too satisfied to even try.

Finally, he huffed a breath, closing his eyes again.

"Yeah," he muttered.

Then, after a beat:

"...You gotta do that again."

You laughed. "You’re the one who acted all hesitant about it."

He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it. "Shut up."

You grinned, leaning down to press a slow, teasing kiss to his throat. "Make me."

His breath hitched—just slightly.

And yeah.

You were definitely gonna do that again.

EXTRA, for this

Your legs still didn’t work.

"How you feelin’?" Teo grinned down at you, all smug satisfaction as he sprawled against the pillows, arms folded behind his head like he hadn’t just wrecked you for three days straight.

You glared at him.

"Don’t look at me like that," he laughed, nudging your hip with his knee. "You started it."

You huffed, voice hoarse. "You're a fucking menace."

You slowly blink awake, your head spinning, but there's a strange sense of warmth lingering around you. Your body’s heavy, almost like you can’t move, but that’s quickly overshadowed by the deliciously familiar scent of something cooking.

And then, you hear it—a voice, smooth and teasing.

“Good morning, dollface. Did you sleep well?”

You turn your head, and there he is, standing in the kitchen, wearing an apron. Not just any apron, but that apron—the one that says “Kiss the Cook” in bold, cheeky letters. The sight of it, combined with the usual smug grin on his face, makes your cheeks flush instantly.

You want to move, but your body’s still giving you that heavy, reluctant sensation. Your mind races through the fog of sleep as you try to process the scene. He’s standing there, teasingly innocent in his apron, and you can’t help but feel a little... trapped. But it’s not bad—it’s a tease, something more playful.

“Kiss the cook, huh?” you manage to mumble, your voice still thick with sleep.

Down There..?

Why not </3

[lostalioth]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

→ premise: all logan wanted after a hard and long day was his girl and if he has to chase her around the house a little. even better.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, unprotected sex, primal kink [sort of?], logan chase’s reader, free use, nicknames [my girl, baby, sweet girl], daddy kink, logan calls himself daddy [and old man once], bathroom sex

→ a/n: kinktober 14

Logan was a simple man all he needed was his girl after a long hard day. It was an ache deep in his adamantium bones that he couldn't explain. An ache that seeing your pretty face beaming at him the second he pushes open the front door melted from his abused body.

You however decided that today for a little extra fun, you wanted to be a brat and run from Logan instead of greeting him at the door like his good girl. “C’mon you're really gonna make ya’ old man chase you sweet girl?” He groans, barely using any strength or energy as he slowly follows you as you bounce around the house. He was exhausted and yet he couldn't deny that thrill that shot down to his cock as his jeans thighted when he thought of catching you, he knew he could. Admittedly yes he had a large advantage over you, he was a mutant and you weren't. The idea that you couldn't get away even if you tried sent an ache to your core that made you push his buttons further.

“Afraid you won’t catch up to me daddy?” You giggle and tilt your head in his direction as you made the mistake of standing still.

A boardline primal growl leans his lips causing your eyes to widen, your heart thumping harder and faster in your chest. “Ya’ asked for it baby” he chuckles darkly sending shivers down your spine as he rushes forward in a sudden burst of effort. A squeal leaves your lips in surprise as your instincts kick in as fast as humanly is possible and you spin on your heel running away from your beast of a boyfriend.

“Lo!!” You squeak out, a heat spreading through your body in a mixture of fear and arousal as you try your hardest not to get caught just yet. After a few minutes of manganing to practically run from Logan in circles around the house, on impulse you make a wrong turn and run into your shared bedroom and the attached ensuite bathroom. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” you curse out as you come to a halt suddenly at a dead end.

”Aww you got ya’ self trapped now sweet girl” Logan’s deep voice filled the echoing bathroom, making it feel like he was surrounding you as he creeped up behind you. Right as you spin your body around to face him, he’s on you in a flash pressing you back against the cold counter. “Did you really think you could outrun me baby? Or did the idea of daddy catching you excite ya’? Huh?” He taunts, his large calloused hands encircling your hips as he pushes his body against you further pinning you in place against the bathroom counter. You let out a short pathetic whine when his thumb runs along the band of your skirt toying with it. “Well? Daddy’s waiting on an answer” he presses with his thumbs against your hip bones before one hand travels up and makes its way under your shirt, working at undoing your bra.

“I wanted daddy to catch me” you gasp out when he pops open your bra under your shirt, pushing the straps off your shoulder and letting it fall to the tile floor. Warm rough hand palming over your now exposed breasts.

”Such a bad girl, making me chase ya’ just for some excitement” he tsks as his hand leaves your chest and he turns his attention towards unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down his thighs alongside his boxers to free his aching cock. His cock slaps against his stomach, the tip red and leaking down his thick shaft. “Specially’ when ya’ know all daddy wants to come home to is his girl all ready for him to use” he lightly shakes his head, both of his hands now pulling down your skirt revealing the fact you weren't wearing any panties. A rush of cold air hits your exposed bare cunt making you squirm in his hold, your eyes glazing over as you look at the proud look that now over takes Logan's face.

“Oh fuck.. you were ready huh baby? My girls s’sweet to me, not wearing any panties while she’s waiting f’me to get home fuck” he growls out, his tactic of going slow flying out the window now. He quickly pushes your skirt all the way down your legs letting you step out of the puddle of your combined clothes on the floor. Grabbing a hold of your plush ass he is quick to lift you up, sitting you down on the cold marble countertop and wrapping your legs around his wide hips. “Daddy!” You let out a short gasp as he smacks his throbbing tip against your clit before lining it up at your entrance and pushing all the way inside with one sharp and hard thrust.

“S’good for me sweet girl, love my little free use girl” he mumbled out in a slurred together mess, the stress of his long day leaving his body as his hips pull back and snap forward to meet yours, pounding his cock deep inside you. His cock already hitting the spot that makes you see stars repeatedly with every hard thrust into you. “Fuck! Lo~” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his neck.

“Thought bout’ this sweet pussy all day baby, just wanted to come home to my sweet baby s’bad” he growls out, his balls tightening the more your cunt clenches down on his cock. Gripping onto the back of your neck he pulls your face away from his shoulder to crash his lips against yours to muffle the groans that slip past his lips in pleasure. Logan never used to be this vocal in bed, not a real big fan of talking during sex but he can't help the sounds and dirty words that fall from his mouth when he is buried to the hilt inside your cunt.

“Daddy m’gonna cum, pleasee let me cum” you plead into his lips in a broken moan as the band in your stomach tightens more and more with each slap of his balls against your ass. “Cum f’me sweet girl” he coos pulling away to rub his thumb over your check watching as his favorite sweet blissed out look spreads across your face when the band snaps.

With a wonton cry of Logan's name and mumbles of ‘thank you’ fill the bathroom you gush all over his cock when your orgasm washes over you. Your cum creates a creamy ring at the base of his cock, his hips not flattering in their thrusting making you let out a whimper as the stimulation steadily becomes too much, his tip abusing your g spot countiually even after your climax ends. “Lo…daddy, cant take no more” you whine out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and the pleasure mixes with slight pain from overstimulation.

“M’sorry sweet girl, daddy isn't done with his girl yet, it’s okay baby just let daddy use ya’ a little more okay?” He grunts out, his fingers digging into your hips as his head falls against your chest, pants and groans tumbling from his mouth mixed in with praise and moans of your name. Logan desperately needed this moment to last just a bit longer before that ache settled into his body again.

→ a/n: i didnt proofread this, im in to much of a rush to get this out today as well as start on the two fics i need to post to to get on track with kinktober

[sunsburns]

no. 1 party anthem — clark kent (superman) ! ᢉ𐭩

⟢ synopsis. what was supposed to be a night for work takes an unexpected turn when you run into clark kent—alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date who seems to have no intention of showing up. poor guy.

⟢ contains. clark kent x reader, ots and lots of fluff! it is one of the more romantic things i have written, cute blind date, characters are dumb, set up date, lois is a mastermind, i do not know anything about journalism, pinning from both sides but too shy to do anything about it.

⟢ word count. 5.8k+

⟢ author’s note. i can’t get this man outta my head pls help me 😣 the voices!!! also feel free to imagine this as any clark (and i mean any i swear: comic book, adventures with superman, tom welling, david corenswet, henry cavill, or even reeve)

“Hey, you’re gonna hate me but I’m gonna be like 10 minutes late. You go ahead and check in and order. The table should be under my name. I’ll pay the bill. I’m so sorry!”

You weren’t exactly surprised when the message lit up your phone screen. You rolled your eyes, exhaling through your nose. If there was one thing you knew about Lois Lane, it was that urgency wasn’t always her strong suit—unless it involved an exclusive scoop or a headline-worthy disaster with Superman. Still, considering this was supposed to be a work-related meeting, you had half-expected her to arrive early, not leave you waiting.

You typed out a quick reply, telling her it was fine when it really wasn’t, telling her to take her time when you wished she wouldn’t. Then, slipping your phone back into your bag, you made your way toward the hostess stand.

“Table under the name Lane?” you asked, offering a polite smile.

The hostess nodded, flashing you a warm smile in return. “Right this way.”

As she led you through the restaurant, you took in your surroundings with subtle curiosity. The place was charming—exactly the kind of cozy, floral-accented spot Lois would dig up for an ‘informal work chat.’ The kind of place that felt like it had stories tucked between its soft candlelit tables and ivy-draped walls.

You tried to dress the part, too—professional but approachable. You weren’t here for a casual dinner, after all. This meeting was supposed to be a quick sit-down with a lawyer Lois had arranged, someone who could confirm a few key details for a piece you were both working on. A case involving a corporation and some shady legal maneuvering—Lois had the sources, but you were the one handling the research. You’d spent the past week buried in legal jargon, piecing together statements and contracts, and now you just needed a professional to verify what you suspected before the article could go to print.

By the time you reached your table, you were already running through the questions in your head, mentally preparing for the conversation. The restaurant wasn’t grand, but it was stunning in its own way. You admired the decor, taking in the quiet hum of conversation and the delicate clink of silverware.

At least if Lois was late, you had time to go over your notes one more time.

You ran your hands over your portfolio, smoothing the cover absentmindedly as you flipped through the pages. The neatly typed notes stared back at you, but none of the words really registered. All you could do was wait—for the lawyer, for Lois, for some sign that this wasn’t going to be a complete waste of time.

With a sigh, you reached for the glass of wine you ordered a few minutes ago, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. You had to pace yourself, or you’d drain the whole thing before anyone even showed up. You checked your phone, hoping for an update, but the screen remained frustratingly blank.

Disappointed, you rested your chin on your hand, eyes drifting across the restaurant. The warm glow of golden light reflected off polished wood and delicate floral centrepieces, the soft murmur of conversation blending with the occasional clink of silverware. Your waiter had already stopped by twice, politely offering more appetizers while you tried not to look as painfully alone as you felt. If they came by again, you weren’t sure if you’d accept out of politeness or embarrassment.

And then, just as you took another sip of wine, a familiar figure walked through the entrance.

Clark Kent.

You blinked, watching as the hostess led him inside, guiding him through the rows of neatly arranged tables. Even from where you sat, you recognized the way he carried himself—like he was constantly trying to shrink his presence, shoulders slightly hunched, movements careful and deliberate. It was ironic, really, considering how much space he naturally took up. Clark was tall, broad-shouldered, and impossible to miss, yet he carried himself like he didn’t want to be noticed.

You knew him, but not really.

Not as much as you want to.

You were office acquaintances at best—two reporters who shared the same workplace, desks across from each other, but rarely the same conversations. There had been moments, though. Fleeting ones. Catching his lingering glances during late nights at the Daily Planet, both of you working in near silence, save for the tapping of keyboards. A handful of polite exchanges over the coffee machine, his voice always gentle, soft-spoken. And then, of course, there were the times someone would call out "Hey, Smallville!" across the office, earning a sheepish smile from Clark as he adjusted his glasses and ducked his head.

He looked nice tonight. Not too different from his usual work attire, but more relaxed. A crisp button-up, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal a strong line of his forearms, dress pants fitted just right. He had forgone the tie, leaving the top button undone. Simple, but put-together. Effortless in a way that shouldn’t have been so charming, but somehow was.

And then you realized the hostess was leading him closer.

You quickly dropped your gaze, staring into your half-empty wine glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. The last thing you wanted was to be caught staring, especially while sitting alone, nursing a drink, and very clearly sulking.

Maybe, just maybe, if you looked busy enough, you could avoid drawing any attention at all.

And for a moment, it worked.

You picked up your phone again, checking the time for what had to be the hundredth time that night. With a little too much urgency, you started to type out a message to Lois—something casual, something that wouldn’t sound desperate, something that would make it seem like you weren’t upset about currently sitting alone in a nice restaurant, swirling the last remnants of your wine waiting for her to get there. You were so focused on forming the perfect text that you almost missed it—

Your name.

Spoken softly, but clear. Familiar.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard. The voice had a weight to it, warm and steady, like someone genuinely surprised but pleased to see you. You swallowed and glanced up, feigning a search for the source before your gaze finally landed on Clark.

He wasn’t seated directly beside you but rather at the table across, angled just enough that you had to turn your head slightly to meet his eye. His lips curled into a sheepish smile, glasses slipping just a little down the bridge of his nose before he quickly pushed them back up again.

“Hi.”

That was all. Just hi. Simple, unassuming, but it made something settle in your chest, something you hadn’t even realized was tense.

You couldn’t bite back the smile forming on your own lips. “Hi, Clark.”

“Hey.”

A kind man with few words.

Though you’d heard him talk endlessly before, especially with Lois—deep in discussion, debating headlines, getting lost in conversations about ethics and reporting. But with you, it was always something short and sweet. A few words here and there. And yet, even the simplest conversations had a way of lingering. Would it be silly to admit that your brief, slightly awkward chats with Clark kind of made your day? Even when it was just him asking to borrow an extra pen?

God, you felt like a teenager again, having a crush on a classmate.

You watched as he rubbed at his cheek, the scruff there catching the soft glow of the restaurant lighting. His pointer finger rested idly at the seam of his lips, and you forced yourself to focus—not to stare at his mouth, not to let your gaze linger anywhere it shouldn’t.

He was your coworker, for fuck’s sake.

A really pretty one.

A really kind, really good-looking coworker.

You exhaled lightly, pressing your fingertips against the stem of your glass as if that might ground you. “It’s nice to see you.” The words came out before you could stop them, but they were true. It was nice.

It was almost like he perked up at that, his posture straightening just a little. “Yeah, great to see you too. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I... I could say the same.” Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were smiling. You tried to temper it, but it was hard when Clark Kent was looking at you like that—all honey-eyed.

“Are you here for work?” he asked, casting a pointed look at the portfolio by your hands, stacked neatly beside your drink.

You glanced down at it as if you had momentarily forgotten it was there. “Um, yeah. I’m meeting with a source, so... they should be here any minute.”

Clark’s brows lifted slightly. “It’s your story on LexCorp, right?”

Your fingers, which had been absently tracing the condensation on your glass, paused. “Yeah, it is actually.” You blinked at him, a little surprised. “How’d you know?”

His smile was almost bashful, his hand brushing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was being modest. “Oh, I just remember you mentioning it a few days ago. It’s a great story.”

Something in your chest tightened—not in a bad way, just in a way that made you feel warm all over. You hadn’t expected him to remember, let alone bring it up. The conversation you’d had at work had been so brief, just an offhand remark about how you were stepping outside your usual comfort zone. No one else had really asked you about it since.

“You think?” You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I thought it was kind of a stretch. I mean, like—a stretch from what I usually write, you know? I don’t really deal with politics and corporate stuff and all that.”

Clark shook his head, that gentle, reassuring look in his eyes making it impossible not to believe him. “I’m sure it’ll be great. You’re an amazing writer.”

You were smiling even wider now. Compliments weren’t uncommon at the Daily Planet—people gave each other nods of approval, a “good job” here and there. But Clark said it like he meant it, like he had read your work, thought about it, believed in it.

It reminded you of the time he had quietly left a sticky note on your desk after an article of yours had been rushed to print. Really great work on this one! -CK. You’d found it hours later, after everyone had gone home. It had been such a small thing, but you’d kept the note tucked inside your notebook anyway.

You felt your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Clark. I think you’re a great writer too.”

He ducked his head slightly, smiling. “Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just something familiar to the pauses between you two at the office. Expect this time you didn’t have any work to distract yourself with. You hesitated before finally breaking it.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what’re you doing here?”

“I, uh… I have a date, actually.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, you felt your stomach drop slightly, and you almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for not catching on sooner. Of course, he was here on a date, looking like that—all charming and shy.

He even smelled good, like fresh linen and something warm, something undeniably Clark.

“I know how it looks,” he started, and you noticed the way his shoulders began to hunch in on themselves like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Feels strange. I don’t think I’ve been dating since college.”

You let out a breath of amusement, nodding slowly. “Wow. Uh—good for you, though. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I mean…” He hesitated, then glanced up at you, a little sheepish. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s a blind date, so I have no idea what this person looks like or who they are.”

You blinked. “You don’t know anything?”

“They’re a friend of Lois.” He exhaled lightly, shaking his head. “But that’s as much as I got.”

“Oh.” Your lips parted, then closed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Clark.” You shot him a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “I’ll be here for moral support.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ve got your thing to worry about.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend out too.”

The words left your mouth before you had a chance to really think about them. Friend. You wondered if you could even call yourselves that. You were more acquaintances if anything—a friend of a friend. But Clark always did little favours for you, and he was always kind to you.

Like the time he had grabbed you a coffee when you’d been stuck in a seemingly endless editorial meeting, dropping it off at your desk without a word. Just a small smile, a quiet “figured you could use one.”

Or the time he’d helped you carry an entire box of research binders up three flights of stairs because the elevator was down. He had done it without hesitation, without you even asking, took it from your hands like it was weightless.

Then there was the time he had lent you his jacket when an assignment had left you stranded in the rain. It had been late, the Daily Planet nearly empty, and you had been standing by the windows, arms wrapped around yourself, shivering slightly as you tried to figure out how to make it home without getting completely drenched. Clark had passed by, paused, then shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Just give it back tomorrow,” he’d said.

But it wasn’t just him.

You had done things for him too.

The time you had stayed late to help him rework an article after an editor had torn through it with a red pen, sitting beside him as the newsroom emptied, tossing ideas back and forth until it finally felt right. He had looked at you then, something warm in his eyes, and said, “I owe you one.”

Or the time he had misplaced his glasses—how he had checked every possible spot, growing more and more flustered, only for you to walk over and pluck them from where they had been resting atop his head. You had laughed, shaking your head as you handed them back. He had gone pink in the ears, mumbling something about being forgetful, but the way he had smiled after made you think he didn’t mind the teasing.

Then there was the time you had covered for him when he had mysteriously disappeared right before a meeting. Lois had been looking for him, impatient and muttering about how he always seemed to vanish at the worst times. You had lied—just a small one. Said he had mentioned stepping out for a quick errand, and that he’d be back soon. You weren’t sure why you had done it.

Helping him out never hurt. So it shouldn’t hurt one more time.

Well, maybe it would. Just a little bit.

It might hurt your pride, mostly.

“Besides,” you continued, “I’ve been here for almost twenty minutes and no one’s showed up.”

“That’s... odd.”

“I know,” you muttered, glancing at your phone again, the screen glowing with no new notifications. You hesitated, thumb hovering over your messages before sighing and picking it up. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

“Of course,” Clark said, ever patient, though his brows knit together slightly in concern.

You slid out of your seat, weaving through the dimly lit restaurant. The warm hum of conversation filled the air, glasses clinking, silverware scraping against plates. A jazz melody played softly from the speakers, almost drowned out by the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. You stepped toward the front, near the entrance, where it was quieter, and pressed the phone to your ear.

