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janumun · 3 months ago

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Misty Affections [The L&DS Boys - NSFW]

Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️ (Take note of all warnings before you proceed) Pairings: L&DS Men/Reader Word Count: 6k+

Tags: polyandry/polygamy, bath/shower friskiness, multiple orgasms, oral, anal and vaginal sex, body worship, porn with little plot, double penetration, consensual somnophilia, edging, passing hints of breeding, scent kink

Summary: At the eve of your anniversary, you let the men, most precious to your heart, show you exactly how they love and cherish you. Slow and measured. Piece by piece.

Author’s Notes: I have been driven so insane ever since the drop of that crazy trailer, all I’ve been able to fantasize about are these beautiful men. Did so individually at first before they eventually converged within my mind into this behemoth romantic-sexy fest. (If you know me or my stories, you know I cannot go a second breathing without a little love in my sex LOL)

This one’s for all my harem loving folks who’ve been left thirsty after the “Misty Invasions” trailer. Happy reading!

You oscillate at the entrance to the penthouse suite, fingers tracing the sleek outline of the key card your boyfriend had provided you with, earlier; eager gaze skittering back towards the door. Heart within your throat and a swarm of butterflies flittering within the base of your stomach.

An entire year had passed you by; the day of your relationship anniversary upon you now. And you’d decided amongst you, in distinct words and heated whispers, that you’d make it a day well worth commemorating.

You smile at the recollection of Sylus’ amused gaze — blood-red garnet — as it had met your surprised one, a few days prior. He’d had you search up his entire house for an elusive Mephisto, on the pretence of having lost sight of him. Finding him at last, perched atop the silken pillows of his bed. And held within his beak, a sleek black card the bird had let drop into your palm, obedient, before taking flight.

A key access to the penthouse suite of one of the most luxurious hotels in Linkon City.

Sylus had tugged you close — his warm breath, a sweet caress against the shell of your ear — stating the date and time for you to be there, without questions asked. Your heart had thrilled at the time in nervous anticipation.

Just as it does now as you move to hoist your umbrella — damp still from the outpour outside — onto your arm, clutching a bouquet of flowers close to your chest.

Reaching to swipe your card, at long last, against the room’s digital pad—

Before the door sways open on its own. Your gaze skipping, immediate, to meet the owner’s: scarlet, warm in amused affection. “How much longer were you planning to dither at the door?” His hand curves about yours as he steers you inside. Reaching to help you out with your coat and umbrella.

“How did you even—”

Sylus angles his face in mute indication, at the door, just in time for you to catch sight of Mephisto sweeping across the hallway, disappearing just as swift around a corner, with a triumphant crow.

“I am going to cook that bird one of these days,” you mutter, discomfited at the thought of Sylus having been standing privy to your entire vacillation session outside.

A large hand curls about your jaw, insisting your gaze upwards, just as you feel the heat of Sylus’ mouth on yours. “Don’t fret any longer,” his lips brushing each word right against yours. Every stroke tending sparks of fire against your skin. “you’ll make me want to tease you. And I promised them I’d be kind to you today.” The thick baritone of his quiet laughter sinks, hot, into your chest; down into the depths of your belly.

Your hand curves about the back of his neck, heaving that infuriating mouth back against yours. “Please do be quiet for once.” Fingers grazing at the base of his hair before they card upwards, tugging at the strands.

His mouth pulls into a wider smile, just as you all but force the large bouquet of flowers you still carry, against the firm expanse of his chest.

“Happy anniversary, Sylus.” You murmur softly, flushed gaze fixated upon the flowers — snowdrops and lilies, roses and clematis — a representation of each of their colours that had painted your life brighter, over the course of your years together. You truly hoped your boyfriends would love them.

Garnet gaze narrowing in quiet affection, Sylus coaxes your attentions back to him with a call of your name. “And to you.”

“Now,” He winds an arm about your waist, dragging you flush against his torso. “let me find a place for these beauties while you go hop into the shower. You’re cold to the touch.” And when you move to protest, he silences it with a delicate brush of his thumb against your lip before he too bows forwards, to murmur, just shy of your mouth. “I promise you won’t miss me long, sweetheart.”

Leaving you in the stewing solace of your own indecent thoughts.

Your relieved exhale breaks in soft wisps of white curling into the air, well comforted by the heat of your quick shower. Your eyes drifting absently towards the bath you’d drawn, your favourite scent now permeating the space of your bathroom.

Petals rippling across the surface of placid warm waters; you knew how your artist appreciated the romanticism of your relationship. When you let yourself go and allowed yourself free expression of your adoration, for your Lemurian beloved. The colour, it never failed to bring flush to his cheeks at your simple gestures of affection, he so deserved. He had waited, and for so long.

A mere speck of his patience, against your current restless wait, ever since his message had lighted your screen earlier this evening, indicating he’d be there to join you, soon.

Sooner, you whisper into the air, slinking a cautious hand down the line of your stomach and towards your mound.

It was so incredibly difficult to have all your lovers, gathered together in one place, owing to how busy each of you were with your respective schedules. Tonight, hence, was a rare, precious occasion and you intended to make the most of it.

“Why so distracted.” A deep voice resonates at your back; a swift curl of pulsating red capturing your wrist before your fingers have the chance to brush in between your legs. Heaving your wrist up and back, depositing it prisoner into Sylus’ waiting palm. “You barely noticed me.” The roughened pads of his digits graze at the tender skin of your wrist in soft warning, before he lets go. “Couldn’t wait even a moment for me, huh?”

You turn to face him, a puckish smile you know is already teasing at the corners of your mouth. “Just engaging in some personal time.”

Sylus stands before you, body bare, save for the towel that keeps him from you, wrapped about his waist. A sturdy arm reaches past your shoulder, turning the shower off. Motions entirely unhurried. Deceptively tranquil, you do not miss the blood-red heat that simmers at the edges of that observing gaze.

“Oh?” He crowds you a step closer into the wall. Your fingers coast in tense anticipation about the knot of his towel. “You wouldn’t mind if I turned that into a private time for two, would you, kitten?”

You put on a deliberate show of pondering the question; a patient raised brow your lover keeps focused upon you.

Until you tip a coquettish gaze his way and answer. “I suppose I would no—” Your response, Sylus pilfers from your tongue before you can utter it, pulsing a quick kiss of violence against your lips.

Your digits impatiently work to release him from the final confines of his towel, absently tossing it aside. And onto the gnarled vines of red lurking at the edges of your vision, immediately reach to snatch up the cloth, discarding it into a wash bin close by.

Laughter in between heavy breaths; coveting fingers, free at last, skate down the strength of his thighs, skimming past his stiff arousal. A small gasp of appreciation you break against his mouth just as Sylus lurches his hips forward, once, into your grasp to better let you admire the effect you have on him.

“It’s been too long.” you murmur into the space he spares you in between wet kisses.

“Darling,” he exhales; a small, rough sound of pleasure. “Not yet.”

Sylus’ hands stir down the length of your body, fingers finding target, and pulsing into the soft of your ass before you can try and bribe your case with him, to give you what you want. Hefting you up entirely onto the corded strength of his arms, stifling your sound of surprise against his mouth.

He bids you wrap your legs about his waist, as he walks you both over towards the luxurious bath. “Now,” Settling down into the warm, scented water, he eases you back against himself. “Let us get you washed properly.”

You eventually relent and let him do as he pleases for the next several minutes.

Drifting a careful hand about the expanse of your legs, you try not to squirm too much when that devious hand skirts about your inner thighs. Across the arc of your clavicle, down the slope of your breastbone. His palms bear down against your abdomen in provocative press-release motions. You're not quite sure what kind of bathing Sylus assumes he’s doing except just keying you higher, the longer you endure his hands upon you.

