#i fucking HATE drawing sex scenes

[spitinsideme]

Ragatha on top of Pomni... tribbing?

unfortunately i misread that as pomni on top of ragatba tribbong and i only JUST realised after i drew it and posted it that you ssif ragaths on top so you grt top pomni ... if o do tjis agaon i will make ragayha the top but for now i think pomni desrrves to be a top .. also it has been posted on my twotter !! hope you enjly it 👍

[xxplastic-cubexx]

sequel to this ramble cause the way james talks bout the reduced cherik scenes throughout the xmen films in this video is making me want to kill people. 'we'll always have paris darling' what if we all blew up.

[anantaru]

DAY 30 — hate sex

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — wriothesley, ayato, scaramouche, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, hate fucking, mild choking, they're assholes, exhibitionism, fingering, lots of teasing & they're meanies

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

"i don't, fuck— even know if i told you this," you whine out through a clenched jaw, your trembling frame luxuriating in the feeling of wriothesley's thick cock rubbing against your spongy spots as the spreading warmth of his body fuses inside of your own.

nevertheless, you continue your taunting— truthfully, there was nothing better other than uttering out words that you knew, would drive him absolutely crazy, "but i really fucking hate you."

amusement swiftly settles on the duke's face when he notices something happening in front of his eyes, in spite of himself, he can see it plain as day.

that your sweet, angel face, combined with those lewd sounds and your pain in the ass, as well as bratty attitude, would ultimately make him lose his mind beyond salivation— right now, his face reminded of someone who was on the brink of leaning into this, the thought of stepping your relationship up and breaking free of this, occasional hook up scene between two people clearly harboring distaste for each other.

yet, instead of melting into those hidden emotions, wriothesley then, leaves one hand to fall against the headboard before jerking his hips back into you, this time much harder and in attempt to conceal the fact that you've evidently turned him on with your attitude, fuck, he'd never get tired of hearing you.

"oh, don't worry sweetheart," wriothesley grins, your body trembling when you hear him, and as always, he senses how you shiver under his large weight, your chest rising and falling when he wraps one hand around your throat, lightly, while the other remained on the headboard to steady himself and to not suddenly suffocate you with his figure.

"the feeling is very mutual," he winks, the only thing that seemed appropriate to you personally in this situation, was to punch him, especially due to that stupid, handsome, dumb smirk on his face. (you didn't punch him)

"oh fuck you," you spat angrily before feeling how he softly draws his fingers into your throat, mesmerized when you swallow the assembled saliva down and make him sense your pulse underneath his palm, ugh, it's so hot— and you're impossibly sensitive, constantly fluttering your hole around his girth, always so cutely reactive and moaning when his cock twitches through your walls.

your mess of a body was shaking, quivering and jerking up when he teases you once more, proudly showcasing his strength on your throat while never stopping the aching drags of his erection that was making your face twist in pleasure.

𖧡 — AYATO

ayato thinks you owe him, in fact, he believes you owe him a lot more than you're currently giving him— aside from that, the most unfortunate fact was that he secretly liked having you close to him, pretending that it's a way of paying him back for whatever reason, more so share your sweet company and yes, of course, it's a bit of a predicament taking into consideration that he literally cannot stand your guts and neither can you force yourself to like his.

it's a bit embarrassing and you're barely being able to grasp on how much you you were capable to hate another person, yet the second you hear his voice, it's a horrible sound, one that you eagerly wanted to choke right out of him.

well, if only ayato wouldn't be so adapt with your body— remembering every part of you, didn't matter to him if it's been a week or a month, he remembers and targets the spots he knew had to be taken care of.

because the yashiro commissioner knows how to fuck you, please you and make you sob out uncontrollably— you have clearly had the opportunity to experience it yourself and even now, while pressed down against his work desk, with both legs tightly shut around his waist, you almost forget about all the deep-rooted hatred that was growing inside of your heart.

every dip and curve, his hand would find when he drags his cock through your walls with each whimper of his name littering across his ear shells, his sensitive tip repeatedly pushing in and out of your soaked walls that the constant pressure of penetration was making your head spin, your shaking frame twitching under him as he curves ever so wonderfully into your warm cunt.

it's too good, too delicious to pass up on when you forget all circumstances and focus on the hate induced thrusts of his pelvis rutting against yours— both minds being drunk of lust and that sensual taste of sex and euphoria lingering across the room, your pussy convulsing as his lips melt against your own, shushing all your worries.

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

"look at that," scaramouche grinned down on you, excited from head to toe, his ego downright overflowing when his tip pushes and presses into your warm, pulsing spots as he stares down on where your bodies connected.

his cock was slipping in an embarrassingly easy pace that it's quite shameful now that you think back on it, well, almost— at least scaramouche knew what places to target in order to make your spine curve and quiver when he leans his weight over your body to split your cunt a little better as he bucks backward, driving the intruding force of his length deeper with one hand steady on your shoulder.

you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a warm, passionate kiss before he sloppily groans into your mouth, his tongue lapping across your own when repeated thrusts power through the tight ring of your hole, his pelvis continuously kicking against you and forcing your spine to bend into his chest, "hah, i can barely move," he smirks, "you're too tight— embarrassing," he drawls, your walls fluttering as he leans his sweaty forehead over your own.

"seems like you missed me," scaramouche urges, hovering on top of you with a toothy smile, despite that leaning in for more, his fastened breathing close to your flustered cheeks as he grinds his cock deeper, finer and better— a small, little shade of pink manifesting across his face, everything about it was so sensual, so exposed.

without a doubt, whenever you would cross paths it would always end in the same story playing on repeat, almost like a broken record— and despite the fact that you weren't fond of him, or, scrap that, despite the fact that you hated him, a lot, you did like it, like him, kind of— most definitely when he fucks you like he hates you, because he does, but kisses you like you're in possession of the most delicious and softest lips.

or, digging a little deeper, when he, sometimes, wraps his arm around your waist when he accidentally falls asleep right beside you, hiding his fatigued face against your neck, leaning into your touch as he intertwines one hand with yours to stroke his thumb over your knuckles.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

it's a hard punch in your gut when alhaitham first stated that he didn't like you, nope, wasn't a fan of yours at all— and the way he phrased it infuriated you the most, it was so arrogant, detached and almost like he wanted you to know and feel bad.

it's not like you were forcing him to like you or anything, but the fact that he thought it was appropriate to tell you out of the blue while disregarding any negative emotions such confession could cause— to say it made you loathe him, detest his being with every vein in your body, was an understatement, truly.

but now, suddenly it's anomalous, like the first bite out of a warm home-made pastry you have never tried before.

then, a sudden wave of pleasure hits you, strong enough that you whimper when he first places both hands on your figure, when you find yourself pressed against a cold wall, a new sensation that was laced in thrill and excitement lusting up from deep inside, aflame and alive through your flesh like liquid fire in your veins.

your bodies were moving while concealed beneath the darkness with the scribe's hand long since stored under your panties and rubbing slow, precise circles on your clit— and the thought of doing something so sinful in the midst of the night, not to mention outside, was almost enough to turn you on entirely, drench his palm with your slick when the boiling heat inside of you changes its shape, manifesting into something exceptional.

"that— that doesn't change anything!" you argue, scowling as you lean your head against his chest, "you're still a snob."

"huh, what?" alhaitham huffs in between a relatively normal breathing, as if he didn't just fuck two fingers into your hole and was the single reason for your legs turning to jelly, wantonly destroying your stability, "i think you don't know what that word means," he mutters before rolling his eyes at you.

archons, you're so annoying, alhaitham could honestly tell you those exact words over and over again until he'd get a headache— and it fucks him up, you do, you never fail to irritate him but also make him intrigued. ugh, it fucks him up so dearly and you destroy his rational thoughts, he wanted to do nothing more other than distance himself from you if only you wouldn't be so damn addicting, and soft, or reactive when he prods one finger against your hole.

awakening at the touch, your desire for him flares anew as you buck your hips forward, driving his finger deeper, his digit spilling right into you when you greet him with a broken cry, your hips rolling and needful for more— alhaitham's eyes never averting their gaze from you, your hips searching and clinging on his body, a slight tremble reaching your spine when you hold your gaze on him, all now feeling in different way.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[acciotaitlynn]

It's only been a few months since you and Xavier started your new chapter together, but already, you can't envision life without him. Moving so far from your best friend is proving to be difficult, but things get a lot worse when Sylus...catches feelings?

♡ pt.1

‧₊˚ ┊xavier⤷fem!reader⤶sylus

‧₊˚ ┊sexual content, 18+, smut with some plot, angst, unprotected sex, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱fingering, handjob, restraints, marking/claiming, overstim, non/dub somnophilia, polyamory, cuckold themes, "guide my hand. tell me where to touch her, xavier," type thing, rough & soft, mostly softie sylus, there's a little heat between the guys, reader is not mc from lads

‧₊˚ ┊25k wc

༝ domxavier/subsylus/subreader, but all switch a bit (give sub sylus a chance 😩)

༝ pet names used: sweetie, dove, little birdie/angel, baby,"toy", good girl

This is pt.2 to a request I really enjoyed doing. I started writing this immediately after pt.1, but it took forever. I had to find a way to justify hurting Xavier that didn't make me hate myself 😭 let it be known that some sparks start flying between the guys halfway through a certain scene 🙈 they were begging; I couldn't help it. Not edited. I don't want to look at it ever again 😵‍💫 Tags: @littlecrow-littledove @lilithdaintyrose @cordidy: the sylus and mai scene is at the end if you want to skip to it!

The scent of something burning rips you from your dreams, prompting a low, frustrated groan as you force yourself to sit up and peer around your room. Over the past six months, the lingering smell has become all too familiar. When moving in with Xavier, you had no clue that he was such a terrible cook. Which wouldn’t be an issue if he didn’t insist on making you breakfast every morning. The thoughtfulness of it warms your heart, but secretly, you wish you could ban him from the kitchen altogether.

Soft fairy lights guide your way down the hallway as you slip on a robe. “We need to set a new rule,” you mumble groggily upon locking eyes with Xavier’s wide, innocent gaze. He stands clutching a tray of burnt biscuits, frantically fanning the smoke hanging in the air.

“Please wait until I wake up to cook. You need supervision, and I’m exhausted from being woken up so early,” you pout. He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes, mimicking your displeased expression before tossing the charred lumps into the trash with an exaggerated “Fine.”

A teasing, sultry smile curls your lips as you draw close, cradling his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Xavier takes in your adorable, sleep-rumpled features with a smile as your touch grows more insistent. “I am pretty hungry though… and since you ruined breakfast, this will have to do,” you whisper, desire taking you hostage as your gaze traces his bare chest.

Fingers sneaking under the waistband of his sweatpants, you shoot him a mischievous grin. His pretty eyes darken as you drop to your knees before him, taking his boxers down with you. Xavier’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you kneeling, a quiet curse slipping out as you lift your shirt just enough for him to glimpse your breasts. Bunching your hair up, you guide his hand in a silent gesture. His fingers instantly tangle, tugging tight as your tongue flicks over the tip of his cock to taste him.

The suction of your lips around his head has him swollen and firm under your touch in seconds. Cupping your chin, his hand guides you as you take him in completely, moaning at his taste as he fills your throat. Taking him deep a few times and popping him out, you spit on his length, coating it languidly as you meet his gaze.

“I think it’s only fair that you feed me...” you murmur, wrapping his free hand around his shaft. With your mouth open wide and your tongue flat, you invite him in. Tightening his grip on your hair, his eyes fill with so much desire they make your body hum with delight. Adjusting your face to his liking, he fucks it without hesitation. Xavier knows your desire is to please him, and he’s more than willing to oblige.

With deep, precise thrusts, he aims to leave your pretty face ruined when he’s finished. At his climax, Xavier pushes his cock deep it brings a jolt of pain, releasing his warm, comforting release while he strokes your hair tenderly. Greedily swallowing every drop, a sated hum leaves you as tears stream down your cheeks, gagging and drooling around him.

Lifting you onto the counter, Xavier meets your blissful gaze, wasting no time before his fingers slip under your shorts. It feels so good when his finger slides through your slick folds that it pains you to pull away, trapping his hands in yours. Gently freeing himself from your grasp, he instinctively reaches for you again. Giving you a petulant look, he retorts, “But I’m hungry too…” before silencing you with a needy kiss.

Rejecting Xavier is incredibly challenging. With an undeniably addictive touch, his kicked-puppy expression only adds to the allure. Cupping your breast, his teeth tease a sensitive spot on your neck, eliciting soft whimpers from you as he tries to break your resolve. While he almost succeeds, you gather your composure and push him back gently. His pouty face brings a smile to your lips as you playfully poke his rosy cheek. “I’m already running late.”

“You know I’ll make it quick.” His voice, low and sensual, stirs your desire, making your thighs press together in an attempt to restrain your arousal. Yet, you counter, “Yeah, right. One orgasm from me turns you into a hungry beast who craves more. You’ll have me missing work altogether if you get a taste.” 

Acknowledging that you’re right, he rolls his eyes, looking every bit like a disappointed child. But in moments, his expression softens as he cups your cheek, giving your nose a gentle nuzzle. “You owe me dinner later, angel,” he murmurs, smirking at your blushing cheeks before heading for the fridge.

As you rush and prepare for the day, you pause to embrace Xavier on your way out. Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, he offers a gentle smile and inquires, “What time do you finish work tonight? I’ll grab takeout before you get home. No cooking, I promise.”

A wave of guilt washes over you. You haven't told Xavier of your plans with Sylus yet. You’ve been dreading this moment—Sylus is a delicate topic lately, prompting you to avoid mentioning him altogether.

Letting an apology shine in your eyes, you meet Xavier’s gaze. “I forgot to mention that Sylus will be in town today... We’re meeting up for drinks. You’re more than welcome to join us,” you offer hesitantly.

A mix of emotions crosses his features as he backs away. Unease wars within Xavier as he questions, “He was just here. Why does he need to return so soon?” 

“He has something to take care of nearby, and he thought it would be nice to see me while he’s in town,” you explain, deliberately omitting the part where Sylus mentioned it would be a wasted trip without seeing you.

He shoots you a cold glare that strikes like a physical blow. “I’m not really in the mood to go out. I picked up a book yesterday that I’m eager to start,” he responds, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. The way he avoids meeting your eyes makes your heart sink. “Stay safe. The offer for takeout still stands,” he mentions before heading towards the bedroom.

You shut your eyes, taking long, deep breaths in an attempt to quell your anxiety. This tension with Xavier is agonizing, especially since he’s always been your pillar of comfort and happiness. And knowing he has valid reasons to feel uneasy hurts you more than anything else.

Initially, when you moved here, Sylus would stop by a couple of times a month. But recently, his visits have become increasingly frequent. Last month alone, he made eight trips, causing Xavier to grow suspicious of his intentions. Sylus maintains that he’s in the area for business purposes, a fact that secretly brings you solace as you miss his presence. Having been a constant in your life for nine years, the distance feels unsettling.

Resolving to ask Sylus to reduce his visits, you hope it will alleviate some of Xavier’s concerns. Nevertheless, a sense of sorrow hangs over you like a shadow throughout the day, intensifying each time your friend crosses your mind.

A smirk dances on Sylus’s lips as he slides a bag across the table and settles into the booth. Suspicion washes over you, shooting a look of betrayal at the gift.

“Why do you insist on torturing me like this?” you exclaim, frustration creeping into your voice. You hate receiving gifts, a fact that Sylus is well aware of.

“Is it really torture, sweetie? You insist on using my phone to search for things you want, then act surprised when I buy them for you,” he replies, a teasing gleam in his eyes as he leans back.

With an exasperated sigh, you peek into the bag and spot a pair of boots you remember trying on during a shopping trip. “I never searched for these, Sylus! I only tried them on that day!” you protest, skepticism coloring your tone.

He casually shrugs, draping his arm over the booth while scanning the room with his piercing crimson gaze. “Fortunately for you, this bar doesn’t offer karaoke,” he quips, flashing a wicked grin.

“That’s exactly why I picked it,” you shoot back, grimacing in annoyance as he playfully tousles your hair.

His tone shifts to amusement as he warns, “Don’t underestimate me—I might just stand on this table and start a choir, sweetie. You’re tempting fate.”

As the drinks flow and the conversation continues, you find it increasingly difficult to leave. The night grows late, and although you should head home, a sense of concern gnaws at you when you notice Sylus gazing absently at a TV across the room. 

Offering him a gentle smile, you move to his side of the booth. A fleeting expression flips across his features, disappearing before you can place it. His usual composed, slightly cocky demeanor slides in effortlessly to take its place.

“Ever heard of personal space, dove?” he teases, raising an eyebrow with a smirk as he looks at you. Unfazed, you roll your eyes. “Since when has that been an issue?”

For a brief moment, hesitation crosses his face before his grin widens. Slipping an arm around your shoulders, he eases back, sighing softly as he rests his head against yours.

Seeing Sylus so weary and worn out—a rare sight—causes worry to wrap around your heart. In an attempt to lift his spirits, you playfully tickle his side, but he intercepts your hand, shooting you a warning glare that silently says, “Behave.”

Smiling, you lean into him, closing your eyes to savor the comfortable silence enveloping you both. It takes you a few moments to realize that Sylus is still holding your hand, cradling it delicately where it rests on his thigh. Without a second thought, you intertwine your fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. Grip tightening briefly, his eyes snap open as his silver brows furrow in surprise.

He relaxes quickly, though, his lips curving into a small smile as his thumb lightly traces your skin. A strange warmth flutters through you at his gentle touch. Your eyes widen as they focus on his hand, noticing how it swallows yours whole. How can hands so large feel so gentle? Suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous, you clear your throat to distract yourself. 

“Do you need to vent about anything? I can tell you're not doing well…” you start, worry seeping into your voice.

He remains silent for a long moment before murmuring, “I appreciate the offer, dove. But not this time.” 

A fresh wave of apprehension rises as you resist the urge to pry. Sylus always opens up when he’s ready. “Okay,” you whisper, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling away. Your frantic heart slows, an odd sense of relief washing over you as the contact ends. Thinking of Xavier waiting for you, you suddenly feel very eager to get home. “I need to get going. It’s getting late,” you say with a smile.

Confusion fills you when Sylus releases his hold on your shoulder but doesn’t get up to leave with you. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours for a long moment before he replies, “I think I’ll stay for a while, sweetie. Be safe getting home.” 

His demeanor suddenly turns distant as he shuts his eyes again in a silent dismissal. The fierce stinging sensation in your chest at what feels like a rejection surprises you. Irritation bubbles up as you grab your purse and silently leave the bar.

Xavier is still awake when you get home, lounging on the couch with a nearly finished book in his hands. Slipping onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, you draw him in for a lingering kiss. He greets you with a gentle smile before turning back to his reading, absentmindedly stroking your hair. Resting your head against his chest, you listen to his slow, steady heartbeat, feeling immediate relief as your body relaxes and the day's worries ease away.

You drift in and out of sleep as he finishes the last few chapters of his book, stirring as he sets it aside. Kicking out the footrest, he pulls you on top of him, enfolding you in his arms and nuzzling your neck with a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he murmurs, pressing delicate kisses to your skin. 

You lean into his touch effortlessly. “It’s okay... I promise I understand.” Savoring his taste, your tongue explores his mouth languidly as your fingers trail under his shirt.

Body becoming pliant in your hands, Xavier silently grants you permission to do as you please. You straddle him, deepening the kiss as you grind down on his erection with a slow roll of your hips. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair and gripping tightly, you elicit a strained gasp of pleasure. His pretty eyes flutter shut as his hands find your waist and guide your movements.

Each taste of his skin and sweat is amplified by the sweet sounds escaping him as your lips trace the contours of his neck. “Don’t I owe you dinner?” you whisper with a mischievous smile. 

He hesitates briefly, his eyes flickering away before he murmurs, “What if I just lay here, and you use my body in any way you want.” Arousal courses through you, your cheeks flushing furiously at his words. The request is something new from him. Intercepting your hands as they wander to his pants, he gently commands, “Clothes off, angel.”

Blushing even deeper, you stand and slowly remove your dress, unhook your bra, and slip off your panties. Xavier’s throat bobs, awe shining in his voice as his gaze wanders your form. “You are so beautiful…” he murmurs.

Your heart clenches painfully at the deep adoration in his eyes. With a tender smile, you beam back at him.

Just as you’re about to straddle him again, you pause, eyeing his clothed body with a pout. His voice shimmers with need as he responds, “Don’t people dress their dolls up for different occasions? My owner will have to tell me how she wants me.” There’s a faint roughness to his tender tone, an undercurrent of raw emotion sending shivers down your spine. 

Suddenly, you feel incredibly nervous about this shift in dynamic. But you resolve to give Xavier what he’s asking for—what he seems to need, judging by the plea in his eyes. Voice soft but firm, you instruct, “Then, for starters, I’d like my toy naked and in my bed.” He gives you a gentle smile and a lingering kiss before leaving the room. 

Xavier typically prefers taking on a dominant role in bed, which suits your tastes perfectly. But you can’t deny the excitement bubbling at the thought of reversing roles. And if you were going to do this, you’re all in.

Arousal washes over you when you enter the bedroom and see his naked form. He’s already hard and ready for you, the sight making your breath catch as a string of precum trails from his cock to his boxers when he frees himself. 

Heat sparks in Xavier’s eyes when he notices the ropes you’re carrying. He appears almost nervous as you softly instruct him, “Rest back against the headboard for me.” Tying his arms and legs to each end of the bed, you silently restrain him. Once you’re confident he won’t free himself, you straddle him again and grab the scarf.

Eyes widening in surprise before everything goes dark, his body starts to tremble as you lean in and press your tongue into his eager mouth. Gentle caresses slowly ignite with intensity as you bite and suck at his lips until they’re slick and puffy.

He’s simply perfect. Lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his body quivering at even the lightest of your touches. Cupping his cheeks, you kiss from his forehead down to his nose. A strained breath escapes him as his hips subtly grind into the air.

His voice carries an undeniable plea as he murmurs, “Please… I need to hear your voice.” 

The control you hold over him fills you with giddiness as a smile lights up your face. Your voice is teasing and sensual as you reply, “Hmm… I’ll talk to you. As long as you behave like my good, sweet boy.” 

Brushing your thumb over his perked nipple, you elicit a low, decadent sound in response. Your breath catches as his cock twitches beneath you in reaction to your words. 

“I’ll be so good for you, angel, I promise,” he breathes. 

“My poor baby,” you murmur, gathering some of his pre-cum on your fingertips before licking them clean with a pleased hum. His erection looks painfully hard. 

“That sure looks like it hurts,” you muse with feigned concern. Your touch brushes him lightly again as you ask, “Is it uncomfortable, Xai?” 

Wiggling in the restraints, his hips grind up in a desperate attempt to seek friction as he nods frantically. Stroking him slowly, you spread his essence around until he’s giving you sweet little moans. When he’s close to finishing, you let his length plop onto his stomach, earning a pained groan in return. 

“Want to mark your body this time…” you murmur. Xavier nearly whines as you work a bruise on his skin with deep pulls of your mouth. Arousal floods you as you pull back to admire your work with a faint smile. 

You can understand now why putting marks on you is such a potent aphrodisiac for Xavier. Watching the bruise darken, you feel as if you might burn alive. His form quivers as you place your palm over the spot, with only one word running through your mind—mine. 

Moving over his chest slowly, you create a few more marks before warming his nipple with your breath as you pull it into your mouth. A low groan escapes as his head tilts back with a low, broken curse. Grinning at his needy sounds, you tease him with flicks of your tongue. His strangled voice tugs at your heart. “Do—do you like using me like this?” Hope colors his voice, a blush spreading beneath the blindfold. 

“I love it... I love you,” you admit softly, your cheeks reflecting his rosy hue.

He groans, pleading, “Kiss me—even just once…” 

To tease him, you tighten his restraints a bit, definitely not expecting him to mumble “tighter.” 