Lois hadn’t answered your last two—three?—messages. You tried calling her once. The line rang and rang, then went to voicemail. You exhaled sharply and called again, tapping your fingers against the wooden counter near the hostess stand.

On the last ring, she finally picked up.

"Hello-?"

“Where are you?” You didn’t bother hiding the frustration in your voice, pacing a little near the door.

"I'm... on my way, I swear."

“You said that almost half an hour ago, Lois.”

"I know, I know—I’m sorry. I was just about to call—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through your teeth. “And the lawyer, do you know when they’ll get here?”

A pause.

"I… I don’t know."

Your stomach dropped. “You don’t know?”

"No… now that I think about it… I don’t think I confirmed a time."

“Lois,” you breathed, dragging a hand down your face.

"I’m sorry. Maybe we should rain check. I’ll leave them a message or something and we can do this another day."

You glanced back toward your table, then toward Clark, who was politely minding his own business, idly staring at his menu. Your eyes flickered to your untouched portfolio, the very reason you had come out tonight in the first place.

“I need the papers approved by Wednesday.”

"And it’s Saturday night. You have plenty of time."

“This is rich coming from you,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temple.

"I know, just… maybe it’s a sign you gotta take things slow. You know, focusing on yourself instead of work. Maybe you should go to a club or something."

You scoffed, barely biting back an incredulous laugh. “Lois… this fucking sucks.”

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, okay? I’ll take you out tomorrow for brunch, swear on that. I promise. And I’ll transfer you for whatever you order tonight. Keep the receipt and give it to me."

You sighed, glancing down at your shoes. “I’m just gonna go home.”

"What? And waste a perfectly good night? You should stay out, meet new people, socialize with things that aren’t your laptop. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

You exhaled, staring blankly at the floor tiles. “I think a movie from my bed sounds really nice.”

"I’m not even gonna fight you on this."

“Bye, Lois.”

"Bye. Love you."

You ended the call with a quiet sigh, lingering in place for a moment, letting the frustration settle. You had spent the entire day mentally preparing for this meeting, running through questions, making sure every document was in order. Now, all of it felt like wasted energy.

With another steadying breath, you pushed off the pillar you had been leaning against, shoulders still tight with frustration, and made your way back to your table. The restaurant hadn’t gotten any quieter in your absence—if anything, the crowd had only grown as the night grew longer.

Clark glanced up as you returned, and the way his expression softened told you everything—he didn’t even need to ask how the call had gone. He just knew.

Still, before he could say anything, you beat him to it. “Your date’s not here yet?” You sank back into your seat, brushing a stray napkin aside as if the small action would help ground you.

Clark shook his head, and he didn’t seem too disappointed. “No, not yet.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you in that quiet, observant way of his. “Is everything alright?”

You blinked at him, still half in your own thoughts. “Hmm?”

“The phone call,” he clarified, “you seem… a little… annoyed.”

That was putting it lightly.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should push further, then asked, voice gentle, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The simplicity of it—the way he just offered, no pressure, no expectations—unravelled some of the tension in your chest.

“I don’t wanna bother you about my stuff,” you said honestly.

“It’s no bother.”

You glanced up at him, at the unwavering patience in his expression. “You’re really sweet, Clark. You know that, right?”

A faint pink dusted the tips of his ears. “I wouldn’t say that…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s in your nature?” you teased.

He let out a small, awkward laugh, shaking his head. “I definitely wouldn’t say that either.”

That made you smile—something small, something real.

“Well, it’s true,” you insisted. “Must’ve been the way you were raised.”

“Must’ve been.”

Before you could say anything else, a waiter arrived, carefully setting a starter plate and a drink down in front of Clark. He thanked her politely, offering a small nod before she walked away.

“I, uh…” He gestured to the plate. “I ordered some nachos if you want some.”

You raised a brow. “Shouldn’t those be for your date?”

He gave you an easy, lopsided smile. “They won’t have to know.”

A small chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The nachos were surprisingly good, crisp and warm under the layer of melted cheese, but you barely tasted them. Instead, your focus kept drifting—to Clark, to your phone, to the door.

At first, you thought about calling it a night. You could have told Clark you were heading home, and he probably would have understood, probably would have even offered to walk you to your car or wait with you for an Uber. But something stopped you.

Maybe it was the way he seemed at ease, talking to you like there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. Maybe it was how easy it was to talk to him tonight, without work looming over you, without deadlines keeping your conversations clipped and efficient. Or maybe—maybe it was the nagging feeling in your gut that kept telling you he was waiting on someone who wasn’t going to show.

You hated that thought.

You didn’t say anything, though, not when another ten minutes passed, not when he checked his phone for the fourth—or was it fifth?—time. You just sat with him, keeping him company, even if you dreaded the moment someone else walked through those doors.

Clark kept insisting his date would be there soon. But every time he said it, the confidence in his voice waned.

By the time another twenty minutes passed, you were sitting with your phone open in your lap, ready to call an Uber. You should go home. It had been a long day, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to be out any more. But you hesitated when Clark spoke again.

“They should be here any minute now,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You glanced up at him, watching the way his brows pinched slightly as he checked his phone again.

He had said that before. More than once.

You were starting to feel bad for him.

You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to get stood up for a date (work was something else you could get over by tonight but a date?)—to wait around, watching the minutes tick by, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the person you were waiting for was running late instead of ignoring you altogether. And worse, you were starting to get peeved. How could anyone ghost Clark Kent?

But you didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t seem upset.

Or maybe he was just pretending not to be.

Either way, you didn’t want to remind him of the rejection. If he was pushing through it, then so were you.

It wasn’t until another thirty minutes flew by—until the sky outside had fully darkened, the city lights reflecting off the windows—that you finally exhaled and set your phone down.

“My source isn’t coming.”

Clark blinked at you, pulling his gaze away from the door. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there was a mix-up with the times or something.” You waved it off like it was no big deal, even though frustration still sat heavy in your chest. You weren’t nearly as mad as you had been earlier, but you had still wasted your night on something that should have been simple.

Clark studied you for a moment, then gave a small, almost amused huff. “Looks like we’re both out of luck then.”

You watched as his gaze flickered back toward the entrance, and then, after a beat, he sighed.

“I don’t think my date’s coming either.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m sorry, Clark,” you said, and you meant it.

“Don’t be,” he told you, and before you could say anything else, he was already flagging down the waiter, asking for the bill. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he turned back to you and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

You blinked. “And go where?”

He shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Anywhere. I don’t mind.”

And somehow, that was how you ended up walking down the streets of Metropolis, shoulder to shoulder with Clark Kent.

The night air was crisp, cool enough that you tugged your coat tighter around yourself. The sidewalks were busy with people, cars rolling lazily through the streets, their headlights casting soft glows against the pavement.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten here—how a frustrating, dead-end night had turned into this. But you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you were enjoying every minute of it.

The streets of Metropolis buzzed with an early-night energy. Neon signs flickered, storefronts cast golden light onto the pavement, and the hum of conversation from passing pedestrians filled the air. You walked close to Clark, close enough that your arms brushed with every step.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something trusted about it—something new.

You risked a glance at him. He was looking straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed. But when the light of a passing car swept over his face, you caught the way his jaw tensed slightly, like he was thinking about something.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable for a split second before softening into something reassuring. “Yeah. Why?”

You lifted a shoulder, tucking your hands into your coat pockets as you shrugged. “Just… getting stood up sucks. I figured you’d be at least a little upset.”

Clark exhaled a small huff of amusement. “I mean, yeah, I guess I could be. But I’d rather not waste my night sulking about it.”

You nodded, accepting his answer. But then, after a few seconds, you heard him add, quieter, “Besides… I’m having a nice time.”

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

You kept your gaze forward, pretending like those words didn’t sink into you in a way that left you warm despite the cool night air.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

The conversation lulled again, but this time, it felt different. More aware. More weighted.

And then Clark suddenly spoke.

“Can I show you something?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the shift. “Uh… sure?”

He smiled, but there was something almost shy about it, something hesitant like he was second-guessing himself. “It’s not far.”

Curious, you followed his lead, stepping off the main sidewalk as he turned down a quieter street, where the glow of streetlights gave way to something softer, something greener.

Within moments, you realized where you were headed.

The city park.

You’d been here plenty of times before—Metropolis had its fair share of green spaces, a welcome contrast to the steel and glass of the skyline—but Clark led you past the more well-known paths, past the benches where couples sat talking in hushed tones, past the fountain that usually served as a meeting place.

Eventually, he guided you toward a narrow, gated pathway, tucked between a stretch of trees. He reached for the gate, pausing before glancing back at you.

“It’s, uh… it’s kind of a secret spot.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Secret?”

His lips quirked. “Sort of. I mean, it’s public, but not many people know about it.”

“Riiight... totally not a cheesy thing to say.”

“Just, come look.”

You watched as he pushed the gate open, stepping aside to let you through first.

You hesitated for only a second before slipping past him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his chest as you stepped inside.

And then you saw it.

A sheltered little garden.

It wasn’t grand, but it was beautiful. A small, enclosed space, with an arched trellis overhead wrapped in evergrowing vines. Flowers bloomed in neatly arranged clusters, their colours muted under the soft glow of the moon and city. A narrow stone pathway curved through the space, leading to a bench beneath another canopy of vines.

The whole thing felt… unreal. Quiet. Removed from the city entirely.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This is…” You exhaled, searching for the right word. “Wow.”

Clark smiled, stepping further in behind you. “I found it by accident a while ago. It’s kind of nice, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Kinda nice is an understatement, Smallville.”

The two of you lingered in the quiet, the city’s distant sounds muffled by the greenery around you. And when you looked at Clark again, you caught it—

That brief hesitation. That barely-there glance.

Something unreadable flickered across his face before he cleared his throat, looking away, suddenly busying himself with adjusting his glasses.

It was awkward. Endearing.

And for some reason, it made your heart beat just a little faster.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to break the silence. “So, what, you bring all your failed dates here?” you teased lightly.

Clark huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Just you.”

His voice was light, teasing back—but something about it stuck with you.

Just you.

You had no idea what to say to that.

So instead, you just smiled. And hoped the darkness hid the warmth rising in your face.

Clark shifted beside you, tucking his hands deeper into his pockets, gaze flickering toward the night sky. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Just... don’t tell Lois about this place.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Or else it’ll be on the front cover of the Daily Planet and it won’t be so secret anymore.”

You snorted. “Figured.”

Then, almost immediately, your lips twisted into a frown. “Ugh, you know what? I’m still kinda pissed off with Lois.”

Clark’s eyebrows lifted. “Lois? What—why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “She was the one who arranged the whole meeting with the lawyer today. My source. She forgot to confirm or something and cancelled last minute. Can you believe it?”

Clark blinked. “Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither. She’s probably got caught up with Superman again or something—I don’t know.”

Clark’s head tilted slightly, brows drawing together. “Sorry? Superman?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s just an inside joke between us and our friends. Since she’s so close with the guy, we joke that whenever she’s acting weird, it’s because of him.”

Clark let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Does she usually?”

“Not really. But we like to watch her squirm when we bring it up.” You smirked. “Anyway, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s been acting weird all week.”

Clark hummed, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I noticed that too. When she was telling me about this date, she just... wasn’t herself, I guess. Left a lot of things in the dark.”

Your steps faltered slightly, your brows knitting together as something in his words made your stomach twist. You turned to look at him, trying to piece together the implications of what he was saying.

“Wait—” You exhaled, mind racing. “Lois set you up?”

Clark slowed as well, blinking as if he’d only just realized you hadn’t put it together yet. “Uh… yeah?” He frowned slightly. “I did say my date was a friend of hers.”

“Right.” You blinked, mind catching up. “Sorry, I must’ve forgotten.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

The sounds of the city—distant honking, the chatter of pedestrians, the hum of neon signs—faded into a dull blur. It was as if the entire world had taken a collective breath and was holding it, waiting for the two of you to catch up.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The pieces clicked together—Lois arranging your meeting, forgetting to confirm, being strangely vague about the details.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped as realization crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Clark’s eyes widened just a fraction, his breath hitching. And then, almost at the same time—

“…No way.”

You exhaled a quiet, incredulous laugh, shaking your head as your mind reeled. Clark let out a chuckle of his own, one hand running through his hair, his fingers ruffling the strands at the back of his head. His ears—just barely visible under the glow of a nearby streetlight—had turned the faintest shade of pink again.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just looked at each other, as if confirming that, yes, this was real, and yes, Lois Lane had absolutely just played matchmaker.

“Well,” Clark finally said, voice warm, laced with amusement. “At least we won’t have to spend the whole night getting to know each other.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The tension in your shoulders, the nervous energy, the awkwardness of the night—it all melted into something else entirely. Something softer. Something that felt… kind of nice.

Clark was still smiling, his blue eyes bright behind his glasses, and you had to resist the urge to look away, to keep from giving away the way your heart had started beating just a little faster.

He shifted, his hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced down for a second before looking back up at you.

And then, with just the slightest hint of something almost timid in his voice, he asked—

“Can I be honest?”

You tilted your head. “Sure.”

“When Lois was telling me about the date... I was hoping it would be you.”

“…Really?”

Clark nodded, lips pressing together like he was debating whether he should keep going. But then, in a quieter voice, he admitted, “Yeah... It was the only reason I agreed. And when I saw you at the restaurant, I was really excited—until you told me you were there for work.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Sorry I let you down.”

His head snapped up. “No.” He shook his head, quickly, almost too quickly. “You didn’t.”

Your stomach flipped.

“I still had fun,” he added, a little sheepishly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit. “You should’ve just said something.”

Clark exhaled a laugh, glancing down again. “I know. I just... I’m not really good at this stuff.”

You smiled, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You’re doing pretty good so far. Had me swept off my feet.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice just a little lower, a little softer.

“Oh yeah.”

A pause. A lingering look.

And then—

“We should do this again.” His lips curled, a little nervous but hopeful. “On purpose next time.”

You grinned widely, feeling warmth spread through you, from your chest to the very tips of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’d like that a lot.”

[anto-pops]

The Mirror's Heartfelt Reflection - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: In the wake of helping Sylus deal with a few Wanderers terrorizing the N109 Zone, you find yourself neck deep in self-loathing. It isn’t his fault you’re insecure about your lackluster abilities, and it definitely isn’t his fault that you’re so hard on yourself. But he still takes it upon himself to prove just how incredible you really are, and when all is said and done, you find yourself forced to accept that maybe- just maybe- he's telling the truth.

Alternatively summarized as Sylus reverently worshiping you in front of a mirror with his fingers, then with his mouth, then with his... y'know...

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, self-esteem issues, body worship in front of a mirror, size difference, overstimulation

Full fic is now up on Ao3 here (with more diverse tags, as per usual)

It almost seemed cliche for the N109 Zone’s weather to always be dreary, but evidently rain, fog, and more rain was the norm for the danger riddled region. The steady pattering of water hitting the ground was all you could hear as you trudged through puddles towards Sylus’ house in the no-hunt zone, your fists clenched at your side as you did your best to will away your indignant anger. The crime lord of Onychinus was somewhere behind you, likely still bleeding from using himself as a human shield on your behalf, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at present. 

After all, it had been his great idea to step in front of the Deluge Wyrmlord earlier. 

Sure, Sylus might be hard to kill. He might even be immortal, but that didn’t mean he was immune to pain. Yet for some unfathomable reason, he had opted to take the tail swipe the Wrymlord had aimed at you, leaving you to watch on in horror as his shirt was torn to shreds and an array of lesions and bruises alike blossomed across his chest. He had taken the hit without so much as a grimace, much to his credit, but you had fought the remainder of the fight riddled with frustration and fury. 

In short, you were pissed. 

The gargantuan mansion swam into sight through the unrelenting downpour, and you doubled your pace at the same time you heard Sylus’ even footsteps getting closer to you. You didn’t want to talk to him– you didn’t want to talk to anyone. The emotions that gnawed at your stomach were borne of insecurities that you didn’t want to face right now, and with that somber thought in mind, your main priority was taking a hot shower to fend off a potential cold from taking root. 

With more force than was probably necessary, you shouldered the front doors of the house open, not bothering to look behind you when you heard the massive slabs of wood slam against the wall and groan on their hinges. Something moved in the sitting room to your left, and you saw Luke and Kieran jump up into defensive stances before relaxing slightly at the sight of you. 

“Jeez, what’s going on?” Kieran asked incredulously, his hands hovering inches away from his hip where you knew his weapon was hidden. “Where’s Boss?”

On cue, Sylus crossed the threshold of the doorway, made evident by the way the twins looked behind you in unison. Luke spoke up this time, his tone laced with obvious concern as well as surprise. “Holy… what happened? Where’s the Wanderer?” 

“Dead,” Sylus stated nonchalantly. You stopped in your tracks, halfway to the hallway leading towards the guest room, and turned to finally gauge the source of your irritation. 

He was covered in blood, but the deep gashes you’d seen on him earlier had long since been healed by his Evol. You couldn’t see any bruises beneath the frayed tethers of his shirt– just dirt that streaked down his skin due to the rain. His hair was dripping water onto his shoulders and down his cheeks, but aside from all the superficial damage, Sylus was well and truly fine. 

That only served to anger you further. 

The silver haired man turned his ruby red eyes on you, his scrutinizing gaze laced with curiosity as he silently tried to figure out what had led to you storming away from him in the wake of defeating the Wanderer. You pursed your lips and jerked your chin up in a stubborn act of defiance, keeping your expression icy as you met his unwavering stare. 

“Did something else happen out there?” Luke asked cautiously, joining his twin and his boss in staring at you from across the room. The airy laugh that slipped from Sylus was devoid of any humor, and he shook his head in disbelief as he traced his fingers over the massive tear in his button up. 

“Aside from the Wanderer trying to use its tail as a battering ram, no. Although one might think Miss Hunter over there wanted to have her ribs caved in, what with how much hissing she did after the fact.” 

Your blood thrummed in your ears as you began to shake with obvious rage. “I was not hissing. You were completely careless jumping in front of me like that. You’re always doing those sorts of things– why?” 

“Because I can handle it, sweetie.” His matter-of-fact tone did little to quell your vexation, and the way Luke and Kieran both seemed to look away in embarrassment didn’t help matters, either. Having this discussion in front of them was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Besides, it wasn’t their fault you were angry. If you were being honest, it wasn’t even Sylus’ fault that you were so upset either. 

No, the person you were the most disappointed with was yourself. 

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated with the situation as a whole, and turned around to continue on to your assigned bedroom. “Fine, whatever. Keep using yourself as canon fodder, see if I care.”

“Where are you going?” Sylus called after you, sounding more tired than he had moments prior. “There’s still two more Wanderers near the eastern border that need killing, kitten.”

“I’m going to shower,” you retorted sharply. 

“A little rain and you want to call it quits? I thought you agreed to help me with this–” 

Almost to your room, you shouted down the hall, “The Wanderers will still be there when the rain stops. Go change your shirt or something while you wait and leave me alone.” 

The resounding slam of the guest room door echoing down the corridor spelled the end of the conversation. You didn’t stop to listen through the walls to see what else Sylus and the twins were discussing, instead heading straight for the bathroom and cranking the shower knob to the highest setting. The cold, soggy clothes that stuck to your skin were peeled away swiftly and left on the floor before you stepped under the scalding water to begin scrubbing, your own mind tormenting you all the while. 

The loudest thoughts that seemed to reiterate themselves over and over again were the ones that had been hounding you for as long as you could remember. 

You’re a liability. You’re weak. You’ll always need protection. 

Even the rush of water cascading down your head couldn’t drown them out. 

—

“Again.”