Hands that grow unrepentant and bold with time, the self-pleased skew of those infuriating lips following soon after, down the slope of your neck, along the curve of your shoulder. You tip your face sideways, smoothing a quick kiss onto his jaw. “You keep this up any longer and you’re going to have an incredibly frustrated woman on your hands.”

He buries his grin into your shoulder.

“And I’m not sure what I’ll do then.” you threaten mildly.

“Is that so? I’d certainly like to see you try.” He accepts your provocation.

You reach an arm up, winding it about his neck. Fingers splaying against the damp brush of his hair as you angle your head up and he obliges, head canting for your mouth to catch against his. His tongue sweeps against yours in immediate insistence, your eager allowance in the slack fall of your mouth as he presses into you.

Sylus’ indolent digits change tune then; a large palm he curves about the weight of your breast and squeezes. The roughened pads of them toying at the pert apex, until he coaxes your moans out for himself.

The muted click of a lock sounds within your surroundings; quiet, save for the gentle ripples of water and your damp sounds of pleasure.

“Ah,” Sylus murmurs in between kisses. “He’s here now. We would’ve ended up using the little princeling’s entire bath for ourselves if he’d turned up any later.”

A thrill of pleasure and adoring desire crests itself within your chest, calling your approaching beloved’s name on a long sigh of pleasure Sylus wrenches out of you. “That’s it, sweetheart, tempt him on higher sounds next.”

Restless within his lap, you wrench your mouth away from his, raising yourself onto your knees to turn, capturing him in between your thighs.

Just as Rafayel steps past the threshold of the baths, appearing to be in the midst of wresting himself out a long sodden shirt. You absently muse how he must’ve forgotten to carry an umbrella with him, yet again, out on one of his painting expeditions, despite your reminder to him just last night. “It’s pouring crazy out there and I’m drenched to the bone—”

His words nicked mid-sentence with the slow rise of those bluish-florid eyes — taking in the lascivious scene in front — along with your thoughts torn into jagged shards of pleasure with the firm catch of Sylus’ teeth against your breast. A large hand he splays at your back, enticing you closer into his mouth.

Your eyes, refusing to stray from Rafayel’s, even as he remains rooted to the threshold. A flush beginning to colour against the arch of his cheeks to witness how Sylus augments your pleasure further underneath his enraptured gaze.

Pleased joy ripples through you, to be putting on a tantalising show for your beloved Lemurian, entreating him closer on soft sighs and broken moans of his name.

“Please,” your next gasp of pleasure scatters under the prick of stimulated tears. “Rafayel, my heart, come to me.”

And like a beautiful marionette pulled upon by its strings, he obeys your request, striding towards the two of you. Bestowing mercy upon your poor heart, you feel, could pound right out of your chest.

He tips downwards, long, graceful digits sweeping delicate beneath the cut of your jaw to raise. Brushing a sweet kiss of greeting against your mouth. “I’m here, beloved.”

Fingers refusing to cease his exploratory touches, his thumb glides past your cheeks, dusting right beneath your eyes at stray tears.

“Welcome home,” you greet, your own fingers curving about his jaw in hazy affection.

“You’re late,” Sylus speaks, his hand trekking a careful path about the flare of your hip.

Rafayel frowns at that. “I know. Not like I didn’t try to be here sooner.” Fingers tinkering at his belt buckle before he slides it, smooth out of its confines. Your eager hands reaching to assist, rushing down the line of buttons at his shirt, divesting him of his impediments.

“You’re freezing, Rafayel.” You observe, palms pressed up against his naked abdomen.

He catches one of your hands within his, feathering a kiss onto your knuckles. “Warm me, then.” An irrefutable instruction as much as it is his soft request.

Relieved entirely of his clothes, he steps into the bath, fingers entwining against yours in a firm hold, coaxing you onto his body instead.

“You're so cosy.” He appreciates in between hungering kisses. “Share more of your heat with me.” The soft squish of your breasts mould against the solid expanse of his chest the deeper you try and press against the other, your arms encased about his neck, fingers carding greedily through the wet strands of his hair.

Rafayel shifts your positions, guiding you back against Sylus’ chest by your threaded digits. The hard heat of Sylus’ cock presses against the cleft of your ass as Rafayel drives you further in by the urgency of his kisses.

His bond shimmers to life — a scarlet vow — right above his heart, your own thrilled by the rapidly dissipating chill of his body, replaced with passionate warmth.

“I’ve missed you.” He drags your intertwined digits closer, directing your hand to press against the thrumming of his heart. “And especially today, being so important. I wanted to be next to you for the entirety of it.”

Rafayel’s eyes, misted in desire and affection so acute, your breath catches at your throat at the sheer intensity of it. He secretes a gentle kiss into the fold of your palm. “I want us to make this a memorable anniversary.”

“You already are.” You keen softly, in assurance, fingers stroking down the length of Sylus’ thigh. “I desire you both so very much right now.”

He returns your fervent regard in the thick digits that skim past the curve of your spine, fingering in sparing strokes at the rim of your ass. You gasp at the sensation, body clenching in on the emptiness it has long been subjected to.

You need them both; the carnal strength of your want winds you breathless.

Sylus had left you suspended upon a torturous precipice for so long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on for.

“Hey,” Rafayel prompts.

Garnet binds immediately spring to life, streaking towards the bottles lined up neat atop a marble slab. Plucking one up as if by rote memory, before depositing it into Rafayel’s grasp. “As our princeling desires,” Sylus speaks; the raw amusement you can hear within his words.

Rafayel’s response is all but a raised brow — they have learned to synchronize well against each other, you realize with a shaky exhale. You are glad, as you are nervous, for the state of your body; the havoc they wreck onto you, once your boys are in tandem.

The lubricant well-smeared across Rafayel’s digits, he reaches in between your bodies to run his fingers against the same place Sylus does, two sets of different fingers they ease, gentle, into your ass. Rafayel’s low groan of pleasure, you lunge forwards to drink against your lips.

“I need—” you cry out against him, just as Rafayel withdraws from you entirely to leave Sylus to press his fingers deeper into you, a slow, caressing slide; eased by their gentle loosening of your hole.

Rafayel hums a low, euphoric sound. “Do you need him deep inside you, my love?”

“Yes.”

“You’re almost there for me, sweetheart. Breathe.” Sylus’ grunt of approval at your compliance, he drowns into a relishing bite at your shoulder.

Rafayel’s mouth descends upon your breasts, pulsing open mouthed kisses right above the expanse of your thundering heart, his fingers finding their way towards your neglected slit, mercifully pressing into you. A loud, broken moan wrenched out of your throat, pleasure now far palpable after having been edged for so long.

“You’re so wet. So very captivating when you are like this.”

“I love you, Rafayel.” you gasp, tears gathering at your eyes to feel so full of them both.

He pulses a kiss against your mouth in heated devotion, tongue warming against yours in between urgent breaths, “I am yours. Call for me, my beloved bride.”

“Rafayel.”

“Ah. Once more, so I know I am entirely yours to have.” he entreats, gaze heated.

His fingers gather pace — in tandem with Sylus’ controlled assault — striking rhythmic against your frontal walls on each thrust. A spot he gathers at, one that incinerates itself against his adept motions, insistent thumb gliding its touches about the sweet area of your apex, hurtling you faster towards a vehement finish.

“And that you are mine. Call my name, call for me.”

“Rafayel, my Rafayel.” And you tumble over the edge at that final delightfully sensual push, quivering nerveless, in between your lovers.

“There’s more of where that came from, kitten. Don’t give up on us now.” Sylus coaxes, extracting himself from the instinctual clench of your body, whimpering at the keen emptiness of his loss.

“Give yourselves to me,” you beg, “I need to feel you inside me.”

“And you shall have us,” Rafayel soothes, pressing the head of his cock against you.

“As many times as you need.” Sylus allows; the swell of his arousal striking heavy against the cleft of your ass.