Worry stirs within you as you comply, the ropes digging into his skin—enough to surely leave marks. He assures you that he's okay, though, sinking into the bed and murmuring, “Perfect.”

Sliding down his body, your fingertips trail over his abs as you settle between his legs. Pressing kisses just above his cock, your tongue flicks out to taste him. 

His hips grind up with a frustrated groan when he doesn’t feel the warmth of your mouth envelop him after the teasing touch.  “And you call me a slut…” you tease, clicking your tongue in mock disapproval.

Sucking one of his balls into your mouth, you release it with a wet pop and a pleased hum. The restraints tighten as he curses and tugs on them in exasperation before trying to calm himself. Head tilting back, he takes deep breaths, biting his bottom lip sharp enough to draw blood. His amusement shines through as he asks, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Humming in confirmation, your words are a teasing melody as you taunt, “Tell me how much you like being my pretty little fuck toy, Xavier. Need to hear you say it…” 

Struggling to speak, his cock pulsing under the press of your lips, he manages, “I—fuck, baby. You know I do. Now please suck my cock… Just—just for a minute, angel?” he pleads. 

Giggling, you murmur, “Okayy… but only for a minute.” Languidly sucking around the edges, you feel him grow even firmer beneath your teasing tongue. Sounds of raw desire slip from you both, twisting your core into knots as you take him deep into your throat.

Burying himself to the hilt with a pointed thrust, you allow him this moment, holding still as he fucks your face with slow, deliberate strokes. Then, you pop him out of your mouth with a teasing smile, caressing his length as you scold, “Dolls don’t move on their own, Xavier. They stay still and do as they’re told.” 

His lips part in disbelief before a smile stretches across his face. Relaxing against the headboard, his voice is rough as he replies, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Admiring the sheer pleasure you’re bringing him, nearly high on his ecstasy alone, you whisper,  “Good boy,” before taking him into your mouth again. Desperate to fulfill his desires, you put your heart into every stroke and flick of your tongue until he’s whining beneath you. 

Kissing along his shaft, you whisper tender praises along his skin, his pretty sounds growing needier. As he nears climax, you draw back, eliciting a frustrated growl. Giggling, you guide his cock through your wet folds as you straddle his hips. A pained sound escapes him as his body trembles with restraint.

Guiding his chin, you study his face and the blush on his cheeks. “Xavier?” He tilts his head a little, his lips forming a gentle smile. Kissing him delicately, you murmur, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Lost in the sensation of grinding against him, his warmth sliding through your slippery folds, you both cling to each other tightly, savoring the intimacy.

“Don’t cum yet, Xavier. Just me,” you scold playfully. With a firm nod and a strained breath, his head knocks against the headboard.

Smiling against his lips, your tongue seeking his, you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him close. 

Your hips move faster as you chase release, your breath gentle against his ear. “You break me apart without even touching me…” Nuzzling into his neck with a needy moan as your orgasm approaches, your core tightens almost painfully. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard…” Just before you do, you impale yourself fully on him, clenching and pulsating around him in waves. A strangled, needy sound escapes you both as you eagerly bounce on his cock.

“Need to see you,” you whisper as you remove the blindfold, gazing into his eyes and kissing him again. Brows knitting together, he searches your face. The desire and love etched into your features push him dangerously closer to what he's been instructed not to do.

Xavier needed this so badly—he needed to feel your desire for him, even if he couldn’t fully grasp why. Desperately craving to see if using him for your pleasure would drive you as wild as it does him. Relief washes over him as he observes your blissful expression before your lips melt against his neck as you quietly chant his name against his skin like a prayer.

Gently gripping his throat, you kiss him, whispering, “I…I take it back… Please fill me up.” Xavier groans, nibbling and tugging at your lip, urging you to meet his gaze. Watching every flicker of ecstasy that graces his face as he releases himself, he struggles to keep his eyes on yours until they finally shut as his head falls back, his reverence for you escaping in a murmur. You keep riding him until he’s squirming in his restraints, begging you for a break.

Sliding him out of you with a grin, you playfully nuzzle his face. “Is my sweet boy feeling sensitive?” you pout, earning a raised brow and an amused grin from him. “You’re the literal Overstim King, babe. You can handle it,” you tease, rolling your eyes as you begin untying his restraints.

The moment he’s free, Xavier cradles you from behind and slides back inside you. Pulling you close and burying himself deep, he relaxes against you with a soft, happy sigh. Adjusting your pillow as you pull up the covers, you nestle against him as his cock softens inside you, finding instant relaxation in his embrace.

As sleep begins to take you, you remember that Xavier is leaving for a mission the next day. “Do you know when you’ll be back from the trip?”

“Mhm. Shouldn’t be more than two days. I have to leave early... probably before you wake up,” he replies in a drowsy murmur. 

The thought makes you unbearably sad. Two days seems short, but you haven't been apart from Xavier for longer than a day since moving in together.  “Fine. But promise to text me every chance you get,” you grumble. Sealing the pact with your pinkies, he chuckles softly before drifting into a peaceful slumber, pulling you along with him.

Waking late in the morning, you take a deep breath of air free from the scent of burnt biscuits, and it hits you that there might be one silver lining to Xavier spending a few days away. Seizing the moment, you decide to clean while you have the place to yourself. At first, you’re singing and dancing around as you work, your mood high as you move through the house. But it isn’t long before nagging thoughts drown out the music and sour your good mood. Sylus was really upset last night… You sensed it but chose not to push him; that approach has never been effective in the past. The sadness etched in his features, and the slump of his shoulders were unlike him, and each step makes the memory of his troubled face pierce your heart a little deeper.

Spotting a vase of flowers left by Xavier, you open a note that reads, “I miss you already, beautiful,” alongside a doodle of a smiling star. A giddy feeling washes over you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as flashes of last night consume your thoughts. Was Xavier able to hide the marks the ropes left on his wrists? Will he pleasure himself to the memory while he’s gone? 

Reluctantly, you gather yourself before you can spiral out of control, refocusing on the task at hand. You had said nothing to Sylus about cutting back on his visits last night… You couldn’t—not when he showed up looking so worn down. The constant anxiety this discourse is bringing is becoming downright exhausting. Perhaps some time away from both of them will help you sort through your increasingly complicated feelings.

The way your heart faltered last night when you entwined your fingers with Sylus’s... It was a simple gesture, no different from his arm around your shoulders, yet it carried an intimacy that none of your previous touches have. And the way his thumb brushed your skin as he turned to you with those striking eyes…

Striking? … This is Sylus you’re talking about… You’ve always thought his eyes were pretty, sure, but striking? You quickly shut down that line of thought and the idea that there might be a twinge of attraction towards your best friend. Deciding to ditch the cleaning for now, you opt for a jog around the block to clear your head.

It’s futile, the exercise helps push the uncomfortable thoughts aside only temporarily. Upon returning home, you find the source of your unease sitting on your sofa, reassembling a handgun. Your heart thumps at seeing him, but you narrow your eyes and ask, for what feels like the millionth time, “How did you get in here, Sylus?”

He meets your irritated gaze with a raised brow and a bored look. “You already know the answer to that, dove. Maybe you should start asking why I’m here instead.” His expression reveals nothing about how he’s feeling today, but he looks at you as softly as he always does.

Sitting beside him, you earn a confused glance as your knee brushes against his thigh, and you pull away to create more space between you. It so feels strange to shy away from his touch. His stare is thoughtful as he searches your face before ultimately looking away.

He cleans the gun with familiar, meticulous movements. Stretching out long on the sofa, you prop your head on a cushion to watch him. The comforting sound of the cloth brushing over metal and Sylus’s presence quickly brings you a sense of serenity. But the worry still lingers…

“Sy? Why are you here?” you ask gently.

He glances your way, and for a moment, you expect him to dismiss your concern. Instead, he averts his gaze and replies, “Because I wanted to see you.”

Instinctively moving closer again, you sigh as you lean on his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by, then.”

He chuckles softly, setting the weapon aside and resting his head against yours. Despite how much you detest bringing her up, you force yourself to ask, “How is Mai?”

Sylus stiffens beside you. He’s silent for so long that you wonder if he heard you, but eventually, he responds, “Your guess is as good as mine, dove.”

Confusion washes over you as you pull back to meet his gaze. “Did something happen?”

The corners of his lips curl slightly, but the expression is humorless. His eyes remain unreadable as he responds, “If you consider us breaking up as ‘something,’ then yes, sweetie. Something happened.” The wall he’s trying to build between you is almost visible as he tries to reinforce it.

Taking his chin in a firm hold, you give him an annoyed look that mirrors his own. “Why are you suddenly guarding yourself against me? Have I done something wrong?” You try to mask the hurt in your voice, but it’s too late; your eyes brim with tears.

Grimacing when he sees one fall, his hand cups your cheek as his thumb gently brushes it away. He lingers in the moment, tracing your skin as he searches for the right words to say.

Why does his touch feel so different now? Why do you suddenly ache to lean into it, to have more of it? Sylus pulls his hand back but keeps his gaze locked on yours. “I’ve spoken to you of the other two men who are tangled in her web,” he starts, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before continuing. 

His long fingers have splayed over your thigh before, but they’ve never made your heart race like this. Have his hands always been this beautiful? It takes everything in you to remain calm while he speaks. Though his tone is bored, genuine emotion swirls behind his eyes, his grip on you tightening slightly.

“After Xavier found a way to escape her hold, Mai decided she needed to tighten her grip on the rest of us.” He sighs, leaning his head back and giving you a tender smile when he sees the horror and anger in your eyes. 

“Sylus…” You begin, but he cuts you off, his voice soft. “You know me, dove—while her choosing to fuck them was painful, it wasn’t the issue.” 

Suddenly, he grabs your chin, drawing your face close to his. “How could you not tell me that Mai purposely put you in danger that day?” His voice trembles with fierce anger and hurt, flashing across his features.

Instinctively, you jerk back, releasing a surprised squeak when his grip tightens, pulling you back in.

Looking down at your lap, shame laces your words as you admit, “You love her so much, Sy… I  just— I didn’t want to hurt you...”

Genuine exasperation takes over as he guides your face back to his, murmuring, “Didn’t want to hurt me? But you let me—” He closes his eyes, struggling to steady himself. “How do you think I felt when I found out what she did, having had my cock filling her just hours before? Did you think I would be okay knowing I made love to her for months after she tried to have you killed?” 

His voice is a low, furious growl. Gently cradling your face, he searches your eyes, his expression softening when he sees the confusion and fear.

Taken aback by the intense emotion radiating from him, you can barely get your words out as you whisper, “I’m so sorry, Sylus.”

While you knew Sylus would be pissed if he ever found out what Mai did, you never expected a reaction like this. And you certainly hadn’t thought he would end their relationship over it. His head rests against yours as he releases a deep sigh. “I understand why you didn’t tell me, dove. And while I appreciate your concern—” anger swirls in his eyes as he continues, “Don’t ever do something like this to me again.”

Your eyes widen at the underlying warning in his tone. Nodding softly, you search his face, your eyes flickering rapidly over his features in an attempt to guess his next move. When his eyes drift to your lips, lingering for a moment too long, you panic, thinking he will kiss you.

But instead, he lays down on the sofa, pulling you down with him. 

As his large body envelopes you from behind, you tense with thoughts of Xavier filling your mind. You kissed him in this very spot just last night. Guilt and fear consume you at the thought of him finding you and Sylus like this. Because the way Sylus is holding you is nothing like his typical friendly touches. This is intimate, and his hold on you is almost possessive. 

Sensing your hesitation, Sylus rubs soothing circles on your stomach, the delicate touch sending shivers up your spine. Like honeyed whiskey, his voice wraps around your body and binds it in place. “Relax, sweetie. Your precious hunter isn’t due home for another day.” You immensely regret sharing that information. Your cheeks heat, and your heart pounds, pulling a surprised gasp from you as his breath tickles your ear.

“Consider it your penance for hurting me,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as he settles against you. You want to ask him why he’s acting this way, but the words won’t come. After a while, your body relaxes in his familiar embrace, and you wake hours later to find it dark outside. Drowsiness fades instantly when you feel Sylus’s hand on your bare skin.

At some point, his hand found its way under your shirt, resting just below your breast. Shock bolts you off the couch, propelling you a safe distance away. Disbelief floods your features when you see Sylus wide awake, an amused grin spreading across his face as he watches you panic.

“What has you so flustered, dove? I touch you all the time, do I not?” 

Your lips part in surprise as you search his mirthful gaze. “You know damn well that was different, Sylus!” 

He stands, shrugging and not bothering to respond. You nearly jump out of your skin when he reaches over to brush your hair back. Pulling back completely when his fingers skim your neck, anger swells up at the boundaries he’s so boldly crossing. 

Narrowing your eyes, you snap, “Don’t touch me like that again, Sy, or you’ll lose the right to touch me at all.”

He looks genuinely taken aback before donning his mask, effortlessly taking on his usual calm, cocky demeanor. Gathering his jacket and keys, he grins and asks, “Are we still having dinner tomorrow, or is that not allowed anymore?” 

Having had it with his attitude, you shoot him a cold look. “I think I’ll pass.” 

He chuckles and nods, tossing a casual “See you later, then, sweetie” over his shoulder on his way out.

Growling and throwing a pillow at the front door as hard as possible, you imagine it’s Sylus’s face. The anger subsides much too quickly, and you collapse to the floor, cradling your head as guilt and pain overwhelm you.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you.” 

“Didn’t want to hurt me? But you let me—”

Your phone pings on the coffee table like a gunshot in the stillness of your home. A picture of Xavier lights up the screen. Your heart aches a million times more as his pouty face and blue eyes pierce into you. 

Xavier: Hot pot when I get home?

Xavier: All they’ve fed me R peanut butter sandwiches…

Xavier: I let them know they need to adjust their meal plan. How R we supposed to fight Wanderers on nothing but fumes? 

Xavier: Please send meat

Xavier: Can’t wait to see you, angel <3

Unable to think of a single thing to say, you set the phone back on the table, retreating to the safety of your bed. Breathing in Xavier’s scent as you hug his pillow, tears form in your eyes as you shut them tight and imagine he’s holding you. Clinging to his presence in your mind, you let it wrap you in its safe embrace as you drift off to sleep. 

Whether it’s due to physical exhaustion, mental anguish, or both, you sleep for eleven hours straight. To be honest, you could go for eleven more. Weighed down by thoughts and emotions, your body aches as if you’re sick. But it feels like the perfect night for wine and a movie. The horror flick plays in the background as you text Xavier back.

Xavier: R U sure ur not sick? U should try to get some more rest

Xavier: I’ll be home in the morning to take care of you

You: Tell them I’m deathly ill & need you tonight :’ (

Xavier: Will tell them I'm starving to death and have to go home

Xavier: I got U a Wanderer plushie. It's ugly, but U will like it

Xavier: Wear 1 of my sweaters until I can hold you <3

You: Already in 1 ; )

Xavier: …omw home they’ll be fine without me

A giddy grin lights your face as you start thinking about Xavier’s hands traveling under said sweater and—

A knock at the front door interrupts your growing fantasy, instantly cloaking you in unease.

Barefoot, you pad down the hall, wondering whether or not you want to open it, as there’s only one person it could be.

Sylus’s disheveled appearance pulls a startled gasp from you. His hair is messy from the grip of his hands—a telltale sign of his anxiety. Rosy cheeks and ears, his red eyes burn brightly as they pierce through your very being. The smell of whiskey is potent, but you’d know he’s drunk even without it. The unfamiliar heat brewing in his eyes as his gaze traces your curves shakes you to your core.

Sadness still clings to him like a dark cloud, prompting you to keep your voice gentle as you ask, “What are you doing here?”

You’ve never seen Sylus falter before, but he does as he searches your face. “I just—” he shakes his head, trailing off hesitantly.

Putting some distance between the two of you might be best, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away when he’s in such obvious pain. His face lifts in surprise as you give him a soft smile, taking his hand and guiding him inside.

Leading him to the kitchen, you force him to drink two tall glasses of water before sitting on the counter and studying him closely. As he observes you back, the moment feels reminiscent of the staring contests the two of you often hold. Both of you smile softly as if thinking of the same memory. Sylus is much more open and honest when he drinks this much... This may be an opportune time to get some answers.

“What’s going on with you lately? And why are you standing way over there?” you ask, noticing he still stands at the kitchen’s entryway, looking almost nervous. 

Irritation flashes on his features as he replies, “I’m no longer allowed to touch you. I wasn’t sure if I have a proximity limit now, too.” 

Disbelief clouds your voice as you snap, “Don’t play dumb, Sylus. You know damn well that having your hand that close to my breast was not one of your typical touches!”

Sylus tilts his head, observing you intently. His soft voice takes your breath away as he says, “I’m beginning to see that the way I touch you has never been mere friendliness.”

Somewhere between a scoff and a squeak, you choke out, “What? Sylus! You don’t mean that!” Sylus chuckles and gives you a sad smile when you make the words sound like an indisputable fact.

He comes closer, stopping just shy of your knees. Propping his hand on the counter beside you, he carefully adheres to your no-touching rule. When his eyes meet yours, they hold a desperate plea. “I need permission to touch you one last time, dove.” 

Your heart cracks at “one last time.”

“Why?” you barely manage to whisper.

“I need to show you something,” he murmurs.

Confusion and unease spike at his words, but without much thought, you find yourself nodding in silent permission. The light returning to his eyes melts your heart in ways it shouldn’t.

His fingers brush your cheek and travel down your neck just like yesterday. Though he’s barely touching you, his warmth feels searing, and it’s taking every bit of your self-control to remain still.

His touch travels your arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you manage to utter a strangled, “W–why are you…” 

His fingers brush down your arm and neck again as he asks, “How many times have I touched you like this, sweetie?” 

Your throat bobs nervously as your wide eyes watch his hand travel across your body. “Um… a lot, I guess…” you admit quietly.

He hums, nodding in agreement as he traces shapes on your stomach. “And here?” You give him a clipped nod, releasing a huff of breath as you shut your eyes tight and try to convince yourself that you hate what's happening.

Slipping under your sweater, the traces a circle on your bare skin, murmuring into your ear, “Do you remember that trip to the mountains? We spent the night drinking in the pool and watching the stars.” 

Sylus closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. Slowly, his hand splays over your stomach, unsettlingly close to the spot that irked you yesterday. “I held you in my lap that night, soaking up your warmth just like this...”

His hands wrap around your thighs next as he spreads them and steps closer. Tilting your chin, he locks eyes with you, the blatant desire etched into his features stealing your breath away.

“Now tell me, do any of these touches feel simply companionable to you?” Sylus asks.

Definitely not. Not this time, anyway. But, unwilling to accept whatever is happening, you nod and do your best to lie. “They do to me,” you say, your voice much firmer than you’d expected. Maybe he’ll actually believe it.

He nods softly, inching his hands a little further up your thighs. “I thought so once, too. But—” He tilts his head, amusement playing on his features as he murmurs, “Think about it. How many friends do you know that behave as we do, sweetie?”

Fear courses through you as you whisper, “Why are you doing this?” You wish he’d stop talking and leave your house because he’s turning your entire life upside down. 

His hands leave your thighs to cradle your face. “I don’t let people get this close to me. You know me better than anyone. I constantly seek your touch, your presence. I run to you without a second thought when I'm upset. Even with Mai, I found myself aching for something as simple as karaoke with you…” You can’t breathe as his agonized gaze meets yours, and he says, “I don’t know how I missed it, dove. I’m sorry.” 

The compulsion to comfort him grows too powerful, and you draw him in for a hug, gasping in surprise when his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and he rests his head against your shoulder.

As you hold him, stroking his hair and rubbing soothing circles on his back, you realize that Sylus might be right—maybe your relationship has always been more than just companionship.

Gently, you push him away a bit, forcing yourself to say the words that feel like a death sentence, “I won’t do this to Xavier. And… I just don’t feel that way about you, Sylus. I’m sorry.” The words are a whisper you can barely get out.

He grips your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as frustration flashes on his face.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he guides your head back as his other hand tenderly cups your cheek. The kiss is nothing more than a soft press of your lips—delicate and painfully intimate. 

When you pull back to look at him, his blissful expression brings tears to your eyes. The effort it takes not to kiss him again makes your body tremble and your fists ball up tightly.

Sylus gives you a knowing, concerned look when he realizes you’ve reached your limit on how much you can handle. Kissing your forehead, he backs away to give you some space. 

He loathes himself for the tears tracing down your cheeks and for the hurt and confusion that have lingered around you since he began to express his feelings. But he needs you to know the truth. He can only pray that it doesn’t cost him everything you’ve built together.

His voice is gentle and reassuring as he promises, “No matter what happens, I'll never leave you. Remember that.” 

He reaches out to brush your cheek back before pulling away again. “Just do me one more favor. After I leave, replay every trace of my touch on your body. Close your eyes and think of how my lips feel against yours.” His voice is desperate as he finishes, “Tell me then that you truly feel nothing for me, sweetie, and I will find a way past this.” 

When the front door shuts softly behind him, the emotions you’ve been holding back rush to the surface, and panic slams into you with such force that you can’t see past it. It’s in everything you are, swirling like a storm as you choke on your breath, desperately trying and failing to get air into your lungs as your skin tingles almost painfully. 

Nausea sends you running to the bathroom as your body attempts to expel your overwhelming emotions.

You don’t need to do as Sylus asked—you can remember every touch in vivid detail without trying. And though you don’t want to admit it, you are excruciatingly aware of just how good it felt. 

Finding your way back to your safe place, you snuggle under the covers, holding Xavier’s pillow close again and taking deep breaths of his scent to quell your anxiety.

But this time, the comfort of feeling closer to him twists into overwhelming guilt. You force yourself to stay there, feeling terrified, ashamed, and emotionally spent, considering it a penance for hurting the two people you care the most for in this world.

Xavier arrives home the next day to find you curled up in the same spot, hugging his pillow with tears streaming down your face. You haven’t slept or moved at all. 

Concern washes over him at your appearance; exhausted, worn down, and sadder than he’s ever seen you. Fear clouds your features as Xavier sits beside you on the bed. Pulling away when you cry even harder at his touch, he murmurs, “What’s wrong?”

You look down, balling the comforter around you up in your fists. You can’t meet his eyes as you say, “Sy… Sylus left Mai…”

Xavier’s stomach drops. He knows what comes next. Honestly, he's been expecting this moment for some time now. Sylus may have thought his feelings for you were platonic, but when he began to miss you so much that he couldn’t stay away for more than a week, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Mai’s face flashes in Xavier's mind as terror overwhelms him. 

Sylus took Mai from Xavier. Why does he have to take you too?

“What happened?” Xavier repeats. It’s all he can seem to say. He can barely speak, barely breathe.

His sudden, cold, distant tone makes you flinch. “He… he kissed me,” you admit quietly.

He simply nods in response, casting his gaze away as he asks, “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I don’t know.” Shame hits you full force as Xavier gives a quiet, mocking scoff and hangs his head for a moment before standing. You watch helplessly as he packs a small bag, grabs his keys, and finally looks at you. You wish he hadn’t. Genuine anger and fierce hurt lurk in his features. It hurts more than anything else has. “I won’t be back. I’m not doing this. Not again.” And then, just like that, he’s gone. You hear the front door close behind him, and the rest of your world shatters apart. 

Strangled, agonized screams consume you as anger adds itself to your turmoil. The vase of forget-me-knots shatters on the floor, the blue blossoms making you unreasonably pissed. Is Xavier seriously going to leave without at least letting you explain yourself?

How can you feel so guilty yet like you’ve done nothing wrong? Why did Sylus have to tell you about his feelings? You wish he would have just kept them to himself. Most frustrating of all, you want nothing more right now than your friend’s comfort.

Sylus picks up on the first ring, and his gentle voice makes you burst into tears again.”Deep breaths, sweetie. I’m on my way.” He was already on his way out the door when he heard your ringtone. A feeling of unease had lingered in him all morning, almost as if he sensed that you weren’t okay. 

He finds you curled up on the wet floor, flowers and glass scattered all around you. Your broken gaze meets his as you whisper, “Please, Sylus… I—I can’t be here right now.” 