Although Kieran had his mask on, you could practically see the disbelief on his face through his posture alone. His shoulders sagged, and the kickboxing pad he had clutched in his white knuckled grip dropped to the floor in exasperation. “We’ve been at it for hours. How many more times do you plan on doing this? My arm is going to fall off pretty soon.” 

“Again,” you repeated sternly as you wiggled your fingers, the dull ache in your knuckles barely noticeable through the wraps that protected your fists. “If you want to take a break, give the pad to Luke.” 

The twin in question immediately swiveled away from the weapon stand in the corner, raising his hands in front of himself as though to ward you away from him. “No way,” he said tightly. “You already missed the pad and kicked me in the ribs twice. I’m done being your sparring dummy.” 

Kieran threw his free arm up before letting himself fall backwards onto the floor of the sparring ring. The other arm he still had looped through the back of the boxing pad fell beside him with a heavy thud, and you sighed with obvious frustration as you stood straight and planted your hands on your hips. Sweat dripped down your temples and soaked through the loose workout clothes you had on, but you hardly paid it any mind as you glanced around the room for an inanimate object to use for training. Evidently the twins were a lost cause, and you didn’t feel like tracking Sylus down to ask him to practice with you. 

In truth, you were kind of avoiding him. 

After your outburst earlier in the morning, he had disappeared from the house entirely. You’d emerged from the guest room freshly showered and ready to head back out to finish dealing with the Wanderers, but upon entering the living room, you had found only Luke and Kieran. They had been annoyingly tight lipped about where their boss had run off to, but had assured you that he would be back in a few hours. Four hours had passed since then, and since you hadn’t particularly felt like trudging through the rain in search of him, you’d decided to make use of the twin terrors and work on your hand-to-hand in a bid to feel less… useless. 

You hated that you even thought of yourself in such a way, but it was a hard habit to break. Your Evol couldn’t serve you by itself in a fight, and unless you were fighting alongside someone with an offensive Evol of their own, all you had was your martial training. Anytime Sylus or any of your other companions accompanied you on your hunts, all you could do was resonate with them to empower… well, them. You felt like a glorified battery half the time– charging them up while you stood in the backline with your measly pistols. 

You knew it was unreasonable to feel that way. You knew you could stand on your own two feet and be a threat on the battlefield regardless of your Evol. Hell, you had been selected to join the Hunter’s Association Alpha Team immediately after graduating. That had to count for something. 

And yet, it wasn’t enough. 

Another agitated sigh slipped through your teeth as your fingers flexed of their own accord. Kieran was still an unmoving lump on the floor, and Luke warily went back to polishing the collection of blades propped up on the weapon stand. Neither one of them could be persuaded– you were already acutely aware of their stubbornness– so you fixed your eyes on the punching bag strung up from the rafters. It wasn’t sentient, and it couldn’t hit back, but it was as good a target as any for your internal turmoil. 

Just as you were about to duck through the ropes that surrounded the sparring ring, Sylus’ gravelly voice drifted through the dimly lit workout room, halting you in your tracks and drawing the immediate attention of the twins. “Don’t tell me you broke my henchmen,” he teased, his crimson eyes taking in the sight of Kieran sprawled across the floor with blatant amusement. “I know you’re supposed to do your reps until failure, but he looks half dead already.” 

“He’s lazy,” you muttered as Kieran threw aside the kickboxing pad, pushing himself to his feet as quick as his shaky limbs would allow. “They both are. Like fat house cats, content to nap all day.” 

“Excuse me?” Luke chimed in, his hands perching on his hips indignantly. “Say that to my bruised ribs, you tyrant. Why don’t you take your vendetta out on someone who can actually keep up.” 

His pale finger pointed straight at Sylus, who was still leaning leisurely against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. He looked remarkably better than he had when you’d last seen him; no cuts or blood, no bruises, and no torn clothing. His simple black button up was tucked into matching black trousers, and his hair was once again effortlessly styled without a strand out of place. He looked more inclined to attend a business meeting rather than spar with you, but despite that fact, Sylus surprised you by shrugging and striding towards you, already rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“You don’t have to,” you started to say, jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the punching bag you’d decided on using. “I was going to make use of the other equipment–”

“Living targets make for much better practice, and I can promise you that I won’t tap out like a… what was the term? A fat house cat?” 

Luke and Kieran both scoffed and shook their heads simultaneously, mirroring one another so perfectly that it unnerved you. Kieran swung his legs over the nylon ropes of the ring and landed next to Luke, the two falling into step easily before heading for the door without another word to you or their boss. A tiny, barely there part of you wanted for them to stay to eliminate any awkwardness between you and your newfound partner, but the unspoken challenge in Sylus’ eyes quelled the words before you could utter them. 

The silver haired man hoisted himself up over the ropes effortlessly, bending down to snatch up the abandoned kicking pad from the floor before tossing it haphazardly over the edge of the ring. He waited until Luke and Kieran’s footsteps had disappeared completely from within the hallway before he spoke. “Think you can walk and talk, kitten?” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you messed with the wraps on your fists before assuming your usual fighting stance. Shuffling your feet apart, you tested your balance as you murmured, “Why do we have to talk? There’s nothing to say.” 

A hint of a smirk pulled at the corners of Sylus’ mouth as he copied your movements, distancing his feet a healthy distance apart and dipping his chin below his raised fists. “I beg to differ. We could talk about your little temper tantrum earlier, or about how you’re being uncharacteristically snappy with Luke and Kieran. We could even talk about the weather if you’d like– it stopped raining, by the way.” 

You said nothing, instead grinding your molars together hard enough that your jaw ached. With Sylus too busy talking, you seized your opportunity and swung your leg out in a wide arc, narrowly missing his head when he smoothly dodged the blow with a wicked grin etched across his face. 

“I see, I see…” he taunted, glancing down obviously enough that you knew he was going to try sweeping your feet out from under you. Sure enough, Sylus dropped into a feline crouch, throwing his leg out as he pivoted himself around on his other foot in a dangerously fast circle. You jumped backwards– avoiding his outstretched limb completely– then dove back in for an immediate counter-attack. He was already standing when your fist connected with his palm, his massive fingers curling over your pathetically small hand as he threw you to the side painlessly, chuckling to himself all the while. Your blood thrummed in your ears, humiliation burning your cheeks from how easily he fended you off. Condescendingly, Sylus mused, “This is all because I jumped in front of you earlier, isn’t it?” 

“Stop talking,” came your disgruntled reply. Desperate to have one of your hits connect, you feinted left before darting back to the right, throwing out a jab-punch combo that grazed his neck at best and missed entirely at worst. 

After humorlessly avoiding your attacks, Sylus began moving, drinking in the sight of you panting and flushed in the middle of the ring. He circled you like a predator corralling its prey, and through the flurry of emotions that wracked you, mortification seemed to be the most prominent. 

“Am I to understand,” he started gruffly, “that you wanted the Wanderer to kill you?” 

“Of course not–”

“Because that’s exactly what would have happened had I not stepped in. You’re upset because I saved you from an agonizing, bone-breaking end, and I have to be honest, kitten, it makes absolutely no sense to me.” 

“That’s not why I’m angry,” you barked at him, wanting nothing more than to lash out with your fists again. Even if the hits didn’t meet their mark, you needed to expel the humiliation that coursed through your veins. 

Suddenly, Sylus was in your face. His overwhelming presence surrounded you, his inquisitive eyes boring into yours as he tried to search your mind for the real reason you’d been so put out all day. Quick as a whip, you shoved against his chest and turned your head away in a bid to protect the dreary thoughts that had plagued you for the bulk of the day. 

“Talk to me,” he half-commanded, half-implored you. “Tell me what thoughts are whipping around through that head of yours.” 

You scowled, turning away from him completely as you strode to the other side of the sparring ring. Sylus followed you easily, unwilling to let you mope your way out of his interrogation, and he planted himself squarely behind you as you started to undo the wraps protecting your fists. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing new, anyways…” 

The dejected tone lacing your words didn’t escape Sylus in the slightest, and in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead, you saw his brows furrow at the same time his lips formed a straight line. “Sweetie, if it’s nothing new, that’s all the more reason to talk about it. I know I’m not great at playing the role of a therapist, but if whatever’s bothering you is this serious, I’d like to help.” 

A deep, relenting sigh escaped you at that moment. You unwound the wraps around your hands and let the bandages flutter to the floor listlessly before hesitantly turning back around to face the silver haired man. Sylus’ striking eyes were narrowed with concern, his expression conveying his worry for you plainly enough that you felt your heart trip over itself in your chest. He didn’t deserve to deal with the moodiness that came with your insecurities. Kieran and Luke didn’t, either. Even though it was embarrassing and disappointing to admit, you figured you could at the very least be honest about your diffidence. 

“You can’t help. That’s the thing. It’s– well, it’s stupid.” Sylus gazed at you expectantly, his eyes silently conveying that he would be the judge of that. Looking down at your feet, you forced the rest of the admission from your lips, even though it pained you to do so. “I just want to be able to protect myself. The same way you and all my friends can. I don’t want to have to rely on other people to defend me in a fight, but I don’t think that will ever be possible.” 

Sylus cocked his head to the side in confusion. “You do a pretty good job of defending yourself, kitten. You’ve come a long way since I found you kneeling all alone in the N109 Zone.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” For crying out loud, why was this so difficult? Maybe it had to do with Sylus quite literally being the strongest person you knew. Confessing your insecurities to the leader of Onychinus, the most wanted man in the world, wasn’t exactly child’s play in your mind. Still, you endeavored to try. “My martial training is all I’ve got. My Evol isn’t any good on its own. I can’t conjure fire or ice, I can’t manipulate gravity to lob boulders at enemies. I just… boost other people. I strengthen others, but on my own? I’m a liability.” 

Sylus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heel, tapping his fingers against his bicep thoughtfully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your ability incredibly rare? Anhausen Class Evols aren’t common. You’re actually quite valuable.” 

“Only if I’m fighting with someone who has an offensive ability,” you helpfully supplied, pointing at him for emphasis. “I don’t stand a chance against a Deluge Wyrmlord by myself. I have no choice but to rely on my partners for help. Even though I know it’s irrational and silly, I’ve always resented that. I just… I don't want to be weak.” 

Sylus took in your admission quietly, nodding to himself as his otherworldly eyes bored into yours. To say it left you feeling vulnerable was a monumental understatement. You felt raw. Laid bare before the one person you trusted most. It scared you to think he might think less of you for the revelation, even though deep down you knew Sylus would never judge you for it. 

Fidgeting uncomfortably, you bent down to snatch your wraps off the floor of the sparring ring, pausing before leaving as you tried to come up with what to say next. Sylus beat you to the punch, however, his gravelly voice drawing your attention back to him. “I know it’s subjective, but I’ve always thought you were a skilled fighter. Your Evol aside, you’re invaluable on the battlefield. Quick thinking and clever planning have gotten you far when we fight together. You aren’t a liability, sweetie, and you’re definitely not weak. I think you’re selling yourself short.” 

Your stomach lurched as you realized you’d heard similar placations in the past from your grandma. As worried as she had been when you’d passed your Hunter’s Exam, she was supportive of your career choice and had always done her best to encourage you. She had never wanted your heart condition to slow you down or influence your decision making, and you had convinced yourself a long time ago that she’d played a monumental role in you having made it this far. 

Unfortunately, self-doubt had been a nagging, longtime friend of yours. 

Flashing him a small but grateful smile, you nervously twirled your used wraps around your fingers before jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the doorway. “Thanks. It’s not a big deal though, I’ll be fine. I’m, uh, going to go shower. Sorry for being a brat earlier, I’ll… I’ll work on the whole confidence thing later.” 

You were relieved that he didn’t stop you as you ducked under the ropes of the sparring ring. As grateful as you were about how he’d handled your admission, you needed some alone time to sift through your thoughts, and another piping hot shower was the perfect opportunity to do so. Reaching for the towel you’d left slung over the weapon rack in the corner, you tossed it over your shoulder and started to make your way to the exit, sneaking a quick glance at Sylus in one of the massive mirrors that lined the wall. 

He was still standing in the center of the ring, gazing straight ahead with a curious look playing on his features. It was an expression you’d seen many times before, usually when he was concocting a scheme of his in the spur of the moment. While part of you was appreciative of Sylus’ natural inclination to flock to your aid and try to make everything better for you, you sorely doubted that this would be one of those times. 

Unless you magically found a way to rid yourself of years worth of self-depricating introspection, you were convinced you would be stuck with these thoughts for the rest of your life. 

—

You had been reading for so long that you were certain your eyes were on the brink of falling out of your head. 

Having long since finished your shower, you’d taken to going over the datapad Sylus had given you the day prior. It was chock full of information on the Wanderers he had asked for help dispatching; where they were, previous reports of attacks linked back to them, their weaknesses. Most of the information was redundant. As a Hunter, you had intimate knowledge about the creatures and their habits. But following your uncomfortable confession earlier in the gym, you were curious as to whether or not it would be possible to handle killing the damn things by yourself. 

Not that you were going to try. You weren’t that stupid. Just… wondering. 

So far, the answer was no. It was suicide to go up against Wanderers of this calibre without an offensive Evol. That, or a good old fashioned, coordinated aerial strike. 

You had neither of those things. 

Sighing in annoyance, you set the datapad on your lap and shoved the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing hard enough to see shapes. It had been a couple of hours since you’d last seen Sylus, and you felt bad that your moping had gotten in the way of finishing the job he had brought you along for. There were two more Wanderers that needed killing; an Ignitus Wyrmlord and a Luminivore. Both were high ranking threats, so you doubted that the Onychinus leader would have gone out on his own to deal with them. 

But maybe he had. Maybe he had been staring off into space as you’d left the gym because he’d realized that you were right, and he was better off handling the creatures by himself. He wasn’t the type to wait for approval, much less your own, so the possibility wasn’t too outlandish to consider. 

You were hurting your own feelings thinking as much, though. 

With a muffled thump, you slapped your hands down on the bed and tossed your head back against the pillows. Maybe you needed therapy. Your dejected thoughts weren’t getting you anywhere, and they weren’t going to change anything. At the end of the day, you were who you were, and everyone else was… who they were. You brought plenty of value to the Hunter’s Association just by being yourself. Wishing to be stronger, faster, and more powerful wouldn’t make it happen. Those were traits acquired through hard work, dedication, and pure chance. 

Not by lying in bed reading. 

Just as you were about to shove the datapad off your lap to jump up from the bed, a knock sounded at the door. You nearly tripped over your duffel bag on your way to undo the lock, but once you yanked it open, you were surprised to find Luke on the other side. Or was it Kieran? Sometimes it felt like you were guessing who was who. 

“Sorry to bother you.” Ah, it was Kieran. “Boss asked me to send you up to him. He wants to talk with you.” 

Your brows furrowed and your eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious of the crime lord’s intentions. He had never sent for you before. “Okay…” the lone word was drawn out, your hesitation evident in your tone. “Where is he?” 

It was impossible to tell what kind of expression Kieran wore behind his mask, but his shoulders did stiffen a little in response to the question. He was as uncomfortable with the situation as you were. “He’s in his room. He didn’t seem mad, but I can honestly never tell with him. Good luck.” 

As suddenly as he arrived, he was gone. Literally. You blinked and Kieran had just vanished. He and his brother were as odd as they came, but you steeled your nerves and did your best not to seem rattled as you exited the guest room and padded your way towards the staircase. 

The last time you had stayed with Sylus, he had set you up in a different room on the second floor that was now home to a slew of antique weaponry that had yet to be unboxed. You didn’t mind the room change, but you were beginning to think Sylus had a shopping addiction. Sure, he had the money and never batted an eye at the exorbitant price tags attached to the items. But he never even used half of the things he bought. He really was like a crow. Or maybe a dragon was a better analogy, since he had a tendency to hoard everything he acquired from antique shows and business deals. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach the double doors leading to the master bedroom. The ornate entryway stood tall and forebodingly at the end of the hallway, illuminated by the dim lights that lined the walls. You rapped your knuckles against the dark wood softly, only deigning to let yourself in once you had confirmation from the owner of the chamber. 

“It’s open,” came Sylus’ silk-like voice from the other side. 

Tentatively, you pushed open the door and stuck your head through the crack, unsure of what to find waiting for you. It turned out to be nothing more than Sylus looking over a stack of papers, hunched over the desk in the corner with a clear glass of amber liquid pinched between his long fingers. Perplexed, you slipped inside all the way and shut the door behind you, watching and waiting for the silver haired man to acknowledge your presence. 

There were a few beats of silence as he reorganized the paperwork with one hand before finally turning to face you, bringing his drink to his lips as he did so. It was strange to see him drinking when there were still Wanderers lurking in the N109 Zone. You would have guessed he’d called for you so the two of you could finish the work you had started earlier in the day. Unless…

“Did you deal with the Wanderers already?” 

The only show of surprise on Sylus’ face was the elegant lift of his brow, and he acknowledged your tense posture near the door with a subtle dip of his chin. “You’re really worried about being deemed unnecessary, aren’t you?” 

It was a slap in the face to have the truth so boldly thrown back at you, but the truth did have a tendency to hurt. You nervously clasped your hands together in front of you, wringing your fingers together as your gaze swept across the room. “You disappeared for a while today. Then we never went back out to kill the other two Wanderers… I thought maybe you’d taken care of it yourself.” 

“Then you would be wrong, kitten.” Turning back to the desk, Sylus fluidly beckoned you towards him with one simple curl of his finger. You had half a mind to be stubborn about it, but with how you were feeling right now, you decided to just be obedient. Shuffling over to him, Sylus plucked the piece of paper at the top of the stack back up and held it out to you, watching you over the rim of his glass as he took yet another sip of his drink. 

“What is this?” You didn’t need to ask, as it turned out– you recognized the logo adorning the page instantly. It was a copy of the Hunter’s Association exam records. More specifically, your exam records. How the hell had Sylus gotten his hands on them? Your eyes roved up and down the parchment as you took in the familiar marks, then looked back at the crime lord expectantly. “Why do you have these?”

Tapping the side of his temple closest to his eye, he mused, “I have my ways. But I felt inclined to show you, because I found something interesting about your records.” 

He balanced his forearm on your shoulder as he pointed at the paper you held, and the smoky cologne he wore flooded your senses instantaneously. “Right here,” he pointed to the column on the far right of the page, “are all the divisions that exist within the Association. Scores that are high enough in each section open doorways into possible careers with the agency. Am I right?” 

You nodded. The scoring method allowed for everyone that took the test to have a high likelihood of getting a job, even if it was a lower level position. Only a select few individuals scored high enough to qualify for upper division roles, which was one of the main reasons why the Alpha Team was so small. Quality over quantity, Jenna had told you. 

Sylus continued on, sweeping his finger all the way down the page to where your scores were recorded. “You, my dear, sweet Hunter, managed to pass in every single category. There wasn’t one division you didn’t qualify for. You went straight to the top of the podium because they knew your worth, but to meet the requirements for all of it? That’s nothing to turn your nose up at.” 

Sylus’ motives were all beginning to make sense now. He had said it himself earlier; he wasn’t a therapist, but this was clearly his attempt at making you feel better about your self-critical thoughts. It was… nice of him. Really nice. Moreover, it was news to you. You had hardly looked at your exam results once you’d heard you had been selected to join UNICORNS, because that was all you had ever wanted. But to hear that you had passed with flying colors? Well…

“That doesn’t seem possible,” you muttered, flipping over the page to keep reading. 

Sylus chuckled under his breath and took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the desk. “It’s possible. I have it on good authority that it’s happened a few times in the past, but only a few. You could count on one hand the number of times a brainiac was admitted into the Hunter’s Association in the last five years.”