The slow ingress of their cocks deep into your body, sends explosive stars skittering across your vision, the overwhelming fullness already throttling you into another orgasm so intense, they have to hold your body still against theirs. Propelling into you in tandem with each other until they set a rhythmic, burning pace within your swollen holes.

Rafayel’s fingers cup about your jaw, dragging you into a fervid, wet kiss. His moans of pleasure he drowns against the heat of your tongue.

Before Sylus lunges forward in a demand for your attentions next, strong digits threading through your locks to guide your head towards him, catching the string of pleasure that stretches thin in between your and Rafayel’s lips, as soon as it forms, against his mouth in a violent kiss.

The thick strength of his cock pulses firmer within your body, each swollen stroke of arousal you feel zip right up across your spine from how Sylus has taught your body to fit his daunting size, well. Each propulsion he carves deeper into your walls, a striking reminder of how intimately your body remembers the shape of him.

Rafayel takes to painting littered marks of pleasure against your neck, their lengths already throbbing in impending release, searing within you.

You squeeze about them at the sole, ruinous thought of their wet heats, flooding you soon. Moaning against Sylus’ mouth when their pacing turns reckless.

“Close,” Rafayel grits in need, cleaving your thighs up and open to constrain against Sylus, the man behind spares no mercy; hot scaffoldings of his own palms, he curves above Rafayel’s, so your sole choice is but to take.

“I’m almost, fuck—” Sylus groans a filthy, guttural sound, “you’ve gone so tight, sweetheart.” Burying his face into the stretch of your shoulder, just as Rafayel’s mouth finds yours at the apex of his pleasure, spurting hot within you.

Sylus’ own release, almost immediately after, his cock pulsates its thick release into your body, surge after surge of it, your body unable to accommodate it entirely. Their combined pleasures, the frenzied brush of both their fingers against your clit, sends you hurtling into your own orgasm, sobbing against Rafayel’s mouth.

Emptying them both, of their seed, for yourself.

You fall breathless against Sylus, strength and consciousness both seeming to flee with the final sparks of quivering pleasure that jolt about your limbs. Letting yourself rest against the strength of Sylus’ body as he soothes a kiss onto your damp temple. “A job well done, sweetheart.”

His final words, you accept in immense bliss, before entrusting yourself to your men in your vulnerability.

A long time has drifted by you, it seems — minutes or hours — you cannot quite tell the difference as your mind edges the cusp of awareness. You recall the sensation of your lovers’ hands upon you, phantom breaths that persist against the expanse of your skin, still. Words of adoration, grunts of desire, the press of their lips you feel within each sweet ache of your body.

The glancing touch of a hungering mouth, at the places you were weakest. The luxuriating stretch of silken sheets at your back — body coddled in soft fabric — as you shift, eyes drifting open on a haze of lust that still chokes your mind, a simmering wet heat kindling in between your legs. Flowing from you and onto an insistent tongue.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation, gaze rushing down the expanse of your body to snag at the sight of a silver-haired head buried in between the space of your legs, moon-pale strands brushing the skin of your thighs in ticklish strokes. “Oh. You’re awake.” Xavier speaks, right into your pussy. His fingers pulse about the catch of your legs, keeping you steady for a slow sweep of his tongue into your slit. Sending your fingers grappling forwards, into his hair, your hips lurching up into his mouth.

Cheeks flushing fast into crimson at the realisation of how wet he’s made you, in your slumber alone.

Xavier relents at last, rising from in between your legs. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” Your slick drenches his lips, smeared across his jaw; the sight sending a fresh jolt of arousal straight in between your legs.

“Xavier,” your voice sounds hoarse to your own ears. “starlight.”

He nuzzles his cheek, obedient, into the palm you stretch out for him. Pulses a wet kiss onto the expanse of sensitive skin. “We’re home.” He murmurs, clear cerulean eyes meeting yours.

“How have you been?” The quiet baritone of Zayne’s voice reaches your ears from above, you notice your head lies cradled within his lap, the pads of roughened fingertips scraping gentle circles into your scalp. You shift yourself upright onto the bed.

“Well. Now that you’re both here.” You curve coveting fingers about his jaw, luring his face closer to brush a gentle kiss against your lover’s mouth.

Zayne’s long changed out of his stifling attire, clad in a loose robe — he’s eased himself by your side. Carding absent fingers through the fall of your hair to hold steady, as you greet each other in chaste kisses.

The day’s harsh lines marred across his bow, softening with each kiss you flitter against his mouth, his cheeks, his lids apiece. He hasn’t had a proper weekend off from the hospital in ages; you’re determined to make the most of it now and help ease your beloved’s nerves tonight, and over the course of your rare days off.

You all deserved it, this short moment of reprieve, a chance to celebrate and enjoy what was purely yours.

You inch up across his lap, body much too aware of the moisture that soaks past swollen folds and leaks onto your thighs, an obscenity barely concealed by the flowing frills of your flimsy nightwear, caressing just past your ass. A fact, Xavier has not let you forget, owing to how his hands haven’t deprived you of their warmth, even when his mouth has — slow, stimulating touches across the stretch of your thighs, fingers tickling at the sensitive skin underneath your knees.

Xavier advances up the length of the bed, with you. His torso draping onto your back, careful hands gathering your hair to shift onto your other side, he grazes a demure kiss onto the crescent of your exposed shoulder.

You sink down upon Zayne, securing your much needed support, in the palms you press against the hard expanse of his chest. “How was your day?” Murmuring the question into the give of his neck.

“I had a graft and by-pass surgery planned earlier this afternoon.” Zayne replies, fingers trekking a measured path from your throat, down, along the slope of your clavicle; you shiver underneath his scrutiny. “It went well, so I was able to join you sooner rather than much later.”

“Owing all to your brilliance surely, Dr. Zayne.” Your affectionate smile, you secrete against his mouth. “Xavier, however. I expected you sooner, starlight.”

He hums — a sound of morose defeat — into your skin. “I nearly dozed on my feet during that unnecessarily long briefing.” Burying his face into the side of your neck, to breathe; his next murmurs stifled. “They could’ve just mailed the mission details to me. I wanted to head back with you too.”

You laugh softly, sinking your fingers indulgently into the silken strands of his hair. “Captain Jenna would be so upset if she heard you right now.”

“And you.” Large palms cup about the pliant flare of your waist, your breath hitches at Zayne’s provocative touch. “It certainly looks like those two did a somewhat decent job of taking care of you in our absence. The colour’s back in your cheeks.”

You smile, sheepish, at the remembrance of your last meeting; his displeased frown, vivid, from across the barrier of his work desk, as he’d prescribed a few vitamins for you to take, owing to the sallow pallor that had taken your face, an aftermath of long sleepless nights chasing Wanderers.

“Oh, they have.” You assure, “Speaking of, where are my missing two?”

Xavier’s teeth sink into a testing bite at the flesh of your neck. “Fixing a meal I think, Sylus mentioned.” He murmurs absently.

“Ah. We should all have—” your voice fractures. “dinner together.”

“Later.” Zayne leans forward, mouth skimming a gentle kiss in between your breasts. “Right now, I require you sate a different hunger of mine.” Teeth catching at the gauzy fabric of your lingerie. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” The low rugged quality to his request, pooling arousal deep into your belly.

“I like how she looks in this,” Xavier smooths a touch down the length of your thigh, fingering, gentle, at the frilled garter of the stocking encasing it. “I’m almost jealous of you, Doctor.”

“It is becoming on her,” Zayne agrees, large fingers cupping about the shape of your breasts, rolling at the peaks. You shift your hips in a grind upon his thigh, in an anguished effort for further stimulation. “But does the recipient herself approve of my gift?”

“She does,” you gasp. “If it gets you looking at her with such need, she does—” The rest of your words, Zayne pilfers right into his mouth in an engulfing kiss.