Setting you on the edge of the bed, he moves around the room, packing up some of your belongings. After hooking the bag over his shoulder, he wraps you in his arms, tucking your head against his chest. You watch yours and Xavier’s front door close behind you, the click of the lock feeling so final that it makes the reality of the situation sink in.

You’ll never wake up to the smell of burnt biscuits again. You’ll never again feel the most tender love you’ve ever experienced—the most precious thing in the world to you, gone in the blink of an eye. Xavier left you so easily that you can’t help but wonder if you meant that much to him after all.

Sylus purchased a house nearby shortly after breaking things off with Mai. He kept his place in the N109 Zone for business, but it no longer feels like home without you. Telling you this makes him incredibly nervous, but his worries are unfounded. When he sets you down on his sofa, you take a teary-eyed look around the room before turning to him and whispering, “When, Sy?”

He clears his throat and rakes his hand through his hair. “A few months after you left,” he admits quietly. 

You give him a gentle smile, tenderness playing on your features. “Do you think my best friend could hold me for a while? 

In moments, he has you wrapped in his arms, carrying you into the bedroom and setting you gently on the bed. 

“Sylus…” you start, as a fresh wave of anxiety flows through you at being in his room.

He smirks when he sees an adorable blush spread across your cheeks. Lifting your chin to meet his gaze, his voice is firm as he promises, “I only want to hold you.” 

Relief fills you as you nod, moving over to give him room. Sylus is ripped in two at your pained whisper, “He’s gone...” Squeezing you tighter, he kisses your hair, murmuring, “I’m sorry, dove… This was never what I wanted.”

While the way he holds you feels intimate, Sylus doesn’t attempt to cross any boundaries in the slightest. 

You curl up at his side, laying your head against his chest. The only touch he places on you is the entwining of your fingers, resting just above his heart.

Days turn into weeks as Sylus watches you retreat so far into yourself that he worries you may never return. He persuaded you to stay with him for the time being—he can’t bear the thought of leaving you alone like this. 

When you’re not working or sleeping, he often finds you staring at the wall or television with a distant look in your eyes. He often has to coerce you into eating or caring for yourself. You’ve begun to shy away from his touch, rarely even wanting a hug for comfort since that first night. Xavier haunts your mind relentlessly, and it's clear to Sylus that his absence will likely linger with you forever.

Today, however, saw some progress. Getting up to shower and get dressed sapped most of your energy, but it made you feel a bit more human. Sylus even convinced you to watch the new season of your favorite cooking show, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to open up.

When you return from getting another bottle, you sit beside him, so close that your shoulder brushes his. An amused smirk lights his features when he sees your wide eyes realize what you’ve done. You blush fiercely and adjust slightly, but you don’t move away.

Instantly, a weight lifts from Sylus’s shoulders. He was genuinely worried that you might never forgive him. But then tears form in your eyes when the TV shows a clip of a couple caught in a passionate embrace. He chose the show because it held no romance; ads weren’t something he considered.

Pulling your knees close, you curl into yourself as the pain hits you anew. Sylus kneels before you, resting his hands on your knees and murmuring, “I can’t take the pain away, but I might be able to make it a little better...” 

You search his eyes for so long he almost takes it as a no. But just as he’s about to pull away, you whisper, “Okay.” Picking you up and sitting down, he cradles you in his lap, holding you and stroking your hair as he hums one of your favorite songs.

You let him continue for a few minutes, but eventually, you pull back and, narrowing your eyes, accuse, “That is so not helping, Sylus.”

Chuckling and cupping your chin, he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Pressing down on the plump skin, he says, “There is another way…” His lips brush over your cheeks before trailing to your lips. He kisses you softly, then pulls away, gauging your reaction.

Your eyes don’t leave his lips even for a moment as you whisper, “Again.”

This kiss is deeper, but Sylus pulls back much too soon. “Better?” he asks, hoping for a yes. He can’t bear the thought of stopping.

“A little…” you mumble, your body tingling with pleasure.

He smiles softly, tilting your head to kiss along your jawline and neck. Your eyes drift closed as your body melts against him.

He nuzzles your nose before capturing your mouth again, his tongue exploring slowly and deliberately, memorizing every inch. So this is what it's like to really kiss Sylus… The one before was nothing compared to this. You draw him closer, groaning softly at the taste of him.

He’s like the most potent drug, one that promises to be hell to let go of. He wraps around you and consumes your very being, nearly devouring you whole.

You adjust and straddle his waist, pulling him flush against you as you kiss his cheeks. His eyes flutter shut, accepting the gentle press of your mouth.  When you suck on his ridiculously adorable top lip, you realize how badly you’ve wanted to do it all along. 

His crimson eyes alight with happiness, and his tender smile and joyful laugh make you wish you had been doing this all along. But when his hand travels under your shirt to cup your breast, Xavier’s face flashes in your mind like a physical blow. Jumping off Sylus’s lap with a horrified gasp, your hand clamps tightly over your mouth. 

He doesn’t look upset, only concerned, giving you a gentle, knowing smile. Suddenly, you long for a place you thought you’d never want to see again. 

“Will you take me home, please?” you ask quietly.

Sylus walks over, gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, and murmurs, “I’ll grab my keys.” The fact that he genuinely doesn’t seem upset with you is the only thing that holds you together.

A comfortable silence fills the car ride to your and Xavier’s house. Sylus’s eyes hold a limitless tenderness when he drops you off and promises, “I’ll stop by to check on you tomorrow, sweetie. Call me if you need anything at all.” 

The dark space feels like a bad omen. What was once the most comforting place in the world is now filled with an unsettling melancholy that breaks your heart all over again. You leave all the lights off; you can’t bear seeing Xavier’s things that he never returned for. The rarely used recliner, nearly free of Xavier’s scent, is the only place of solace left here. You curl up with a blanket and pray that sleep brings you at least a little peace.

Xavier may have left your home, but he never truly left you. Sylus finds him at a nearby hotel, and when Xavier opens the door, Sylus barely recognizes him. Typically, Xavier carries himself tall with quiet confidence, but that’s absent now. He looks as if he hasn’t slept since last seeing you, and his wrinkled clothes and messy hair suggest he’s been taking care of himself as well as you have.

His eyes are emotionless as they meet Sylus’s, standing there, assessing him coldly, before moving to shut the door in his face. Sylus jams it with his boot and growls, “We need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Xavier asks in a bored tone. “You’ve got what you wanted. You always do.” He turns and retreats into the room, looking like he couldn’t care less whether Sylus follows or not. 

As Xavier sits down and pours a glass of whiskey, Sylus watches him with genuine sympathy. He can only imagine what Xavier’s going through; the thought of losing you is more than unbearable. 

Xavier leans back, draping his arm over the back of the sofa and meeting Sylus’s eyes. His hardened demeanor falters as he asks, “How is she doing?” 

“She barely eats, barely speaks. It’s difficult to even get her out of bed,” Sylus answers honestly.

Xavier visibly winces and gulps down his drink. Sylus eyes him and asks, “How long has that been a problem?”

Xavier gives him a distant look, shrugging and changing the subject as he says, “I’m sure her pain is a little more bearable when you join her in that bed.”

Sylus laughs, but it holds no amusement. “She won’t let me touch her, Xavier. And she has her own room, with a bed I’ve never laid in.” Sylus shakes his head in frustration at the surprise on Xavier’s face.

“She’ll never entertain the notion of being with me if it costs her you,” Sylus says, resigned to that fact long ago. He'd meant it when he said this was never how he wanted things to go.

He’s been giving Xavier time to come to his senses, but judging by how Xavier is drinking his problems away, it seems unlikely that will happen anytime soon.

Xavier downs his drink and reaches to pour another, but Sylus intercepts the bottle and tucks it away. Xavier shoots him a sharp glare, his calm demeanor cracking, “Why the hell are you here?”

Meeting his gaze, Sylus replies,  “There’s a way for everyone to come out happy in this, you know.” 

Xavier says nothing, simply crossing his arms and sitting back, waiting for Sylus to continue. 

Sylus admits, “I told Mai once that I was open to sharing if that’s what she wanted. She harbored feelings for you, Zayne, and Rafayel, and for a long time, it caused her immense pain. She decided not to pursue that route. But you seem to think I kept her from you when that was never the case.” 

Xavier’s eyes widen in surprise and anger when he realizes what Sylus is suggesting. “Share? You’ve got to be kidding me. Get the fuck out, Sylus,” he hisses. He stands and heads for the bedroom, but Sylus grabs his arm.

“She won’t live without you. And I won’t live without her. Even if I’m destined to only share friendship with her, I won’t leave her side. So shouldn’t we at least try, for her sake, to make this work?” Sylus asks earnestly. Feeling his frustration rise, he pauses, breathing deeply to collect himself before continuing, “Cast your pride aside for one moment, Xavier, and consider the pleasure we could give her,” he murmurs. 

Xavier shakes his head in disbelief, his eyebrows knitting together as he casts his eyes away.

Sylus sighs in exasperation and steps back. “Look. I’m not attempting to anger you by suggesting this, but watch me touch her for the first time. Watch how good it makes her feel. If your cock isn’t hard within minutes from her sweet sounds, then you’re free to walk out the door.” Sylus cocks his head and smirks, throwing in a petty dig to lure Xavier in. “Let’s make a wager on whether or not you can handle it, hunter. What do you say?”

Xavier looks at him like he’s absolutely lost it. But he sighs in resignation, nodding in reluctant acceptance, mainly agreeing to prove to Sylus how wrong he is so Xavier can put this behind him for good. Reinforcing the wall around himself, he replies emotionlessly, “Whatever. But the liquor comes too.”

Sylus steps back to let Xavier enter the house first. Pain surges through him as he walks through the threshold, a place he had hoped never to see again. Despite the darkness, he can make out your form curled up on the recliner. Aching to wrap you in his arms, he forces himself to turn away from your silhouette, heading to the kitchen for a glass.

Attempting to block out his emotions, he turns to Sylus and asks, “Where is the torture taking place?”  

Sylus gives him an amused smirk, gesturing toward the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable,” he taunts, though his look is almost understanding. 

It makes Xavier unreasonably angry. He shakes his head and turns away before he punches Sylus in the face.

Once in the bedroom, Xavier feels lost in a space that no longer feels like his. Desperate for a distraction, he makes the bed and tidies up. Seeing the flowers littering the floor is a painful reminder, filling him with guilt and regret. Eventually, he settles into the reading nook nestled in the bay window, giving him a front-row seat to the bed. 

Dread lingers, but mostly he feels numb. That’s why he keeps drinking—to keep his emotions at bay.

Sylus lays your unconscious form on the bed. Xavier's heart seizes when Sylus gently slips your shorts off, a protest forming on his lips. The only thing keeping him from tearing Sylus apart is that he leaves your lace panties in place.

Xavier downs his drink and pours another, trying to remain calm as Sylus settles against the headboard and pulls your limp form into his lap.

Sylus watches Xavier as his fingers slip under your shirt, traveling across your skin. “Consider this a practice round. You need to compose yourself before she wakes. She won't consent to this if she thinks it might hurt you.” 

Xavier’s gaze travels slowly over your body like a phantom caress, struggling to control his emotions. How could he forget how beautiful you are? He gives Sylus a cold, mocking smile. “Your time starts now, and you don’t have long… Better hurry if you plan to convince me.” 

As if there were any chance of that happening. This entire thing is a waste of time. Xavier will never be okay with another man having you. 

Sylus’s voice is a low, sultry command. “Guide my hand, Xavier… Tell me where to touch her.” 

Fear seizes him as Xavier watches you stir in Sylus’s arms. “I—I can't,” he whispers.

“Yes. You can,” Sylus says firmly. “We can start small, but you need to lead.” He meets Xavier’s eyes. “I concede to the fact that she’s ultimately chosen you. But it’s starting to piss me off that you seem to be taking that for granted. Now, man up, Xavier. Where do I touch her?”

Xavier’s eyes rake over your form again. Starting small is a solid idea. His voice is small as he says, “Hold her hand.” 

Sylus entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking your skin as he waits for the next instruction.

The pain Xavier feels when you stir in your sleep, squeezing Sylus’s hand with a soft sigh, is sharp and brutal. Somehow, he manages to say, “H-her hair is falling in her face. Tuck it back.” 

Sylus is careful not to wake you as he gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

Nausea churns in Xavier’s gut, and his words come out strangled as he whispers, “Run your fingers up and down her arm.”

Holding Xavier’s gaze, Sylus complies. Xavier isn’t even aware that he says, “I… Both arms now,” out loud until he sees Sylus’s touch make slow, torturous trips along the length of the limbs. 

Xavier’s throat bobs as he states, “I think I’m ready. You can wake her up now.” Ready, in reality, for this to be over.

“Keep going,” Sylus commands.

Xavier curses under his breath, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head before sighing in resignation. Pain clouds his blue eyes, seeming to drape over his being like a heavy blanket. Somehow, he chokes out, “Kiss her cheek, then.”

Sylus lifts your chin and kisses your cheek before resting his head against yours, giving Xavier an amused smile. 

“Her lips now…” Xavier whispers on a choked breath. He needs to speed things along; he isn’t sure how much longer he can hold on. It's taking all his self-control not to rip you away from Sylus. Anger and something akin to terror buzz along Xavier’s skin, mixing with the liquor in his body to create an overwhelmingly potent effect.

Sylus hums with satisfaction as he cups your cheek, his eyes searching your sleeping face before capturing your mouth in a lingering kiss. The crimson orbs burn bright as they turn back to Xavier, waiting patiently. 

“Stroke her thighs… but—only a little,” Xavier breathes out, his tone taking on a slightly different note. Sylus can see that he’s still hesitant, but there’s also a faint trace of desire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Sylus chuckles and shakes his head. “Maybe you are ready.” 

Xavier nearly stops him when he starts to draw you out of sleep, but he can’t find it in himself to move, much less speak.

He just watches, wide-eyed, as you open your sleepy eyes, peering up at Sylus in confusion. 

You sense Xavier’s presence immediately. Head snapping up, surprise and happiness light your features before worry washes them out. Searching Sylus's face frantically, your voice is barely a whisper as you ask, “What’s going on…?”

Suddenly, you notice your shorts are gone, and you’re dressed in nothing but one of Xavier’s shirts and your panties, tucked against Sylus’s chest with his hands splayed over your thighs. 

Sylus can see your panic swelling like a visible force. His voice is a low, velvety murmur as he promises, “Everything’s fine, dove. Your hunter and I are just conducting a little experiment, right?” He looks at Xavier and raises his brows expectantly. Xavier keeps his face as blank as possible, meeting your eyes with a clipped nod.

Sylus grips your hips and pulls you close, sitting you up a bit to give Xavier a better view, murmuring, “Let’s continue.”

Confusion swells within you, and you squirm in Sylus’s arms, trying to break free. It’s futile, though; his grip is gentle yet unyielding. Defeated, you sink back against him and demand again, “What the fuck is happening right now?”

You look into Xavier’s eyes for an answer, but he offers none. Instead, he gives you a cold stare before turning to Sylus and instructing in a low, firm voice, “Kiss her again.”

Your surprised squeak of, “Excuse me!?” is quickly swallowed by Sylus's mouth as his tongue pries yours open for a slow, thorough exploration. He momentarily loses himself in your taste and warmth, but Xavier’s murmur of "pull her hair while you do it” drags him back.

Grinning against you, Sylus tangles his fingers in your hair. He pulls tightly, drawing out a low moan from you as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss.

Between presses of your lips and strokes of your tongues, Sylus seeks Xavier's gaze, his glowing eyes piercing into Xavier’s to ensure he doesn’t overstep. 

Sylus meant it; he has no issue with sharing you. He’s confident that, eventually, he’ll be the one who satisfies you best. He was prepared for this all along, knowing it was what you would most desire.

His only goal is to please you; everything else he can endure. However, this isn’t turning out to be the burden he was expecting. The desire blooming in the man watching from across the room is undeniably pleasant. Not to mention how arousing it is to make Xavier watch Sylus touch what Xavier considers his.

You manage to squeak, “Please let me go!” but Sylus’s hand muffles your plea as he shoots you a soft smile.

Your eyes widen when you hear Xavier chuckle quietly at the sharp look of irritation you give Sylus as you struggle in his hold before ultimately going limp, seemingly giving in to whatever this is. 

You must be dreaming. 

That’s the only logical explanation. You’re still asleep in your empty apartment, and your mind is inventing outrageous scenarios to cope. 

Because there is absolutely no way in hell that your extremely jealous lover would look this turned on while watching another man touch you. 

Fierce anger lingers in Xavier’s eyes, but something much sharper lurks beneath the surface. Sylus pulls his hand back, giving you a chance to mumble, “Is this punishment for something?” with a little pout.

Surprisingly, Xavier responds, “We all know this is far from that for you." You shoot him a sharp glare and stick out your tongue in a childish gesture. 

Sighing at the situation's absurdity, you rest against Sylus, touching his thighs. Tracing languid shapes over the fabric of his pants with your fingers, you direct all your attention toward Xavier. 

As happy as you are to see him, you’re also deeply upset with Xavier. He left you as if you were nothing to him. Of everything that’s happened, that's been the worst sting of all.

If they were forcing you to comply, perhaps you can get some satisfaction by pissing Xavier off. While the desire to do whatever it takes to make him forgive you is powerful, the need to make him hurt as badly as you’ve been hurting since he left is more potent.

Xavier rolls his eyes and leans back casually. His blue eyes burn with a dark, cocky amusement that is single-handedly the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Feeling defiant, you tip your head back and try to pull Sylus in for a kiss, only for him to stop halfway and look silently at Xavier for permission. Seriously? Is that how this is going to go? You’re not sure which is sharper—your irritation or arousal. Sure enough, Xavier confirms your thoughts, answering Sylus quietly, “Go ahead,” Xavier shrugs, looking almost bored as he sips his glass. 

Sylus searches your gaze with such tenderness that it nearly softens your irritation. His lips curve slightly before capturing yours.

Xavier watches as you go limp in Sylus’s arms, just as you have in his so many times before, while rage simmers inside him. Perhaps this is exactly what he needs—to see your raw, unfiltered desire for the man holding you in his arms. Maybe then, he’ll finally be able to let you go.

“I think you can do better than that,” he taunts Sylus after the brief kiss. 

Sylus’s eyes snap to Xaviers with genuine amusement before he adjusts you, cradling you in his lap. 

Focusing all his attention on you, Sylus cradles your cheek and gives you a smile that’s as tender as his touch. “May I?” he murmurs.

His deep voice and the longing in his eyes send electricity through your limbs. Without a second thought, your hands tangle in his silver hair as you pull him down and crush your lips to his. You lose yourself in him instantly, gripping him desperately as you suck and nibble on his lips. A quiet moan of pleasure escapes you, only to be greedily devoured by his mouth.

Suddenly, you remember Xavier is watching. Jumping nearly two feet from Sylus, your anguished features meet Xavier’s stunned ones. 

“I’m so sorry, Xavier. I didn’t mean to—” 

“Again,” Xavier commands dispassionately. 

Hurt courses through you in vicious, painful waves. Is Xavier seriously going to let this happen? Does he really not care at all if someone else claims you? Sylus sees something die a little inside, your face falling as tears swell in your eyes. 

Sylus is trying to bring you back to life, to help trade your tears of sadness for ones of ecstasy. If Xavier is determined to continue being cold to you, maybe he doesn’t deserve to take the lead.

Sylus pushes you back onto the bed, his body settling between your legs and pressing you into the comforter. He doesn’t waste a single second. Hand caressing the nape of your neck, he angles it to place gentle kisses and bites on every inch of skin he can reach.

Your taste, your scent, your softness—you’re fucking addicting. Sylus groans deeply against your mouth when your quiet sounds turn into needy little whimpers that you fail to hold back.

You push weakly at his chest and meet his gaze, longing clouding your voice even as you say, “Please, Sy. T-too much…” Worry fills you as your gaze flicks quickly back to Xavier, whose silhouette is barely visible in the room’s shadows. Not knowing how he’s feeling makes you feel sick with unease.

Sylus grabs your chin and gently pushes his thumb into your mouth, murmuring, “Suck, sweetie.” Eyes widening in surprise, you do as he asks, simply unable to resist. You watch lust take him over when you swirl your tongue around his skin and suck harder.

Turning to Xavier with a flash of genuine anger, Sylus declares, “I wasn’t lying when I said she hasn’t allowed me to touch her. You’ve buried yourself so deeply into her psyche that she calls out for you even in her sleep.” 

His smile is cold and emotionless as he continues, “You left her. And without a second thought at that. If you agreed to this so that you can treat her as if she’s done something wrong—then you can get the fuck out.” 

Shutting Xavier out completely, Sylus wraps his hand around your neck and squeezes tenderly. He nuzzles your nose and presses his lips to yours. The kiss starts slow and soft. Xavier senses your hesitancy but isn’t surprised when you give in to your desire. Body arching into Sylus, you deepen the kiss, pressing yourself as close as you can.

Sylus’s words echo in Xavier’s mind, further muddling his feelings. Knowing that you’ve remained loyal to him even when you had every opportunity and reason to forget him thaws Xavier’s heart just a little. Perhaps that’s what guides him as he moves around the room, flicking on fairy lights that shine like gentle stars in the darkness.

You watch him with narrowed eyes as he sits at a safe distance. He can see you so clearly in the gentle glow of the lights. 

Xavier realizes it's the first time he’s really looked at you since he arrived, and his heart drops at what he sees. You look like you haven’t slept since he left, even though that’s practically all you’ve done. You’ve lost weight, and the light behind your eyes that’s so dear to Xavier has disappeared completely. 

All Xavier sees now is pain, anger, and a sharp hint of betrayal. It’s fair—he knows he should have given you a chance to explain before leaving your life without looking back. But he was so scared… He couldn’t bear the thought of going through another situation like with Mai ever again. It was a boundary he had to set, no matter how much it killed him. Did he put both of you through this hell for nothing, though? It’s an agonizing thought. This plan of Sylus’s isn’t likely to end well, but at that moment, Xavier decides he can give it a chance for you.

Tears fill your eyes as Xavier’s demeanor softens, his features filling with deep regret. Setting your jaw and looking away, you try to hold onto your anger. His tender and infuriatingly beautiful gaze puts a crack in your defenses that you aren’t ready for yet. When Xavier meets Sylus’s eyes, Sylus is pleased to see they’re resolute, and that Xavier’s voice is firm yet tender as he says, “Make her feel good for me—I haven’t earned the right to touch her yet.”

In agreement, Sylus’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss. You jump in surprise when his fingers begin a languid path between your breasts. “You have no idea how much I care about you,” he says earnestly.

He pulls back, searching your eyes. You can hardly breathe as he murmurs, “I know you haven’t accepted me like this. Not yet.” You open your mouth to argue, but his thumb presses on your bottom lip, keeping you quiet. He asks, “Will you give me a chance to show you why you should?” 

Body heating painfully, you fight the urge to give him exactly what he wants. Xavier notices your eyes flicker to him at Sylus’s request as if silently seeking his permission. He can see in your eyes that if he asks you to stop, you will without hesitation. But the only way that ends is with you unhappy when you inevitably have to choose between them once again. Giving you a smile meant to convey comfort and acceptance, Xavier feels his heart thump at the light that returns to your eyes.

“I’ll be right over here,” he assures you before retreating to his spot.

Sylus almost looks worried you might reject him. A grin lights your features as you tease, “Well, what are you waiting for then? I told you I only see you as a friend, Sy… I’m going to need a lot of convincing.” You inhale his soft laughter as your tongue dances with his. 

This is the first time you’ve kissed guilt-free, the first time you’ve touched his body without your desire being overwhelmed by shame. Although Sylus’s kisses are deep and unhurried, when he pulls back, both of you are flushed and breathless. Hands cradling your head, he guides it as he pleases. 