The paper in your hands went limp as you craned your neck to the side to stare up at him, a slew of emotions racing through your mind and imbuing you with the desire to understand. You wanted to grasp the why, more than anything. Why was Sylus going out of his way to make you feel better? Why did he care so much? Why, why, why? 

He seemed to understand the unspoken question based on your expression alone. The arm he had perched on your shoulder slid away, and he gently took the paper out of your hands and waved it tellingly beside his head. “You’re a far cry from a liability, sweetie. Just because your Evol works well with others doesn’t mean you bring nothing to the table, and believe me when I say that I’ll keep reminding you every chance I get.” 

That burning, one word question finally escaped you, sounding airy and uncomfortably meek as it was whispered between the two of you. “Why?”

Something shifted in the air then. A level of bone-deep understanding, of yearning, of unfathomable craving, sparked to life in Sylus’ eyes, and the sight had your breath catching and your lips parting. The leader of Onychinus tilted his head to the side as he took in every detail of your face, one lone strand of his silvery hair falling into his field of view, but it hardly deterred him from drinking in the sight of you before him. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a sly smirk, and he set the parchment back down on the table while maintaining eye contact with you all the while. 

“Because you’re worth the effort,” he evenly proclaimed. 

You damn near broke into tears. 

“Sylus…” you didn’t know what to say– what to do. It was unbelievably soft, the way he said the statement. Gentle and thoughtful and full of intention. He meant every word, and it wasn’t until he’d uttered the statement that you realized just how much you had needed to hear it. 

Taking note of your turmoil, Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his and began guiding you deeper into the room. You followed him dumbly, primarily because you were still processing the utter devotion you had seen glimmering in his ruby red eyes. When the two of you stopped, he released your hand and moved to stand behind you, placing one hand on your shoulder while the other gingerly clasped the underside of your jaw and angled your head straight ahead. “What do you see?” 

It took you a moment to realize that he had positioned you in front of a full length mirror propped up against the wall beside his bed. In the reflection, you could see his luminescent eyes peering at you from over your shoulder, the stark difference in your heights made all the more obvious with how the glass cut off the top portion of his head. Beyond that, though, you weren’t entirely sure what you were meant to be looking for. 

“You’re very tall,” you mumbled obtusely. That earned a throaty chuckle from the man behind you, and you watched as he shook his head to himself. 

“Not me, kitten. You. What do you see when you look at yourself?” 

Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to cater to his line of questioning. Your eyes zeroed in on yourself, scanning your own image from head to toe as you took in every last detail of your appearance. Your hair had dried by now and looked to be rather frizzy, and your nostrils flared as you drew in a deep, steadying breath. Your breasts rose and fell in response to the action, and your toes dug into the carpet on the floor as you tensed nervously. This felt like a test that you were quickly failing, and the thought made you anxious. All in all, you had no clue what part of yourself to focus on. You were just… you. A woman unsure of herself with quite possibly the world’s most confident man standing behind you. 

The irony of that fact didn’t escape you. 

“I don’t know,” you muttered under your breath, and Sylus withdrew his hand from your jaw and trailed the appendage to grasp your other shoulder. “I just see me. Messy hair, pretty eyes, shorter than you.” 

Sylus smirked at you in the reflection, his hands dancing away from your shoulders to skim their way down to your biceps. “Do you want to know what I see?” 

Yes. No. Maybe? Your lips pursed, and you looked at him with a timid sort of anticipation. 

“I see a strong, capable woman,” he emphasized the statement with a subtle squeeze of your arms, drawing your attention to the toned muscle hiding beneath your t-shirt. “I see someone who’s put her entire heart and soul into bettering herself, both physically and mentally. I see a woman who pushes herself to improve constantly, even if she’s already doing a great job to begin with.”

His fingers slid under your arms to trail along your ribs, ghosting one of his hands up your torso to place his palm over your quickening heart. If he heard your breathing stutter, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he bent down and nestled his chin in the crook of your neck from over your shoulder, murmuring his next words directly against your ear. “I see a talented Hunter who refuses to let her heart condition interfere with her goals. She remains headstrong, dutiful, and loyal to a fault, no matter the circumstances.” 

The muscles in your stomach flexed instinctively as Sylus dragged his hands sensually down your front, placing them over one another to allow for him to pull you flush against him. Your body reacted of its own accord, flushing hot at the close proximity and making you acutely aware of every dip and curve of the larger man’s body. Unconsciously licking your lips, your eyes flicked back to his in the mirror, your mouth slightly parted around shallow breaths. “I see a resilient human with a mildly concerning, seemingly bottomless appetite, but who somehow always goes out of her way to share her snacks. I think her love language might be gift giving, but it’s hard to tell. She’s got wit that’s so sharp that I’m convinced it’s a weapon in and of itself. She’s compassionate, caring, and annoyingly selfless.” 

“Sylus–”

“Ah,” he squeezed you tighter to him, silencing your objection before it could be fully expelled. “I’m not finished, kitten.”

Maybe not, but you were coiled tighter than a spring. You genuinely didn’t know how much more of his hedonistic touching and breathily whispered sweet-nothings you could take. A salacious sort of desire was flooding your veins, compelling you to turn around and act on your urges, but Sylus’ ironclad hold prevented you from doing so. He smiled smugly as though he was aware of your internal thoughts, nestling his chin deeper into the crook of your neck while his hands traversed lower, encroaching dangerously upon your nether region. 

“To get superficial, she’s unbelievably beautiful. She gets this certain look on her face when she’s really concentrated, and her nose tends to scrunch up like a cat hissing when she’s angry. Watching her fight is one of the most satisfying things on this planet. She’s fluid, graceful, and can drive home a killer roundhouse kick.” 

Ever so gently, Sylus turned his head so he could press his lips against your thundering pulse point, delivering a passionate but equally chaste kiss against your skin that made your eyelids flutter and your knees buckle. You were suddenly immensely grateful that he was holding you upright against him. He murmured huskily against your throat, “She might kill me if she hears this, but I love to watch her walk away from me. Her hips sway in this hypnotic way that drives me crazy, and she’s got these perfect legs on her that I love to imagine hanging over my shoulders.” 

Fuck.

When Sylus looked at you in the mirror through his lashes, you swore up and down that he was channeling some transcendent sex demon from another world. He looked carnal. Wholly and unequivocally erotic. The hunger that shone in his eyes had heat pooling rapidly between your legs, and you found yourself unconsciously clenching your thighs together to ease the growing ache there– a move that did not escape Sylus’ attention in the slightest. 

You could see the smile in his eyes as he toyed coyly with the hem of your pants, tracing his long, dexterous fingers along the elastic band and dipping the tips of his digits between the fabric and your skin. It was maddening– absolutely torturous– and all of it left you wanting more. 

More of his praise, more of his touch, more of his attention. More of Sylus. You had never felt so seen and desired in your entire life. Part of you didn’t even care if it was all lip service. You would gladly choose to believe Sylus’ pretty lies if it meant he would keep the veiled duplicity coming. The way he held you, touched you, spoke to you, commanded a feeling within your body that was addicting, and you desperately wanted more of it. 

Sylus broke your sinful train of thought with a lewd motion of his own; he boldly slipped his fingers under your waistband, tugging the material down your hips testingly but only daring to expose the outline of one of your hip bones. A shiver rolled down your spine as he caressed the uncovered bit of skin with his thumb, watching you like a predator from over your shoulder with unrestrained appetite. 

When you twitched your hips up a little to spur him onwards, he hesitated. You met his inquisitive gaze in the mirror once again, your flushed, riled appearance a stark contrast to his controlled, put together one. “Sylus,” you whispered breathily. “Please?” 

Ever the gentleman, Sylus obliged you with a throaty chuckle. He sensually dragged his fingers to the other side of your pants, tugging the attire lower and revealing inch after inch of your soft flesh. His long arms gave him the reach necessary to push the clothing all the way past your thighs, and it pooled in a disheveled heap around your feet with a barely there noise. Your underwear went next, and the anticipatory breaths you sucked down were the only sound that filled the otherwise quiet room. 

Bare from the waist down, your eyes flicked between your own body and Sylus, who seemed to be eating you alive with his lust-riddled gaze. He snuck one hand under your shirt, just below your breasts, as the other situated itself under your navel, and he held your gaze as he turned to take your earlobe between his teeth. The delicate feeling of his teeth clamping over it was entirely too delectable to admit, but you showed your approval in the form of a tiny, raspy moan. 

Releasing your lobe, Sylus pressed his lips against your ear, whispering seductively against you, “Now what do you see?” 

You watched helplessly as your face flushed an impressive shade of crimson, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of your shirt. The hand Sylus had hidden under there crept higher– skimming between your breasts as though seeking out the warmth that radiated there. Wide-eyed, nervous, and incredibly self-conscious, you struggled to bite out, “Me.” 

“I’ll tell you what; if you can be more specific, I’ll up the reward factor. How’s that sound?” 

You were positive you were going to die of embarrassment. Your mind was slow to process that this was actually happening– that Sylus had you held tight to him, his hands just inches away from two of your most intimate areas. How you had gone from being frustrated with him this morning to putty in his hands now was a mystery to you. What you did know for certain was that you wanted more of what he was offering. A lot more, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“I see you holding me,” came your shaky description. “With my pants around my ankles.” 

Humming his approval, Sylus began to move his hands to where you craved them. His fingers scraped along the light dusting of hair below your navel, sneaking ever-so-close to the wetness gathering between your legs. The other moved to cup one of your breasts, the pads of his fingers flicking over your hardening nipple and drawing an unsteady gasp from you. “Tell me what I’m doing, kitten. Be as precise as you can.” 

Silver hair flashed in your peripheral vision as Sylus ducked his head to mouth wetly under your ear, peppering a collection of noisy kisses along the slender column of your throat. At the same time he brought his mouth into play, his hands upped the ante; he simultaneously began rolling the peak of your breast between his fingers as the other, lower appendage started to explore between your folds, sliding easily through the slick that gathered there. The feeling was almost enough to keep you from answering him, but then you remembered his bargain. 

“You’re touching me. Kissing my neck. You’re playing with… with my breasts, and your hand is–” a strangled sound slipped past your lips as Sylus pressed the pad of his fingers to your clit, causing your legs to give out for a split second. “S-Shit…” 

Acting as your steadfast anchor, Sylus held you tighter to him as he backed up a few steps, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you firmly balanced on his lap. He made sure to keep you facing the mirror, much to your dismay, and he lifted his head from your neck to grin wickedly at you in the reflection. “Don’t stop now, kitten. You’re doing great…”

The attention he bestowed upon your bundle of nerves didn’t relent as he encouraged you, and your head fell back against his shoulder at the same time your hips bucked up into his touch. “I can’t, Sylus, I can’t–”  

“You poor thing,” he murmured against you, and you could feel his lips curl into a self-satisfied smile. “At least tell me how I’m making you feel.”

You weren’t sure if that was a better alternative or not, but you closed your eyes and let yourself focus wholly on the movements of his hands, relishing in the sensations that washed over your body in response. The fluttering ache in the pit of your stomach ebbed and flowed as Sylus pinched and tugged on your nipple, your toes curling as his long fingers danced around your clit and smoothly slid through your soaked slit. He teased the tips of his hand closer to your entrance, and your desire to feel him inside of you was overwhelming. 

“It feels good,” you managed to wheeze out through your teeth. “It feels really good– I feel hot.”

“Hot, huh? Should I stop and give you a chance to cool off?” 

The deviant behind you made a point to withdraw his fingers away from your wet heat, and you whimpered disapprovingly. You shook your head against his shoulder, cracking your eyes open to stare at him pleadingly in the mirror. “N-No, please– I want more. I want to feel you inside me. Please, Sylus?” 

Beneath the swell of your rear, you felt Sylus’ cock twitch against you, your begging evidently acting as his undoing. He tittered to himself shakily, the fingers that played with your nipple splaying to cup your entire breast, and the testing squeeze he gave the soft flesh had you melting against him even more. “I like the way you sound when you beg, kitten,” he rumbled, teasing his middle finger against your hole just enough to leave your hips trembling with barely contained want. “So well mannered, so polite.”

The praise left you boneless in his arms, amplified tenfold by the feeling of his digit pressing into you. You moaned fervently, your thighs instinctively sliding farther apart to give him more access. Your hands came to grip the forearm Sylus had wrapped around your waist, and you blearily watched as he buried his mouth into your neck again to sink his teeth into the junction of your throat, laving his tongue over the bite in-between his efforts to suck his mark into your skin. 

“Sylus…” you sighed, twitching your hips into his palm in a bid to derive friction against your clit. He catered to your attempts, pressing the heel of his hand against the bundle of nerves deliciously as he took to languidly pumping his finger into you. It was exactly what you’d been searching for, and he mindlessly squeezed your breast as you arched into him and let loose a deep, rumbling groan. 

Ruby red eyes met your half-lidded ones in the mirror as he broke away from your neck, the love-bite he’d left behind glowing bright against your skin. Venereal hunger emanated from him, his lips parting ever-so-slightly as he took in the sight of you falling apart on his lap. The blatant passion he gazed at you with was enough to make your head spin, your eyes fluttering shut once again. It was one thing to let yourself be overcome with such profuse pleasure, but it was a whole other thing to watch it be bestowed upon you. It was a level of intimacy you had never considered– never imagined– and you couldn’t decide if you found the entire display erotic or embarrassing. 

Maybe it was a little bit of both. A lot of both, actually. 

The hand that cupped your breast slid down your torso to escape the confines of your shirt, reappearing under your jaw to allow for Sylus to angle your head exactly where he wanted it. Your eyes snapped back open at the feeling, watching mutedly as he pumped his finger deeper into you and roughly ground his palm against your clit. Your breathing hitched around a strangled croak, and a sinful smile split Sylus’ face. 

“Look at how pretty you are, kitten,” he whispered against your ear. It shouldn’t have been anatomically possible, but the flush that decorated your face darkened immeasurably. “Spread wide for me, taking my finger like it’s nothing. Do you want more?” 

You nodded, Sylus’ hand following the movement since his fingers were still gripped snug beneath your jaw. 

“I need you to say it. Use your words, sweetie. I know you can do it.” 

“I… want more,” you said huskily. “I want more, Sylus. P-Please?” 

“Good girl,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, red eyes glued to yours all the while. He watched you rapaciously as he eased out his middle finger, then returned with his index finger added alongside. There was mercifully no teasing to be found as Sylus pressed both of the digits into your soaked, eager hole, the stretch taking nothing more than half a second to get used to. The hitched, keening noise that escaped you reverberated off the walls of the bedroom, and your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to keep your eyes open and focused on Sylus. “So tight, kitten… does it feel good?” 

You nodded brainlessly, digging your nails into the skin of Sylus’ forearm as he angled the tips of his fingers up. “Y-Yes, yes,” you whimpered, left with no choice but to watch your reflection in the mirror as Sylus worked to undo you. 

The heady flush that stretched across your skin coupled with your messy, undone hair had you looking positively wrecked already. Wrinkles covered the shirt you still wore, and through the material, you could see your pert nipples jutting against the fabric. Sylus still looked remarkably put together, but there was a telling flush growing across his own cheeks that clued you in on how affected he was beginning to get. That, and you could feel his growing erection pressed up against your backside. 

With what little movement you could muster, you shifted your hips in his lap to press down hard against his cock, and the instant result was by far the most gratifying thing you’d ever seen. Sylus’ head fell against your shoulder, a guttural moan sounding from deep within his chest, and the hand he had wrapped snug around your jaw tightened enough that your next breath was stolen from you. Those plush lips of his parted around a shaky exhale, and the fingers he had stuffed inside of you tensed. When he looked back to meet your awaiting stare in the mirror, you flashed him a coy smirk that ignited a spark of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“You… you’re a daring little minx, you know that?” 

Before you could respond, Sylus recovered in record time and increased the tempo of his fingers, pumping them faster and curling them dexterously within you as though the insistent pressing would reveal something to him. You had no clue what he was aiming for, but the quicker pace had his palm rubbing insanely good against your clit, and a fire seemed to catch in your veins. 

“F-Fuck, Sylus–” your babbling was cut short by the hand around your jaw tightening again, your back molding to Sylus’ chest as he guided your head back to rest against his shoulder. You panted shallowly as he worked his wrist harder, plunging the digits deeper into you, until eventually a sharp pang of arousal shot through you. “Fu– ah!”

Your body tensed against him, and Sylus groaned in abject satisfaction, pressing the side of his cheek against yours as he quickened his pace and aimed for that same spot again and again and again. It was insane– it felt staggeringly intense– enough so that you found it hard to breathe through the waves of ecstasy that crashed over you. The larger man continued to fuck you with his fingers until you began to writhe in his arms, your muscles trembling and your chest heaving with uncontrolled panting. The wet sound of his palm rubbing against your swollen clit filled the air, accompanying the strangled sounds of your labored breathing. 

Sylus panted hot and heavy against your jaw, watching eagerly as your climax reached its boiling point in the pit of your stomach. “You’re close, aren’t you, kitten? I can feel it… do you want to come?” 

Your voice was shrill and desperate as you sobbed, “Yes!” 

“I want you to look,” he implored you, working you so close to the edge that you were prepared to do anything he wanted if it meant he would carry you over the teetering brink. “Look at yourself– watch how perfectly you come on my fingers, kitten. Show me that pretty expression.” 

Words were beyond you at this point– you were a shaky, noisy, needy mess in Sylus’ arms, the metaphorical cord in your gut wrought tighter than a wire. Still, you obeyed his request, lifting your limp neck off his shoulder to gaze into the mirror straight ahead, and it was the sight of Sylus watching you ravenously that finally sent you careening into the abyss. 

You came with a hoarse cry of Sylus’ name, tightening impossibly around his fingers as your hands flew to dig into the sides of his legs beneath you. Your vision flashed white and your ears rang as he continued to fuck you open, thrusting his fingers harder and rubbing that one spot that left you gasping and choking on nonsensical pleas. The wetness that slid down your thighs and dampened Sylus’ lap barely registered to you– not until your body finally went lax against him and you proceeded to shake violently. He stifled a moan of his own as your weight settled directly on his throbbing, neglected cock, but he paid it no mind as he slowed the pace of his fingers and continued to work you through your orgasm until you were nothing but a twitching, whining mess in his arms. 

It took a while for you to approach anything resembling a functional human. Eventually, the feeling of Sylus withdrawing his fingers and peppering soft kisses along your neck roused you from your post-coital state, and you cracked your eyes open to find him staring fondly at you from over your shoulder. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your heated skin. “So gorgeous. I love the sounds you make.” 

The amount of sweetness that Sylus exuded was quickly approaching unnatural. Especially because you could feel how hard he was beneath you, and thus far, he had made no move to relieve himself in any way, shape, or form. It couldn’t be comfortable, but his attention had been unwaveringly fixed on you from the moment you’d entered his room. 

“Sylus…” you breathed his name gently, shifting your hips a little so you applied added friction to his cock. He grunted in response, his eyes pinching together slightly as he stared warily at you in the mirror. “What about you?” 

“This isn’t about me, kitten,” he rumbled, sliding his hand away from your jaw and trailing the appendage down to splay atop your thundering heart. “I wanted to do something for you. Trust me, getting to watch you fall apart on my lap was plenty fulfilling.” 

While you didn’t doubt that he’d derived some sort of second hand enjoyment from fingering you, you had reservations about the fulfilling part of his statement. Nothing about his twitching, throbbing cock seemed ”fulfilled” to you, and now that you had gotten a taste of what Sylus had to offer, you found yourself wanting more. 

Much, much more. 

“I…” your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words. Sylus watched you intently all the while, his fiery gaze making you shiver. “What if I want it to be about you?” 