Strong fingers ghost the pliance of your body, down in between your legs to meet Xavier’s. Hot, glancing touches across your quivering pussy, coating their fingers in copious slick.

“The doctor looks so wound up,” Xavier comments mildly. “Help him relieve some of that pent-up stress, baby.”

“You—” Zayne grunts, just as Xavier steers your bodies until you lie, pliant, upon Zayne’s lap, the straining outline of his arousal barely concealed under the modesty of his robes. You moan enthusiastically, fingers undoing the fastenings of his robe to release him, free against eager lips.

“That looks painful,” Xavier comments with an insouciant shrug, hands firming their grip about your ass to raise. “How long have you been holding back?”

“Quiet, Xavier.” Zayne reproaches, voice throttled in raw need.

Your heart and body immediately melting for him, you put your mouth to the head of his cock, taking him in.

A quiver rips across his abdomen at the first lap of your tongue on him, his fingers gentle, encouraging within your hair. A vehement desire cascades forth: to see him make more of that expression, just for you.

“Wet him for yourself, just like that.” Xavier encourages on a soft catch of breath, tapered fingers curving into your drenched slit to stroke against your frontal walls.

Working your tongue steadily, about the generous girth of him — Zayne’s digits remain a patient point of pressure against your scalp — until he hits your throat, pleasant and full, at long last. You groan around him, Zayne swallowing heavily at the vibrations of your throat.

“Don’t be gentle.” Xavier speaks, releasing himself from the wet confines of your clenching walls — fingers he unfurls forwards, to smear across the free length of Zayne’s cock, your throat could not accommodate.

You feel Xavier settle heavy, upon the cleft of your ass; the head of his own cock he glides, indolent, in between your dripping folds.

And just as your insides flutter in impatient emptiness at the baiting stimulation, he enters you on a swift stroke, your garbled sound of pleasure, sending you deeper onto Zayne.

Xavier sets a furious, punishing pace for the three of you, your mouth working diligent against the hard strain of Zayne’s arousal. Your smothered cries of delight mixing with theirs, heated into the air; Zayne’s low guttural groans stirring deep into your belly, within the same space Xavier works open with his cock.

Your silver beast descends upon you, mouth working a steady path along the length of your spine, tongue sweeping a cool, wet trail in its wake.

His fingers reach to tuck stray strands of hair away from your face — easing them behind an ear before he gathers the fall of your hair into a gentle fist, granting an obstructed view of your ruination, to your lover in front.

The pleasured flush dashed across Zayne’s cheekbones, hurtles higher to witness the wreck of desire you know is upon your face. He looks at you as if he wants to love and ruin you, it sends a jolt of inundating slick, right between your legs.

Xavier grunts at your tightening walls, licking a strip up the curve of your ear. “Can I—” His voice ruptures in overwhelming arousal. “—inside? I want to. Let me?”

Your answer; a moan of vehement assent, intermixing with Zayne’s responsive groan. Come for me, Xavier.

His grip upon your hips turns bruising, pelvis driving hard against your ass until he’s releasing himself; hot, pulsating strokes of come, painting into you.

He pulls almost immediately out of your quivering walls, palms shifting underneath your body to lift, until he positions you, right atop Zayne’s drenched cock. His seed still spilling out onto the swollen head of him, just as he coaxes your hips down to take Zayne in, the two of you groaning out in concert at your union.

Zayne surges forwards, sweat soaked forehead pressing against yours; a low, inarticulate curse tumbles from his lips at the clench of your walls, still sensitised from Xavier’s release.

“You’re burning up.” Long, thick digits curve beneath the nerveless stretch of your thighs, guiding you in deep, measured thrusts over his cock. Xavier’s ministrations having had you well-prepared to accommodate Zayne in a single stroke.

On usual days, your body able to accept him only in gradual, pleasurable propulsions, he works deep into your pussy.

“Lean on me.” Zayne speaks.

You do as he asks, appreciative of the reprieve allowed to let go and let Zayne guide you both into bliss. His fingers stroke about your entrance, a thumb he grazes against your clit, in an electrifying jolt of pleasure.

“Come now.” He instructs the man at your back. Soothing a hand down the curve of your spine when you feel Xavier’s arousal, firmed into solid stone once more, at your entrance. You moan at the prospect of what’s to come. Never having accepted any of your lovers into the same space, when Zayne is inside you.

“Breathe for me.” He asks of you. “Look at me.” And you do, in willing love; gaze finding his, coddled in the comfort of his verdant eyes — steady — even in the heated throes of your combined passion. “I am here for you.”

Just as the head of Xavier’s cock presses, insistent at the base of Zayne’s, your body beginning to give into him. Zayne hastens to curb his grunt of pleasure into your mouth, tongues moving against the other as Xavier steadily strokes a slow path into you.

Both your men settling whole and so incredibly full within your body, you sigh in shuddered stimulation when they navigate a rhythm in between your bodies, never leaving you empty for even a moment’s reprieve. A stretch so good, it stirs satisfaction deep into your stomach. The desire for them to leave you drenched up to your womb as you voice it on incoherent whispers, head rolling back onto Xavier’s shoulder.

Their hands; gripping about the shell of your hips, down upon the flare of your thighs. Across the pinching stimulation of your breasts, your throat. Xavier’s fingers brushing to feel the desperate thrumming of your carotid beneath his hold.

Sweeping an index across your damp lip, end to end, before he slips a finger into your mouth, toying at the pink of your tongue as it darts out for a taste.

The fever of your desire streaks higher, passion so incinerating, it only takes Zayne a thumbing caress across your clit before you are convulsing, violent about the two of them in a loud, sobbing cry. Wetness slicking down your thighs despite the way they plug you, their pacing climbing faster with each swift second of inundating pleasure your clenching walls force upon them, chasing a high they seek to release into your body alone.

And when they come with bated breaths and strangled groans, your combined essence overflows from in between your legs, staining the sheets wide and dark beneath.

It is only several breathless moments later that you are able to move, body wasted and draped upon your chosen seat — Zayne does not look as if he minds much, smoothing a kiss onto the sweat-slick stretch of your breastbone. “Happy anniversary, my reckless Hunter.” And then in slower, softer words. “I love you.”

You kiss your response against his mouth; a happy, languorous sound leaving your throat. Curving an arm tighter about Xavier nuzzled into the side of your waist, your gentle beast having settled into a short slumber, after having murmured of needing your warmth close by.

The doors to their bedroom slide open just then, to admit Sylus, carrying what looks to be an expensive bottle of wine and a set of glasses, nestled onto a salver perched across his arm. Rafayel, following close on heel, with a large tray on hand; the pleasant scent that wafts from the steam laced spice off the fresh spread of food, triggers your bout of hunger.

“Reckless brutes,” Sylus comments, an amused brow he raises upon witnessing the utter disarray of your wrecked states. A smile that skews only wider with the distasteful knit to Zayne’s brow.

As if he was one to speak, you would’ve snorted in defence, if you weren’t so drained.

Xavier, too, stirs beside you at the commotion just as the last two men of your heart move to join you upon the vast bed. “Get up and eat.” Sylus instructs, rapping his fist against Xavier’s prone form.

“You alright?” Rafayel questions, the moment he is seated at your side, reaching to entwine his fingers in between yours, a hoarse sound of approval you respond with, at his pleasant touch.

In between Zayne and Rafayel, they guide your body into an upright position.

Your head coasts sideways and onto Rafayel’s shoulder, in languid stupor, as he brings a spoon of hot broth to your lips. “Start with this, you’ll feel better once warmed from the inside.”

“Warm her, they did already… from the ‘inside’ that is,” Sylus’ licentious whisper reaches your ears from the side, setting your face to an incandescent glow at the recollection.

“Crude.” Rafayel reproaches — you do not, however, miss the scandalised red that seeps across his ears at his provocations.