Kisses cover your neck and shoulders, interspersed with nibbles and flicks of his tongue that make you whine quietly beneath him. Hands fisting into his shirt, you pull him closer. When you turn toward Xavier and meet his eyes, shock courses through you. His expression is a mix of desire and restraint; he looks like he wants to break Sylus’s hands as they trail your body, but there’s an unmistakable arousal simmering there, too. He gives you a faint, reassuring smile before returning his attention to Sylus’s mouth, which is trailing dangerously close to your clothed breast. 

Xavier’s breath quickens, his hands clenching tightly as his heart races impossibly fast. Sylus sits up and settles against the headboard again, his eyes sin incarnate as he tilts his head slightly, gesturing for you to come closer with a finger. His eyes light when you crawl to him with a teasing grin before settling on his lap, a startled squeak leaving you as he playfully smacks your ass. The way he bites his lip and groans at the sensation makes you absolutely feral. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist and drawing your face to his, you bite and suck on his perfect lips until they’re slick and swollen. You had no idea how badly you needed him... 

His soft, alluring sounds and the touch of his hands are so perfect they’re almost painful. But you force yourself to calm down, stopping to hug him close and slow your pounding heart. He holds you tight, his deep chuckle rumbling against you when you bury your face in his neck and groan in frustration. 

You want to devour Sylus whole, but you’d still rather not do it right before Xavier. The rumble of Sylus’s laugh vibrates through your entire being. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Have I convinced you a little too well? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flustered.”

Your bubbly, playful smile shines back at him. “I just think it’s amusing how creation made you utterly flawless yet couldn’t make it possible for you to carry a tune.” You earn a playful nip to the neck as Sylus mutters, “Watch it.” 

He frowns when he cradles your neck, trying to bring your lips back to his, and you hesitate. “I can tell you want this. So why are you still holding back?” His deep murmur against your ear stokes the flames within you.

“I just—” Your gaze flickers to Xavier before settling back on Sylus as pain threatens to wash out your desire. 

Sylus gives you a knowing look and guides you to rest between his thighs so you face Xavier instead. Xavier curses quietly as your back settles against Sylus’s chest with a guilty, nervous expression. 

Sylus studies Xavier through languid, sultry eyes as he slowly draws your hair back and nips the shell of your ear, trailing kisses down your neck. Xavier looks pained; he already knows what comes next. “Choose where we go, hunter. It seems our little dove is still worried about your precious feelings.”

Sylus wholeheartedly expects Xavier to refuse. This is the pivotal moment in this scheme, and if Xavier is going to back out, now would be the time. 

But instead, Xavier’s burning gaze pierces into you before wandering to your clothed chest. 

“Lift her shirt. I…I’ve really missed those perfect tits,” Xavier instructs, though a hint of regret lingers in his words. 

Pain and betrayal wash over you as you shoot Xavier a withering look, earning a startled one in return. “What happened to me being ‘all yours,’ Xavier? Or was that a lie, just like loving me was?” you snap. 

Xavier is completely taken aback, his voice low and strangled, “I’m doing this because I love you…” Huffing in annoyance and casting your gaze away, you hear Xavier’s voice fill the air again. “I don’t like this. But I just…” He looks at Sylus as he finishes, repeating quietly, “Lift her shirt.”

Sylus grins, knowing he has Xavier exactly where he wants him. “Should we show him, sweetie? I don’t know if he deserves it…”

Feeling incredibly pissed off and petty, you answer, “He doesn’t, but you do,” guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt.

Sylus chuckles as he lifts the fabric, and you turn your gaze to Xavier. “Isn’t this your shirt, Xai? Sucks that you have to watch another man take it off of me, huh?” You smile innocently as anger flashes in his eyes.

It's taking every ounce of Xavier’s restraint not to put a stop to this. His uneasy groan fills the room as Sylus slowly lifts the fabric, his intoxicating gaze locked on Xavier until you are fully exposed.

His gentle fingers circle your belly button before traveling up. Sylus asks Xavier, knowing you need to hear it, “May I?” Xavier’s eyes flash, and he hangs his head for a moment before nodding reluctantly. Humming in approval, Sylus's hands continue their journey. Pressing his cheek against yours, he murmurs, “Watch me, dove.” 

You whine quietly when he cups the bottom of your breasts, his thumbs making gentle sweeps over your nipples. The silky buds instantly harden under his touch, the sensation pulling a pained groan from Sylus.

Xavier, compelled by something he can’t quite understand, says, “Slap them a little for me—they’re so pretty when they bounce.” Genuine arousal seeps into his eyes as Sylus delivers gentle smacks to your breasts, both of them entranced by the way they move. Groaning softly, you reach up to drag Sylus down for a kiss.

Xavier’s strangled voice breaks in. “She likes it when I tug and pinch her nipples… And if you tease the soft spot under her ear while you do it… she’ll be weak and whiny in seconds.”

A gentle moan of “fuck,” slips from you as Sylus’s thumb and finger start teasing your nipples. His touch is firmer and much more hungry now. Xavier was right—the slow, tantalizing licks of Sylus’s tongue and the warmth of his mouth do have you whining within seconds.

Xavier wants to touch you so badly… He wants to be the one drawing out those beautiful sounds, but he can’t find it in himself to move. Somehow, he can still speak: “Spit in her mouth.” 

You groan in ecstasy as Sylus tilts your head back, and Xavier instructs, “Open wide for him, angel.” Feeling like you might spontaneously combust, you obey, and Xavier mutters heatedly, “Good girl… Now swallow.” 

Sylus is extremely proud of his self-control. It’s taking everything in him not to bend you over fuck you senseless, whether you want him to or not. To distract himself, he glances at Xavier, giving him a provoking smile while tugging on your nipple. “Angel, huh?” He kisses your ear and asks, ‘Angel or dove, sweetie? Take your pick.” 

You refuse to lie. “Angel,” you answer without hesitation, your stomach fluttering when a bit of light returns to Xavier’s eyes at the earnestness lacing your words.

Sylus’s low, unbothered chuckle brushes against your cheek as he kisses you softly. “We’ll see.”

You know what this is—a test run that decides everything. Xavier and Sylus are trying to make this work for you, and it’s the most heartwarming thing you’ve ever experienced. Your anger toward Xavier melts away as you look at him with magnetic eyes and ask, “What do you want to see him do to me next, Xai?” 

Sylus gazes down at his palms, which glide over the curves of your hips and stomach, waiting for Xavier’s answer. Fingers gripping your soft flesh, he pulls you closer with a soft, “Come here…” When his erection presses against your ass, you burst into a fit of giggles, earning a surprised look from both men. 

Sylus narrows his eyes and flicks your cheek. “What exactly is so funny, sweetie? And be very careful with your answer.”

You squirm, grinding against him and giggling again. “It’s just that… It’s your dick, Sylus! I can’t wrap my head around it.” Your giggles turn into full-blown laughter, but you fall silent when Sylus slaps his hand over your mouth and grabs your hip, moving you against him. He frees you and moves to your breast when your head falls back with a sigh of pleasure. 

Looking down at you, he mumbles, “Are you finished?” Your eyes roll back as he makes a pointed thrust against your ass. You can feel him so well through the thin fabric of your panties. “So big, Sy,” you murmur dreamily. “Much better,” Sylus’s voice is a low, decadent growl as he continues his movements against you.

You lift your head off Sylus’s chest and peek at Xavier through eyes filled with need. You reach out for him, and he hesitates, desire and nervousness flickering on his features. “Please?” you whisper, searching his face.

Both of you move simultaneously, his long legs covering the distance to reach you in an instant. Jumping into his arms before he can climb into bed, you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging on as he sits on the edge. Tears flow down your cheeks as he hugs you back. Pulling away, you punch him hard in the arm, earning a surprised gasp and a pout as he massages the tender spot. 

“You owe me breakfast for the rest of our lives, Xavier. And if you try to leave me again, I’ll tie you up and make you stay.”

Narrowing your eyes, Xavier smiles teasingly. “Is that meant to be a punishment?” His innocent voice makes you want to kiss and punch him again.

“Don’t be cute. You aren’t out of the water yet,” you mutter.

“But won’t being cute help get me rescued?” he asks with a questioning tilt of his head. 

You playfully roll your eyes, heart soaring at being teased by him again.

Sylus stands and approaches you, cradling the back of your head and kissing you deeply before murmuring against your lips, “I’ll be back in a minute, dove.” You watch him leave, your heart swelling with gratitude for the privacy. Turning back to Xavier, you find his cheeks and ears bright red. He wasn’t ready for Sylus to kiss you in such proximity yet. He’s so adorably flustered you can’t help but kiss him, too. Hands resting on your back, he presses you against him as his tongue pries your mouth open. The kiss is hungry and hurried, as is your touch on his body. Every move is to savor him so his essence can quench your weary soul. 

After a few minutes, though, Xavier reluctantly pulls back. Cupping your cheek, voice full of longing, he says, “We’ll have time alone later.”

Xavier needs to know the truth in your heart before proceeding. Brushing his hair back, you kiss him tenderly, basking in the happy lift of his face. “You know we don't have to do this, right?” 

He casts his eyes away, sadness filling them again as he murmurs, “But I can see how much you want him—”

You silence him with a finger to his lips, locking on to his gaze with a fierce, earnest expression as you promise, “There’s nothing in this world I want more than you, Xavier. And that will never change.” Nuzzling his nose, you rest your forehead against his. “I was going to tell you that, but you never gave me the chance,” you whisper painfully.

Tears swim in his eyes as he holds you tighter and asks, “You mean it?” 

You smile gently and nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. Pain and guilt play on Xavier’s face as he whispers, “I’m so sorry… I just panicked…” Wiping away a tear and tracing his cheek, you softly assure him, “It’s okay. I’ll hold a grudge for a little longer, but I understand.”

His head rests on your shoulder as he gives a quiet, relieved laugh, kissing your skin tenderly. 

Feeling like a weight lifted from your reunion, you start to get up, telling Xavier, “I think I’ll ask Sylus to go home for the night. We can all talk tomorrow.” The thought alone makes you feel ill. But Xavier grips your hips tightly, looking conflicted as he holds you in place. Unable to meet your eyes, his quiet voice skitters across your skin. “No. It’s okay. We can continue,” he says quietly. 

Concern fills you as you tilt your head in confusion and assure him, “I never want you to do something you don’t want to, Xai.” Still avoiding your eyes, his cheeks heating, he mumbles, “I don’t necessarily not want to...” Xavier groans as your face lights up with glee, poking him in the side, teasing, “I see, I see…” He pins your hands down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. 

The urge to tease him lingers. Slowly licking the shell of his ear, you murmur, “So, does only my pleasure turn you on, or does Sylus as well?” Knowing Xavier has been attracted to men before and considering Sylus’s allure, it’s a fair question.

Your touch is gentle as you brush your fingers through his hair, and your warm, accepting smile makes it easy for Xavier to open up.

His eyes grow heated as they find your lips, casually shrugging before kissing you so intensely it steals your breath away.

Arousal sweeps through you as you murmur, “My naughty boy… you are so perfect, you know that?” 

“No... But I might start believing it if you say it some more,” he replies with a heartbreakingly radiant smile.

Your fingers begin traveling under his shirt, reveling in his warmth and the softness of his skin. Moving slowly, you deliberately commit every inch to memory this time, just in case you ever lose him again. Memories don’t do Xavier justice, though. He allows you to slip his shirt off before his hand squeezes your breast, taking it into his mouth. Holding your gaze, his tongue and lips turn the bud red and sensitive before moving to the next. Xavier expertly blends purity and filthiness into an art, using his puppy-dog eyes and faux innocence to mold you into putty in his hands. Sucking on your breasts with a look that says, “You know you like it,” when he notices your wince of pain at the sensitivity.

Releasing your nipple from his mouth, he captures your lips instead. When he finally lets you up for air, you plead, “Promise you’ll tell me if you get uncomfortable? I don’t want to hurt you...” With a mischievous grin, he replies, “I don’t think I’ll be the one getting hurt tonight, angel.”

Sylus’s deep laughter fills the air as he strides confidently, leaning in to kiss you without hesitation. The possessiveness of the gesture pisses Xavier off, but he clenches his jaw and says nothing, instead taking in your blissed-out smile when Sylus pulls away. 

You have no idea how irresistible you are, especially like this—your skin flushed, eyes bright, wanting nothing more than to give and receive pleasure. Xavier still fucking hates this. He detests that you need something more than what he can provide. Every time Sylus touches you, he wants to run him through with his lightblade. 

But he can’t deny that your uninhibited ecstasy is stoking more than just his jealousy. When this started, he wanted to run as far away as possible. The tender way you regard Sylus and the fierce admiration in your eyes bring a potent pain that Xavier is sure he can never move past. But things began to shift when he instructed Sylus to touch and please you. It’s confusing to feel so helpless yet in control of a situation.

Xavier suspects that Sylus let him take the lead because he knew Xavier needed it, which softened Xavier toward him just a bit. Sylus treats you respectfully and cares for you nearly as much as Xavier, making this easier to bear. Not to mention it's turning out to be an excellent test of his composure. He takes pride in his restraint, and pushing himself to his limit has become strangely enjoyable.

Xavier guides your back to arch, making your pretty tits point toward Sylus. With languid eyes, he gives Sylus silent permission. Lips curling into a soft, pleased small, Sylus leans down to flick his tongue over your nipple, giving it a teasing nip before pulling it into his mouth. 

Sylus’s hand replaces Xaviers on your back as Xavier’s hands squeeze your breasts while Sylus’s mouth worships them both. Xavier’s heart flutters when he replaces Sylus’s mouth with his own, and your quiet sounds of pleasure turn into needy little whimpers as you grind against him.

Xavier glances at Sylus and murmurs, “I think I stole your turn.” Tilting your sultry gaze towards him, he asks, “Do you want her back?”

Sylus’s pupils dilate, the surrounding crimson burning brighter as a pleased groan escapes him. Lifting you off Xavier’s lap, he wraps your legs around his waist instead.

Your lips find his immediately, and your touch becomes greedy, with nothing left to hold you back. Hands gliding over his body, you memorize how every muscle feels beneath your fingers. When you run out of bare skin to caress, you slip his shirt off without hesitation and toss it carelessly aside. The sight of his sculpted chest elicits a deep blush from you, and an amused grin from him.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teases. Your eyes, filled with desire, meet his as you mumble, “Yeah, but it’s different now...” 

Wonder tinges his voice as he places your hand over his heart, whispering, “Yeah.” 

Xavier sits on the bed with his legs spread, motioning to the spot in front of him at the edge. “Sit her here,” he says softly. Sylus obeys, and Xavier moves closer, pressing you against his back. His hand rests on your stomach, fingers tracing the edge of your panties. 

His voice is gentle as he looks at Sylus and says, “Take them off for me.” Sylus’s fingers replace Xavier’s as they hook under the lace and gently slip the fabric down your legs. 

Sylus’s eyes trail down your body, but Xavier closes your legs tight, his lips curving slightly. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat flooding your body and anger flaring inside Sylus before arousal quickly takes its place. Sylus, who usually asserts dominance in the bedroom, isn’t opposed to reversed roles, even enjoying them. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flitting over Xavier’s form with an amused, almost impressed smile. Xavier’s eyes hold a silent challenge as he softly instructs, “Stand in front of her.” Sylus is more than happy to comply.

He runs his hands along your legs, smiling at you before asking Xavier, “So what do I have to do to earn a look?” 

Seeing the lust in Sylus’s eyes makes your body shudder with pleasure. If someone had asked you to envision this scenario, it wouldn’t have been like this….

Sylus exudes dominant energy, a stark contrast to Xavier’s quiet dominance. Their roles reversed from what you would have expected.

Brushing your hair back, Sylus tilts your chin, locking eyes with you. “Where do you want him to kiss you first, angel?” You whimper at Xavier's words, gazing at Sylus as you respond, “My lips.” 

Sylus leans in, teasing, “We’ve been here, sweetie. Why not try something new?” Despite his words, he gives you a tender kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Xavier grips your thighs tightly, his body tensing as he watches Sylus bite and tug on your lips. But when you sigh blissfully, and your hands tangle in Sylus’s hair, pulling him closer, the heat of desire overtakes a piece of the lingering anger.

When Sylus pulls back, your bright, glassy eyes flick toward your breasts in a silent request. Sylus’s eyes follow suit as he pinches your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. Xavier cups your breasts in a playful jiggle before offering them for Sylus to suck.

Xavier’s hand slides slowly down your body, seeking the warmth between your thighs. Cursing softly upon feeling your slick, satiny skin, his voice is strained as he says, “Baby… You’re so wet for us." Holding his sticky fingers up, Sylus intercepts them, sucking them clean while locking eyes with him, suggesting, “I think I’ve earned a taste, don’t you?” 

Xavier blushes, glancing away as he adjusts behind you. Sylus's tone is innocent, “Oh no, did I overstep?” Instead of answering, Xavier kisses your cheek and slowly opens your legs, exposing you to Sylus’s gaze. Surprised, Sylus drops to one knee, squeezing your inner thighs apart for a better view.

He's eager to explore further, yearning to feel your warmth wrapped around his tongue. “What a pretty pussy, dove,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh before looking up at Xavier for guidance. “Do you want to make her cum? She’ll taste even better,” Xavier suggests quietly. The suggestion elicits a needy groan as you wiggle down to get closer to Sylus’s face. “Please, Sylus,” you beg, desperation lacing your voice. 

Sylus’s eyes darken as he locks onto you with a soft growl of approval. Xavier pulls your legs to either side of your head, holding your folds open for Sylus. Sylus delicately brushes over your soft skin, his throat working quickly as he admires the warmth and wetness. “One or two, sweetie?” he asks. Blushing, you whisper, “Two.” 

Holding your gaze, Sylus slides his fingers inside you, delicately exploring your velvety walls. Your pussy tightens around him, eliciting a nearly desperate sound from Sylus as his composure falters. Unable to contain himself any longer, he teases your sensitive skin with warm breath before licking a flat stripe across you, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

Your body clasps onto him tightly, making his cock throb almost achingly in his pants at the thought of taking his mouth's place. His touch carefully maps out every spot that makes his little birdie sing. Initially tender and unhurried, soon his tongue is moving within you as his lips and teeth embrace you wholly.

Xavier’s fingers instinctively tangle in Sylus’s hair, holding on tightly. Realization dawns on him, his eyes widening as his hand hesitates on Sylus’s head, embarrassment washing over him. Just as he considers pulling back, Sylus glances at him through glassy eyes before they drift closed again in acceptance.

The sigh of Xavier pressing Sylus’s face against you, his nose brushing your clit just right, is almost overwhelming. Your release surges and engulfs you completely in seconds, leaving you trembling in Xavier’s embrace, tears brimming in your eyes. “Holy shit,” you whine, pulling Xavier down for a kiss. “Can he be inside me, Xai? Please?” you plead.

Kisses trail down your neck while his fingers explore your folds, playing in your essence with a pleased hum. “You can have anything you want, angel. You’re being so good for us,” he murmurs. 

Sylus bites his lip, a small sound escaping him as he quickly frees his cock. A needy moan slips out at the sight, his impressive length promising the most perfect kind of destruction. Positioning yourself between Xavier’s legs, lying on your stomach, you kick your feet in giddy anticipation of tasting him. 

Your heart races when Sylus wraps his large hand around himself, stroking slowly as he approaches you with a teasing smile. “Someone’s excited,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek with affectionate eyes. 

You playfully respond, “I want to see if I can take it all in my mouth.” But upon taking him in your mouth, the playful mood evaporates. He's warm and velvety soft, the prominent vein driving you absolutely wild, urging your tongue to flick out for a taste. A single taste evolves into greedy licks and kisses as you savor his essence.

Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you gaze up at him dreamily and whisper, “Does it feel good, Sy? Really wanna make you feel good…” You already know—he’s gripping your hair tightly, holding back from taking control, releasing intoxicating sounds that make you dizzy. But you still cherish hearing him say, “It’s fucking perfect, sweetie,” before succumbing to ecstasy with each flick of your tongue.

Xavier's fingers fill you, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Moaning around Sylus, you arch your back to grind against Xavier’s hand. His approving hum accompanies him grabbing your ass with a gentle shake, lust gleaming in his eyes as he witnesses you taking Sylus’s cock.

Sylus eases his hold and affectionately strokes your hair, his head falling back with a quiet curse as you take him halfway. You whimper around him, your lips cracking slightly as you struggle to accommodate his girth.

He caresses your cheek and says softly, “Don’t force it, dove. Not many people can take me all the way.” 

You narrow your eyes and pop him out of your mouth. “I know you did not just say that.” 

His low chuckle fills the air. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetie. It’s simply a fact.” 

Determined, you spit on his cock and coat it messily around, gritting out, “Just watch me, asshole,” earning an amused snort from Xavier. This time, it’s easier to slide him in halfway. You plan to keep him there for a moment to prepare yourself, but Xavier gently pushes you down until your nose presses against Sylus. Tears fill your eyes as you choke around him, cupping his swollen balls with a little whimper. Sylus gives Xavier an amused look, to which Xavier shrugs innocently, his lips curling slightly as he kisses your pussy before sliding his tongue inside. 

Sylus’s fucks your throat slow and deep as his fingers massage your head soothingly. “Can you take it for me?” Excitement fills you, and you nod around him eagerly, pushing his cock further as you grind against Xavier’s mouth. Sylus groans, his hand fisting in your hair again as he murmurs, “Tap me if I hurt you, sweetie.” He pulls out, coating your lips in his essence before snapping his hips and pushing all the way in. He repeats this several times, his brows knitting together as his movements turn hungry. 

He reaches beneath you to grab your swinging breast, his burning gaze locking onto Xavier’s face pressing against you. Sylus’s thrusts are sharp and quick, aiming to bring more pretty tears to your eyes and ruin your perfect face. His body stills, though, when you tap his thigh frantically. He pulls out quickly, concern swelling until you look at him through glassy eyes and plead, “Wanna finish with you inside me…” 

You spin around in Xavier’s lap and lean back against him again. He catches your lips in a tender, searching kiss before nuzzling your neck. “Hold my legs back again? I—I really liked that..” “Of course,” he murmurs, gently cupping under your knees and pulling them to your head. 

Xavier admires your body, taking in the sight of your tight, dripping hole and your clit pulsing every so often with need.  Your thighs are spread wide open, his fingers trailing down to rub your sensitive bud. “You know what you look like right now, angel?” he asks, spanking your clit lightly, desire and praise lacing his tone as he finishes, “Our perfect little fuck toy...” You’ve really missed him calling you that. 

Sylus leans over you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he guides his cock through your sticky folds. As his precum mixes with your essence, you become even wetter, the combined warmth creating an intoxicating sensation. He lines himself up and reaches for Xavier’s hand, wrapping it around his length. “I need help fitting inside here, too.” 

Xavier blushes fiercely, his eyes meeting Sylus’s. “Can I just—just for a minute…” he asks hesitantly. Sylus nods, his thumb brushing over your nipple. His eyes roll back as Xavier’s firm grip begins stroking his cock perfectly, tempting him to want more than just a minute. But Xavier clears his throat, gathering himself before asking, “I… Okay… are you ready?”

Sylus’s erection is painfully hard as Xavier aligns it with your entrance. With gentle fingers, Xavier slowly guides Sylus inside you, pausing whenever you squirm or whimper in pain. Just like with your mouth, Sylus gets halfway in before your body resists accepting the rest of him. Wrapping you in his arms, Xavier's hand rubs your clit while the other provides Sylus comfort until you can take it all.

A hoarse, strangled sound escapes Sylus as his hips pump slightly into Xavier's hand, pressing him a little deeper into you. Xavier kisses your cheek, his voice sinful, “You were made to be fucked, weren’t you? Look how well you’re taking him, baby… Drenching his cock and sucking him in deep. I bet you feel so good…”

Sylus’s hands slip under your thighs, needing something to hold on to as he endures the pressure of you squeezing him. “She’s so fucking tight. So…so warm,” Sylus murmurs. He moans softly, biting your leg as Xavier pushes his cock a little deeper. “Almost there, dove,” Sylus promises, nearly bottomed out. He gives a hoarse shout as Xavier grabs his ass and pushes the rest of his length into you. 