His brow rose a fraction of an inch, his shaft throbbing tellingly beneath you. His hands traversed your pliant body reverently, coming to rest on your hips so his fingers could ghost along your jutted hip bones suggestively. “I wouldn’t let it be about me, sweetie. But if it’s what you want, then I’d be thrilled to oblige.” 

Without giving yourself time to question whether it would be overstepping, you mustered up the strength to angle your body sideways so you could face Sylus fully, not in the reflection of the mirror. The smile he gave you once you turned around was lofty and full of male pride, but you really didn’t care how pleased with himself he was. If he wanted to keep things all about you, then you would gladly be selfish. 

When you leaned in to kiss him, it was delicate. Exploratory and testing. You wanted to gauge just how much you could get away with before Sylus drew a line in the sand. If he drew a line in the sand. It was obvious just how much he was affected by you physically, but in the event there was something he didn’t like or wouldn’t be interested in, you wanted to give him the chance to make it clear to you. 

As it turned out, kissing wasn’t something he had an issue with. 

One of his hands rose from your waist to the back of your neck, holding you fast to his incredibly soft mouth as an approving moan sounded from deep in his chest. Your tentative pace was replaced almost instantly with a more urgent one as Sylus leaned into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue so he could sweep the inside of your mouth with the muscle. The hand on your hip tightened, and the one on your neck curled into a loose fist as he gathered a handful of your hair in his grip. The cautionary kiss you had instigated quickly turned into one of passion driven forward by Sylus, and your heart soared with satisfaction. 

Every minute sound that left you was swallowed up greedily by Sylus. He wasn’t kissing you so much as he was devouring you. The restraint he had practiced earlier had officially manifested into a voracious, insatiable version of the man you knew, and you went weak in the knees when it dawned on you that it was all for you. 

“Tell me to stop now, kitten,” Sylus panted roughly against your lips, having finally withdrawn to catch his breath. Your lust-dark eyes were pinned to him as he let go of your hair to brush a few stray strands out of your face, then cupped the side of your cheek to return your intense gaze. “Because if you don’t, I won’t ask again. I won’t be able to later.” 

Your breasts rose and fell in quick succession as you sucked down greedy breaths. Placing your own hand over his, you bit your lip and shook your head timidly, whispering softly, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

Something halfway between a sigh and a growl came from Sylus then. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, their usual crimson hue replaced almost entirely by black. His fingers twitched against your cheek, and your stomach lurched with arousal as he licked his lips eagerly. 

In one swift motion, he rose to his feet with you held fast in his arms, then turned around to roughly deposit you in his original spot on the bed. The speed with which he moved spoke volumes of his excitement, and you matched his pace by immediately reaching for the hem of your shirt. He aided you in hurriedly yanking the material over your head, your breasts bouncing as you threw the attire to the floor and scooted closer to the center of the bed. Sylus watched as you situated yourself against the pillows, his hands moving in quick succession over the buttons holding his own shirt together. The row of clasps parted to reveal creamy, toned muscle underneath, and you found your mouth watering in anticipation as he shed the fabric over his toned shoulders and moved on to his pants. 

As soon as your eyes settled on the outline of his cock in his briefs, you knew you were in for it. He was huge. Even through his undergarments, he looked strikingly thick and equally as long, a pronounced wet spot evident near the head. The crime lord drank in your expression with glazed over eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he teased the tips of his fingers between the waistband and his hips. 

“Scared, kitten?” 

You didn’t miss a beat, “That’s not normal.” 

Sylus let out a sharp bark of laughter, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Remind me again what about me strikes you as normal.” When you opened your mouth to respond, then snapped it shut with an audible crack of teeth, he smiled. “We’ll go slow, don’t worry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” 

After being so heavily spoiled by him and finding yourself craving more, the absolute last thing you wanted to do was take things slow. You wanted him inside of you now– your still-soaked center throbbing with blatant need. You wanted Sylus to take you by your hips and drive his cock into you fast and hard and leave you a drooling, lust-drunk mess. You wanted more of his praise, more of his attention, more of his scorching touch and intoxicating kisses. 

You wanted it all. But you were willing to be patient if that was what he felt you needed. 

Chewing the inside of your cheek nervously, you nodded up at him. His eyes crinkled at their corners as he started to slide his briefs down his toned legs, revealing inch after inch of his insane member until it was fully freed and arching proudly against his taut stomach. Gravity seemed to be struggling to drag the thick appendage down, and your eyes went wider than saucers as you silently questioned just how the hell he would fit inside of you. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to find out, though. 

Sylus somehow managed to make tossing underwear over his shoulder look graceful, and you blinked at him in awe as he knelt on the mattress and began crawling towards you. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to make room, expecting for him to situate himself between your thighs to jump right into what you’d been looking forward to. He took you by surprise, however, when he looped his arms under your knees and yanked you down the pillows closer to him, ignoring your yelp of alarm as he settled onto his stomach and tossed your legs over his shoulders, his face mere inches away from your sopping wet center. 

You started to object, “What are you–” 

“I told you earlier, didn’t I?” He fixed you with a sultry look that had your mouth drying up instantly, and you audibly gulped. “I said I’ve always wondered what your legs would look like hanging over my shoulders. Let a man indulge a little, sweetheart.” 

The tips of his fingers ghosted lightly over the tops of your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he exhaled against your folds. You shivered at the deferential way he seemed to look up at you, his sharp, angular features conveying a degree of tenderness that made your heart lurch. As quick it appeared, though, it vanished– replaced by an unquenchable zeal that had your breath hitching and your muscles tensing. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the animalistic way Sylus sealed his mouth over you, however. There was no warning before he dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit, taking exceptional care to circle your still-sensitive bundle of nerves in spite of your writhing. Your body jerked of its own accord, your stomach flexing as you unconsciously shifted your hips in some vain attempt to escape the onslaught of overstimulating pleasure the man bestowed upon you– all for naught. Sylus tightened his arms around your legs to hold you still, groaning with delight as your spine bowed off the mattress and in turn forced more of you on his tongue. 

“S-Sylus, shit–” you gasped breathlessly, your hands gathering up and yanking at fistfuls of the satin sheets that adorned the bed. Your eyes rolled back into your skull when you felt Sylus probe at your entrance with his tongue, and you mewled pitifully when he plunged the soft, wet muscle into your equally wet center. “God, Sylus–”

You heard and felt him chuckle against you, his otherworldly eyes fluttering open to stare up at you as you crumbled in his arms. His hands curled tighter around your thighs, holding you in place with a sort of casual ease that spoke volumes of his innate strength, and he waited for you to meet his gaze before he brazenly tilted his head forward to rub his nose against your clit. 

The shrill cry that tore from you echoed off the walls, and your hands flew to his hair before you could stop yourself. If the feeling of your nails scraping against his scalp was unpleasant, he didn’t show it. Instead, Sylus continued his never-ending assault against your soaked core with unabashed vigor, his sporadic groans accompanying the wet, sordid sounds he made with his mouth. 

There was no way you were going to survive. It was too much. Your nerve endings were scorched beyond capacity, and the blazing inferno that burned in your gut threatened to melt you from the inside out. First his hands, and now his mouth? Was there any part of him that didn’t possess such… talent? 

The irrelevant thought was banished from your mind as Sylus decided to focus his efforts on your clit once again, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth and laving his tongue over it incessantly. 

He was trying to kill you. 

Digging your heels into his back, you tugged at his hair harder and lolled your head from side to side, struggling to form a coherent sentence to warn him that you were close. Sylus angled his head so that he could watch you come undone beneath him, his eyes taking on a heady, bewitching quality that had you thinking he could see into the depths of your very soul. Almost hesitantly, he pulled away from your brutalized center, reaching over your thigh so he could replace his mouth with his thumb as he said, “One more time, kitten. Let me see you come again. You’re being so good– just one more time for me.” 

Fuck.

It wasn’t like you could say no, much less stop yourself from careening over the edge for the second time. Especially not when Sylus’ mouth dove back on your clit, licking maddeningly over the nub as though he were a starved animal. You spasmed against the sheets, a raspy cry ripping from your throat as you climaxed again, blind and mute to the world as your legs clamped down on either side of Sylus’ head. The crime lord didn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the feeling immensely, a gruff moan resonating from his chest and reverberating against your puffy, overstimulated center. 

When your body finally sagged into the mattress, Sylus was still lapping up the evidence of your arousal with persevering gusto. You were beyond words at this point, your tongue serving as nothing more than a lead weight in your mouth, so all you were able to do was shove weakly at his head in your attempts to get him to stop. 

Thankfully the man still retained a sense of mercy, because he pulled away swiftly and immediately began stroking your legs comfortingly, his red eyes boring into yours as he licked the remnants of your pleasure from his lips. You were certain you had never seen such a depraved sight in your life, and a feeble whimper slithered its way from your sore throat. 

“I knew it,” Sylus mused thoughtfully, breaking the thick silence that permeated the air. Still struggling to work your vocal chords, you furrowed your brows at him questioningly. “You taste sweet. I had a hunch, and you proved me right.” 

If anymore blood pooled in your cheeks, you were sure your head would explode. 

“And your legs are just as perfect as I thought they’d be,” he gently slid your boneless limbs off of his shoulders, sitting up just enough to give himself the range he needed to move over you fully. Crimson eyes scanned you hungrily as he asked, “Think you can wrap them around my waist, or are you too far gone?” 

In the throes of ecstasy, you had forgotten that Sylus wasn’t tormenting you with his mouth for nothing. He was preparing you. The thought of experiencing more didn’t scare you as much as it excited you, and you wordlessly lifted your knees off the bed in response, doing your best to keep them steady as they trembled against your will. 

The way you obediently waited for Sylus seemed to be his breaking point, because all of his prior restraint vanished in an instant as he gripped your knees and held them steady, helping you so that you could hook your quivering ankles around his waist. Once he let go, he moved to capture one of your hands in his, taking care to place a chaste, tender kiss to your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pinning the limb to the bed above your head. You panted and wiggled closer to him, shivering when you felt the thick head of his cock fall heavy against the sparse collection of hair below your navel, and then you watched through your lashes as Sylus lined himself up with your wet, waiting heat. 

He stopped himself a moment before he pressed in, leaning down to kiss you softly– delicately– then rested his forehead against yours to stare unblinkingly into your eyes. “Last chance, kitten. You’re sure about this?” 

Despite your spent state beneath him, you huffed out a laugh and smiled warmly. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask again.” 

He gave you a lopsided shrug, then smirked and squeezed your hand tighter in his larger one. “I guess I’m just full of surprises.” 

Without thinking, you closed the miniscule distance between the two of you and kissed him again, your unrestrained hand curling around the back of his neck to hold his mouth securely to yours. Sylus returned the action with equal fervor, inhaling sharply when he felt your hips wiggle tellingly against his throbbing manhood. Breaking away just enough to murmur breathlessly against his lips, you said, “I’m sure.”

With a quick, parting peck to your kiss-swollen mouth, Sylus kept his eyes glued to yours as he slowly began to press home. The initial breach was jarring, even with how wet and pliant you were in the wake of his preparation. The tip of his cock entered you incredibly slowly, your nails digging into the back of his neck as you willed your body to breathe through the momentary discomfort. Sylus halted his hips there to give you time to adjust, pressing his lips to yours again and tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours and letting loose a contented groan. The kiss felt electric; so perfect, so slow, and so messy that you couldn’t help but welcome the wave of affection that washed over you for the Onychinus leader. 

There was no way you could be content with this remaining a one-time tryst. Not with the powerful emotions that swept through you in response to Sylus’ words and actions. He had effortlessly wormed his way so deep into your heart that you doubted you would ever be able to rid yourself of your sentiments. Even before now, he had gone out of his way to cater to your every desire, helping you with anything you asked and looking out for you when you didn’t. Today had only solidified the feelings you had felt for a long, long time, and you didn’t want to give that up. You wouldn’t give that up. 

“Sylus,” you breathed in-between kisses. “Sylus, I like you. I like you a lot.” 

He chuckled against your mouth and drew back slightly, just enough to get a good look at your flushed, timid expression. “I like you a lot too, kitten. I always have and I always will.” 

The way he said the declaration hit you with the force of a train. It was as though a lifetime of devotion had been unearthed with those few words, and a deep, profound attachment settled hot and heavy in your chest. You loved this man. You loved Sylus, and part of you felt like you had loved him for lifetimes. 

Words weren’t enough to convey what you wanted to say, so you settled for sliding your hand away from his neck to splay your fingers over his sternum, his heartbeat thundering wildly beneath your palm. A shiver worked its way over him, his free hand coming to cover yours as his muscles rippled with restraint, and then he exhaled loudly. That was the only cue you needed to spur him onwards, encouraging him to pick up where he had left off. 

You nudged his lower back with your heels, then groaned softly when he started to press more of himself into you. This time there was no discomfort. Only a slick, easy slide that left the two of you gasping one another’s names into the humid air. Once he was fully sheathed within your heated, pulsing walls, you found yourself nearly breathless. His cock twitched eagerly inside of you as he gave you yet another moment to gather your bearings, somehow managing to keep his composure, which was more than could be said for you. 

Your mind was fucking blown. Sex was one thing, but this was sex with Sylus. The same ruthless, calculating crime lord that turned his enemies into mist and brought his rivals to their knees with a thought. The same man who commanded attention and respect just by walking into a room. The same man who withstood bullet wounds and Wanderer attacks like they were nothing more than irritating bug bites. That was the same man holding your hands now, being so strikingly gentle and waiting so incredibly patiently for you to adjust to the perfect, thick cock that filled you up so deep and so good. 

When you finally relaxed and stopped clenching your thighs around Sylus’ waist, he removed your hand from his chest and intertwined your fingers with his, then pinned the appendage above your head to mirror your other arm. Being so close to your face again allowed for him to begin trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing at the junction of your shoulder to suck lightly at the salty skin there. “Tell me when, kitten,” he muttered roughly, his own need evident in the gravelly tone of his voice. “You’re running the show here.” 

You angled your head to the side to give Sylus better access to your throat, and he nipped playfully at your collarbone before drawing back enough to glance at you. You had to look a special brand of fucked up, because Sylus let loose a groan laced with blatant yearning, and his hips twitched forward slightly. 

As if the sheer width and length of his cock wasn’t enough, you could feel every mouthwatering vein that pulsed along his shaft. The subtle drag through your innermost walls had you arching suddenly– that one spot he had previously assaulted with his fingers now being wholly enveloped by his length. “Yes,” you gasped, digging your nails into the backs of his hands. “M-Move. Feels insane…”

Sylus chuckled under his breath, withdrawing his hips cautiously before pushing back in faster. It was still a tentative pace, but unmistakably swifter than before. The feeling of his cock sliding past that magic place inside of you had you gasping around a keening moan, and your head flew back in response to the sensations that washed over you. 

Bliss, euphoria, ecstasy. Whatever it was, it was addictive, and you wanted more. 

Sylus didn’t need to ask. Your body language was enough for him to go off as he worked to set a steady rhythm, pumping his hips languidly as his hands tightened almost painfully around yours. Your breathing quickly became labored as the head of his cock reached deep inside of you, seemingly punching the air from your lungs every time he bottomed out. Needy, desperate noises fell from your lips, and when your eyes snapped back to ruby red ones, you found Sylus watching you with rapt focus, unwilling to look away for fear of missing the way your lips parted with each, assessing thrust. 

When your heels dug into the small of his back again, he exhaled roughly and dropped his head closer to yours. “Think you can take more, sweetie?” 

You nodded brainlessly, so drunk on the feelings he was giving you that you would have agreed to anything. The fact that you did actually want more just so happened to be a happy coincidence. 

Sylus grunted and wedged his knees further beneath you, giving him the support and leverage he needed to draw his hips back again before spearing his cock into you harder, the force from the action causing you to cry out with unrestrained rapture. It hit so deep, the slight angle change allowing for him to reach so unbelievably far inside of you that it felt like he was stirring up your very insides. 

From that point on, things shifted from testing and exploratory to frantic and ravenous. Having been given the green light, Sylus pumped his hips into you with unleashed vigor, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin reaching your ears as your mouth fell open. You were moaning, wheezing, gasping, and crying Sylus’ name over and over again, your mind going blank in lieu of his cock effectively muddling your brain’s ability to think. All you could do was take it with your legs hooked around him and your hands pinned by your head, entirely at his mercy as he worked the tip of his shaft past that pleasure inducing spot within you. 

The sound of Sylus groaning your name pulled you back down to the present, and your eyes cracked open to find silver strands of hair falling into his face as his head hung heavy between his shoulders. “You feel incredible, sweetie. So good, so wet. You’re a work of fucking art.” 

“S-Sylus,” your hands flexed in his hold weakly, your legs quaking from the effort it took to keep them wrapped around his narrow waist. Between the unrelenting slam of his hips against your ass and the mounting pressure building in the pit of your stomach, your body felt like it was being pulled in a million different directions. You were fairly certain drool spilled from the corners of your mouth as you senselessly babbled, “Sy– fuck– c-can’t, I can’t–”

Sylus picked up on your struggle and quickly readjusted your positions; he released your hands to coax your legs off of his hips, guiding the boneless limbs down to the mattress before coiling his fingers under your knees. You were utterly indisposed as he hoisted one leg up and draped it over his shoulder yet again, then pushed the other one far to the side to spread you wide open while simultaneously giving you the reprieve you had desperately needed. 

The newfound angle, in turn, served to drive you higher than you had thought possible. 

When Sylus reared his hips back to continue hammering his cock into you, you found that his thrusts had transformed from deep to cervix-kissing. Your spine arched clean off the bed as you threw your head back and wailed Sylus’ name, your hands clawing at the sheets so violently that your nails caught on some of the threads and tore them apart. Sylus was growling above you, his rough, panted breaths punctuated by his equally rough thrusts, and his eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee over his shoulder, biting and sucking at your skin hard enough that you knew it would bruise. 

His control was slipping, though. Through the overwhelming ecstasy that threatened to boil over within your core, you could feel as Sylus’ pace began to falter. The snapping of his hips became more erratic, his teeth clamped down harder on your leg, and the fingers he had dug into your thigh spasmed as he fought his release with everything in him. If you could get your tongue to function, you would ask him what the hell he was waiting for. 

But then he cracked those luminescent eyes of his open again, letting go of the leg you had stretched out on the bed so he could reach between your thighs. 

“Come on,” Sylus implored you, his fingers rubbing relentless little circles against your swollen clit. “Come on, kitten. One more time for me. Let me feel you come on my cock– come for me.” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The shaky groans that rumbled through you quickly turned into shrill cries of Sylus’ name as you came, your hands tearing vehemently at the satin sheets as your walls clamped down on his cock. Through the ear splitting ringing that echoed around your skull, you managed to make out the sound of Sylus groaning your name loudly, the feeling of his fingers digging into your thigh registering alongside the wavering pumping of his hips. His quick, pounding pace quickly deteriorated into something sloppier, more irregular, until he buried himself deep inside of you for the last time, then proceeded to shake. 

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you lay there gasping for breath. Sylus’ grip on your leg was still ironclad, and every muscle in your body continued to quiver sharply. The clouds in your mind refused to let you focus again, still blown away at the intensity of everything you had experienced in just one day. Sylus’ cock pulsed as the last of his spend emptied into you, and you were still so unbelievably sensitive that every tiny twitch of his shaft had you jolting and shivering against him. 

Before long, Sylus gingerly slid your quivering leg off of his shoulder, taking exceptional care to set the limb down gently before he began the god-awful process of pulling out. Without him filling you up, you felt incredibly empty, and your lower half spasmed unconsciously when he finally left the warm, wet confines of your folds. 