You join in quiet laughter at Sylus’ words, burying your face deeper against Rafayel’s skin. A cosy arm he immediately brings about your shoulders to hold you close, as he continues to satiate your other, necessary hunger.

His scent soothes and settles deep into your lungs, gaze trekking, absent, to the stretch of skin exposed beneath his unbuttoned shirt, from where you smell his perfume strongest. A sudden, stray thought of wanting to lap a path up against him, assaults your mind, sore body responding in feeble protest.

A shadow falls upon you; Sylus’ thumb brushing, delicate, at the corner of your lips. “Eat well for now. Replenish your strength.” A kiss he nips onto your ear, you shiver at the muted stimulation.

“Sylus—”

“You’ll have your fill of us, as much as your heart desires, after.” He promises in decadent whispers.

Your men, proving true to his words; the rest of your long night spent in seeking love against each other’s skins and within their embrace.

Until they engrave proof of their existence — devotion and desire — scattered like scarlet jewels along the canvas of your body.

End Notes: This is my first foray into writing this kind of relationship for my favorite media and I enjoyed each excruciating second of agonizing over positions and 🍆s. Although I adore a hot poly romance just as much as the next person (cough Him&Him&Him), it certainly isn’t something I’ll personally be trying again any time soon LOL.

Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated, if you are so inclined, and never fail to put a smile on my face.

If you’d like to be added to my tag list for future stories, you can fill this quick form.

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illctaffairs · 1 year ago

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꒰ ꔫ ꒱⠀—⠀@womansound sent⠀:⠀❛⠀you're about as intimidating as a butterfly⠀.⠀❜

⠀⠀⠀kai's mouth snaps shut in an instant⠀,⠀teeth clacking together with the force of it as he fashions up a pretty pout for his boyfriend⠀.⠀eyelashes bat just a bit ridiculously⠀,⠀&⠀he crowds in close to the shorter⠀,⠀hands coming up to cup dohwan's cheeks between them⠀.⠀"⠀have you ever stopped for a second⠀&⠀considered the fact that your words hurt⠀?⠀what about my ego⠀,⠀babe⠀?⠀"⠀he teases easily⠀,⠀eyes shining��.⠀"⠀also⠀,⠀butterflies can be totally intimidating⠀.⠀just because you think they're pretty doesn't they don't scare other people⠀.⠀"⠀

#thinking abt this taking place post eras tour after a guy flirts w doie outside the venue n kai gets all jealous n protective <3 #him in his sparkly rep outfit with flitter in his hair trying to puff up n intimidate a def bigger guy....... yeah <3 #i am once again here to scream at u abt how much i love them!!!!#almost sobbed typing out “his boyfriend” btw #୨୧⠀┆⠀𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓉 › kai lee.#୨୧⠀┆⠀𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 › kai & dohwan.#୨୧⠀┆⠀𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 › closed.#womansound

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javic-piotr-thane · 1 year ago

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"Well i'm feeling disgusted and vindicated all at once."

very understandable Gwen

so what i gather

is that whatever "deal" Ng made with that great unnamed entity, it has to do with her possession power. right? that must be it. she gets to possess people, take over their lives etc., and in exchange the entity gets the people's souls. but it didn't get Gwen's, because Torchwood forcibly pulled Ng out of her before the process was completed (i assume).

and Ng nearly, nearly managed to put the entity on freeze for a couple hundred years (effectively putting Gwen out of its grasp), but she didn't, and now there's no stopping it from consuming Gwen.

well i assume there's going to be a way, as this episode doesn't end with Gwen dying.

right?

#ng #gwen cooper #torchwood: among us #tw spoilers #torchwood #so many thoughts still flittering about my head #i can't wait to sort them all out once the dust settles

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meiluu · 4 months ago

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Bats

Here's some thoughts about Bruce Wayne, my husband btw

cw: Major fluff

Just imagine being the wife of Bruce Wayne. Not the playboy, or the billionaire, not the philanthropist, but Bruce Wayne. A man who had to grow up at the young age of eight, and later on becoming a young man who spent his time traveling the world. Learning all he could, fighting, languages, anything. A man who sacrifices everything for the ones he loves, hoping that he can protect them from the world that seems hellbent on taking away all the people he holds dear.

Bruce is a man of few words, but each word that leaves those beautiful lips of his has a purpose. Those quiet moments when its just the two of you, cuddled in one of the plush couches in the Wayne manor library. The moonlight flittering in from the tall windows, the crackling of the lit fireplace is the only other noise that accompanies your whispered words of love. Wrapped in his protective embrace, a body that spends nearly every night defending and protecting the innocents of Gotham is here hugging you and gently massaging your back.

You bring a level of solace that Bruce didn't think he would ever have. Given how he accepted the fact that being Batman meant that he could never really have that. Then you came in. It wasn't some massive firework show or falling from the sky. You just... walked in like you were meant to be here all along. The patience, understanding and unwavering love you showed him time and time again had Bruce wondering where you had been all this time. You were so...You.

Bruce is the husband and lover who lets you kiss his countless amount of scars that litter his body that has been sculpted to fight and endure anything that comes its way. A body that held strength in every fiber of muscle and yet he turns to putty within your loving hands. Mind, body and soul, wholly yours.

Bruce had no idea of what he was missing when you weren't in his life and now that he has you, there is nothing on this planet or universe that would ever take you from him.

Bruce is someone who will die for You, and any one of the people he loves.

#fluff #x reader #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #batman x reader #batman/you #battinson x reader #batman/reader #comic batman #dc comics #dc fic #bruce wayne x you

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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

Note

I have this thought in my head of reader calling Connor "my heart" and Connor calling reader "lovely" and Jason calling Conner "bitch"

just a taste (again &. again drabble)

ft. yandere connor kent x reader w/ the batfamily.

masterlist ! reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— tw suggestive, making out scene. i need someone to draw what i envisioned for this omg... pls let this blow up i love connor and u guys seem to love him too hehe. if u guys want to see me write more of these (w/ other characters) pls do comment below!

the 90's version of connor will have no filter in front of your ex-family and will literally appear right beside you moments before tim could drag your ass back to the manor, your already vulnerable state panicking at what seems to be a sleep inducing drug that he'll soon inject into your system.

but your boyfriend, kon, is one step ahead of your entire family, already having planned against them shall they ever abduct you.

he'll greet you with a flirtatious smile, even biting his lips as he checks you out, eyes flittering throughout your entire body like it was you were a glamorous display of meat for him, ignoring your brother's presence while at it.

"hello to my lovely darling!~" is what he tells you with a purr in his tone, kissing your cheeks for what seems longer than a second, hands immediately encasing your waist right before tim could make a show of grabbing your wrist. your boyfriend's grip is tight but comforting at the same time. you feel like you don't deserve it but if you voice out your insecurities now then you'll only find yourself smothered with kisses; him flirting with you in front of your supposed abductors would only worsen the situation. but you don't feel too anxious right now, because he's kneading the soft flesh of your waist, rubbing sensually in up and down strokes as if making a show in front of tim and the countless of cameras that litter the public space.

it's his way of telling you that you don't have to worry about anything but his affection, and his way of telling your family to 'fuck off, don't bother our moment together'.

you reciprocate with a hasty kiss to his lips, ignoring the side eye and the smug grin he gives to your brother after.

"hello to you too, my heart..." you fight back the urge to melt right into him, but it seems like he could easily read your mind, his hand settling itself into your head comfortably, scratching your scalp with well-timed precision whilst he leans your head right against his chest, right where you can hear the soft thumping of his heart.

what a flirt.

but you expect it. after all, he's the same guy who brags about your relationship to anyone and everyone he knows. it's no wonder tim easily tracked your location to the same place where connor lives, every puzzle seemingly being put into place.

when you had both caught bruce wayne tailing after you when you had gone on a date with him, it was connor who immediately devised a plan after he had to calm you down from panicking.

your lover is willing to sacrifice everything for you.

so it's not a surprise to you that his next course of action was to shamelessly take you flying away with him, off to somewhere desolate where he knows your family couldn't easily track you in, somewhere only you two kept a secret from everybody; a shared house, if you will.

nothing is shocking about what he had done...