Xavier glances at the base of Sylus’s cock, slick and stretching you open before his eyes drift to your tits, squished together between your thighs. He continues teasing your clit with one hand, roughly flicking and tugging your nipple with the other. “You can be rough if you want. That’s how she likes it,” Xavier assures Sylus. He places your hands on his legs and murmurs, “Only touch me right now,” his voice laced with a silent plea. Your teary eyes brim with love as you whisper, “I promise.” He leans back a bit, allowing you and Sylus more room. 

Sylus presses your legs all the way back, settling his weight over you, digging his cock a little deeper. You squeeze Xavier’s legs tightly when Sylus’s thrusts turn unforgiving as he ruts into you. Capturing your mouth in a kiss, his breath ghosts over your lips as he asks, “Rough enough, sweetie?” Honestly, yes, but you still want him to fuck your harder. “Nope, not enough,” you choke out amid the force of his thrusts.

Sylus chuckles softly, pulling back and fucking into you so hard you can barely breathe. “Just like that…” you whisper. 

Sylus eyes lock onto where you join, his cock stretching you so wide he can’t believe your body is allowing it. It’s incredibly challenging not to draw Sylus close. You cling to Xavier, trying to maintain self-control. Xavier’s soft voice fills your ear, “Is he making you feel good, angel?” 

You whimper, nodding frantically, your tits bouncing wildly with the force of Sylus’s thrusts. Xavier kisses your cheek and whispers, “Do you want to show him how good you feel when you cum?” You groan, your pussy squeezing so tight it pulls a hoarse shout from Sylus. Xavier spanks your clit, then rubs in time with Sylus’s hips. 

“Go ahead, baby,” Xavier says, giving your cheek a little nuzzle. Xavier guides Sylus by the chin, bringing his lips to yours. Sylus responds immediately, consuming you like a man starved. 

You look into his eyes as you bite his lip with a teasing smile, seemingly driving him feral. Pressing you deeper into the sheets, his sweaty face rests on Xavier’s shoulder as his cock relentlessly hits your sweet spot, trying his best to hold back until you find your release. 

“You feel better than I ever could have imagined, dove,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with ecstasy and desire. “So do you…” you whimper, yearning to hold him tightly as you fall over the edge. 

Sylus nearly cries in relief when he feels you clench tightly around him, a cry of his name on your lips as your pussy throbs wildly. His hips slow slightly as he asks Xavier, “C-can I finish inside?” 

Xavier’s body tenses, his hand leaving your clit as pain fills his features. He isn’t ready for you to be claimed that way. He’s unsure if he ever will be. His voice is quiet, and his arms tighten around you as he whispers, “Please. I can’t—” 

Sylus gives him an understanding nod and grunts softly, continuing fucking into you mercilessly. “Guess I’ll have to paint this pretty body white, then.” He pulls out, fisting his cock roughly as thick ropes of cum warm your stomach and cunt. 

His groan is painfully delicious as he continues to work out his essence. Releasing your legs, he squeezes your cheeks in his hand, kissing you deeply. Having your lips on his as his cock spasms in ecstasy is the best thing he’s felt in a long time. Sylus can’t help but smile when he sees your blissed-out expression and barely-open eyes. 

The way Xavier cleans you up with a warm rag is so tender that it’s a shock to your system when he finishes and roughly pushes you onto your stomach, lifting your ass in the air with a sharp slap. You whimper softly when three of his fingers fuck into you forcefully. Sqeezing and shaking your ass, he watches where he enters you, desire and possessiveness in his every touch. 

His nails dig into your skin a little, pulling a sharp gasp from you as your walls tighten and tremble around him. You didn’t realize how badly you missed the way Xavier fucks you—how he can be so tender and delicate, only to turn around and shower you with filthy words and perfect pain. As usual, your body yields to his will instantly, relaxing with a sigh of relief as you allow him to use you as an outlet for his frustrations. 

A pleased hum leaves him when he feels your body go pliant in his hands, shaking your ass again and watching it bounce for a moment as his eyes darken. His voice is deceptively gentle as he asks, “So, baby, was he worth the punishment you’ll get for letting him fuck what’s mine?”

He grips your hair and turns your teary gaze toward Sylus, who you give a blissful smile before Xavier turns you away. Sylus hesitates nearby, his body tense as he watches Xavier manhandle you like you’re nothing but a doll. Xavier cocks his head slightly and assesses Sylus with a bored, amused look, gesturing toward the bed with a nod. 

“You should sit. You need to make sure you can handle this,” he says in a low, calm tone that contradicts the way he fucks his fingers into you mercilessly. He pulls a sharp cry from you as you clutch helplessly at the bedsheets to fight the sting. Biting and sucking at your skin roughly, he leaves bruises and teeth marks littering your ass and thighs. 

Sylus’s low growl fills the air as Xavier presses a finger onto your spot so hard that your vision swims and you squirm beneath him, whining, “It hurts, Xavier… please—” Sylus steps forward to intervene, but Xavier shoots him a warning look before asking you, “Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?” 

“No! Please, Xavier! please don’t stop…” you beg, ecstasy and longing evident in your very being. Xavier gives Sylus a cocky smirk as if to say, “See?” 

Xavier waits for Sylus’s decision as he kisses your skin tenderly, murmuring, “Don’t forget your safe word, angel.” Nodding in response, you're unable to speak as your release builds and crashes, its intensity shattering you completely. 

“That’s my girl,” Xavier praises gently as he pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them clean before driving his cock into you with a pointed thrust. Your tears flow harder when his hips start to move, overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling so whole again. 

You wish so badly that you could touch him, but the way he’s pressing your cheek into the sheets as he takes you doesn’t really allow it.

Pussy clenching impossibly tight around him, your words are an incoherent stream filling the air, “Missed you—Missed you filling me up so much… so perfect…” Xavier sees stars as your words wash over him, your body reacting eagerly to his touch as you sync your movements with his. 

Sylus isn’t sure how to feel as he sits in front of you. He can’t seem to shake his unease at you being treated this way. While Sylus is all for rough sex, Xavier is on another level entirely. Sylus can almost see the bruises forming on your skin under Xavier’s unforgiving touch. 

“You okay, sweetie?” Sylus asks softly, smiling as you bury your face against his leg with a shaky “mhmm. Feels soo good…” 

Xavier chuckles, his fingers digging into your ass as his hips piston inside you, drawing out another intense release as you cum around him. “Such a good girl,” he praises. Reaching around to stroke Sylus’s cock, Xavier grips your hair to meet your eyes. His soft, commanding tone makes you shiver.

“Make him cum for me, baby. I want to see him fall apart inside that pretty mouth,” he murmurs, guiding your head toward Sylus’s length. He can’t help but watch Sylus as you wrap your warm mouth around him—his crimson eyes fluttering shut, lips parted on a silent sound as Xavier pulls your hair tighter, bobbing you up and down.

Xavier takes Sylus’s chin in one hand while pushing your head down with the other, burying Sylus deep as you choke and drool around him. He meets Sylus’s gaze, his voice soft and strangely calm. “Does she feel good?” To his surprise, he genuinely wants to know the answer. 

How is he opening up to Sylus so quickly? Xavier has never held anything but hatred for the man, yet it’s surprising how rapidly that seems to be changing. Sylus’s beauty has always pissed Xavier off, seeing it as nothing more than a tool he used to win Mai—and now you—over. But now, he finds it difficult to draw his eyes from Sylus’s face and enjoys touching him perhaps a little too much. He has to admit this newfound attraction is making things a lot easier. 

Sylus lets himself go pliant in Xavier’s hand as he presses on his bottom lip. Xavier’s eyes catch there briefly before returning to Sylus’s gaze. “Well?” Xavier asks with a smirk—the answer is evident on Sylus’s face and in the way his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back. But Xavier wants to hear him say it. He grips Sylus’s chin tighter, eliciting a groan and a strangled “She feels fucking incredible…”

“Good boy,” Xavier says softly, patting Sylus’s cheek before pulling back. Sylus’s eyes widen momentarily before his lips curve into a wicked grin, and he murmurs, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, hunter?” Xavier shrugs in reply, slapping your ass before gripping your waist and fucking you harder. He keeps bobbing you on Sylus’s cock while his gaze locks on the way your pussy eagerly sucks him in.

It’s almost too much—the taste of Sylus, their warmth filling you, and the insanely hot dynamic developing between the two of them. Your release builds and builds, savoring the delicious feeling of dangling over the edge as Xavier kisses your back, moving fast and deep inside you. 

“I can feel it… getting so fucking tight. Come on—cum for me, angel,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. Your very life is knocked out of you as your muffled cry rings out, and you spill all over Xavier. He murmurs in awe and giddy excitement, “Shit, baby… so mmuch! Look at you…”

His cock plays around messily for a while, slapping against your wet folds, squelching sounds filling the air as if he’s trying to be as noisy as possible.

He’s effectively working up both you and Sylus, whose eyes linger on Xavier before drifting to you and the way his cock stretches your pretty mouth out. 

You look so damn beautiful when you’re choking around him. This may be the most stunning you’ve ever been, giving in to your raw desires in a desperate search for pleasure. 

This has to end as planned because he isn’t sure he’ll actually be able to give you up. And how can he possibly return to being just friends now? Any part of him that remained hesitant to accept his love for you is long gone. He’s fallen for you completely, and there’s no return from it. 

Sylus doesn’t look away from you, ecstasy clouding his features. “P-pull her off me now if you don’t want—” Sylus’s body begins to tremble. He’s trying to respect Xavier’s boundaries about finishing inside you, but Xavier is making it really fucking hard. Sylus’s voice is a low, warning growl, “Xavier—” but Xavier cuts him off. 

Almost hesitant, Xavier murmurs, “I don’t mind if you finish in here.” You whimper at Xavier’s words, feeling Sylus’s cock throb in response. Xavier’s hips pause as he guides your head up and down. You squeeze your throat tightly around Sylus, excitement swirling at the thought of truly tasting him. 

Xavier leans over you, kissing your shoulder and murmuring, “You’re doing so well, baby. Just a little bit longer for us…” Sylus muscles tense and quiver, his head smacking against the headboard as his breath leaves him on a sharp exhale. His hand takes Xavier’s place on your head, moving you just the way he wants as he pushes deep, filling your throat with his warmth. 

Xavier grips your ass, his hips continuing their punishing pace. “Our good girl better take it all,” he commands. Needy moans wrap around Sylus as you eagerly swallow every drop he gives you. He pulls your hair gently and lifts you off his cock, his eyes flashing with desire when he sees your abused lips and blissful expression. He traces this thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you. 

“Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured you to be so perfectly filthy, sweetie,” he teases. “Happy to impress…” you mumble with a smile, squeaking as Xavier suddenly flips you onto your back before thrusting into you again. His hands brush your hair back before cradling your face, his forehead resting against yours.

You grip his arms desperately, trying to prove he’s really here with you. His absence left such a large wound that it’s proving difficult to heal, like a thirst that can’t be quenched. 

“I missed you so much…” His voice is small and filled with regret as he continues, “I’m so sorry. I never should have left you. I was just… I was sure you were going to leave me...” It’s clear from his frantic, needy movements and the strength of his hold on you that he’s also trying to heal from the loss of your presence. 

His deep kiss is a balm to your soul, pulling soft, pretty sounds from the deepest parts of you. The ability to speak has eluded you completely, and though you want to reassure Xavier that everything is okay, all you can do is deepen the kiss and convey it through your touch. 

Sylus still rests back on the bed, his arm propped behind his head as he watches you closely. Tears flow silently down your cheeks, yet more joy shines on your face than Sylus has seen in weeks. Xavier is no different; he’s no longer the broken man Sylus walked into this house with. Earlier, his eyes were nearly emotionless, and what little emotion did bleed through was chilling and furious. 

Now, Xavier is nothing but emotions—regret, love, pain, and an intense, raw desire that’s incredibly attractive. Xavier’s voice is a desperate plea, “Can I cum inside, angel? Need… Need to make you mine again. Please?” The words are almost nonexistent as they force themselves past the blinding pleasure consuming you. “I never stopped being yours, Xavier.” 

Kisses cover your cheek and neck before Xavier buries his face against your skin, thrusting harder and harder, his labored breath panting softly against you. The most adorable, strangled sound leaves him as he rides out his orgasm with tiny, sharp thrusts before he buries himself deep, his heat melting every bit of you. 

Murmuring his name, your body convulses with a gasp of pleasure, your warmth flooding his cock again. “T-twice, angel? … You are so fucking perfect,” he groans softly as he pulls you down onto the bed. Motioning for Sylus to lay next to you, Xavier rolls you to face him as they sandwich you between them. Both rest on their elbows—Sylus’s gaze tracing your form while Xavier’s lingers on Sylus’s face. 

The desire in Sylus’s eyes is strangely arousing, a force he can’t seem to fight. Xavier’s finger brushes your bottom lip before it slides into your mouth for you to enjoy. Sylus’s lips part, and he seems to stop breathing entirely as he watches you suck Xavier’s finger like it’s his cock. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Xavier murmurs. He slips his finger out of your mouth, gently guiding Sylus to take his place. 

Lust clouds Sylus’s features as Xavier guides him in and out of your lips with a featherlight touch. Hooking your leg over Sylus’s hip, Xavier’s fingers brush Sylus’s shaft before slipping him inside you. Xavier carefully pays attention to Sylus’s reaction to his touches, not wanting to overstep. Gripping Sylus's hip, he guides his movements.

Sylus lets out a pleased groan, his eyes falling shut as he sinks into the blankets, resting his forehead against yours. He stays there a while, kissing your lips every so often as he savors the sensation of you being wrapped around him with Xavier's firm touch.

A strong sense of relief settles in Sylus when he sees Xavier kiss your cheek, his eyes filled with love as he focuses on every expression of ecstasy that crosses your face. Each sweet sound you make brings a small, proud smile to Xavier’s lips. This is working. Not only can Sylus see the acceptance in Xavier, but he can also feel it. You’ve all begun to move seamlessly, anticipating each other's needs effortlessly. 

Sylus slips out of you, keeping your leg hooked over his as he firmly grasps Xavier’s cock, earning a breathless curse in response. Sylus smirks, his honeyed voice brushing against Xavier’s skin. “What’s wrong, hunter? I thought you liked it rough…” 

He circles the tip of Xavier’s length around your entrance, earning pitiful sounds from both of you. As Sylus presses Xavier inside you, your pussy eagerly sucks him in. Xavier pulls your hair gently, arching your back so that Sylus can easily suck on your breasts.

Xavier’s touch grows tender as he reaches around to brush your clit. Long past overstimulated, the delicate touch is a shock to your system. Sylus captures your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue twirling around yours as you cum. His hand travels over your body again, fingers pinching your nipple lightly before squeezing your breast with a soft groan and a kiss to your cheek. You think you give him a smile but you can’t be sure. 

They take turns slipping in and out of your warm pussy while their lips and teeth tease your skin. Xavier’s breath ghosts over your ear as he murmurs, “My perfect girl…” He catches Sylus’s heavy-lidded gaze, searching his face for a moment before correcting himself. “Our perfect girl,” Xavier says before blushing and glancing away. He’s pretty sure he’s gone insane, yet he’s strangely okay with it.

“I won’t last much longer,” he tells Sylus. Crimson eyes burn languidly as Xavier tilts his head slightly, eyeing Sylus’s lonely cock. “Want me to help?” he asks, kissing your cheek. Sylus doesn’t answer; just props onto his elbow and guides Xavier’s hand to his length, urging him to take it in a firm grip.

Xavier presses his face against your hair, grinding deep inside you, as Sylus gently grabs your throat, his mouth languidly searching yours. Soft sounds of pleasure fill the room as you move together, a pretty tangle of sweaty limbs and ecstasy. 

Sylus comes first with a huff of air caressing your face as he holds you close. Xavier works every drop of Sylus’s warmth out as he feels his orgasm inching closer, covering your stomach and the sheets in the stickiness as he fucks you harder. Xavier falls the moment he feels your body grip him tightly, grinding against him with tiny movements, fervently riding your pleasure. 

Wrapping you in his arms, he moves deep with slow, loving strokes as his cum spills inside you, its presence healing your heart a little more. Xavier nuzzles your neck, kissing your skin softly. “You’re a mess, baby…” he murmurs, giving you a teasing smile. Pouting, you pretend to be irritated. “And whose fault is that?” 

You huff and turn away, prompting Xavier to tickle your side in retaliation. Sylus’s fingers brush your cheek as he gives you a tender, amused look. “Are you going to try and tell us that you didn’t enjoy yourself, sweetie?” 

Cheeks heating, you try to hide your face as you mumble, “There’s really no hiding that.” Sylus chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and smirking at Xavier. “I suppose not. Our little birdie sings so loud... You may be better at holding a tune than me,” he teases. 

You snort, cracking an eye open in amusement, “There’s no “may be” about it.” Xavier gives something between a laugh and a groan as he slips out of you. “Neither of you can sing,” he offers, trying to hide his smile. The scoff of disbelief you both give him is comical, as is Sylus’s low warning— “Watch it. Or you might not find me so gentle next time.” 

Xavier smirks, helping you from the bed and toward the shower, tossing a casual “Promise?” over his shoulder on the way out. Part of Sylus wants to follow, pushing Xavier against the shower wall and showing him just how rough he can be. But he’s mentally and physically exhausted. The weight of worrying about how this would end has lifted, leaving a bone-deep fatigue in its place. It might be the first time he’s felt entirely at ease since he left Mai. 

He showers quickly after you and Xavier, stopping by the bedroom again on his way out. Sylus figures the two of you need some time to yourselves, and if he sits back down, he’s afraid he won’t be able to get up. Wanting to take up the spot next to your sleeping form so badly, he forces himself to meet Xavier's eyes and say, “I’m going to head home… I’ll stop by in the morning.” 

As Sylus leans down to kiss your cheek, Xavier's soft voice brings a wave of immense relief, “You can stay if you want.” Xavier’s eyes hold no malice for Sylus anymore. They’re just gentle pools of blue that burn bright once again. The corner of Sylus’s lip curls as he pulls his shirt back off and snuggles against you under the covers. 

Xavier cuts the bedside lamp off, turning the room into a twinkling night sky of fairy lights before nestling in. 

For the first time in weeks, you all fall easily into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped in each other’s comforting presence.

જ⁀➴°⋆ Three weeks later

Your morning wake-up call, in the form of burnt food, has two sources today. They stand in the kitchen, arguing over why the food is burnt in the first place. Sylus leans against the counter, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he watches Xavier become increasingly flustered. 

“How did you do everything exactly as I instructed, yet still ruin the meal?” Sylus teases, his voice a deep, melodic taunt.

Xavier glares at him, pouting, “It’s not me. It’s your recipe's fault.” He tosses the food into the trash and hands Sylus the spatula. “I want strawberry pancakes,” he mumbles, grimacing when Sylus ruffles his hair. 

Their warm smiles greet you as you enter, only to be met with your grumpy morning face. “I’ll just make you what he’s having, sweetie. I’m too scared to ask.” Sylus comments. You narrow your eyes at him as you start the coffee pot. “Stop talking to me before I’ve had my coffee,” you tell him for the millionth time.

Truth be told, though, it’s nice to wake up to this in the mornings… To wake up to them. You've been nearly inseparable for the past couple of weeks, with Sylus staying over most evenings. There was never a discussion about what would happen next after that night. It was just a silent agreement, a rhythm you all fell into, one as easy as breathing.

Xavier is surprisingly comfortable with Sylus’s new place in your lives, but whenever the two of you are alone, he likes to fuck you like he isn’t. Whispers of “mine” are chanted against your skin as he makes you take his cum over and over. He likes to tell you what a bad girl you’ve been, fucking you so hard you’re limping the next day. 

A couple of days ago, Xavier ordered takeout for you and Sylus, offering you the night alone while he went to see a movie. Both of you stared at him in shock as he turned to Sylus and warned, “You know the rule. Break it, and you die.” 

The following day, Xavier punished both of you, forcing you to edge each other to the point of tears while he watched. When it was almost over, Sylus was about to pull out, but Xavier grabbed his ass and pushed him deep inside you as Sylus’s cum filled you up. You’ve lost count of how many times Sylus has recreated that memory since then. 

Honestly, you figure it’s only a matter of time before they ask for a night alone—a vision that makes your knees weak and stomach flutter. This all feels so surreal, like the most perfect dream you could imagine, one you’re sure to wake from at any moment. But it certainly feels real when Xavier wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close for a kiss. 

You pull back slightly to see Sylus watching with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the same affection that makes your heart swell. The burnt food, the bickering, the tender touches—it’s all part of an intricate dance you’ve found yourselves in, one that feels more like home than anything else ever has. 

Taking a sip of your now-ready coffee, Xavier’s hand finds yours as Sylus returns to the stove. As you watch them move around the kitchen, your heart brims with certainty. This isn’t a fleeting dream but your beautiful, messy reality. A future filled with shared laughter and endless mornings just like this one. 

And so, you settle in for the day ahead, knowing that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together—burnt pancakes and all. 

જ⁀➴°⋆ Requested bonus scene of Sylus and Mai ♡

The day has been long, but the night is young and serene. Its quietness offers a brief reprieve from the unease that’s plagued Sylus since the day you left with Xavier. Pale moonlight filters through the window, casting a gentle glow on Mai’s mahogany skin. Sylus traces his finger softly along her arm, meeting her deep amethyst gaze. 

Her skin dewy from hours of lovemaking, she looks almost scared as she searches his face, her eyes darting nervously as if trying to memorize every detail. Sylus cups her cheek, his thumb brushing an unshed tear as he murmurs, “Talk to me, kitten. Let me help...” 

Mai’s eyes cloud with guilt, haunted and regretful. She shuts them tightly before Sylus can truly grasp her turmoil. In a soft whisper, she confesses, “I did something, Sylus.” 

Confusion overwhelms him as he lightly grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And what exactly did you do?” 

Tears begin to fill her eyes as she admits, “I… I slept with Zayne. And—and Rafayel.” 

Sylus releases her and sits up in the bed, letting her words sink in. Resting his head on his knee, he breathes deeply and slowly, fighting the urge to put his fist through the wall. 

In a broken whisper, he asks, “Why?” 

Mai is now in full-blown tears, reaching out to Sylus, but he jerks away from her touch. “Xavier left, and they—they’re both seeing someone. I… I didn’t want them to leave me too…” 

Anger and disbelief course through Sylus as he shoots her a withering look. “Is something wrong with the idea of them finding their own happiness, kitten? Everyone deserves that right. Who are you to decide for them?” 

Hurt flashes in her eyes as she whispers, “You’ve always said that you don’t mind if I—” 

Sylus cuts her off with a low growl. “I said I was up for sharing, kitten. I never intended for you to fuck them without me.” 

Mai winces at the raw pain in Sylus’s voice, attempting to reach for him again. Allowing her to hold him close this time, she cradles his face, brushing away a tear as she murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Sylus. I promise it won’t ever happen again...” 

He allows her to kiss him, their tongues dancing together, but his movements feel mechanical and forced. Fingers pressing into her hips, he gently pushes her back in a desperate search for space. Confusion flickers across her features as she clutches the comforter around her nervously.

He tries to reassure her, but his voice is too emotionless to be comforting. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.” 

Quickly retreating to the bathroom, Sylus runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands as pain threatens to consume him. His mind drifts to you, and he realizes you’re the only one who can ease this ache. Your warm, comforting embrace seems to pull him in from miles away, filling him with the resolve to visit you tomorrow. The thought of seeing you is the only thing that gets him through the rest of the night with Mai. 

Mai prods him about his feelings all night until Sylus is forced to ask her to give him some space and time to process. She respects this boundary and even gives him adequate breathing room, which he greatly appreciates. Despite her efforts, her touch makes him feel ill, like he’s become a repellent magnet. The TV, tuned to your favorite cooking show, helps keep him sane until he can see you again.