“Fuck,” Sylus finally managed to speak, trailing his hand up your calf to tenderly ghost over the bright, purple-red blotch that he’d left on your leg. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

“Mmhng,” came your garbled response. The speech part of your brain was still struggling to turn back on. 

“Oh no,” Sylus drawled sarcastically, crawling closer so he could loop his arm under your back and haul you towards the headboard alongside him. “Don’t tell me I broke you, Miss Hunter. The Association will double my bounty if they find out.” 

You let Sylus manhandle you against his chest as he leaned back against the mountain of pillows, sighing softly when you felt his hand brush against your flushed cheeks. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you muttered, “I’ll make them triple it as punishment for the sarcasm.”

That earned you a chuckle from the crime lord, and he gazed down at you thoughtfully while he continued to smooth your hair out of your face. The fondness with which he stared at you was enough to bring a shy smile to your face, and you numbly wrapped your fingers around his wrist as you relished in the attention. “Ah, the tired kitten returns with her fangs bared. Triple the original price of my bounty is flattering, I’ll give you that much.” 

You hummed your agreement, doing your best to fight off the bone-deep fatigue that seemed to be sneaking up on you. Your whole body exuded an ache that felt strangely… nice. Compared to how sore you tended to get when you trained throughout the night, this was pleasant by comparison. The thought of training, however, had you thinking back to your earlier discussion with Sylus, and you pursed your lips as you contemplated whether or not to voice the burning question that reiterated itself over and over in your brain. 

“What are you thinking about that’s making you look so glum?” Sylus dexterously twirled his wrist out of your grip so he could intertwine your fingers with his again, and he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to your knuckles that made your heart swell with even more affection. “Do I need to put you in front of the mirror again?” 

“What you said earlier,” you muttered against his chest timidly. “Did you mean all of that?” 

“I would ask you which part you’re referring to, but that would be pointless since I meant everything I said tonight, kitten.” He moved your joined hands so they were held fast to his chest, directly over his heart. “I’ve always believed that it’s best to say what you mean and mean what you say. Lip service is pointless. And with you? I would never lie.” 

“So all that talk about me being a great fighter, being smart, cunning… you were telling the truth?” 

“Of course I was. Don’t forget the part about your legs,” he helpfully supplied, his red eyes narrowing with interest as they flicked down to the limbs in question. “Because they truly are incredibly perfect, sweetie.” 

You huffed out a dry laugh, lifting your conjoined hands to lightly thump against his sternum playfully. “You’re incorrigible.” 

In a flash, Sylus shifted so he was laying flat on his side with you wrapped snugly in his arms, the sudden change enough to pull a startled yelp from you. The familiar, red mist that accompanied his Evol manifested and enveloped the bed, pulling the covers over the two of you and cocooning you both in a silky haven that instantly amplified the fatigue you felt. You looked back at him from over your shoulder in time to watch as he nestled his chin into the crook of your neck, a radiant smile playing on his perfect face before he pressed a soft, sweet kiss against your lips. 

“And you’re exquisite,” he countered easily, tugging you closer against him so your back was flush to his chest. Once he had you situated how he wanted, he used his Evol to plunge the room into near darkness, the only source of light coming from the dim lanterns that flickered on his desk. “Get some sleep, kitten. Tomorrow we’ll head back out and deal with those Wanderers together. I’m eager to see you in action again.” 

As you nestled deeper into the cool pillows, you found your mind blissfully quiet and at ease. No rampant feelings of self-doubt plagued you, and the warmth from Sylus pressed up against you soothed your body and worked to lull you into a peaceful slumber. For the first time in a long time, ‘together’ actually sounded like something you could get used to. 

Especially if together meant you and Sylus.

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[myboykillme]

Fuck man, I had a busy last week but here it is! Long story short, Ren breaks into your house and finds you masturbating on your bed... So yes. Hope you all like it!

Word count: 2.6k

Tw: Stalking, obsessive yandere behavior, dub-con, smut!

Minors don't fucking interact

Smut under the cut :3

Ren slipped out of his cheerful persona, after a full day of entertaining your little fantasy he had to return to himself. He carefully put the wig onto the stand next to his desk, glancing at the collection of cutesy clothes. Scoffing at the sight of them, he was mad at the world for not letting him be exactly what you wanted…

It's all alright tho, it's fine, he loves you, you love him too right? He loves you so much, he doesn't even mind changing himself for your pleasure, you must love him after all this effort… You have to, there is no other choice.

After a bit of spacing out, the turtle neck was also removed, letting his tattooed skin breathe in the chill of his room. Now there's only one thing left to do, the piercings. The jewels glinted in the room of his monitor, your sleeping form illuminating the room as he started screwing them back in. The little spikes fell a few times as he struggled, this practice getting a bit tiring after a while, but alas the snake bites and septum took their place on his face.

You looked breathtaking as you slept, hugging the plush he brought you while wearing his hoodie. The definition of perfection was before Ren's eyes, oh you, he loves you so much. Warmth went through his entire body as he watched you toss and turn, god he has to see it in real life. Hurriedly, he threw on a black hoodie and a mask. Anticipation made his heart beat faster, wonder if you minded if he took a pair of panties for later, you wouldn't mind right?

His angel…. With quick and practiced steps he soon arrived, in front of your apartment, for now. The hallway was dark and quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city that never truly sleeps. Ren crept silently down the dimly lit hallway of the apartment building, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the door to your unit. He had been thinking about this moment all day, the thrill of sneaking in to admire your divinity, to see you in the privacy of your own space. With a deft hand, he picked the lock, the mechanism clicking softly as the door swung open.

The apartment was dark, but Ren could make out some things from the moonlight seeping in through the window. He slipped further inside, closing the door softly behind him. The sound of his heartbeat deafened him for a while as he got closer to your door, but something caught his attention. A sweet sweet moan of his name, oh you want him here watching you, right? You must have known he was coming, and you're putting on a show just for him. What a sweet angel you are. As he crept closer, he heard even more of the soft, rhythmic sound - the unmistakable sound of self-pleasuring. His cock twitched in his jeans at the thought of you, lost in your own world, unaware of his presence.

He approached the bedroom doorway and he could feel himself getting lightheaded, kneeling down to look through the keyhole. There you were, sprawled out on the bed, wearing nothing but his hoodie. Just for him, just for Ren… The sight of you in his clothes, the fabric clinging to your frame, sent a surge of possessiveness through him. One hand was buried between your thighs, moving in a steady rhythm as you pleasured yourself, lost in your own world, occasionally whimpering his name. His angel wouldn't mind if he continued watching, maybe even touching himself… This is all fine since you're all his.

Ren watched, transfixed, as your back arched off the bed, a soft moan escaping your lips. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to palm his cock as you did this for him. His cock was rock hard now, straining against the confines of his jeans, wanting to be set free. He wanted to touch himself, to stroke his aching flesh as he watched you, and probably that's what you want him to do too. Why else would you wear his hoodie and touch your sweet sweet cunt? As quietly as humanly possible he freed his aching cock, covering his mouth as his hand went up and down, relieving a bit of his tension.

More and more, Ren just wanted to feel your delicious nectar flow down his cock as he fucked you silly. This is fine too, it's all fine, what he's doing is fine since it feels so good. His poor cock is leaking onto the floor from the sight of you playing with yourself, his grip getting harder. How can someone like you even exist? So gorgeous, an angel just for him. Faster and faster, his hand now starts to match the pace of your fingers. The hazy pleasure started clouding his judgment, a good boyfriend never leaves traces. But before he knows it he cums on the floor, like a pathetic (stalker) lover groaning your name.

He watched, your eyes fluttered open, and you let out a scream of shock, shutting your legs. “WHO ARE YOU?” Ren moved quickly, zipping up, opening the door, covering your mouth with his hand, muffling the sound. Poor little angel, you're a bit confused, aren't you? Now trying to scream even more as he held you down with one arm. So beautiful, the cum on his hand dripping down, decorating your skin, it's getting on your lips. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you.

"Shhh, I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice low and rough with desire. "Don't be scared Angel” You struggled even more beneath him but didn't dare to talk, the vulnerability of this situation making you shake. But as you looked up at him, you saw the hunger in his gaze, the way his eyes raked over your body, taking in the sight of you splayed out beneath him, wearing his hoodie and nothing else. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions cursing through you now. He looked almost like your boyfriend, Ren but your sweet boy would never do that to you.

"Who are you?" You tried speaking, but your voice echoed through his head, making it sound like whiny begs and pleads. Your brain was telling you to fight him, but his familiarity made you feel scared and turned on at the same time. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?" He ignored your questions, his attention focused on your spasming pussy, begging for him to touch it. "You look so fucking hot, angel," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I have to…” You wanted him to touch the aching heat between your legs. Didn't you?

With that, he pushed his filthy cum stained fingers into your mouth, wanting you to taste him as he helped you. Your chest rising up and down fast, so needy for more… His fingers trailed down your stomach, then lower and lower, finding your slick, swollen flesh. Ren wanted to be inside you as much as you craved the release, but this was about you. He paused there, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your mound. Your hips bucked up, seeking more contact, more friction. You're such an insatiable little angel, greedy for pleasure. Ren's eyes flashed with triumph at your reaction.

You could feel the heat of his gaze, the intensity of his want. A part of you screamed to run, to push him away. But another part, a darker part, thrilled at the allure of this handsome man. After all, the two of you were meant to be, you can feel that.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice cracking at the need he was feeling, Ren's eyes looking into yours for affirmation. He only wants the best for you, for you to feel as good as he did, a reward. "Tell me you want my fingers inside you, filling you up. Beg me… “ His obscene words sent a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core, a mysterious stranger offering to relieve your horniness. Your walls clenched around nothing, aching to be filled, to be stretched, to be used for his pleasure.

You were trembling now, your body burning up with a fever only he could quench. You needed his help, there was no use resisting even if it disgusted you a bit on the inside. All you could do was say your answer breathlessly, a broken, desperate sound that echoed in the charged silence of your bedroom. "Please..." The word slipped out before you could stop it. A plea, a prayer, a demand.

You didn't know what you were begging for anymore. All you knew was that you needed something, needed him, with a desperation that consumed you whole. Ren's fingers flexed against your mound, his thumb pressing down on your clit with just enough pressure to make you see stars. "Please what, angel?" he taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Tell me what you need. Beg for it like a good girl."

His other hand slid from your mouth to wrap around your throat, his thumb and forefinger encircling your delicate neck. Not squeezing, not yet. Just... holding. Claiming. Owning. A toy. You were trapped. Trapped under him, trapped in his thrall. Trapped in a web of fear and desire so intense it bordered on pain. And still, you couldn't look away. It's disgusting how despite the fear your body and mind still craved the sweet release.

"Please..." you whimpered again, your voice breaking on a sob. "Please, I... I need... I need..." The words died in your throat as Ren's fingers pushed past your folds, sinking knuckle-deep into your soaked, aching heat. A squelching sound could be heard, and a relieved moan when Ren began giving you what you asked for. Such a delicious sound your cunt makes, for the man it belongs to.

Ren's breath hitched as he watched you, transfixed by the erotic sight before him. Your desperate whimpers and the slick sounds of your fingers plunging into your dripping cunt filled the room, stoking the flames of his desire. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the lewd display, his cock throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his pants

"Fuck, angel," he growled under his breath, his voice rough with lust. A pussy made for him to ruin, to claim, as much as he wants. "You look so fucking hot like this, letting a stranger touch you like the slut you are. Have you been imagining someone taking advantage of you like this? Thinking about a strangers fingers buried deep inside this greedy little pussy, fucking you hard and fast just like you need."

His other hand tightened slightly around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel like his little toy. Your pulse jumped beneath his fingers, and he felt a surge of overwhelming obsessiveness drowning his own senses. He knew the pleasure, the pain was mixing inside you into a delicious poison. "Tell me, angel," he demanded, Ren's eyes zoning in at your face that had a stupid expression stupid, what a whore, dumbed out on lust. "Tell me what you need. Beg. For. More." His thumb pressed down even harder on your clit, assaulting your senses with a simple touch. He needed you to be his, his goal was to consume you, as a whole.

Ren's eyes flashed with triumph as he felt your body respond to his touch, your hips bucking up into his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure. He knew he had you right where he wanted you - desperate, needy, and completely at his mercy. "That's it, baby," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't fight it. I can give you everything you need. I can make you feel so fucking good." His fingers plunged deeper, curling inside you, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

"Please..." you whimpered again, your voice breaking onto a small scream. The word tumbled from your mouth involuntarily, anything for him, for pleasure. You didn't know what you were begging for anymore, only that you needed it. Needed him. Needed something, anything, to quench the fire burning inside you. Ren's grin widened, his eyes glinting with dark promise as he felt your body tremble beneath him. "Please what, angel?" he taunted, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Tell me what you need. Beg for it like a good girl."

His fingers pumped faster, harder, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room as he fingered you with wild abandon. Ren's breathing was getting harder and harder, only he deserved to see you like this. He was claiming you, marking you, branding you as his in the most primal way possible. The urge to fill you up with his cock and seed was overwhelming, but he had to resist. His greediness can't overwhelm his devotion to your eternal figure. "So fucking tight and wet, like this greedy little pussy was made for my cock." His thumb rubbed mercilessly over your clit, the rough pad circling and pressing down on the sensitive bundle of nerves until your vision started to swim.

Ren leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he panted hotly, his breath mingling with your own ragged gasps. "I'm going to fill this hungry cunt," he promised darkly, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Gonna stuff you so full of my thick, hard cock that you'll forget your own name. You'll be screaming it, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper, until the only word you remember is mine." His other hand slid up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast through the thin fabric of his hoodie. He could feel your nipple stiffen under his touch, poking into his palm as he squeezed the supple mound roughly. Rolling and pinching the hardened peak between his fingers, he tugged on it, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"Please..." you whimpered again, your voice breaking on a sob as your body writhed beneath him. "Please, I... I need..." The words dissolved into incoherent babble as Ren's fingers pounded into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with brutal intensity. Your hips bucked wildly, fucking yourself back onto his hand, chasing the release you so desperately needed. "That's it, angel," Ren encouraged, his voice rough with lust. "Fucking take it. Take my fingers like the needy little slut you are." He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to quiver and clench around him as your climax approached. "Cum for me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with fierce intensity. "Cum all over my fingers like a good girl."

With a final, brutal thrust and a hard press of his thumb on your clit, he sent you hurtling over the edge. Your body convulsed, back arching sharply as a scream tore from your throat, your pussy clamping down on his fingers like a silken vise. Ren groaned, feeling your release gush around his hand, your juices dripping down his wrist as he worked you through your orgasm, drawing it out, making it last as long as possible. "That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "So fucking perfect, cumming so hard on my fingers like this." He brought his soaked digits up to his mouth, sucking your essence from them with a low moan of appreciation.

"Delicious," he purred, his tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them of every last drop. The taste of you was a nectar, only for him. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises as a claiming gesture. "I'm going to devour you as a whole, until there's nothing left" he promised darkly, knowing he needs you to fill the hole in his soul.

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober 14

Kink(s): Spreader Bar (BDSM)

Pairing: Roommate Bucky x f! Roommate Reader

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, compromising situations, spreader bar, dubcon (barely), mutual pining/lusting, vaginal fingering, creampie, p-in-v (wrap it!!!), dirty talk, pet names (doll/sweetheart/dirty girl/babydoll), roomates to lovers

Not beta read

Summary: You get stuck in a compromising position but thankfully your very helpful roomie is able to "help".

Word count: 2.6 k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! Banners : @/cafekitsune

A/N: Originally, this was going to be roommate! Steve but I really liked his softness ... so duh had to make it Bucky Boy instead. This one is going to also be a drabble series probably, but not as sweet as Steve's (at first) - Love, Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

You weren’t too sure  what possessed you to open your new toy as soon as it arrived nor do you know why you thought it would be a good idea to try it out  alone. But you did. And now here you are, in your new favourite lingerie, made up to the nines, legs spread and so very, utterly stuck.

You had been feeling rather blue since your break up a few months ago. Your roommate, Bucky, had been a godsend throughout it but you just had felt like shit. But when your favourite online sex shop had a flash sale the week before, you hadn’t cared how much you spent, it was the first time you had felt something other than numb or fleeting happiness in a while. And when it arrived this afternoon, you were practically ripping the box from the delivery driver.

You had planned it expertly. Bucky was out for the day so you could try out plenty of angles, positions and rooms with your phone in private.  You had showered, done your hair and make up to match the new lingerie you had bought and felt so unbelievably hot and confident – it would be a waste not to snap some pics. Then it occurred to you to snap some with the leg spreader bar. Why not go all out?

But you’d bent too far over the back of the sofa, trying to get that perfect angle that would show off your plump ass and the bar, and now your feet couldn’t touch the floor and you’d slid too far forward  but not far enough for you to reach the floor with your arms and push yourself up. Even if you did, you risked injuring yourself somehow.

And what would happen if Bucky came home with Steve and-or Sam in tow? A cold , icy tingle ran down your spine. Uh oh. You’d never live this down – it’s embarrassing enough your crushing on your hot roommate without him seeing you like this, least of all his friends. Thankfully, your phone was still clutched in your hands and you huffed as you attempted to find Bucky's name in your contacts to warn him what he’d be walking into and to please, please, please not bring any guests home.

You: Hey, so this is gonna sound weird but I’m kinda stuck right now so if you could stay out a while longer that would be grand! X

You: and please don’t bring anyone around until I am unstuck!!!

You: Sorry x

Your face flushes with embarrassment and you mutter to yourself. You’re only snapped out of your thoughts when Bucky messages back.

Bucky: Stuck? Are you okay, doll?

Bucky: I’m on my way back. I can help.

You scream into the sofa pillow. God this couldn’t get any worse.

You: No, it’s really alright. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.

The response is immediate.

Bucky: it’s alright. I’m happy to help and I won’t judge. Promise doll :-)

Curse Bucky and his kindness and curse him for being a big, dumb, helpful idiot.

You: Fine but you need to close your eyes when you come in!!!

Bucky only responds with a thumbs up emoji and you sigh. Whatever he’s expecting to find, you didn’t know if your current position would be better or worse. You hoped better because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Bucky in that way. More than once. And the thought of him finding you like this would have had you pressing your thighs together – if you could do that right now.

It took about ten minutes for Bucky to arrive home and you were wriggling wildly and yelling at him to close his eyes when you heard his keys rattle in the lock.

“Alright, alright doll. My eyes are closed.” He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Where are you?”

“On the sofa.” You reply meekly, heating flooding to your cheeks.

“The sofa?” You can hear the confusion in his voice as he comes closer. “How are you stuck on the sofa?”

“I- uhh...” You trail, realising there isn’t much of an explanation to your predicament other than the truth.  “I was trying out something and... look it’s not important just please help and keep your eyes closed.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Fine. Fine.”

“I’m in the mid- oh!”

 in Bucky's blind attempt to reach you with his eyes closed, he’d managed to bump right into you hitting his shins painfully against the spreader bar with a muffled clang.

“Ow!” he yelped, eyes flaring open to see what he’d hit only to be graced with your ass covered in lace. His eyes trailed down your stocking-clad legs, eyes widening as they spread apart to make a perfect triangle  with the metal bar secured at your ankles. “Oh.”

The sound was breathless, his mind blank and jeans suddenly too tight at the sight before him. He’d dreamed of you like this before but this was almost too comical to be real. It was like you were being served to him.

“Bucky?” You asked shyly, shaking him from his stupor. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He says thickly. “Tell me what you need.”

Your heart beats at a break neck pace. He hasn't opened his eyes has he? Even so, his helpful comment has almost rendered your brain, and legs, to mush.

“I - um - just so my feet touch the floor,” You explain, wishing you were literally anywhere else. “Then I’ll die of embarrassment in my room.”