... not until his grip on your body provides enough opportunities for him to just, make out with you then and there, tongue and all, without a care if your brother bears witness to his shameless display of lusting towards you.

what a prideful asshole he is, but he's your asshole now. and you can't bring it in yourself to reprimand him, enjoying the sweet sounds of your lips smacking in tandem and the taste of your favorite brand of coffee in his saliva as you two soar off into the air making out, exploring each other's body; your hand finding each other on his neck, another on his head, pushing him further near you, until your noses touched and until you struggle to breath, tongues lapping in tandem, refusing even a second of reprieve, even allowing him to bite your lips teasingly.

you love it when he uses his charms to take you away from the stress of your current life.

it was a distraction for both you and him, from the thought of your family turning kon into their new target as he defiles what little innocence they thought you had.

yet you enjoy this life, and you'd rather not come back to the stuffy manor, especially not right after kon offers you a taste of what you had never experienced; love.

and you embrace the giddy thumps of your heart for once with all the joy in the world, because you're not alone anymore in your own personal endeavors; you finally have someone. and that someone is your boyfriend who's always there for you, at the right time in all the wrong moments.

and kon? he especially enjoys using his superhearing just to eavesdrop on his ex-friend's seething because he was far too late, he loves hearing the growl on jason's voice over the comms as he calls connor a bitch, a seething pile of trash for taking away from them. he loves being an audience to their well deserved suffering. but...

but he can't focus solely on them, no, not when he's barely finished devouring every drop of saliva his eye candy offers him.

... ah, he loves it when you give yourself so willingly to him, when you let him wrap his arms around your body without fear he would hurt you, when you allow his hands to explore further below, fingers dangerously close to your thighs as it kneads the meat from your hips.

connor is never letting the world take you away from him.

it was you who parted first from the kiss, a string of liquid dispersing from both your swollen lips. if it wasn't for the fact you both are still high up in the air, you wouldn't doubt that your boyfriend wouldn't hesitate to undress you then and there.

but he could control himself for now, just for now.

'oh, babe... whatever you're doing to me is so irresistible.'

whatever happens after in your shared home is a different matter.

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pathologicalreid · 5 months ago

Note

could we get Spencer Reid with a hypersexual reader that uses sex as a bad coping mechanism? 💕💕

don't look in the mirror | S.R.

seeking comfort in those you hold close, except there's a right way and a wrong way to do it

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (i think?) w/ mature themes (18+ mdni) content warnings: seeking comfort in sex, avoidance, mental health issues, spencer has those info dumps on lock, shame, self deprecation, reader hates her job (me too), blood as a metaphor, crying word count: 1.85k a/n: this is such an important topic and i'm so thankful for you asking me to write this!!!! i know this is a premise i've seen before, so i tried to make mine different. (im actually really proud of how this one turned out)

“Baby,” Spencer whispered in your ear, turning his head to the side as you left small, slow kisses on the exposed skin of his neck.

You hummed but refused to detach your lips from his soft skin, tugging gently at his shirt so that you could make your way down to his collarbone. He smelled like sunshine and the jet, an admittedly odd combo that did nothing to stop your movements down the column of his throat. His neck vibrated with sound, but none of his words registered, it all went in one ear and out the other.

His hand gently settled on the small of your back and you took a deep breath before you began pulling at the knot of his tie, “Y/N,” he muttered in a warning.

Your head snapped up at his tone, disappointed that you didn’t find the same want in his eyes that you knew was blazing in your own irises. Synapses in your brain were firing at lightning speed, and your heart was beating so quickly that it was like it was trying to keep up. “I missed you,” you whispered to him, allowing your eyes to flitter across his face.

Spencer settled his hands on your hips, firmly grabbing them in exactly the way you wanted, but instead of pulling you closer to him, he stilled their rotation.

Your heart stuttered.

“What happened?” He asked you tentatively, using the pads of his thumbs to rub soothing circles on your hips, trying to keep you from moving while giving you comfort. Despite the way you were sitting in his lap, Spencer still felt worlds away from you – if he was on Earth, you were in a different galaxy.

Hesitantly, your lips parted, and you took a deep breath before shutting your mouth again, deciding you had nothing to say. While he’d been away, nothing significant had happened, everything in your life had trudged on exactly the way it always did. You went to work at the same job you’ve had since you got out of college with a boss who most certainly had it out for you, and you came home to an empty apartment with your phone volume all the way up, waiting for your boyfriend to call you. You really were pathetic, but you didn’t voice those concerns, instead, you answered, “Nothing happened,” the half-truth easily slid from your mouth. “Can’t I just have missed my boyfriend and want to spend quality time with him?”

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head back as his hair moved with him, “Stop, Y/N,” he said.

Without even realizing it, your hands had drifted down to his chest, and your hands were absentmindedly fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, “I didn’t…” you started to say, but your words faltered when you noticed the way he was looking at you. You looked over your shoulder, making sure that the rest of the world was still there as you tried to climb off of Spencer’s lap. “Let me go,” you insisted, hating how small your voice sounded as you pushed against him to no avail.

“I can’t let you go, not right now,” he told you, steadying his resolve as he watched you. You were staring at your hands like they were covered in blood, red-covered palms as you watched, horrified at the idea of them developing a mind of their own. It wasn’t as if your hands had suddenly become sentient entities, your heart and your brain were working against each other, fighting a silent, internal war. “Pick a spot for your hands, and just leave them there,” he whispered to you.

Your hands tremored as you settled them on either one of Spencer’s shoulders, “You don’t find me attractive anymore,” you mumbled, struggling to find the strength to enunciate your thoughts.

Spencer sighed, “Why don’t we take a minute, okay?” Delicately, he moved one hand from its station on your hip and moved it to cup your cheek, holding your face as if it were made of fine china. “What happened while I was gone, honey?”

His hand was wet on your face, or rather, your face was wet from tears that had started to trickle from your tear ducts. You furrowed your brows in frustration, “Why do you assume that something happened? Nothing happened while you were gone, why can’t you just let that be the answer?”

“Because it’s not the answer,” he insisted, dropping his hand back to your hip, continuing to stop you from getting up and moving away from him.

You scoffed, “Is it not the answer, or is it just not the answer you’re looking for, Spencer?”

“It’s not the answer, and I’m looking for the answer. You can tell me anything,” he urged, resuming his soothing movements over your hip.

As you watched his expression morph into a slight panic, you realized he was beginning to think something happened to you. With what he did for work, it was always in the back of his mind, you being in danger of being hurt by other people but what he rarely considered was the idea of you being a danger to yourself. “Nothing happened, okay? Absolutely nothing happened to me while you were gone and everything in the world stayed exactly the fucking same. I went to work every day and I came home and sat around while I waited for you to call, I waited for you to come home and now you won’t even touch me.”

Your tears kept coming, leaving saline stains on his gray shirt as your head spun and his movements stopped. “Work was bad?” He asked softly, using his fingertips to wipe beneath your eyes. He knew about your issues at work, he had been encouraging you to leave the job for months, but you were convinced that a promotion was coming. “You shouldn't have to be miserable every time you go to work.”

“Not everyone gets to be hand-picked for a top job at twenty-one. Some people have to work shitty jobs to make ends meet,” you snapped at him, nostrils flaring angrily.