Unfamiliar feelings hit him once more, the need for you feeling different and much more potent than usual. Confusion fills him when his mind lingers on visions of you comforting him with more than just a hug. He’s touched you so many times that he can practically feel your skin beneath his hands as he closes his eyes, soaking in your image to calm the storm inside him. Guilt swims in him for getting so upset at Mai for cheating when all he can think about is you. 

Mai’s soft voice breaks through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality with an agonizing jolt. “Want to go out and do something tomorrow? We could try out that new hiking trail,” she suggests, a hopeful gleam in her gaze as he reaches for his hand. Sylus stares at the ceiling, his voice void of emotion, “I’m going away on business. I’ll return in a few days.” 

Her body stiffens, and she narrows her eyes. “It’s not for business… You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?” she accuses, anger filling her features. He turns to her with a bored look, “Is that a problem?”

 Mai yanks her hand from his limp grip with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You desire her too…” she murmurs heatedly, searching for his reaction. Sylus sighs in frustration, his tone icy and bland, “Does it really matter after what you did?” When she snaps back with, “fuck you,” before walking away, Sylus plans to let her go.

As she makes it to her room, unaware that Mephisto is watching from the shadows, she mutters, “I should have taken care of the bitch myself.” His evol sneaks across the house, rearing up like an angry beast as it wraps around her, carrying her struggling form to drop before his feet. “Care to repeat that, kitten?” In all her lifetimes with Sylus, she’d never heard his voice hold such fury before. 

While Sylus wields terrifying power and is feared across galaxies, Mai has never been afraid of him. But she certainly is right now, and Sylus revels in seeing her fear overtake her. “I’m assuming you didn’t consider how losing her might affect me?” he hisses. 

“You’re immortal, Sylus. Inevitably, she’ll die, and you’ll lose her anyway. Really, I was saving you from her loss being so much worse down the road.” Her tone suggests she truly believes her words.

But it’s the carefree way she delivers them that irks Sylus. Suddenly unable to look at her, his feelings swarm in distress as his quiet voice fills the air. “This is the last time you’ll see me. Take care of yourself, kitten.” He cups her cheek and kisses her forehead before resting his against it. Tears stream down her cheeks as she stands still as a statue. Sylus breathes in her scent, though it no longer holds the comfort it used to. His heart shatters into pieces around him as he murmurs, “Get out.” 

Luckily, Mai makes a hasty exit because moments later, Sylus’s fists litter the wall with holes as furious screams echo through the house. Furniture breaks, and glass shatters as agony consumes him. When the front door shuts behind Mai, the bond linking them pulls painfully tight before snapping. Sylus falls to the floor, his hands lying limp at his sides as the sound of him quietly crying fills the air. 

He realizes suddenly that there’s no way he can let you see him like this. There’s no way he can be near you and not snap, knowing you withheld such vital information from him. Disgust swells as he remembers his moments of intimacy with Mai.

She tried to kill you, and he… How could you not tell him? You’ve been each other's confidant and sounding board for years. You tell each other everything. 

Sylus doesn’t visit you for a while, choosing to communicate only by text. You notice his distance but don't pry, knowing he’ll open up when he’s ready. It takes a while for Sylus's anger to simmer down, and for him to process his feelings about Mai and you. 

Part of the reason for staying away had been in a hopeless attempt to temper his feelings for you. The thought of ruining your friendship was unbearable. But the pull to you was compulsive, steadily chipping away at his resolve. 

When he finally sees you walking toward him from across the bar, he’s surprised by how wildly his heart thumps and how badly he aches to hold you in his arms. He smiles at your exasperation as he presents you with another gift, much to your dismay. When you tease him about his singing skills, he decides he wants you to nag him about his lack of talent for the rest of the time. 

“Ever heard of personal space, dove?” he teases, feeling strangely nervous about your sudden proximity. Though he’s hesitant, it’s so easy to wrap his arm around you and pull you close, letting your presence ease his sapped soul. For the first time in a long while, when your fingers entwine with his, Sylus feels a sense of hope and peace.

[alsofoundinpeas]

I Don't Need To Know

Summary: Spencer Reid has no choice but to watch the love of his life fall in love with another man. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Major character death. HEAVY angst. Bittersweet ending? Graphic depictions of violence (for maybe two lines). Fingering (f receiving). P in v sex/unprotected sex (in terms of a condom, birth control is mentioned). Loss of virginity (both m and f). Creampie (god I hate that word ugh!!). Slight age gap (roughly five years). Argument scene that may be triggering for readers that have experienced SA or manipulation from a partner (nothing of that nature actually happens, but just in case).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is inspired by Will He by Joji, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading. I cried several times while writing this, but I felt it needed to be done so here it is. :’) Please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

I got knots all up in my chest… Just know, I’m trying my best…

Spencer had always found the saying “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” absurd. He couldn’t fathom willingly letting go of something he loved on the off chance that it would come back to him. Not after having everything he’d ever loved ripped from his clutches throughout his lifetime. To him, love wasn’t about releasing someone to see if they’d return. It was about holding on as though his very survival depended on it—like a feral cat finally finding food after days of hunger, sinking its teeth in and never letting go, no matter the cost. 

It wasn’t until today that Spencer finally understood the meaning of that stupid phrase. And he wished with every intricate thread of his being that he didn’t. 

Five years. Five long, agonizing years had passed. So why was he here now? Why, after what felt like an eternity of pleading for just one more moment with her, did the universe decide now was the time to give him what he wanted? 

Ironically, the timing only drove home another phrase he’d always hated: “Be careful what you wish for.” 

There she was, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, sitting in the corner of what had once been their favorite café. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on her ring, the enticing glinting of the jewelry drawing his eyes away from her face momentarily. His heart is in his throat. She’s still wearing the wedding ring he’d given her, twisting it in the same nervous fashion she always used to. 

And there across from her is a man that isn’t him making her smile. 

‘Cause when you look… When you laugh… When you smile… I’ll bring you back…

Spencer Reid had never been a particularly angry man. He had his moments—who didn’t?—but he usually considered himself level-headed, patient. But now, watching Y/N hide a bashful smile behind the rim of her mug as she gazed at the man across from her, all Spencer could feel was rage. Raw, unbridled rage. It flared up inside him as her head tipped back, the sound of her laughter crashing over him like a tidal wave, stirring his veins with a violent rush. The same sound he’d yearned to hear again for five fucking years. And it was all because of him—Ben. 

That was his girl. His perfect, beautiful girl. The love of his life. His angel. 

All Spencer could do was stand there, feeling every broken shard of his non-existent heart pierce his chest. 

And now I’m sad… And I’m a mess… And now we high… That’s why I left… That’s why I left…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Spencer had never wanted to leave her. But that choice wasn’t his to make. 

That cold, cruel September night six years ago had robbed Spencer of his very existence. 

Everything that could have gone wrong during that case did. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, but he took it anyway. He had traded his life in exchange for JJ’s. It wasn’t even meant to be heroic. It wasn’t done out of love. It was just instinct. It’s who he was as a person. 

Was. 

The word leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because that’s his reality now. He was a person; an agent, a professor, a son, a husband…

Now he’s… well, that he didn’t quite understand. As a man of science, Spencer was stumped by what he could even call his existence now. Calling himself a ghost felt silly—he felt as alive as the day he’d died. And yet, that was essentially what he was. A whisper of the person he’d once been. A soul caught between worlds. 

Spencer could still feel the exact moment his soul wrenched free from its physical tether to the world. Even recalling it sent a shiver down his spine. It hadn’t been peaceful, as so many people claimed in interviews. No… it had been agony in its purest form; white hot and searing as his very essence clawed its way out from his ribs. There was no light waiting for him to step into it and find peace.

Instead, he had watched helplessly as the team he called his family swarmed his dead body, uselessly screaming for a medic as the crimson puddle underneath him grew and smeared beneath their hands as they knelt beside him. He had watched Y/N swing open their door that fateful night, the excited grin on her face vanishing as she came face to face with a tearful Emily instead of the husband she’d been eagerly waiting for. And he had watched the guilt eat away at JJ as their eyes met at his funeral, the hatred on Y/N’s face so raw it made Spencer’s own stomach twist. 

Despite the Bureau's insistence, she took charge of every detail—planning his funeral in a way that honored everything Spencer would have wanted. Y/N held Diana as she wept over her baby boy's body. She delivered a eulogy that left even Spencer in shambles. She was the first person to arrive and the last to leave, waiting until everyone had left to sink to her knees beside his casket and howl her grievances. 

For that first year, Y/N was as strong as she could be during the day. She handled everything that needed to be done, as long as the sun was still up. But when night fell, and the suffocating silence of their empty home settled in… that’s when she’d finally let herself break. 

Spencer had never been a religious man, but the year after his death felt like an endless descent into his own personal hell. He would never escape the sound of those gut-wrenching screams. He cursed whatever force had condemned him to an eternity where he could do nothing but watch, powerless as Y/N crumpled to the floor night after night, her wails so desperate it seemed as though she thought breaking the sound barrier might somehow bring him back to life. 

All he could do was stay beside her, silently pleading for his touch to somehow reach her, his hands brushing over her again and again, unnoticed and unfelt. 

Time was no longer a concept to Spencer. 

The limits of his existence perplexed him. He couldn’t roam freely, couldn’t go where he pleased—he could only follow where Y/N went. It was as if his very soul was bound to hers, linked by some invisible string that kept him tied to her even in death. It brought him both joy and sorrow: joy in the fact that he could still watch her, still admire the way she carried on, and sorrow because she would never know he was there, silently urging her forward, so incredibly proud of her strength. 

The longer he lingered, the more control he gained over his abilities. It started with the smallest things—a strand of hair lifting with the brush of his fingers, a faint chill against her skin as he cradled her face while she slept. But soon, it became more. Doors creaked open as he stepped into rooms behind her, and objects shifted ever so slightly from their places when he pushed with just enough force. 

There were times when she seemed to sense him—moments Spencer cherished more than anything. In those fleeting instances, it felt as though she could see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. Every day, rain or shine, she visited his grave, and when she spoke to him, her gaze would drift forward, as if she were looking into the honey-colored eyes she once loved. Her hands would rest open in her lap, as though she knew he was holding them. When she was home, she’d speak aloud every thought that came to mind, as though she knew he could hear every word that fell from her perfect lips. And he always responded as if she could hear him in return. That was their new life for the first year after his death. 

After a year and one day, he was gone. 

That’s where his understanding of the phrase “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” came from. It was because she had set him free. 

One whole year had passed. The hardest year of Y/N’s life. She had knelt by his grave, laying fresh flowers with trembling hands, her tears falling freely for hours. When she finally stood to leave, her legs unsteady beneath her, she pressed a soft kiss to his headstone. Through her tears, she whispered how much she missed him, how he never left her thoughts, and how she’d never stop loving him—but above all, she wished he could be at peace. And on the night following the anniversary of his passing, her wish was granted. He had faded into nothingness, existing only in her dreams and memories for five long years. 

But now, he was back. Because he had always been hers. 

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? 

Spencer remembered their first time like it was yesterday, though he wasn’t sure if he could thank his eidetic memory or the fact that it was because of how remarkable it had been for the memory lingering so vividly...

“You’re lying! You’ve really never had sex before?” 

Y/N squawked the words incredulously as she sat atop Spencer’s lap, grinning down at the stammering mess of a man beneath her. Spencer’s hands flexed against her hips, unintentionally squeezing as he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

They were inside Spencer’s apartment, having enjoyed the museum and dinner but still craving each other’s company too badly to end the night there. What started as sweet, innocent pecks pressed up against the kitchen counter had quickly devolved into ravenous, passionate kisses that had them stumbling towards the couch. It was going so well… until Spencer panicked after Y/N had whispered into his ear asking how far he wanted things to go. 

That resulted in him spewing out the fact that he, at twenty-six years old, was a virgin.

“No, I haven’t! Why is that so hard to believe?” Spencer huffs, his small smile belying his annoyed tone. 

It was their sixth date total in a span of four months, but it was their first date as an actual couple. Spencer had reluctantly agreed to let Penelope set him up on a blind date after his failed attempt at taking JJ out had shattered any of the confidence he’d built up, leaving the man petrified of taking his chances romantically again. He suspected Penelope’s pity for him was why she was setting up said date to begin with, but he quickly found himself grateful that he went. 

Y/N had been friends with Penelope for years, having bonded online over some indie punk rock band that was no longer around and developing a close friendship from there despite their age difference. When Penelope found out Y/N had moved to Virginia and was single, she couldn’t resist setting the two up. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to stammer as she quickly thinks of a response. “I, uh… you’re just so handsome that I naturally assumed you’d had sex before.” 

Spencer blinks up at her skeptically, trying to detect even the faintest clue that the otherworldly woman in his lap was lying to him. All he found was nervous adoration as she stared back down at him, her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. It suited her. He wanted to cause it more often. 

“I had, um… I graduated super early from both high school and college, so I didn’t do much dating.” 

Instead of the judgment Spencer expected to see spread across her face, Y/N simply just hummed in understanding, her eyes curious as they watched him. He’d elaborate more on his unfortunate (for lack of a better term) adolescence later. For now, he just wanted to keep from scaring the poor girl off of his lap so he could taste her sweet chapstick again. 

“I see…” Y/N murmurs before continuing, shifting forward slightly with a smirk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m also a virgin.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened almost comically as he gawked up at her. His heart stutters in his chest, his mouth going dry. His tongue pokes out in a meek attempt at wetting his lips, his voice cracking as he responds. 

“Et tu, Y/N?” 

Oh fuck. Spencer hadn’t meant to let the lame reference slip from his mouth. She just made him so nervous that he couldn’t think straight, and Rome had been heavily on his mind since she had perched herself in his lap. Specifically Roman goddesses, because she looked like she should be amongst them on their thrones. Surely she was going to leave now—-

Loud, genuine laughter bubbles from Y/N’s lips, the noise startling Spencer as she tips her head back and her hands grip his shoulders to stabilize herself. She thought it was funny. She thought he was funny. 

“That’s, like, the last thing I expected you to say,” Y/N managed once her laughter had simmered down into giggles. “But, to answer your question… I too have really never had sex before.” 

Spencer knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. The woman was sex personified; the archetype of beauty and seduction wrapped into one perfect being. The twitching in his pants brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He could ask her later why that was. For now, he brought his focus back to her. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Spencer tilted his head up to brush their noses together. “Would you… would you want to?” 

It didn’t take a profiler to notice the hitch in her breath or the almost imperceptible squeezing of her thighs around his hips. Her pupils were already blown, her lower lip trembling from what Spencer prayed was anticipation and not regret as his question settled over her. The silence stretched between them, the seconds feeling like hours in Spencer’s overly anxious mind. 

He’d done it now. He’d gone off and opened his stupid mouth and frightened the one woman he could actually see himself having a future with because the head straining against his zipper overruled the head housing his supposed genius level IQ. The apologies were already forming in the back of his throat, but they weren’t needed because she— she was kissing him? 

“God, yes. Please,” Y/N murmured eagerly against his lips, effectively clearing every cohesive thought from his brain. 

If Spencer thought her words were enough to bring upon his undoing, he was sorely mistaken. The grinding of her hips against his erection ignited something inside of him that he had no idea existed. It was feral, drowning out all of his other emotions and replacing them with one thing: primal, unfiltered desire. 

Spencer understood now why men used to start wars over women. 

With each gasp that fell upon his ears, Spencer pledged his allegiance to her. Every stuttered moan that came into existence from his hips rutting up into her clothed core fueled his devotion to her. It was animalistic, the way his hands gripped her ass and pulled her tighter against his body as his mouth devoured her now, every cell swimming through his veins screaming for more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of her sounds... God, those heavenly sounds that had Spencer finally believing in salvation, if only in the form of her skin against his.  

Tongues danced together as layers were hastily stripped away. Layers of insecurity. Layers of self-doubt. Layers of uncertainty. Their clothes fell to the ground as though the fabric burned them, clumsy hands fidgeting with buttons and tugging at zippers with a vendetta. 

Those layers that had crumbled so easily were replaced instead with the firm knowledge that this was exactly where they were meant to be: in each other’s arms, trembling and panting as their world’s trajectory tilted so violently it uprooted them from their upright position, knocking them down against the leather cushions as their bodies attempted to mend their separated souls back into one. 

Spencer choked on the words he wanted to worship her with, so instead he used the most primitive sense he could to get his message across: touch. His lips sucked purpling reminders into the crook of her neck of what they both knew to be true now: He is hers just as much as she is his. Lithe fingers tugged the soaked fabric of her lace panties down until they landed in a heap with their other clothes. Those same fingers pause at the crest of her most intimate spot, his eyes meeting hers with a silent plea. 

Y/N found herself in the same position, her words failing her as they were strangled in her throat by the overwhelming adoration she felt for the man hovering above her. Instead of chanting her desire for Spencer to please touch her, she canted her hips up in approval. 

Her moans were swallowed by swollen lips that claimed the sound straight from her body as nimble fingers dug themselves into the deepest parts of her. Their rhythm was clumsy but steadfast, her hips bucking against his hand in jerky movements as the palm of his hand pressed against her clit. Spencer’s own hips ground against the bare skin of her thigh, shielded only by the immature fabric of his equation-covered boxers. 

Spencer hadn’t for a second thought the night was going to go like this. If he had known he’d have the definition of art itself clawing at his shoulders and panting into his mouth while he made her legs tremble beneath him, he wouldn’t have worn what he deemed his lucky boxers. At least they had done their job, he supposed. 

Their lips separated completely as a guttural moan wrenched its way from Y/N’s throat, her body beginning to thrash wildly underneath him as the tension in her lower belly coiled tighter. Spencer wouldn’t allow her first time to happen on his couch. She was much too precious for that. But he’d already made the decision to unravel her at least once while they were there, to bring her over the edge before taking her into his bedroom so that he could experience the glorious sight of her falling apart more than once tonight. 

Spencer was a virgin, not a prude. He’d seen porn before. He’d read erotic novels. Anything he could use to try to prepare himself for the real experience, he did. But nothing could have prepared him for the downright visceral reaction Y/N had as his fingers curled and brushed against the rough patch of skin inside of her that caused the tension building in her body to snap. Her cries of pleasure tore through him as her pussy clenched around his fingers, his free hand leaving its place beside her head to keep her thighs pried open. He quickly shifted up onto his knees to watch her taking his fingers as she came, taking the pleasure he inflicted upon her. 

He sang her praises while slowing his pace, cooing softly at her as he stroked her hair and worked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only when she was squirming and whining beneath him did he finally remove his fingers, sucking them into his mouth greedily. Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her chest heaved, her eyes locked on Spencer as his tongue lapped over his fingers, enjoying her essence with a groan. Her body sagged into the couch, a delighted laugh spilling from her exhausted frame as she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of his living room. 

“Do you still want to keep going?” Spencer breathed as he gazed down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of something that made Y/N's heart flutter. “B-because we can stop there if you want. I just… I want to do what makes you happy.” 

Above her was the man she’d recognized, soft and timid, but now with a newfound air of confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Above her was the man that she wanted more than anything. Above her was the man that she knew, without a shadow of doubt, would be her husband. 

“Spencer… if you don’t fuck me right now, then I’ll die a virgin, right here on your couch... and it will be all your fault.” 

Spencer’s hearty chuckles filled the room, his nose twitching as he grinned down at the dramatic woman. He simply couldn’t let that be her fate, could he? 

Shaking his head, he stooped down to press a gentle kiss to her nose before standing from the couch, offering her his (clean) hand. Y/N’s face twisted in confusion as she stared up at him, still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm surprisingly given to her by the same man who’d eagerly rambled about the lore behind Doctor Who on their first date when she’d mentioned she hadn’t seen it. 

“Not here, silly girl. The bedroom,” He whispered. 

He guided her down the dark hallway as though he were escorting the most priceless treasure known to man to his bed, and in his eyes, he was. His hand stayed steady on her hip as she swayed lightly, her body pressed into his side as he opened the door with shaky hands. Any confidence Spencer had managed to muster throughout the night vanished as they crossed the threshold into his bedroom, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip gently as his courage began to crack. 

In an almost startling display of being seen, something Spencer had never experienced before, Y/N looped her arms around his neck and tugged him into a kiss that simultaneously stole the breath from his lungs and filled him with the air he needed to breathe again, effectively calming his nerves.

“It’s okay,” She reassured him against his lips. “It’s just me.” 

She walked them backward until the backs of her knees pressed into his cool comforter, taking over where Spencer so willingly handed her the reigns while he regained his momentum. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands pressed into his hips to keep him from following after her. Her eyes met his, the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window illuminating her as though she were a vision, a figment of his imagination that he’d conjured up in the dead of night, ready to haunt his every waking moment once he inevitably woke up to an empty bed. She was too good to be true. 

Spencer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders, just to give himself proof that Y/N was real and that he hadn’t dreamed her up or somehow followed in his mother’s footsteps and succumbed to early onset schizophrenia. 

She was real and she was here, eye level with the tent in his boxers and naked as the day she was born, her warm breath fanning across the smattering of hair trailing down from his belly button to below his underwear. His muscles tensed and twitched as she smirked up at him, pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock through the thin fabric. His entire body flinched from that one touch, his brows furrowing together as he hissed quietly. 

“N-not that I wouldn’t love to feel your mouth on me—“ Spencer’s pitch raised as her hands found the elastic of his waistband, pulling his boxers down his legs. “But I… I won’t last if you do.” 

The fondness in her eyes quelled any humiliation he felt from having uttered those words. 

Placing a kiss to his hip, she nodded in understanding before shuffling backwards to lay in the middle of his bed, with him kneeling onto the mattress after her. The sight of her— stretched out and languid and looking at him as if she wanted to ravage him— had him sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever in the universe had deemed him worthy enough of having this divine of a woman in his life. 

As Spencer reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom, Y/N stammers, grabbing his attention. He watches for a moment as she flounders over her words, his brow furrowing in concern at her sudden diffidence. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I’m on birth control if you want to skip the condom!” 

Spencer inhales sharply at the same time she smiles sheepishly up at him, her blurted words almost making him finish before they’d even started. He holds her gaze, tracing her irises for any hint of hesitancy. When he finds none, he nods once, swallowing hard. 

“I— uh. Um...” 

It was rare that Spencer Reid was rendered speechless, but Y/N had managed to do it with just eleven words. He clears his throat, trying again. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like to skip the condom. Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.” 

“Yes. It is. I pinky promise.” 

Y/N holds up her pinky for him, the sight so endearing he can practically feel his heart melt away, dripping in a sticky mess inside him. He just grins, linking his pinky with hers before he moves to settle over her once more. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as his elbows dig into the mattress beside her ribs. The flushed head of his cock bumps against her clit as he reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, a small whine leaving her lips at the sensation. He repeats the action, dizzy from the sound of her soft noises. She was still soaked from their time on the couch, a small feeling of pride welling in Spencer’s chest at the knowledge that not only did he make her cum, but he’d kept her wet while they made it here. 

His lips meet hers in a searing kiss, the both of them quivering with anticipation at giving themselves so intimately to someone for the first time. He was happy it was her. And she was happy it was him. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time where his mind had ever been quiet. All he knew was incessant thoughts and worries, unable to put a halt to the chaos jumbling around his brain. But as he pressed forward and sunk into Y/N for the first time, his entire mind went blank. White static crowded the spaces where various facts and tidbits of information had been stored, the only thing he was able to focus on now being the sheer ecstasy coursing through his body from being inside of her. 

His mouth hung open as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips stilling as they pressed flush against hers. She mirrored his response, squeaking out an “oh!” as her walls fluttered around the intrusion instinctively. He throbbed in response, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the pitiful whimper that escaped from behind clenched teeth. 

She was so tight. So wet. So warm. 

Sparks of pleasure zinged up and down his spine as he remained still, waiting patiently for Y/N to adjust to both his size and to the feeling of being filled for the first time in general. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. All he wanted was for her to feel good. To enjoy this as much as he was. 