“What were you doing?” Bucky asked, shamelessly gazing at your ass whilst you still thought (hoped) his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure if he'd get an opportunity like this again. It was much better than seeing you in a towel or pyjamas and better yet than his own imagination. He could feel his fingers twitch, itching to reach out and grip your hips, but resisted; trying to remember you were his roommate and friend.

You face burns hotter and there’s a slight tingle in a place you know shouldn’t be tingling when Bucky is being so kind to help you through this embarrassing time. But explaining to him that you were taking boudoir photos is possibly your newest low.

“I was taking photos,” You admit sheepishly, grateful he can’t see your face right now. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire and you don't know if it's in a good way or a bad way.

“Photos?” Bucky's mouth dries out. Photos for whom? He wished he could see them. Wished they were for him. Hell, he wished he could take them. Especially taking ones that captured the very moment you came, preferably over his cock, so he could keep it close by when either of you were away - just in case he had to rely on his imagination and needed a prompt.

You swallow thickly, the embarrassment seemingly never ending. “For me. They... God,  this is so embarrassing. They were to make me feel sexy.”

“Ah, right.” Bucky says absently, his mind only full of thoughts of pulling you against him. He pushed the thoughts away. You were his roommate. You trusted him to help. “But you are sexy.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Um, if you just grab my hips and pull me back I...” you swallow, mind racing to the gutter but before you can finish, Bucky's large hands are on your hips; half on skin half on lace. His flesh fingertips are rough and hot against your skin but the metal fingertips are surprisingly soft but cool and, coincidentally unbeknownst to you both, you and Bucky both stifle sounds of pleasure. You shiver as you feel yourself being pulled slowly backward, heat and an uncomfortable damp settling between your legs as Bucky effortlessly, though slowly, pulls you back to standing position.

As Bucky gives one final tug, there’s the click of your heels on the floor. Unfortunately, your heels rock back and you lose your  balance and to stop yourself from falling you stick your ass out on instinct, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady yourself.

Which would have been fine had Bucky not been stood behind you with a hard on. Your ass brushed past the tent in his jeans and you gasped.

That’s what broke Bucky.

“Fuck, doll, you look so good. All spread out for me.” He said gruffly, making you whine quietly.

“Buck.” You turn your head to look up at him, face flushed and wide eyed but God you look so perfect laced up, legs spread and bent double in front of him. You’re not sure what to say – what to ask – all you know is that you’ve been crushing on your roomie and he’s probably just said one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard in your life. Maybe that’s why you say possibly the dumbest thing that comes to mind.

“You were supposed to keep your eyes closed.”

A blush creeps up Bucky's neck as he looks down at you, hands still on your hips and intent on not letting go. His chest rises and falls with heavy pants and he grips your hips a little tighter. “Sorry doll, I just- shit. You look so good. I -Sorry.”

“It's not a bad thing,” you say quickly, feeling your own breathing become laboured. “I – I’m glad you like what you see.”

Bucky's eyes close and he stifles a groan. “Doll, don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t look at you like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here, like this.” He growls, eyes glowering down at you with heat so intense your body lights up. “Like you want to have me balls deep inside of you.”

Your mouth opens slightly as you stare up at him. You’d heard him curse before but not like that. You never thought that your roomie would say something like that to you. Your legs shuffle as you try once again to squeeze your thighs together, the needy ache between them becoming to difficult to ignore.

“Maybe I do.” You respond hoarsely. “Maybe I've thought about it.”

Bucky's grip on your hips becomes ever so slightly painful. “You have?”

You only nod and Bucky curses loudly.

You heard the click and clang of his belt coming undone, followed swiftly by the zipper his jeans behind you and God did it make you soaked just knowing he was about to have you. Your panties were tugged to your knees in one quick motion and before you could react to the sudden lack of clothing two of Bucky's cool, metal fingers sank inside your pussy without warning, making you moan loudly.

“That’s my dirty girl,” he praises, working your already slick cunt with his fingers with a smirk. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? Feel good?”

“Yes, Bucky, yes!” You moan out eagerly, jutting your hips backwards even further into him. The metal fingers curl and scissor inside of you, stretching you open in front of Bucky, whose flesh hand squeezes the cheek of your ass roughly.

"Shit babydoll," He murmurs, moving his fingers out of you slowly, teasingly dragging them along your folds to make you whine. He looks at his glistening fingers with a satisfied smirk. "I think you're ready for my cock already."

Bucky doesn't even take the time to undress fully, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he frees his cock, tapping it against your ass cheek tauntingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to angle your legs so you could feel the thickness and heat of his cock against your skin again, but Bucky's flesh hand holds you firmly in place. You huff in frustration and can feel his tip on the curve of your ass again, this time trailing cool, sticky pre-cum.

"Excited are we?" Bucky watches you shift again, your ass looking even better covered in his pre-cum than the lace. He guides his length through your folds, sighing with delight at the silky warmth around his cock, and chuckling his tip nudges your clit making you moan his name.

"Please, Bucky." Your groan is muffled into a couch cushion. The slow torture was killing you in the best way possible and you were already desperate to have him fuck you.

"Please what, doll?" Bucky asks, repeating the motion with his cock again.

You curse loudly before gasping out, "Please fuck me."

Bucky grins triumphantly. "Oh, with pleasure, doll."

He draws his cock back up along your folds and sinks into you, hard and fast, filling you to the brim and bottoming out in one thrust. Your hands dart out in front of you to steady yourself as you make a silent oh. Bucky's metal arm circles your waist, pulling you to stand a little straighter as he waits for you to adjust.

There's a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. You swallow thickly, trying to regain the ability to breathe as you relax onto Bucky's cock with a long, drawn out fuuuuck. Once you relax into him, leaning further back into him, Bucky begins to thrust upwards erratically. The slapping noises of skin-on-skin are drowned by the sounds of Bucky kissing your neck and murmuring filth that makes your eyes roll in ecstasy.

“I used to hear you and your boyfriend fucking – he never could fill you up like I can, could he?” Bucky murmurs lowly, taking a moment to pull put of you slowly and back in again, appreciating how your pussy grips his cock and sucks him back in. His words make you groan out and this time you answer before you get to lost in the pleasure to respond.

"No, he c-couldn't."

Your body jerks when Bucky slams into your pussy again and this time you're sure you're seeing stars. Your orgasm isn't far and from the way Bucky's thrusts are getting sloppier, you know his isn't far either.

"Your pussy feels fucking amazing, doll." Bucky huffs, his metal hand retreating from your waist and back to your hip. "I could fuck you all day."

Your eyes roll and you can feel your pussy grip his cock tighter; on the precipice of your orgasm and desperate to take all Bucky can give. Your face flushes at his words even though they barely register in your fucked out state.

"Please," You keen at him. "I'd love you to fuck me all day."

Bucky pulls your hips to meet his roughly, making you squeak before speeding up his thrusts again. "Yeah, doll? You would?"

You barely manage out an mmhmm through your moans, your pussy throbbing greedily around his cock. "Yes, please - fuck. I'm - I'm gonna cum."

Your arms reach blindly behind you, grasping at Bucky's hips to hoist yourself just a little bit higher; letting Bucky's cock reach a new depth in your sopping cunt. You cum almost immediately with a loud, shuddering gasp and struggle to find your breath as Bucky continues to milk his cock for a few more seconds until he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

Then the apartment is all but silent apart from your breathing.

The weight of what happened between you both setting in as you stand joined together, sweating and panting, in the living room. You think you'd laugh if you didn't think it would be so awkward. Bucky's the first to speak, clearing his throat.

"So..." He slips his softening cock from you and your eyes flutter slightly. "You needed help getting this bar off your feet?"

[darlingsshii]

kinktober 2024 day 13: praise/thigh riding (arlecchino)

cw: thigh riding. afab!gn! reader. intended for sapphic audiences. no penetration. she’s referred to as daddy once or twice yesyes

god, you were so adorable on the harbinger’s lap like this. she barely even spared you a glance, treating the act of you desperately rubbing your soaked pussy against her thigh for any amount of stimulation as completely normal. her intimidating eyes only gave you the smallest glance as she reached over and grabbed one of your tits, groping it like a stress ball while she continued looking over some papers at her desk.

feeling your pussy clench around nothing was almost torturous, whimpering and begging her to help you just a little.

“what~? won’t even let daddy focus on her work~?” she asked condescendingly, gently setting her papers down before grabbing your hips and humping her thigh into you at such a mean pace. it wasn’t long before you came, but she didn’t stop after that. daddy won’t stop till you’re a sobbing mess on her lap <3

“aww~ you’re doing so good for me~”

[crossingthedreams]

only around you — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone or as follow-up to day 8 (growing pains) and day 10 (humiliation) of the @angstober challenge. this is day 14. please, enjoy! feel free to comment or dm me :)

masterlist

word count: 1.3k 

warnings: angst. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). death/relative’s death. mentions of war. 

Aemond Targaryen was many things. Ruthless, unforgiving, hateful and a kinslayer — some would say. He was also dedicated, ambitious and resourceful, as many could attest. 

He was not, however, nor would ever be, heir. Growing up as the second option, constantly ostracized, made Aemond resent this fact more than words could ever be able to express. Now, with his father dead and his siblings at war, an opportunity presented itself. 

All the politics in the world, all the hate and the terrible memories from his childhood would never measure up to the pain he felt seeing his niece leave King’s Landing, probably forever, on the back of her dragon, the Cannibal, on the night his father passed away and the age of terror began. 

Aemond was many things, that much was true. However, he never thought he would be heartbroken.

Across Blackwater Bay, on Dragonstone, the niece he reminisced about laid in bed, wearing her mother’s clothes. 

You left King’s Landing, which had been your home for most of your life, with only the clothes on your body, a necklace and dagger, and your dragon. 

Arriving in Dragonstone with the Cannibal was complicated because, well, he got the name for a reason. You had to leave him as far as possible from the other dragons, to avoid any mishappens. 

Only Vhagar made herself known to the Cannibal. The two of them were hardly birds of a feather, but they could tolerate each other and not kill themselves. 

Much like yourself, the Cannibal would not be a problem unless bothered. And, unfortunately, you were bothered. 

When news came that your older brother, Lucerys, perished in an encounter with Vhagar and Aemond, you froze. As your mother raged and your father drank, you just stood there. The princess Rhaenys left quickly, surely to send news to Driftmark as well, and Jacaerys was far away in Winterfell. 

You just stood there, consumed with thoughts about how everything had gone to Hell and back. Your mother would take years, if ever, to recompose herself from this loss, and there were surely many others to come. 

Something had to be done. As the child of the one true Queen, and as the Princess, it was your duty to do something. 

So, you made your arrangements, talked to your informants in both Dragonstone and King’s Landing. That’s why you were now walking through the Street of Silk, only one guard following you, hoping the message had reached its recipient. 

At the time and place you had informed, Aemond Targaryen presented himself amongst whores and commoners, and, well, you. 

“Thank you for meeting me. It was the most sensible choice”, you said, quietly. It wouldn’t be wise to speak High Valyrian in this place, nor to show your hair. That’s why you intended to speak only the common tongue and hide beneath your cloak, just like Aemond was doing.

“You are far less sensible, dear niece”.

“Only around you, uncle”, you replied, teeth gritted. It was true. Only Aemond could make your blood boil. But, as a dragon, as a child of fire, wasn’t that your purpose? Shouldn’t you be around the one who ignites your fire? Shouldn’t you surround yourself with who or what makes you a dragon?

The hood still covered both of you to the outside world, but your faces were visible to one another. 

You desperately wanted to reach towards his face and feel him, but not here, and not now. Not before you asked the one question that was bothering you, killing you, for many moons.

“What happened that night with Luke?”

Aemond sighed, as if he knew what was coming but still felt tired in having to reply. “I regret that”, he said, “Believe me. I do”.

The worst part is that you did believe him. You knew how Aemond’s temper and mind worked. 

A passerby bumped into Aemond, making him stumble towards you. Your back hit the wall, and Aemond approached you even more. You looked around, trying to find your guard. It wasn’t wise to be left alone with someone who could easily make you hostage. But when one of Aemond’s hands reached the wall behind you, close to your head, you lost your track of thought completely.

He was close, and yet he was so far. 

“Why did you come here?”, he half-spoke, half-whispered. His one eye was darkening, and it scanned your entire face.

“I had to know”, you replied, breathly. Your body instinctively moved towards Aemond. Your hips, once flushed against the wall, were elevated to get closer to his. Your chest was rising and falling quickly, and you couldn’t take your eyes from his mouth. 

Even in chaos, you still wanted to know. You wondered, like all maidens do, what it was like to be touched. But you didn’t want just anybody’s touch, you only wanted, only ever dreamed of Aemond. 

“What”, he began, words punctuated by how his face came closer to yours, “did you”, he continued, “wanted to know?”. By the time he finished, his lips were just an inch from yours. You could feel his breath, and your eyes closed by themselves. 

Amidst the heat, coldness hit you. Your eyes opened. 

“I wanted to know why you usurped my mother’s throne and killed my brother, uncle”. 

He stepped away, looking betrayed. You didn’t know how he found the audacity in himself to feel betrayed, when you lost so much because of his recklessness. 

You wanted to look cold, but you knew your eyes gave away the hurt you felt. You loved your uncle, you wanted him and you would’ve made marriage arrangements between the two of you. He had thrown that all away the second he decided to slaughter your brother. 

If Aemond’s temper could get the best of him, yours could get the best of you too. He was the only one who provoked these feelings, so he would be the only one around whom these sentiments would arise. And to hell with his own reactions.

“Nyke māzigon kesīr hae nykeā naejot īlva se se jorrāelagon nyke felt syt ao, uncle. Naejot vestragon geros ilas, se jaelagon ao sȳz biarves. Nyke jeldan naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion mēre mōrī jēda, se nyke gōntan (I came here as a courtesy to our closeness and the love I felt for you, uncle. To say goodbye, and wish you good fortune. I wanted to see your face one last time, and I did)”. To hell with it all. Nobody was paying attention, nobody would notice you weren’t speaking the common tongue. With your hand rising to your chest, you proceeded, “This feeling, this fear, this is not normal to me. I will miss you dearly, uncle. Love only ever came to me around you”.

Aemond thought his heart had already dealt with all the heartbreak it could. He was wrong. As he left his niece without so much as a goodbye, only the memory of her tears already engraved in fire in his mind, he was certain: there was no pain worse.

Of course, the pain had only begun. The first thing he heard when he arrived in his chambers at the Red Keep were the screams of his sister, and the second was his brother bursting in his room. 

The little prince, Jaeharys, was dead. Slaughtered in his own bed, before the eyes of the Queen Helaena. 

Was that your purpose then?, he thought. To distract him as the others of your pretender’s bunch assassinated a little boy in his bed? 

Only around you would Aemond lower his guard. It was the perfect plan for the Rogue Prince and his cunning daughter. 

Aemond scuffed as his brother raged. His mind was already racing, not only with thoughts of the Throne, but thoughts of revenge. Sīr ziry rhaenagon (So it begins), he thought.

Sīr ziry rhaenagon.

[talkbycolor]

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡

[soluversworld]

Sweetness Overload? - REDACTED X G.N Reader (SMUT?)

Genre: smut

Summary: —REQUEST COPIED angel and redacted agreed on a challenge that they will be eating a chocolate with aphrodisiac in it and have to hold in their pent up desires for as long as they can. whoever lasts longer wins and whoever loses their shit and tries to relieve themselves loses

( Reader is a g.n!)

EXTRA: This was a request, from discord, They're a good friend!!

This is the first out of 1/50, again request you can request!

Content/Trigger warnings

Explicit Sexual Content (NSFW)

Dom/Sub Dynamics (Teasing, control, and edging)

Praise Kink

Strong Emotional Intimacy

Light Roughness (Biting, marking, possessive touch)

Overstimulation

APHRODISIAC. CHOCOLATE

Did not proof read/Rushed.

The chocolate sat on your tongue like a dare.

It melted slow—rich, dark, spiked with something that coiled heat low in your stomach. You didn't even blink as you swallowed it, leaning back with a hum like you’d just tasted something divine. Across from you, REDACTED mirrored you with that practiced calm, expression unreadable… but that twitch in his jaw? That wasn’t nothing.

He licked the corner of his mouth, lazy. “Sweet, huh?” “Like sin,” you said. And he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Too dangerous. Too hot. Too interested.

His sledgehammer was in the corner, still flecked with red from a few nights ago. You’d teased him for not cleaning it. He said he liked the color. Now, his attention was all on you.

You crossed your legs just to mess with him. His gaze flicked down. Not subtle.

“You good?” you asked, feigning innocence. “You're awfully quiet.” He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded. “M’fine. Are you?”

“Peachy.”

“Mmh.” He leaned forward. Just a little. “Y’sure that chocolate didn’t hit you too hard, Angel?”

You didn't answer just looked away, Now it was already 20 minutes

It looked like a curse wrapped in silver foil. Deep, glossy brown—infused with something unspoken and forbidden. A custom aphrodisiac designed to test every ounce of restraint. You and REDACTED had agreed to the challenge half-jokingly, sometime after midnight, legs tangled from a movie neither of you finished watching. One piece each. No touching. No relieving. Whoever broke first, lost.

You’d thought it might even the playing field.

Redacted leaned back against the headboard, long legs stretched, hands on his thighs like this was a Sunday nap instead of the literal edge of hell. There was that usual lazy calm in the way he moved, like he had nothing to prove. But you knew better. You knew him. That softness in his grin? That wasn’t detachment. That was devotion.

You, on the other hand, felt like your skin didn’t fit. The chocolate hit like a whisper at first—sweet, heady, rich—but then it wound its way through your nerves like silk on a razor. Your clothes were too close. The air was too warm. Every heartbeat throbbed somewhere low and aching.

You shifted, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You alright over there, angel?” he asked, voice thick and sweet, like he wasn’t the real problem.

Your glare didn’t even have the heat to land. "fine.” He hummed. Not smug. Just fond. “You don’t look fine. Y’look like a match waitin’ to be struck.”

The worst part? He was completely unaffected. Not cold. Just... steady. The chocolate might as well’ve been a breath mint to him. He wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t squirming. You were halfway to melting, and he was watching you like a man in love at a funeral—silent, reverent, and a little bit ruined.

“You sure you wanna keep goin’?” he murmured, head tilting slightly. “I won’t tease if it’s too much. Jus’ say the word.” It was soft. Gentle. Genuine. And it made it so much worse.

Because he meant it. Because he always meant it.

Because he was always like this. Down bad. Horny. Obsessed. He didn’t need some fancy chocolate. You could sneeze in his direction and he’d be halfway to planning your wedding. This wasn’t a challenge to him—it was foreplay for a game he’d already lost the moment he laid eyes on you.

“I’m good,” you mumbled, even though your whole body felt like live wire.

He nodded like he believed you. “Brave thing.”

You groaned into your hands. “How are you so calm?”

He blinked, confused like you’d asked why the sky was blue. Then that soft grin pulled at his lips, lazy and loving. “Angel. M’hard all the time.” Your breath caught. “Anything you do—anything—you could eat soup and I’d be fightin’ for my life. This? Chocolate? Please. You’re just givin’ me permission to watch you come apart. Ain’t no punishment in that.”

Your jaw dropped. “So you’re—what? Not struggling at all?”

“Oh, I’m strugglin’,” he drawled, adjusting where he sat. “Just not from the chocolate.” He looked you over—slowly, deliberately. “M’strugglin’ because you’re sittin’ there all flushed and breathin’ hard and makin’ them soft little noises, and I gotta pretend I ain’t already in love with every twitch of your pretty mouth.”

You stared at him, heat licking up your spine.