He didn’t answer right away, you became hyperaware of the pounding of your heart as you waited for his response. As you waited for him to kick you out. “I told you that I’d support you if you wanted to go back to school. I meant it, Y/N,” he told you, brown eyes flooded with concern. “You can leave your job and pursue your dream, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, baby.” Spencer leaned back against the couch cushions, “I can’t help you until you help yourself, love.”

Slouching your shoulders, you felt your eyes starting to line with tears again, “It feels so unfair to have you shoulder more responsibility so that I can go back to school.”

“No,” he said, “What’s not fair is you lying to me and then trying to avoid it with sex. I asked you how your week had been, and you either didn’t care to answer me or you have such bad tunnel vision that you didn’t even hear me.” He gently chided, giving you time to drown in the blatant concern in his eyes, “and what’s worse is you never told me it was this bad.”

You averted your eyes, focusing your gaze on the chessboard behind him as you thought about your next move. In one fell swoop, he could checkmate you, completely catch you off guard, and tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear. Alternatively, you could sacrifice yourself for his benefit, “I hate my job. My boss is making it impossible for me to make any positive stride, and that’s on top of him being a misogynistic douche.” You flexed your hands where they remained on Spencer’s shoulders and sighed, “And yes, I miss you when you’re gone. Yes, I lied to you about it, but what would you do about it? Leave your big important job because your girlfriend is lonely?”

He craned his head to the side, silently encouraging you to make eye contact with him, “I’d hope that you’d feel comfortable enough to tell me how you’re feeling so that we could work something out – we can talk through this. It’s a two-way street though, you have to talk to me. I can make an effort to call and text more if you promise me, you’ll make an effort to communicate with me.”

Slowly, you started to nod, “I… I can do that, but you hate texting,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows curiously.

“I’ll get over it,” he reassured you, studying your features, “You’re worth it,” he added.

Finally, you pulled your arms back, hugging them around yourself protectively, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “I don’t know why I am… the way that I am.”

Spencer took a deep breath before giving you a look that told you he had an inkling, “You’re unhappy, with me or the world, it doesn’t matter, but you think the solution to your displeasure comes in the form of an orgasm and that’s just not the answer, honey.”

You hiccupped and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself like you could make yourself smaller, “I still don’t know why though.”

“You’re seeking the rush, not necessarily the act of sex itself, you want the dopamine and oxytocin rush that comes with an orgasm. Your brain convinces yourself that it’s what you need because when you get unhappy like this, all you can focus on is how to feel better and fast,” he spoke to you gently – he knew this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was what you needed to hear. “It’s brief, and it’s just for that moment, and your brain might even recall how your parasympathetic nervous system shuts down after you come, and your body gets tired. You get a rush of serotonin, and you relax enough to convince yourself that it'll be okay, but you need to find something more permanent. I’ll help you.”

Your arms fell limply at your sides, “Do you think I’m broken?”

The small smile he gave you was enough of an answer, “No, in fact, I know you’re not broken.” Tenderly, he reached out and unwound your arms from around your torso, “And since I know you won’t stop thinking about it, I do still find you attractive.” Spencer studied your face, “Where do you want to start?”

“Do you want to help me draft a letter of resignation?” You offered, giving Spencer a shy smile.

He hummed in response, “Yeah, in a bit.” Your boyfriend reached his hands out to you, now being the one who pulled you close, “Come here, darling.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing as he wrapped his arms around your torso, “I missed you,” you mumbled, entirely deflating your lungs as you let yourself relax.

Spencer reached up, ruffling your hair with one hand and keeping another on the small of your back as he sighed with you, “I missed you too.”

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anantaru · 9 months ago

Text

— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood.

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

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meowkn · 5 months ago

Text

You were fast asleep on the bed when he returned home, the blanket barely covering your half naked body. Your hair tousled over the pillows and a small smile on your lips as you dreamt, probably of Jason.

“Sweetheart.” Jason whispered, kneeling down so that he was face to face with you. He brushed some of your curls out of your face, shaking his head at the sight.

“Sweetheart.” He said a little louder, shaking you slightly. Waking you up from your nap. You sat up slightly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up and form coherent thoughts.

“Jay?” You murmured, turning to look at him, kneeling down beside the bed. He looks exhausted, his hair messy, and his eye bags darker than usual. Your eyes flitter over to the clock on the bedside table

1 A.M

Figures.

“Hey…” He murmurs, his hand finding his chin, guiding your face back to his. His hands are calloused and rough, but his touch was gentle, he’s always gentle with you.

“Hey, sleepy.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Rough day?” You mutter, still waking up as you gaze into his eyes. Even in the dark they’re bright.

“Mhm.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek, caressing you softly. “I had such a rough day.” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his spare hand. “I’m so tired.”

“I missed you today.” You say softly, grabbing the hand that was caressing your face and holding it.

Jason stands up fully, stretching his arms before getting into the bed next to you, scooting you over with his body before burying his head into your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist.

You stayed like that for a while before his free hand reached around your head, tilting it back, making your neck more accessible. He placed light kisses on your jaw, trailing down your neck. You could feel his fingers rubbing against your skin, trying to find the hem of your shirt.

“Jay, it’s late.” You murmured, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the sensation of him nibbling on your neck.

“Not too late, I missed you.” He hums against your skin, slipping your shirt up. You can feel his fingers sliding across your skin, almost desperately tracing the contours of your skin.

“I just don’t want you to be tired, yeah?” You say, pulling his face from your neck, taking note of the whine that escapes his lips after.

“I don’t want sleep, just you.” His words come out as a mumble as he presses his lips back against the skin of your neck, sending goosebumps through your body. He hummed contentedly, his fingers tracing your body, almost reverently.

“Just need a little bit of you…then I’ll let you sleep.” You could feel his fingers find the waistband of your underwear, playing with the material teasingly as he smirked against your neck.

“Jay…” Your protest fell on deaf ears as he bit down on your neck, then soothing the bite with his tongue.

“I’ve neglected you all day… Let me make it up to you.”

#meowkn 📝🌠#೨౿ani’s work೨౿#no I did not proof read this.#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #dc jason todd #jason x reader #dc jason #jason peter todd #dc

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peachdues · 6 months ago

Note

Dad Sanemi finding out you're expecting again!

done and done! Also requested by @lisa-257

FINDING OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT AGAIN

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER!

A/N: a continuation of my Bundle of Joy series, in celebration of one year since its publication!

CW: 1.9k • MDNI • fluff • pregnancy mention • Sanemi and Reader are married • slightly suggestive in parts/references to sex

READ BUNDLE OF JOY HERE

It had been a normal day. You’d awoken well before dawn and departed Sanemi’s estate with a quick kiss for both him and your daughter before returning to your own to prepare your training yard from the group of new Juniors being sent for defensive training — your speciality as the Lunar Pillar.

That training had gone about as well as you’d been warned it would — which was to say, absolutely dreadful. Nearly all lower-ranked Slayers were close to passing out not even an hour into their defensive drills.

The only one who’d stood out was the young, eager Kamado boy, who’d offered to partner with to test his footwork.

“Excellent!” You praised as Kamado manage to parry another one of your attacks with a training blade. “The best I’ve seen today!” You whirled around his attempt at an offensive jab with ease. “In fact, I think —“

A sudden, splitting pain ripped across your head, whiting out your vision. There was a sharp, keening ring in your ears, and all at once, the familiar training yard of your estate faded away with a distant, worried call of your surname.

You did not realize you’d fainted until your eyes flittered open, and you found yourself blearily staring at the blue of the sky above.

In your periphery, you saw the clustered, worried faces of your subordinates, anxiously peering down at you.

Before you could ponder exactly how you’d ended up on your back on the ground, your mouth welled with saliva, hot and bitter, and your stomach lurched.

You’d barely managed to flip over to your knees before you began wretching. Between the great, shudderkng gasps of air you managed to gulp down, you did not see your crow take off from its nearby perch with a hurried beat of its wings.