He was a humble man, truly. But even he wasn’t too shy to admit he’d been gifted with a size that was bigger than average. Not necessarily just in length, falling just shy of seven inches, but in girth as well.  

Spencer peppered soft kisses up and down her flushed skin, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips. He was sure she could feel his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs from where their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples were taut, pressing into his skin enticingly. He wanted to touch them. Taste them. But he’d wait until she was ready. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

At her gentle nod, Spencer lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, their lips brushing together as he pulls his hips back. The sensation of her grip tightening in his hair as he pushed forward does more to him than he’d care to admit, but he still lets her hear just how affected he is by her. With a shaky moan, Spencer repeats the motion, easing out of her before gently rocking back into her. He keeps this up for a few minutes, her sharp breaths dissolving into muted moans of her own. 

“You can— you can move faster if y-you want.” 

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut at her words, and he’s pressing a fervent kiss to her lips before he begins to really move. The sound of skin smacking together begins to fill the air as he ruts his hips into hers, his walls bearing witness to every pleasured noise that spills between them. His pace is frenzied, his rhythm stuttered, but it feels so good that neither of them really care. 

Y/N’s nails roamed his body now, alternating between dragging harsh lines into the planes of his back and burying into his shoulders to leave little tender half moons in their wake. Spencer yearned to pull every single noise that he could from her throat, planting his hands beside her head and hefting himself up for better leverage before his lips wrapped around her right nipple. He sucks harshly at the pert bud, reveling in the desperate whimper it causes. 

Spencer grunts when she clenches around him, letting his mouth glide over to her neglected breast, his hips hammering into hers now as she cries out his name over and over. He was close… so, so close. But he needed to make her cum one more time before he’d allow himself to. He needed to know what it felt like for her to fall apart around his cock. With every ounce of willpower he had, Spencer slows his hips to a stop inside of her. 

Y/N whined her discontent at his sudden pause, her eyes opening to blink hazily up at him. “Why’d you… why’d you stop?” She panted, her fingers finding and twisting her own nipples as if she couldn’t help but to touch herself. 

Spencer muffled a curse at the sight, sitting back on his haunches as he stared down at the woman beneath him with reverence. 

“Flip onto your stomach for me, angel.”

She does as instructed, wiggling her hips coyly as Spencer grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffs it underneath her hips to prop her up better, ensuring she’d be comfortable. Once she’s settled on her front, Spencer wasted no time in pressing himself back into her, both of them releasing a moan so loud he’s surprised the walls don’t shake. Thank God he didn’t have neighbors right now. 

He eased himself down so his chest is pressed to her back, lavishing her neck and shoulder in open mouthed kisses while his hips drilled into her. This angle was deeper, allowing him to plow directly into her g-spot as she writhed and begged incoherently beneath him. He laced his left hand with hers, shoving them into his mattress. His other hand stuffed itself between the pillow and her wriggling body until the pads of his fingers found her clit, his breath coming out in sharp pants into her ear. 

Y/N felt delirious with pleasure, bucking her hips back in a feeble attempt to meet his. He began whispering into her ear about how good she felt around him, thanking her for allowing him to fuck her, praising her for taking him so well… 

His words paired with his fingers circling her clit have her second orgasm ripping through her body with so much ferocity that tears begin to fall down her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand clutching his so tightly her knuckles whitened as she wailed into a pillow, gushing around him. 

Spencer let out his own guttural moan at the feeling, spilling into her with a shout as he planted his head between her shoulder blades, his hips weakly thrusting into her as they rode out their climaxes. 

He held her until her tremors stopped. He kissed her forehead before he darted off to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her with. He thanked her in soft whispers as her eyes began to drift shut before he’d even finished cleaning his mess between her thighs. 

And he knew, watching the gorgeous woman before him sleep so soundly in his bed after they’d just defiled each other’s innocence, that he was looking at his future wife. 

Will your lover caress you the way that I did? Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit? 

The air was thick with tension as Y/N stared at Ben, her chest heaving and eyes watering at the hurt look on his face. Spencer watched from the corner, his concern for his wife outweighing the jealousy he had previously felt when he watched the couple slip into her— though he still selfishly thought of it as their— bed. Y/N had been dating Ben for three months now. That made for three months that Spencer ached so heavily he’d sometimes wish he could fade back into nothingness if it meant he didn’t have to watch the love of his life with another man. 

The furthest Ben and Y/N had gone physically was a few pecks here and there, with Y/N always being the one to draw away and cut the kisses short. Ben had played the nice guy act, reassuring her that he understood her hesitance and that he’d be okay doing whatever she was comfortable with. Spencer despised him. He could see right through Ben’s facade, and if he could do more than nudge a door open, he’d make that hatred known. But he couldn’t. 

Spencer watched on with furrowed brows as Y/N reached a shaky hand over and turned the lamp on her nightstand on, illuminating the dark room in a soft glow that contrasted with the dark energy that began to cloud the small space. Spencer could see it all on Ben’s face: hurt, betrayal, anger. He could see the fear, guilt, and shame on Y/N’s. 

This was the first night Y/N had tried to push past her discomfort so that she could offer Ben more than just false promises of physical intimacy. It started slow, with soft kisses that dissolved into hungrier ones as they laid together in the dark. But the second Ben went to roll on top of her, sliding a hand down her body to pull her hips against his, she panicked. Her body jolted, and her hands had shot out instinctively to shove him off of her, leaving them where they were now in some sort of silent standoff. 

Spencer knew as soon as it had happened just why it did. She had thought of him. His guilt overruled the smug pleasure he’d felt as he watched it unfold. As painful as it had been watching Y/N move on with her life, all he ultimately wanted was for her to be happy. Spencer had been barely thirty-five when he passed, and she had only been thirty. That left almost an entire lifetime ahead for her, and even though he so desperately wanted to have lived that lifetime with her, he had to accept that that wasn’t what fate had in store for them. 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened at the same time Y/N’s dropped. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N leveled Ben with a narrowed glare, rage flashing in her eyes in place of the shame that had just been there. 

“I get that you have a dead husband. I’ve tried to be patient with you. But fuck! It's been six years, Y/N. It’s time for you to move on,” Ben seethes, his face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I can’t even touch you without you flinging me off of you!” 

It’s as though Y/N is the exact physical embodiment of Spencer’s own emotions, physically reacting in the way that he can’t. She was out of the bed before Spencer could even blink, marching over to the bedroom door and yanking it open. Ben watches in bewilderment, his mind clearly not catching up with what was happening. 

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Y/N’s voice is cold as she stares menacingly at Ben. When he doesn’t move, she speaks again, her voice louder. “Get out of my fucking house, Ben!” 

Ben stammers, standing from the bed and attempting to plead his case. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-”

“I don’t care. Get out of my house,” Y/N repeats herself, cutting off his pathetic excuses. 

Spencer smirks proudly from beside her.

 That’s his girl. 

Ben sighs, hanging his head and scrubbing his hands frustratedly across his face. 

“If you kick me out over some guy that’s been dead for six years, then we’re over. For good.” 

Spencer cackles at Ben’s proposition, though it can’t be heard by either party in the room. That was his attempt at fixing things? Seriously? Good riddance. He’d drag the guy out of there himself if he could. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear, we’re already over. No one talks about my husband like that. Now get out before I call the police and have you escorted off of my property.” 

It doesn’t take long after that for Ben to tuck his tail and leave, slamming the front door on his way out. Y/N’s steam runs out the second his car pulls out of her driveway, tears streaming down her face as she curls up on her couch. 

Spencer’s own chest twinges uncomfortably as he sits beside her, stroking her hair despite her inability to actually receive the comfort. He didn’t know what hurt more; watching his beautiful, broken girl sob and not being able to stop her tears, or being the cause of the tears himself. He had to do something, anything to let her know he was still there and that he still loved her beyond death. 

The same time Spencer stands is the same time Y/N’s tears pause, a hiccup rocking her frame before she glances up. 

“Spence?” Y/N calls softly. Spencer’s heart would have stopped right there had he not already been dead.

Spencer turns slowly from his place at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and hopeful as he responds. “Yes, angel?” 

His hope fades as he realizes she isn’t looking at him, rather her eyes are just darting around the room. 

“Spencer I… I know it’s been awhile since I’ve talked to you. And for that, I’m so sorry,” Y/N starts, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. Or if you ever could. But I miss you. I miss you in my bones. I just… you were— are my everything.” 

The lump in her throat grows as the tears begin to stream down her face again. Spencer’s own eyes sting with tears that she’ll never see drip down his face. He swallows hard, making his way over to their— yes, their— bookshelf. 

“I’d give anything to have you back in my arms… I should have begged you to leave the BAU and just teach full-time if it meant I could still have you here, safe and at home. It’s not even a home without you.” 

Y/N sobs freely now, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before she buries her head into them. 

Every ounce of grief, guilt, sadness, and anger from what his death has done to his precious girl fuels Spencer to do something he deemed impossible: he yanks the leatherbound notebook holding their vows inside of it off of the bookshelf, sending it tumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to show her that he’s still there and that he still loves her. 

The noise causes a yelp to slip from Y/N’s lips, her head jerking up as the book hits the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It had fallen open exactly to where Spencer wanted it to: the page starting his vows to her.  Y/N crawled from the couch to the book, her trembling hands lifting the journal so that she can read the words her husband wrote to her ten years ago. With a deep exhale, she sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor, reading Spencer’s chicken scratch he called handwriting with a heavy heart. And for the first time since his casket closed, she feels a sense of peace wash over her. She was going to be okay, despite it all, because he was hers just as much as she was his.

Continued A/N: Ahh!! Ghost!Spencer my beloved. :') JUST TO CLARIFY: I am not a JJ hater!! It just fit better for the story to have her be the one this all happened for. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to sharing more in the future with you as my blog grows <3

K <3

[tsuutarr]

how would incubus be with someone who is just like how he was before he met them? so like darling is super detached, hates pillow talk, and clinginess, sleeps around with other people, and only sees him as a really good fuck but isnt exclusive with him because ✨️variety✨️

Hmm, that's an interesting scenario! My original idea is that Tynan finds Darling, likes the taste of Darling, and decides to stay because it pisses Finley (guardian angel) off and Tynan thinks it's hilarious.

Tynan is a more slow-burn yandere who falls because Darling is interesting to him, so a detached darling would be interesting to him too. He'd probably pester a detached Darling a lot and follow Darling around haha

He wouldn't initially be opposed to Darling sleeping around since he wouldn't be a yandere yet. BUT when he does become more obsessive and possessive, he'll prevent Darling from sleeping around. It's quite easy for him since he's an incubus so he (1) has mind magic to trick Darling and (2) he can change his appearance. So if Darling needs variety, Tynan can easily provide it himself (in very shady ways)

I do imagine that it'll be easier for a friendly Darling to get Tynan to open up, but Tynan would like a detached Darling too~

(He's not pissed per se in the drawing, he just wants flex how much better he is at sex lol I imagine this to be sometime between him just thinking Darling is cute and being a full blow yandere. It goes something like: [1] Darling is fun/cute/interesting -> [2] Hm... Weird I do not like Darling flirting with other people (aka beginning attachment phase) -> [3] Yandere (full attachment phase))

(So this scene would be on phase [2]. Usually, Tynan doesn't really care about people sleeping around bc he's too detached, but if he does get attached? You're in trouble bc he won't let you go lol)

[mihii-i]

form of worship.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, redo of the brothel vision scene because I fucking hate it, flashback yippee, you’re not here w her unfortunately mizu just thinks of reader, I made this more passionate because I just don’t like taizu and I get more action than taigen cause I’m her wife obvi, praise, fingering, crying, sough rex, the kink where you drag your nails along someone’s back (do not tell anyone I have that this stays here.), mizu’s confused about gay people lmfao, hehehehe switch mizu yes I live for switch mizu, bottom lean tho cause im thirsty rn, not proofread.

A/N: here’s the little poll winner request cause you freakazoids (lovingly) requested anyway this is literally just the brothel sequence but with mizu imagining you instead of baldie (I hate that scene sm I pretend it doesn’t exist lmfaooo) anyway have fun cause it’s almost midnight so writing might be a little off. 🕯️

“He was honest with his desire, that is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul.”

Madame Kaji’s smooth voice rang around the thick atmosphere clouded with lust, her voice soft like a bundle of silk running fluidly without any openings or stray threads. Slim spills of golden light poured out from the thin, rectangular peephole that slid open to observe such acts through the periphery a singular eye.

Orange glasses lowered to rest atop the bridge of her nose, Mizu couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the raw skin to skin contact, both a woman and the samurai from the duel earlier brushing up against each other so sinfully, while another man pressed against the samurai’s back to loom over his wide shoulders. Her pupils dilated wide within the rim of her cerulean eyes, fixated on how the dull yellow brightness outlining their bodies in the midst of a firey passion scorching within the confines of the heated ambience.

She had solely convinced herself that such acts were nothing but a medium of self indulgence in the pleasure of another. An addictive feeling that is solely useless to partake in. Sexual pleasure could either be a soul entangling act of love, coursing through the veins in an ardent ache throbbing within someone to love and please the other. While on the other end, it could be the exact opposite. A heightened, sadistic thirst to satisfy one’s selfish desires to bask in, as well as inflict harm upon another in rugged destruction where the reciever pleads for it to be over. The duality alone was enough to draw Mizu away from the prospect of something supposedly disgusting to her.

So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away from the two men, engaged so deeply in their fervor together?

Mizu opened her mouth to speak for a moment, eyes still locked onto the grasp of the three in the room rocking against each other as a chorus of quiet moans gradually grew louder from the inside. Her mouth hung dry in response though, not a single word rasping out of her mouth in the usual stern tone that lowly hummed against her throat. She wanted to deny the potential thought of sex being an act of worship as Madame Kaji had proposed, trying to force out the words of desire being beyond the need of her purpose.

Madame Kaji only flashed her a satisfied smile at the sight of her gaze transfixed onto the passionate act between the three within the room. The corners of her cherry lips perked up at the sight, cautiously stepping toward Mizu.

“Has the gentleman finally caught sight of an act that piqued his interest?” She inquired, under the impression that sexual relations with a man was what Mizu had desired.

That wasn’t it.

A man with another man? Although quite different to her, the act itself between two of the same sex seemed beautiful in her sights, a fresh bond between the two men being honest with their desires in a way that wasn’t the norm nor taboo, yet was rather welcome as a beauty of preference to one another.

Could two women partake in the same act?

Mizu blinked at the abrupt thought she had, her bottom lip curled into a thin line dashed below her nose. She wondered to herself that if women weren’t so confined in such a society, remaining as open to several options as men were…could two women be honest with their desires in the same affection to crave one another?

Her mind began flood with scenarios as she blankly dulled her eyes into the two men’s lips smashed up against one another’s, not particularly looking at them with much interest. Rather, she wanted to know how it would feel to outline her hands along the smooth skin of another woman. Head racing with scenarios of you in particular, rather than some random woman she picked up on. It was clear Mizu had missed you, yet she didn’t think it was to the extent where her thoughts were clouded with fucking you in the same way the do in these brothels.

Face flushing deeply, the upper end of the bridge of her nose was dusted in a gentle blush of pink, diffusing to the thin bones of her cheeks. All she could picture in the moment while staring blankly—were the calloused ridges of her fingers tracing along your curves as her palms carefully dug into the plush of your bare skin, handling you cautiously as if you were a porcelain doll, fragile to her unmerciful hand.

Lips grazing the flesh of your throat while her skull was nothing but a whirlwind of desire for you, longing to hear your drawn out noises as the compulsive need to feel you clenching around her waned at any composure she kept within her. Mizu continued to observe the acts of the two, with less interest in what they partook in and rather what she wanted to lock you into, imagining the infatuating sight of your nude frame sprawled out below her, legs held up to your chest with only one of her hands as her gloves chafed against the bristles of hair on your knees.

Mizu bit her bottom lip subtly at the lone idea itself of her free hand sunken into your cunt while she took in your cries of pleasure circling her, the heightened want and desperation in your voice bouncing off the walls into every corner of the room as you enclosed the velvety warmth of your walls around the ridges of her digits. Simply burying them knuckles deep in you, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust as she kissed you all over as a sweet act of love coated in pleasure until your inevitable climax.

Gods, she couldn’t keep you out of her mind.

Even when the two men flipped over, Mizu strangely enough was only able to dissolve her previous thoughts into a whole new scenario, one of which made her skin burn as a bead of sweat built up directly below her jaw on the vein of her neck. Feeling as if her head was throbbing at the influx of perverted thoughts, she didn’t attempt to push away any idea of you laying on top of her as well, hands flat against her waist to press her into a tatami mat.

Such a shameless thought of you taking her on the floor itself only sent her reeling into a mess, brain short circuiting as her knees pushed closer together than they already were. Attempting to push back the simple, raw idea of your fingers brushing along that spot within her, massaging the spongy end that addictively buries your fingers into the soft warmth of her pussy, was nothing but a futile attempt.

It was hard to push back, especially darting to the idea of your teeth grazing the edge of her collarbone as you hummed against the crook of her neck, uttering out soothing words of praise along her skin as a shiver racked Mizu’s body. Tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as her legs tightly coiled around your bare waist, obscene moans she attempted to suppress spilling from her lips as your fingers sunk into her cunt enveloping you with a welcome warmth.

Each gentle word of affection rasped out by your hushed voice against her throat serving to prick more tears welling up in her eyes from the sheer emotion blending into the sensation of pleasure arching her body in a dome off the ground as your palm ground against her sensitive clit. Her fingers traced along your back as you rammed your fingers into her against the mat while her body jousted upward with the slam of three of your fingers inside her, nails dug into your back as she raked down your skin in a wake of bright red blooming along the ridges of goosebumps.

Mizu knew how damn loud she was, the fact even coming to enticingly haunt her in her fantasies as she envisioned the lewd noises wrenched out of her throat while she dug her nails into your back, your fingers nudging up against her cervix as she let out a pleading sob at the sheer stimulation driven by your love. Only being able to imagine the blanking feeling mentally as she snapped from her climax, her lithe figure arching to the cool air assaulting her bare skin as it drew in shiver along her exposed tits, chest heaving up and down as you captured her in a gentle kiss.

Her imagination subsided as soon as she lost sight of the three within the room upon grounding herself back into reality, the heat dusted across still lingering along the midpoint of her sharp facial structure. When Mizu had imagined your hands on her, or even her hands pressed onto your body, she couldn’t help but ponder Madame Kaji’s words once more…she wanted you in a way that could be considered a form of worship.

“Have you found your desire?”

Madame Kaji’s words cut through Mizu’s elevated state as she stared through the warmth of her glasses wide eyed, swallowing back the embarrassment accumulated from the strangely detailed scenario. Mizu only shook her head in response, replying in a hesitant voice firmly.

She shut her eyes under the facade of being calm, her fingers pressed to the wood before dragging it across to slide the window closed as she pursed her lips shut.

“Desire is beyond the need of my purpose.”

A/N: bye I have midterms next week anyway this is fine but like yall voted for this don’t even

ily all no matter how freaky yall are (im acting like I’m not)

I was gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing this and it’s 2 am I’m sleepy gn.

[et6rnalsun]

LET ‘EM KNOW, chris sturn

𝜗𝜚 pairing: chris sturn x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up) literally js sex, chris being rough as always, slightly toxic! reader & toxic! chris

posted this cuz i needed to post something so here u go sum freaky smut. there’s a small time skip directly to the sex, hope it’s clear

your relationship with chris was complicated — and it couldn't even be called that.

something unfinished, that neither of you wanted to end. something that you had to let go but were too attached and dependent to the toxicity of the entire thing. you fucked, argued, argued while you fucked. it was a cycle that repeated itself, threats of never seeing each other again and then ending up in each other's bed with sinful moans escaping from swollen lips.

you weren't a jealous person, never been, especially towards him. you knew perfectly well he fucked other girls and pride ate you up completely before you could make a scene or something. but there was one of his hoes in particular, who made your hands tingle with the desire to beat her ass, that kept hanging around on him as if he was hers.

you fought the urge to nibble on your freshly manicured nails as you stared at that photo posted on his instagram story, their faces too close for your liking, clearly laying in his bed. so, you didn't think twice before clicking on his number, calling him. you waited one ring, two rings, and at the third he finally answered, his raspy voice saying your name slurredly.

"can you come over?" you asked shortly, getting straight to the point as you sat on the edge of your bed. chris sighed, knowing where you were going with this. "i'm busy right now, i think you know that"

"do you think i care? drop this bitch, chris, we both know you're dying to come here anyway" you huffed, not caring in the slightest that maybe you sounded too cocky. then your voice took on a more pleading tone, trying to get to him. "please, i need you. i’m not even kidding"

you could practically hear him wavering, his silence the answer you needed while you were already smiling in victory. "i'm coming. i fucking hate you" and hang up.

you then stood up, walking to the bathroom as you changed out of your underwear into his favorite thong, a smirk on your glossy lips the whole time. you had won, as always. you had confirmed that chris couldn't even resist you and your sweet voice of yours that begged him so subtly.

you didn't care if you sounded pathetic, or if you wouldn't do it for any other man anyway. you wanted him and had him again.

and then you didn't care even more as your fingers continued to pull the long curls of his hair to draw him closer to your neck, already tortured by marks and hickeys. your other hand gripping the crumpled sheets of your bed due to the inhuman rhythm of his thrusts. your moans were like music to his ears, especially after not hearing them for so long.

the tight, pink thong you had worn a few minutes before his arrival had been thrown to the floor without the slightest importance or care, like the rest of your clothes, only that one had been completely torn by chris's fucking impatient hands.

“you're such a needy slut,” he murmured through gritted teeth, one of his hands resting on your neck to keep you still. "you couldn't stand the fact that i was with someone else, huh? admit it" to those last words he added a thrust that hit right in that sweet spot, making you whimper.

“shut the fuck up” you managed to breathe out, your thighs tightening around him as you were desperate to reach your orgasm. "you didn't even - ah- didn't even hesitate to come here, didn’t you?”

he tightened his grip on your neck, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulder with his other hand as he groaned. "fuck you" small beads of sweat had formed on his forehead at that point. “no one, no one has a pussy as fucking tight as yours” he felt like your walls were about to snap him in half, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. "you drive me so crazy"

your moans had increased, feeling that pressure starting to persist more and more. “admit it” you whimpered, your long nails scratching his back as your arched yours slightly in pleasure. "admit that no one is like me"

his lips had found your bare shoulder, his teeth digging and biting into the sensitive skin as he whispered and moaned shamelessly into it. "no one makes me feel like you do, ma, i would gladly die inside this pussy if i could."

and you're cumming around him the minute the words leave his lips.