He leaned in slightly—not close enough to touch, but just enough that you could feel it. The tension. The devotion. The ache.

“I don’t need help wantin’ you, angel,” he murmured, voice dipping low. “I wake up wantin’ you. I go to sleep wantin’ you. I breathe wantin’ you. Chocolate ain’t got shit on that.”

You made a strangled sound.

Redacted grinned.

“Still wanna win?” You glared. “I was winning.” “Oh? You sure? ‘Cause you’re lookin’ awful twitchy over there…” “You’re cheating. You’re always like this.” “Mmh,” he said, all smug affection. “Then maybe you should stop givin’ me reasons to be.”

You were panting now. Shallow. Soft. Embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the room. And him? That bastard looked normal. Effortless. Like he hadn’t just dragged you into the devil’s personal endurance trial.

It wasn’t fair.

He could control their desires—hold them tight in that iron vice grip of his while you sat here melting like wax under a steady flame. He could talk like that, touch like that, and look like that, all without breaking a sweat.

And now?

Now you were in his lap.

Somehow—when did that happen?—he’d pulled you in close, casual as breathing. You were facing forward, back against his chest, and his arms were draped around your waist like you were just settling in for a nap, not squirming in a hell of your own making. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck.

And the way he spoke?

It wasn’t just teasing anymore.

“Feelin' a little warm, angel?” he murmured, voice low and syrup-slick. “Can feel you breathin’ through your skin.”

You shivered. “You’re the one who pulled me over here.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nuzzling lazily against the crook of your neck. “You were twitchin’ so much. Thought I’d help you settle. Thought bein’ close might calm you down.”

He knew what he was doing. He knew. Every word came out like honey laced with sin, soft and indulgent and wicked in a way that made your stomach curl.

“You know,” he continued, tone thoughtful, hand splayed against your thigh with no movement, “I think I like you like this. All flushed and restless. Tryin’ so hard not to grind down on me.”

Your breath hitched so violently it turned into a whimper.

He smiled against your skin.

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, and that hand—fuck—that hand gripped. Just for a second. Just one, solid squeeze.

You almost squealed.

He chuckled low in his chest, and you felt it rumble against your back. “Sorry, that too much?” he whispered, not sorry at all.

Your face was burning.

“Don’t worry, I’m good,” he said, brushing a kiss behind your ear like it was nothing. “Ain’t even hard, really. Jus’ enjoyin’ myself.”

You gasped, scandalized, twisting halfway in his lap to glare at him—but your body betrayed you, again. The twist pressed your thighs right over his, and now you were grinding down before your brain could stop it.

He sucked in a breath, sharp. His hands flexed.

“Ahah—fuck this,” you breathed, and before you could think twice, you kissed him.

Hard.

Immediate.

Hungry.

You felt him freeze for a split second under you, lips parting in soft shock—and then that slow, smug grin pulled across his mouth like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He chuckled, low and amused, and it made your heart punch against your ribs.

“Well,” he whispered against your lips, voice rough and way too pleased, “guess that means I win.”

You almost wanted to cry.

But then—his hands cupped your face so gently, and he kissed you again. Not greedy. Not filthy. Sweet. So sweet it tasted wrong against the haze buzzing in your skull.

What the hell? Why was this—why was this sweet?

Your brain was acting like it had been put through a blender full of sugar and sin and you couldn’t stop. You clutched at his hoodie, mouth dragging back to meet his again and again, needy now—messy, frantic, chasing the softness like it’d vanish if you let go.

And he let you.

He matched you.

Groaned softly when your lips moved fast and wet and desperate, and when your tongue slid out to taste him again—oh god, his hands gripped your hips tight, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself.

But this wasn’t him losing it.

No.

That was you.

Because the chocolate—oh, fuck, the chocolate—this wasn’t just heat anymore. It was need. It was sensation overload. It was everything good and unbearable twisted into one drugged haze that made his every sigh feel like a goddamn prayer.

And then—

“Whoever breaks first, loses,” you whispered against his lips.

He paused.

Then, with zero hesitation, he pushed you back onto the bed.

Soft, slow. Like laying down treasure.

And he followed, crawling over you with that same lazy ease he always carried—but now it was laced with hunger.

"You kissed me first,” he murmured, eyes blown wide and dark with want. “That’s losin’.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to sass, to anything—but then his hand slid up under your shirt and landed against your skin, warm and reverent, and your whole body arched.

"Ah—Redacted—!"

He leaned down, whispering against your ear, “Don’t worry, angel... I’ll help you feel better.”

And when his hand moved again, slow and precise—

“A—AHHH—!”

Challenge? What challenge?

You were done for.

And judging by the groan he let out when you moaned his name, shaky and broken—

So was he.

Your back arched, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt like you could anchor yourself to his body—like he was the only solid thing in the world, and everything else had melted away under the heat flooding your veins.

“Redacted,” you whimpered again, and damn if he didn’t flinch like it physically hit him.

His breath hitched against your neck, his lips brushing there—soft, barely a touch, like he was trying not to go too fast. Trying not to devour you.

"You don't get it, do you?" he whispered, his voice all frayed silk and smoke, dragging down your spine like a kiss. “Ain’t the chocolate makin’ me like this, angel. You walk into a room and I’m already gone. You breathe too pretty and I’m ready to fall apart.”

Your whole body trembled under him. It wasn’t just arousal—it was too much in the best possible way. Every word, every look, every brush of his hand was lightning on your skin.

“Y-you’re already—” you gasped, eyes wide when you felt the pressure of him through his jeans. Holy hell. “You—you’re already hard?!”

He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, voice muffled but wrecked. “Been like that since you made that first little noise. The one you tried to hide. Thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

He kissed your collarbone, then lower—then lower still. Soft, reverent, starving.

You couldn’t take it.

“Touch me,” you gasped, voice nearly breaking.

Redacted looked up, eyes blown wide, pupils practically swallowing his irises whole. There was worship in that gaze. Like you were something unholy and beautiful all at once. Like he was scared to break you and desperate to try anyway.

“Say it again,” he murmured, dragging his knuckles up the side of your thigh. “Just like that. C’mon, angel, lemme hear you beg for it.”

You swallowed hard. “Please. Please touch me.”

That did it.

His mouth crashed into yours again, fierce and sweet all at once, and his hands were everywhere now—up your sides, over your hips, dragging up under your shirt like he could memorize every inch of you with his palms.

"You're shakin'," he murmured, kissing your jaw, your throat. “Can’t tell if it's the chocolate or just me.”

“It’s you,” you gasped, and his growl vibrated against your skin.

"Yeah? You’re all worked up just 'cause I'm here, huh?" he teased, but there was no cruelty in it—only adoration, thick and hungry.

"Y-you talk so much," you managed, voice trembling.

His grin burned against your skin.

"You love it," he said, just as his hand slid down, finally, finally between your legs—hovering, not yet touching. Teasing. Waiting.

"Angel," he whispered, like a sin and a promise all in one, "I want you to come undone on me. I wanna watch every second of it. I’ll be so good to you, angel, just say the word.”

And when you gasped his name again, all desperate and wrecked and soaked in wanting—

He moved.

And you saw stars.

His fingers slipped past the barrier of your clothes like he’d done it a hundred times in dreams he’d never dared confess to—slow, tender, practiced, knowing. Like he was reading your body like a sacred text. Like he knew exactly what page to kiss.

Your hips jolted at the first touch—warm, soft, deep—and you choked on your breath, whimpering into his throat. It wasn’t just that he was touching you—it was how. Gentle, reverent, maddeningly slow.

“Shhh,” he cooed against your ear, voice thick with affection and something darker. “You’re bein’ so good, baby. So damn pretty for me.”

And then—fuck—his mouth was on your ear. Hot breath ghosting over the shell, and then his tongue. He licked the curve of it, slow and deliberate, and your whole body bucked beneath him like you couldn’t stand the contact.

You whined, openly now, your voice cracking from the sheer pleasure slicing up your spine.

“Sensitive here, huh?” he murmured, then sucked on your earlobe just to make you cry out again. “I’ll remember that.”

His fingers moved in perfect rhythm—each stroke deeper, smoother, more devastating than the last. He never once looked away from you. Eyes hooded, half-lidded, drunk on your reactions. Like every shudder and gasp you gave him was the only thing that mattered.

“You gonna fall apart for me?” he whispered, mouth brushing yours again. “C’mon, angel. Wanna feel you break. Wanna see what you sound like when I make you lose your fuckin' mind.”

You were already close. Too close. Everything felt hot and full and unreal. Like the chocolate, the challenge, the restraint—it had all been a trap, and you’d walked right into it, needy and aching and so ready to lose.

His voice dropped lower, a tease and a vow all in one.

“Let me have you. Let me ruin you soft.”

And stars weren’t enough anymore. You were seeing constellations.

.......................

Pretty sure, You and Him stayed up so late doing yoga poses while clapping

SIKE, OKAY YOU SIMPS I'M CALLING YALL OUT STOP SIMPING.

SAY HOLY AND STAY HOLY.

MISTY OUT!

SEA IF YOU SEE THIS LAUGHS

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Kinktober 2024 Day 14: make-up sex, blood play and restraints with Joe Goldberg x fem reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, make-up sex, blood play, marking/biting, restraints used (handcuffs), top Joe, bottom reader, no condom use mentioned but please wrap it before you tap it if you don't want stds and/or children, swearing, Joe's very possessive in this, everything featured in this fic was discussed and consented to by the reader beforehand, this is much softer than I initially intended it to be but I'm not mad about it

A/N: this was requested by @samcvrpenters in the replies under one of my kinktober posts. thank you so much for the request, I really hope this is to your liking <3

"You were deliberately flirting with him," Joe accused as he handcuffed you to the bed, not missing the impish look that was currently in your eyes. "He was touching you, and you let him."

"Oh, boo-hoo. Someone else managed to get their hands on me and you couldn't handle it. Big fucking deal." You let out a sudden gasp when you felt him bite down on your shoulder, hard. Hard enough to draw blood, in fact.

"Only I get to touch you like that," he muttered as his hands let go of your ensnared wrists and began to move down your naked body, trailing over your chest and down to your stomach. "Tell me, do you think he could be able to touch you in the way that I'm doing right now, hm? Do you think he could please you like I could?"

"Of course not," you breathed out, already starting to feel yourself melt underneath him. You'd only flirted with that guy to get his attention, and you both knew it.

"Good, so we're in agreement, then. No one else gets to touch you in the way that I do." He dipped his head down to your shoulder, gently running his tongue over the teeth marks he'd left behind. He could taste the little droplets of your blood in his mouth, that distinct coppery tang almost making him lose all of his self control.

"Joe..." you murmured softly as you watched him, sighing as you felt the kisses his mouth left on your shoulders and collarbones. "Need you, please."

"Are you sorry for earlier?" Joe's pride was much too strong to allow him to continue without hearing you apologize first. God, sometimes he could be such an asshole.

And you loved it, which is why you did exactly what he wanted you to. "I am. I'm so sorry," you cooed in a sympathetic tone, your hands instinctively trying to move to cup his face like you usually did when you were comforting him before you realized that they were still handcuffed.

His hands met where yours were stretched above your head, gently grazing his thumb along your knuckles as he leaned down to give you another kiss, a real one that was on the lips this time. "It's okay, I forgive you," he spoke into the kiss in a low and soothing tone, the one that never failed to send a pleasure-filled shiver down your spine. "Do you want me to get the keys?" He then asked in reference to how he'd restrained your hands earlier by cuffing your wrists to the bed.

"Mhm, no. That's okay," you replied as you did your best to hold onto his hands from where they rested on top of yours. Getting the message, he moved them closer, lacing his fingers through yours as you spoke. "I'm kind of liking where I'm at right now."

His lips curled upwards into a pleased smile at your words. "Yeah?" Clearly he was amused by just how much you were enjoying the handcuffs.

It was hard not to smile yourself. He was so cute, it was difficult for you to try to stay aloof and unbothered like you'd initially planned on. "Yeah, I do." Leaning up the best you could, you gave him another kiss, this one sweet and tender, just like the ones before it. "Can you bite me again, like you did earlier?"

He smirked at the question, loving the idea of getting to mark you up for the whole world to see. Of course you wanted him to bite you again, how could you not? He practically had no choice but to oblige.

Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from yours and dipped his head back down, to the crook of your neck this time. He dragged his tongue down along your pulse point in a teasing manner before finally giving in and sinking his teeth into the flesh there. The sudden gasp that left your lips followed by a lengthy moan boosted his confidence and made you flirting with another guy just to get his attention so worth it.

"God, Joe, you drive me insane."

His smirk widened into a smug grin, absolutely loving the way you were already starting to lose yourself to him. "Yeah, and you love it." He used his tongue to clean up the little beads of blood that had been produced from the small cut his teeth had left behind on your skin. You were definitely going to have a few marks after this.

"I do, you're right. I love it and I love you." Sure, you may have been buttering him up a little bit, but that was only because you knew just how much of a tease he could be when he wanted to, and you didn't want to have to wait that long to have him. It wasn't as if you were lying or anything. You truly did mean it, every last word.

The low growl he responded with told you that your plan was working. He wasn't going to be able to hold himself back for much longer. Something about the way you told him you loved him, as if you were proclaiming yourself to him and him alone, made him crazy.

"You're so perfect, did you know that?" His hands went down to your legs, spreading them as he helped you wrap them around his waist. You back arched upwards the second you felt him sink into you, a content sigh falling from his lips. If your hands had been free, he had no doubt you'd be digging them into his back right about now. And despite your command to keep them locked up, he needed to feel that. He needed you to mark him the same way he did you.

Your hands found their way to his back the second he freed your wrists from the cuffs. One hand curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss as the other dug into his shoulder blade, leaving behind small crescent-shaped cuts. He groaned at the feeling of your nails digging in, though he couldn't find it in him to bother telling you to stop. Not when he loved it too much.

The bed softly creaked as you moved against each other, his own hands holding onto your hips as you clung onto him for dear life. The noises that came from you sounded like music to his ears, and he couldn't stop himself from becoming rougher, faster, more desperate.

Because that's what he was, in reality. He was deseperate for you and your heavenly touch. It was no wonder he got so upset whenever you dared to entertain the idea of being this intimate with someone else.

No one could ever be this intimate with you as he could. No one could ever love you as deeply and fully as him. Not when he felt about you this strongly, as if your very souls very intertwined together.

And after this was done, and you were both marked up and tired and sweaty he would once again remind you of the fact. He loved you, and nothing was ever going to change that.

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[incognitonoggin]

TW. THEMES OF CNC AHEAD

YANDERE! TOBY SHARING YOU WITH MASKY AND HOODIE

NSFW WARNING . MINORS DNI

GN! READER

Includes: “Ticci” Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian

TW: Sexual aggression, Themes of CNC, ETC

Just to mention, this fic isn’t solely sex based??? I don’t know how to describe it but it’s not meant to make your toes curl im just keeping it more realistic in this one !!

Honestly, coming from a man so hellbent on claiming you as his, he’s insane for doing this.

Their hands all over you, the words and names sputtering out of their mouths is just so, so overwhelming.

The fast paced thrusting you can feel twisting inside of your heat, the deadly tight grip on your hips, everything. All of it.

“Fuck, this slut is so good for me. You got an awful good one, Toby.” The one that’s taking you says. His name, you think is Tim? God, honestly you can’t remember anything anymore.

All you remember is being dragged to some abandoned shed and cornered by that creep,— Toby.

Then he brought these two along, and-

And this.

—————

The man before you has been rutting into your hole for quite some time now, and your hair is all messy with your limbs sore and worn out

You feel him pull away right as you felt your back begin to arch, and your hole(s) tense up, and the warmth of his presence is replaced with an unfamiliar one.

Brian? Is that the mans name?

Being so used and fucked for so long is bound to make you feel all murky in the stomach

Maybe it’s because of all of the cum literally lingering inside of you.

He nips and laps at the available spots of your neck, causing more sensation to trickle over your (already overstimulated and exhausted) body.

He enters your sopping wet hole, and doesn’t even hesitate to warm you up or anything,— just goes to the pace of his liking

Once you’re brought to another whiny and despaired orgasm, the man you know and hate love returns over to you.

Toby.

He greedily and hungrily begins to ravish you, leaving sloppy and overdone kisses all over your sweaty and sticky face

You feel the hilt of his tip graze over your hole, preparing to take him in.

You sigh and shiver.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Fourteen: Soldier Boy + Voyeurism

Ben has had his eyes on a new toy to add to your playtime. He thinks he's found it when the two of you venture down to a club one night.

She’s beautiful, and Ben can see it in the way you watch her dance around the silver pole. You lick your lips as you watch her twirl around. Thick thighs, the pudge over the edge of the thigh high stocking she's wearing. Her face covered in bright almost glow in the dark make-up. Thick red lips that draw everyones attention.

The girl who was dancing around that shiny silver pole now has her face between you opened thighs. Lapping at your cunt with ease as she kicks her feet back and forth laying on her stomach.

You can see Ben from the corner of your eye. His devilish smile as he rubs the palm of his hand over his hard cock in his boxers. How the three of you managed to make it back to your shared apartment doesn't really matter.

All that matters now is the way this girl whos name you have forgetten is licking at your cunt. "Fuck!, Don't stop!" You mutter, you moans breathy as your hands search for her hair to tug onto.

She hums into your cunt, sucking at your clit. You lift your head as you look up towards your boyfriend. Bens cock is now out of its boxers.

The head of his cock is red and angry. A drop of pre-cum beading at the head. His hand bobs with ease as he rubs his angry cock. Legs opened wide as he tries to keep his breathing steady.

Your eyes shift back to the girl between your legs, when her tongue drifts down to your leaking hole. And when she sticks her tongue in you can't help but moan at the sensation. Her nose hitting your sensative clit as she thursts her tongue into your cunt.

Then you hear Ben from the corner of the room. "Fuck yeah, darling. She loves when you fuck her good with your tongue. She's such a sensative little thing." Your moans are falling from your lips and your hands squeeze the hairs of the girl bettwen your legs.

Your orgasm is close you can feel the way your stoamch aches, the way your legs shake with anticpation, and finally the way your toes are curling. "FUCK! I'm gonna…" Your voice goes out with a shirek. Your legs squeeze the womens head between your thighs as continues to assult your cunt.

"Fuck I don't like sharing, but you two are fucking beautiful." You hear Ben as the floor creaks and when you open your eyes you see him standing behind the women. Cock red, hot and angry wanting to fuck something. He grabs the women by the hips flipping her so she's on her back. Head resting between your thighs.

Her legs open wide allowing for the large stance that Ben has to slot in. "Fuck makin' a goddamn mess on my nice fucking sheets darling." Your lift yourself up onto your elbows, seeing the way the girl takes in Ben large cock now standing at attention.

"You're gonna fuck her and now me Ben?" You complain. "Listen babygirl. I'll fuck you in just a moment, don't be a brat." He mutters as he enters the womens cunt. The sounds bounce around the room, skin slapping wet noises that have your biting at your bottom lip.

You don't like not being apart of the fun. So you pull yourself up, reaching for Ben lips as your hover your cunt over the women face. You may be senstive but you want to kiss your boyfriend. One hand on the women hip and the other on your cheek as your kiss takes the life from you, and when you feel the womens hands on both your hips and the cold tongue back lapping at your leaking cunt.

Well everything just feels right. You moan into Bens kiss as his hand comes around your throat. "Fuck you taste so good." The women mutters into your cunt. "Such a brat, can't let me just have a good fuck without wanting a part of the girl too." Ben says quietly into your kiss. You moan and nod your head. "Don't forget Ben I'm your brat."

Completed on: 10/13/24

Posted on: 10/19/24 (10/14/24)

Kinktober 24'-