You’re fighting to rise to your feet when the tension in the air noticeably shifts. A sudden electricity settles over the juniors, a hushed murmur snaking its way through the throng.

The crowd of Slayers swiftly parts around as the Wind Pillar furiously makes his way toward you.

You’re still crouched on one knee, hand pressed to your mouth in some futile effort to keep the contents of your breakfast from making a reappearance splattered across the dirt.

Your husband kneels down next to you, his warm, comforting hand resting between your shoulder blades. You fight the urge to lean into him; the morale of the greater Corps is just as important as their training, and it would only be undermined by the sight of a vulnerable Hashira.

But Sanemi knows how to read you better than anyone, and he must sense your hesitation. “Whoever hasn’t resumed training by the time I stand is being sent to my estate for obedience lessons.” He barks.

There’s a pause before he adds, “And I don’t use training swords.”

Though you’re fighting to keep from dry heaving into the dirt, you can’t help the small smile that forms on the corners of your lips at the flurry of anxious movement and the telltale sound of practice weapons colliding in choreographed defensive maneuvers.

Sanemi’s tone is much softer as he murmurs your name. “Can you stand?”

You manage a stiff nod. The white-knuckled grip on his hand as you rise on shaky legs would crush the fingers of anyone else that wasn’t him.

Sanemi’s hold on you remains steady as you stand, and he is right there when your knees buckle, his body pushed against yours to keep you upright.

Gently, Sanemi eases you back down to your knees. He squats beside you, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist for extra support.

Your eyes lift to his, and with a groan, you know his orders before he speaks them.

“Kocho’s. Now.”

You shake your head. “I have to finish their training —“

The Wind Pillar stands then, and though you cannot see his face, you can imagine the twist of his mouth; the hard look in his eyes.

“All of you!” His raised voice startles several of the junior Corps members, some dropping their training swords as they stand at attention. “Defensive training is finished for the day. Fuck off to the Love Pillar’s estate.“

You flick your eyes up to see the gaggle of young slayers staring wide-eyed and anxious at your husband.

“Now!”

The younger Corps members jolt into action, quickly putting away the tools and props you’d organized for the day and gathering their things.

Sanemi turns his attention back to you. He waits until the last of the trainees departs your Estate with a respectful but hasty bow, before he gathers you up in his arms.

“You must really feel bad if you’re not bitchin’ me out about carrying you.” Sanemi frowns as you loop your arm over his shoulder.

Your eyes remain squeezed shut against your nausea, and you managed nothing more than a grumbled shut up as Sanemi hastily makes his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

You try and focus on Sanemi’s steady warmth as it bleeds into you; the familiar and comforting scent of sweet matcha that lingers on his skin, a welcome distraction from the way your head spins and aches.

The soothing hallmarks of your husband almost lull you to sleep, when the image of the other half of your heart — of cherub cheeks and a mop of white hair just like her father’s flashes through your mind.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, wide and anxious.

Your daughter. Because you’d been dealing with the bulk of junior slayers, Sanemi had been tasked with keeping your daughter occupied for the day. You’d last seen her earlier that morning at his estate, happily stumbling after a butterfly in her father’s garden.

You stiffen in Sanemi’s arms. “Where is —?”

“She’s with Uzui’s girls,” he’s quick to reassure, and he twists his head to press a soothing kiss to your temple. “I’d brought her with me to discuss training plans when your crow arrived. Hinatsuru offered to take her so I could check on you.”

It does little to soothe the pit in your stomach. “I don’t wish to burden them —“

“They insisted,” Sanemi says simply. “They all jump at the chance to watch her — Uzui, too.”

He wasn’t wrong; your daughter had the entire Uzui family wrapped around her tiny fist.

Sanemi squeezes your waist. “She’s fine — and she’ll be more than happy to see her Mama later. Let’s focus on getting you checked out for now.”

—

You arrive at the Butterfly Mansion in record time. You have to fight the Wind Pillar before he’ll put you down and allow you to walk into the Manor on your own legs.

Sanemi acquiesces, but his arm does not leave its stabling place on your waist.

The Insect Pillar, thankfully, is home and able promptly guide you into a private examination room she reserves for your peers. A quick draw of blood into a glass vial later, and Kocho whisks back to her office to analyze it.

Sanemi sits with you the whole time, chatting with Kocho, his arm around your shoulders, his thumb turning soothing circles into your skin.

But the longer the two of you wait after the petite doctor leaves to run her tests, the more your anxiety mounts.

Your nerves must have begun to sink beneath Sanemi’s skin, for he’d left the examination room a few minutes prior in search of the Insect Pillar, nearly as desperate as you to know what she’d found.

He hadn’t yet returned, leaving you to chew anxiously on your thumbnail, your foot jiggling where it hung over the edge of the table where you sat.

Another minute or two passes, and then the door to the examination room flings open with a start. Faster than you can blink, the Wind Pillar is striding toward you with a broad smile on his face.

“What is —?” Sanemi’s hands — battle-worn and rough — are gentle as they cradle your cheeks, and he silences your question with a sweet but deep kiss.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathes excitedly against your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “You’re pregnant. Kocho confirmed it.”

His eyelashes tickle your cheeks as he kisses you again and again, Sanemi beaming between each eager touch of your lips.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” You tease. “I mentioned wanting another child not even two months ago

“Who am I to deny my wife what she desires?” he grins with equal smugness and elation. “Especially when she asks so sweetly, all bent over for me —“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Shush,” you hiss, though you can’t fight your own smile. “Kocho can hear everything —“

“I knew it.” Sanemi boasts, stepping back to bring your knuckles to his lips, his eyes shining. “I knew when you asked for yudofu twice this week that you were pregnant —“

“I’ve always liked yudofu.”

“It was all you ate last time,” and his grin is broad. “Couldn’t get you to choke down anythin’ else for a solid month at one point. Drove me fuckin’ nuts.”

Sanemi’s lips press to your ear as he leans in close, his voice quieting to a sultry whisper. “And you’ve been asking me to take care of those pretty breasts of yours more frequently, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks burn a deep shade of crimson. It was true — they’d been aching and sore. So tender that you’d even contemplated foregoing the sarashi bindings you wore beneath your uniform shirt.

So you had; once, a few weeks earlier.

You hadn’t made it out of your bedroom before you’d been caught by your husband, bug-eyed and blushing as he gaped at your partially-exposed chest. Your uniform shirt had closely resembled his own without the security of your bindings, and yet you’d known, thanks to your skirt, that your attire likely bore a resemblance to that of the Love Pillar’s.

You’d both ended up late to training that day.

Since that day, Sanemi had been more than eager to continue helping after you’d insisted his hot mouth and expert tongue were capable of alleviating some of that tender ache.

You want to groan at yourself. It should have been obvious, once it was clear that your sore chest had not been heralding in your monthly cycle.

But before you can, Sanemi resumes lavishing you with his joyful kisses.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your lips, nuzzling your nose with his. “You’re a goddamn goddess, you know that? So fuckin’ beautiful.“

This time, Sanemi tilts your head so he can deepen his next kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth the moment you open for him.

“Thank you,” he breathes, thumb stroking your cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You did just as much work as I did,” you chuckle between his slow, sensual kisses. “Arguably more.”

He pulls away with a light huff, the hand on your cheek sliding to cup the back of your head and bring you in tight against him.

“I ain’t ever gonna stop thanking you,” Sanemi whispers reverently against your hair, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “‘M never not gonna worship the ground you walk on for makin’ me a father. Not in a hundred years.”

Whether it’s because your emotions are already high out of elation over your news, or because Sanemi’s words — so earnest and full of love — strike that soft part of your heart reserved for him and him alone, your eyes burn with tears.

And even Sanemi’s voice cracks as he whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for choosing me.”

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #demon slayer fanfic #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi headcanons #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x you

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