[maxillness]

🇨🇦 || That’s What Girlfriends Are For || LS18 x gf!Reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, oral (m), quickie, sub!Lance, bathroom sex, hair pulling

Wordcount: 0.7k

Couldn’t find a gif from the scene in dts 😭

He didn’t ask her to go with him to the Bahrain Grand Prix, but she loved being there, loved being there for him

Besides, she had nothing else to do, and it was boring just being at home alone

She stood by his side, his arm slung around her shoulders, her own arm around his waist, pulling him close to her

She smiled slightly at Lando who walked over to them

“Heard about your accident. You okay, mate?” He asked, fist bumping Lance

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little pain, but they gave me some stuff” He explained to him

There was a second of silence before Lando spoke up again “Can you wank yet?” He asked, a smile on his lips

Making them all three chuckle, but Lance didn’t give an answer, giving her the opportunity to speak

“No, but that’s what girlfriends are for, right?” She said, making Lando laugh, and Lance chuckle, trying to hide his blush

“Alright. See you around” Lando said before walking off, still chuckling at her remark

He turned his body, now facing her “I hate you” He said, leaning down to kiss her

“It wasn’t wrong, or had you gotten more wrist control since this morning?” She smirked slightly

“Just you wait. When I get better, I’ll show you wrist control” He said, knowing damn well she would take control anyway

“You say that every time, and every time you end up a moaning mess under me” She said low, not trying to get any of the other drivers to hear them

“It’s easier to take control when it’s just a blow job” He said, kissing her again

“I’ll take that to a test” She grabbed his belt loop instead of his wrist, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom

“Babe-“ His words got cut short when the air in his lungs got pushed out when she pushed him up against the bathroom door

“Prove you can take control, Lance” She smirked, kissing his lips softly, touching both side of his jaw with her fingertips

She went to pull away, but his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her back into a rough kiss, startling her, putting her hands on his chest

He forced her to the ground, not caring if she hurt her knees. She looked up at him, smiling, loving this new side of him

She sat further up, hands going to the button, fiddling with it and the zipper. Pulling them down with his boxers to rest at his mid thighs

She grabbed his hips, starting to lick small kitten licks at the head of his cock, getting him fully hard

She started swirling her tongue around him, drawing out moans from him. He yanked on her hair, warning her to stop teasing

She smiled as she hollowed her cheeks, taking all of him in one go, earning a groan from him

“Fuck, just like that, baby” He moaned, throwing his head back against the door at the feeling of her tongue tracing his vain

“So good for me” His hand was still tangled in her hair, but he allowed her to set her own pace

She pulled back, only leaving the tip on her tongue before starting to circle it again, tracing the slit as well

He was a moaning mess in no time, hands trembling and thighs shaking rapidly. She smiled, digging her nails into his hip bone

She pulled off of him, taking him into her hand instead, stroking him at a slow pace

“N-no, baby, please. I need your mouth around me. Please, I’m begging you. Please” She kissed his thigh before speaking

“Thought you wanted control, Lance. Where did that go?” She asked, voice teasing, speeding up her wrist, making wet sounds

“Fuck you” He managed between moans, hips bucking into her hand, meeting her pumps

“Not now darling. Wait ‘til we get back to the hotel” She smirked before getting back to swirling her tongue around him

His grip tightened in her hair, making her groan, sending vibrations all through his body, pulling him over the edge, coming down her throat

She pulled off him, swallowing his cum, getting up on wobbly knees “My knees hurt, dumbass” She kissed his lips softly as he got into his pants again

“Think they heard me?” He asked breathlessly, kissing her cheek

“Definitely, you can never keep quiet when you come” She smirked, kissing his jaw before she unlocked the door and walked out with him

[munsonsreputation]

I should hate you was so good I feel like screaming omg I am OBSESSED WITH YOUR FICS !!!'!!!!

THE MORNING AFTER

anon, it's your lucky day!!! im a total idiot that forgot to include the morning after scene...so here ya go!!! if you want to read part one, check it out here <3

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, mentions of sex, overall fluff and humor hehehe

summary: eddie and jonathan catch you and steve in a pretty awkward position, too bad they saw it coming and all they really want to do is figure out who's the winner of their stupid little bet -- you and steve just want to take each other in...and steve wants to hear you call him 'baby' again and again.

The sun had risen nearly an hour ago, the cold air just barely dissipating with the warmth of the present rays, but the sun wasn’t the only one greeting you with good morning. Jonathan and Eddie remained outside Steve’s tent, ogling at the sight of you and Steve laying not just in the same vicinity, but literally in each other’s arms.

“They didn’t sleep together, Ed—” Jonathan attempted to reason, getting cut short by Eddie of course.

The metal head tsked his tongue noisily, glaring, “How’re you gonna say that when she’s wearing his t-shirt and her shorts are over there in the corner?” He pointed to the garments that looked to be thrown around in a haste.

A sexual haste, that is.

Jonathan shrugged, swallowing thickly, “M-maybe she got cold and–”

“You’re telling me someone who got cold in the middle of the night just decided to put on a big ole t-shirt but completely strip off her pants?” Eddie cackled loudly, nudging his shoulder, “Now you’ve got to either be the stupidest—”

Steve roused awake, eyes stretching themselves open to figure out that the hell all the bickering was about especially so early in the morning. It only took him a few seconds to realize that his tent was unzipped, his two friends staring at him like nothing strange was going on.

“What the fuck, guys!” Steve broke before immediately sealing his mouth shut, realizing that you were still fast asleep beside him, literally clinging to his torso.

Jonathan waved him off, gesturing out to calm Steve down, “Chill dude, your dick isn’t out or anything, but even if it was, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

Eddie smirked, eyes flashing to your figure that was only half covered with the blanket due to your tossing and turning during the night.

“We can however see her ass cheeks hanging ou—”

Steve’s eyes grew, drawing down to your body that had kicked off some of the blanket during your sleep. The lace of your underwear peeking out along with some skin that was only supposed to be for Steve’s eyes. He quickly draped most of the blanket over the exposed skin, hoping they didn’t see too much of you.

“Get the fuck out!” He hissed sharply, pointing at his friends hoping they would just listen to him for once.

But alas, the commotion had interrupted your dream, groaning as you rubbed at your eyes and wiggled under the covers.

“What’s going on?” You mumbled before yawning out.

“Good morning!” Eddie started enthusiastically, clapping his hands together to fully get you awake and then Jonathan spoke up.

“Mind telling us if you guys just ended up making out last night or if you went all the way, cause we kinda made a bet and now we need to figure out who owes who what.”

Your eyes widened, neck snapping up at them as Steve whispered a curt apology that fell on your deaf ears. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to find you this way, not that it was embarrassing to be seen in such a state with Steve… you just didn’t want them to find out like this.

Obviously, that plan failed horribly.

“You guys clearly lack personal space and privacy don’t you?” You glared, pulling the covers up to your collarbones attempting to hide like that would make them forget the scene in front of them.

Eddie beamed like a prick he was crossing his arms over his chest. “Just answer the question, sweetheart.”

“Here’s my answer… fuck off!” You flipped them the bird, having enough of their teasing as you stretched up to push them away and zip the tent shut before you fell back into the pillow.

Steve couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head at the voices that quieted in the distance, his two friends still arguing over the stupid bet.

“I think you found two new people to take your anger out on,” Steve snickered, folding his arms across your hips and nuzzling his face into your neck.

You sighed, craning your neck out to give Steve more room to place random kisses across your skin, something you didn’t know you were missing out on for so long. For your first morning waking up beside Steve, he sure did know how to make you want more.

“Jonathans too nice and Eddie’s just an idiot sometimes.” You answered with the roll of your eyes that he didn’t see.

“So am I still your most hated?” He teased, poking at your ribcage making your jolt and you smacked his chest.

He came out of hiding, head tilting up at you to hear your answer. “You should be…” you bit your lip, “but I’m afraid you’re actually gonna be my new favorite.”

“Already?” He wiggled his brows with a smirk, shoulders shimmying under the covers in some sort of lame victory dance.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harrington.” You retorted, poking his cheek.

He pouted, taking your hand in his, “No c’mon, call me that other name…” He insisted, or more like whined, kissing your knuckles with a self indulgent smile on his face.

“Baby,” you murmured, giving into him with the smile gently taking over your features, “Don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

He grinned, holding your cheeks in his palms, kissing you softly, “I’ll try not to. No promises, though.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: it is so like me to forget to paste this scene into the actual fic 😭 thankfully it all worked out and posting it as a blurb is actually a pretty good idea since i want to expand on steve and reader hehehe. im thinking of opening up my request for some blurbs with these two because writing for them is so fun!!! let me know what you think and thank you so much for all the love and support 💫🩷

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[kingkat12]

dressing room (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, foul language, quickie, slight voyeurism, piv sex, and roman is a bit of an ass LMAO

summary: shopping with Roman can be hard (pun intended)

word count: 2,968

"No, I don't like that either,"

At this point, those words were starting to feel like nails against a chalkboard. I clenched my teeth together, not wanting to let out the string of curses that befell my mind. Shopping with Roman was absolute hell— I had told him not to come, but he insisted; "How are you going to go without my card, anyway?"

Seething, I gave the shop assistant a look as I turned on my heel, walking back into the changing room. Why didn't he like anything? Ever? It was making me grow more and more insecure by the minute, and I hated it. I hated that he had to come. I hated that I was dependant on him to buy nice stuff for myself. 

Without even asking, Roman suddenly stuck his hand into my dressing room, handing me a dress. "Try this on," he said, voice rather harsh.

Still not saying a word, I accepted it, fussing with the dressing room curtain as I grew further annoyed. I took another glance at the dress; I couldn't deny it was nice. It was short, black— a classic fuck-me dress. Of course he wanted me to wear this. Rolling my eyes, I changed into the dress, mumbling several curse-words under my breath as I zipped it up.

Walking out of the dressing room, I felt my heart beat hard in my chest. I wasn't ready for another rejection from Roman. I stepped in the middle of the fitting-area, checking myself out in the big mirror on the wall in front of me— I liked this one. My nervous gaze flickered over to Roman in the mirror, watching his attention move from his phone and to me from where he had sat himself down in a comfortable chair. 

Roman shifted, grounding his long legs on the floor, leaning forward to get a good look. "Turn around,"

Adhering to his orders, I did as told, doing my best to not look too angry with him. 

Roman's eyes scanned me thoroughly as he hummed, thinking. "I like it. We'll take this one,"

Letting out a sigh of relief, I couldn't believe he finally liked something. It irked me that he didn't ask what I felt about it, but I let it slide. I didn't want to provoke him in any way, especially not now.

However, Roman could read my face like no other. He always had the ability to know exactly what I was feeling— it's just that he didn't give a damn most of the time. "What?" he said, brows drawing together as his mood worsened. "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?" It was the first thing I had said in about an hour.

"Displeased," Roman kicked back into the chair, his green eyes narrowing as he looked at me. "What is it?"

"It's nothing—"

"What is it about the ten thousand dollar dress that I'm about to buy you that displeases you?" His eyes were truly drilling into me now. 

I clenched my jaw, hoping to keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to do this in front of the workers in this shop, I didn't want to do this in public. "I'm just tired, Roman, could we just—"

"Tired of what? Shopping?" With a displeased huff, he shook his head in denial. "Talk to me about being tired when you start doing more than sitting around all day."

I let out a short gasp, feeling more than offended. Not wanting to cause a commotion, I lowered my voice before I spoke; "Roman, I'm in college. What I do when I'm 'sitting around all day', is studying!"

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes; "Do you want the dress or not?"

Enraged, I let in a big heave of air. Drilling my gaze into his, seeing the patronizing shimmer in the green of his eyes, pushed me over the edge. "No!" I sneered, balling my fists. "I don't want it! I didn't even want to come here, let alone have you come with me, but you never listen! Selfish fucking!—" I caught the eyes of one of the saleswomen, and it made me realize that I was making the scene I told myself I wouldn't make. Not daring to look at Roman, I stormed back into the dressing room, angrily closing the curtains.

With angry tears pressing up against my eyes, I struggled to open the zipper as my vision blurred. I hated this. I hated every minute, every second of this. Out of sight from everyone, I let a small tear run down my cheek, feeling beyond frustrated with both Roman and the zipper.

However, as the curtains drew apart and I felt his presence behind me, my breath hitched as I quickly wiped away the tear. "Get out—"

"Shut up," Roman stepped forward, swatting my hands away from the zipper, taking matters into his own hands. He opened it with ease and proceeded to watch me sniffle as I took off the dress. "What's your problem?" he said, voice low.

Feeling defeated, I let out a shaky sigh as I arranged the dress back on the hanger, not really caring that I was in my underwear and a pair of high heels in front of him. It's not like he hadn't seen me like this before. "I don't think you're allowed in here," I mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

Letting out a short, low groan, Roman rolled his eyes, clearly fed up. "I don't get why you're upset," he said, leaning against the wall as he watched me like a hawk. "I basically give you an unlimited budget to shop at fucking Dior, and you're sulking. Sulking!" 

Finally turning to him, I let him see how glossy my eyes were from the tears I was holding back. "I just wanted a day to make myself feel better, Roman," I said, keeping my voice down, fighting the rush of water coming to my eyes. "To look at myself and not hate what I see because of what I've become for you!"

Roman's eyes narrowed as his chest rose high with every breath he took. Stepping away from the wall, he took a few damning steps towards me, towering over me in intimidation. "You can't even imagine how many girls there are out there that would give up everything to be in your position," he said with a low growl. "Why can't you just be grateful?"

"Grateful for what?" I snapped back, feeling my frustration rise. "To be treated like some trophy you parade around town? Just a prop you bring around to social events? It's you who should be grateful I haven't left your sorry ass!"

Clearly growing further agitated, Roman's eye twitched. "No one's holding you back, sweetheart. You're free to leave,"

Taken aback, I stared back at him with a hollow feeling in my chest. Why were his words so venomous? Did I really mean that little to him, after all this time? My face fell a little, clearly caught off guard. He had never been so... welcoming of that idea. Feeling more tears well up in my eyes, I continued to stare at him in disbelief. 

And something about the look of defeat on my face seemed to satisfy Roman. Something deep, something dark inside of him. With a victorious smirk, he leaned down, tilting my chin up to make sure I wouldn't look away as he came closer. I could feel his hot breath against my skin as he spoke softly; "You can be a brat and complain all you want, but after I'm done with you here, I'm going to go pay for that dress while you fix yourself up. You're wearing it to the gala tonight. Got it?" 

Not knowing what else to say, feeling everything all at once, I mumbled; "It's too short for a gala,"

"All the better," Roman whispered, a flaming shimmer in his green eyes. He snaked one arm around my waist, tracing the bare skin of my back as he slowly pulled me even closer. "What do you say about a little peace-offering?"

Oh no. I knew what that meant. "I'm still mad at you,"

"Sure, stay mad," Roman leaned down, his plush lips now pressed against my neck in a hot, wet kiss. "Be mad at me all you want darling, take it out on me." 

Confused, I shivered as he kissed down my neck. This was quite a turn of events. "Roman, not here—"

"Yes, here," Gently biting down on my shoulder, hoping to get a reaction, he pulled me flush against him. Feeling my breath hitch once more, I put my hands on his broad shoulders, ready to push him away at any second. This was highly inappropriate, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how little I was wearing compared to him, all dressed up in his usual suit.

"You need to stop fighting this," Roman murmured, moving from my neck to kiss the shell of my ear, making me shiver once more. "Stop fighting the life I want to give you. Don't you think I know what's best for you?"

Having him whisper in my ear like this was making my brain short-circuit, no matter the circumstances. I batted away my tears, sort of frozen to my spot. 

"You need to let me take care of you," he whispered, his hands now travelling down to my hips. "Let me buy you that stupidly expensive dress. Let me parade you around. It makes me feel good, don't you see? Don't you want to make me feel good?" With those last words, one of his hands slipped between my legs, ghosting over my underwear with one finger. 

I shivered— oh God. "Roman, I—"

"Don't you?" It didn't take long before he dipped his hand into my underwear, slowly rubbing my clit as I squirmed, hips bucking against his hand. My mind was far gone at this point; "I do,"

"Yeah?" Roman let me grind against his hand (for once), pulling away to find my eyes. "That's my girl."

Feeling my breath hitch against his lips, I felt a familiar warmth spread across my chest. "Roman—"

"See what I can do when you just listen?" He gently traced my entrance with his finger, a smirk forming on his lips at the sound of my wetness. "I can be very, very nice, you see." Roman dipped his finger into me with ease, making me part my lips at the sensation. My eyes were wide open now, still shocked that this was happening. I did my best to hold back a slight tremble as he curled his finger inside of me, knowing just how to touch me as always.

My heart was racing; was anyone taking notice of this outside the dressing room? I hoped not. But all thoughts of clarity flew out the window when I felt his thumb back on my clit, still pumping his middle finger into me. "Roman," I echoed— was it a moan?

"I will dress you as I please, and fuck you as I please," he whispered against my lips, denying me a kiss. "Because what pleases me, pleases you. Correct?"

Fuck, he was trying to re-wire my brain, wasn't he? At some point, I knew I would give in. Was this the moment? I didn't really know what to say, staring up at him with round eyes of disbelief. 

But my whole belief-system came crashing down when he added a second finger, making my hands clutch the fabric of his suit, losing myself more and more. 

"Use that pretty mouth of yours," he said, looking into my eyes with a looming darkness. "Say it or I'll stuff it."

Fuck no. "You're being mean,"

"Mean?" Roman feigned innocence, batting his long lashes at me with a twinge of a chuckle. "I'm being really fucking nice. Let me show you." He pulled his fingers out of me, which made my breath hitch— I felt surprisingly empty now. Grabbing my hips, he turned me around, making me face the wall as he hooked his fingers around my panties. "Mean," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he dragged down my underwear, now reaching for the zipper of his pants. "When am I ever mean?"

I huffed— always? 

"Compared to many others, I'm a saint," Roman continued, almost as though he was convincing himself more than me. "Here I am, trying to please my girl... Mean, my ass." 

I was about to clap back at this point, until I felt the head of his dick rubbing against my entrance, making me lean my head against the wall in defeat and anticipation. 

This was seemingly not allowed— I let out a tiny squeak as Roman wrapped his hand around my neck, pulling me flush against him away from the wall. With his thumb, he forced my chin in the direction of the mirror in the dressing room. "Watch," he growled, holding me in place as I squirmed.

My breath hitched as he entered me, the sight of it making the whole thing even more lewd. I did my best to not let my eyes roll back, not wanting to show too much too early. Usually, I'd close my eyes, fight him somehow, refuse to watch— but this time, I just gave in. 

I watched as Roman buried his face in the crook of my neck, feeling his hot breath against my skin, letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling of being inside me again. "Fuck," he whispered, bucking into me slowly.

Letting my lips part at the sensation, feeling how big he was inside me, I did my best to fight against the instinctual shut-down of my brain. It was always a stretch, every damn time, which left me with slight remnants of tears in my eyes— but he knew this. I clawed a little at the hand he had around me, hissing slightly, not wanting to make too much noise, but he didn't need the reminder to take it slow with me. Despite our fights, despite the tension, Roman never hurt me. 

And the burning sensation didn't last long, anyways. It never did. I felt myself push down against him, meeting his hips, and that was all Roman needed to know before letting his instincts take control.

My heart sped up with his thrusts, giving in to a slight quiver as I let him fuck me, eyes still glued on the mirror even when he let go of my throat. "You're so wet, God," Roman kissed up my neck, panting slightly against my skin. "Feels so nice and tight..."

I shivered, giving into a smile as I felt him throb inside me. "What pleases you, pleases me," 

Roman chuckled slightly against my neck, his brown hair which was usually styled and proper now kissing his forehead; "Yeah? You like being fucked like this, hm?" 

I couldn't even lie. "Yeah... A-Aah—"

Quickly clasping a hand over my mouth, Roman made sure I kept my volume down. "Careful," he whispered, hips continuously meeting mine. "You close or something?"

I shook my head, letting out a muffled moan against his hand. This was getting too good. It made me almost want to cry again, just by the sheer feeling of him moving in and out of me at this pace. Was it maybe a little thrilling that we could be caught at any moment?

However, I should've known Roman would do this next; "Let's fix that, then," With his free hand, he reached down to rub my clit, making me cry out against his palm. 

Fuck, fuck— This was too much. My hands were now almost clawing at the wall, a familiar feeling pooling between my legs, which slowly traveled up my spine and up into the tips of my fingers.

"You know you love me," Roman whispered, leaning down to kiss the shell of my ear, making me shiver. "And you know I love you and your wet, little pussy... All mine, hm?"

I nodded against his hand, feeling my body quivering beneath his touch— the hand he had on my clit only made everything feel a thousand times stronger. 

"No matter what, you'll always be mine," Roman whispered into my ear, voice dripping with pride, pleasure and victory. "All mine... Fuck—"

If he hadn't had a hand over my mouth, I'd have agreed— rather loudly, in fact. But I didn't have the time for words, feeling my orgasm come crashing down on me, letting out a muffled, broken moan against his palm, feeling him fuck me through my high. 

As I clamped down on him with my orgasm, I felt him spill into me as well, thrusts growing more erratic as he bit down on my shoulder to muffle any possible sounds; it had me thinking it was definitely going to leave a mark.

I let out a defeated sigh as he pulled out of me, doing my best to not fall limp to the ground. Once again, he had somehow managed to completely fuck my brains out, leaving me a shivering mess. I slowly turned to Roman, trying to catch my breath; "Do you think they heard?"

Roman smirked, fixing his belt. "Definitely,"

Horrified, I felt my face flush, the consequences of our actions dawning on me. I did my best not to wobble on my high heels, letting out another sigh; "We're not doing that again,"

Looking down at me with a cocky smirk, he shook his head before leaning down to kiss my forehead. "We so are," Roman reached for the dress that was hanging next to me on the wall, holding it out in front of him to look at it once more. "You looked ravishing in this, by the way. Can't wait to watch my cum drip out of you in this dress all night." 

With a look of pure shock and horror on my face, I watched him leave the dressing room with a smug smile, wondering how on earth I had allowed this to happen— again.

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[springlockscars]

oral fixation (w.afton/fem!reader)

pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: oral fixation, oral sex, body worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, praise kink, william can not keep his mouth off you. summary: William has an obsessive habit of chewing and biting things, especially when he's stressed. You interrupt his work at just the right time. word count: 2,898 read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: I am so glad I received this because I love oral fixation fics.

In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.

No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.

In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.

He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.

William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door. “My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.” “All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”

It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.

You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.

“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.

William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.

You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.

“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.

A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.

“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.

He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.

William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.

“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.

“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”

“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.

He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…

He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.

You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.

William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.

William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.

Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.

Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.

William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.

Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.

William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.

A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.

Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.

William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.

William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.

“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.

He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.

He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.

Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.

“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.

William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.

William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.

A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.

He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.

The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.

“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.

William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.

“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.

Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.

William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.

“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”

You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.

William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.

You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.

“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”

You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.

William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.

“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.

“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”

He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”

“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.

“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.

“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”

He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”

“Good.”

William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”

William gathers your discarded clothes from the floor and offers you an arm to hold, leading you out of the garage and back into the warmth of the house where luckily, there was no smoke billowing out of the kitchen.

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

__♤________________________________________________

What he feels for you isn't love, far from it, but obsession, he doesn't want to cherish you and hold you, he doesn't need your love either. What he wants is to own you, hide you, rough you up and so much more...but never love you. Love comes with a price, it's a lesson he's learned. So he does the one thing that he's sure will do the trick, he kidnaps you. Afterall, who in their right mind would ever fall in love with their captor?

You. You do.

But honestly how could you not? How could you not fall in love when he spoils you rotten with novels of your choices? Ignoring the chain on your ankle is easy enough, small things like those are hardly a bother. How could you not fall in love when he provides everything you need and more? Forget the fact that he doesn't treat you like a person, you don't mind it when the benefits are so good. How could you not fall in love when he installs a bookshelf in your designated room for you plethora of books? No need to mention the fact that he doesn't let you out, you don't like meeting people anyways so it's a win-win situation.

And how could you not fall in love when he's so focused in fulfilling your demands of playing out scenes from your books? Whimpering and whining softly when you slowly ride his thick cock, too afraid to pick up the pace and distract him, his hand lazily resting on your thighs as he skims through the smutty portion of your newly bought novel that had you not-so-discreetly rubbing your thighs together. "You're supposed to be cumming after a few minutes now" he mumbles, finally tossing the book away and narrowing his eyes at the way your gummy walls swallow him oh so slowly. "But that's not gonna happen at this pace" he sighs, his hold on your hips tightening as he forcefully drags you up, up, up before slamming you down and pulling out a garbled moan of you. "I like this scene a lot so indulge me a little"

The food is good, your schedule is okay and the sex is great, you don't hate it so much so you choose to stay docile. So docile, in fact, that he gets rid of your chains entirely so and allows you to roam around the house, only around the house. You're not allowed to go out yet but you don't mind, you'd rather stay cooped up watching a movie, reading a book or even renovating a room entirely to your taste without a care in the world during the day. But oh, when the moonlight starts pouring in through the blinds is when you actually start getting busy.

Explaining your day when your knees are pressed up against your head and he's plowing his dick into you isn't really an easy job. Only being able to manage out broken sentences and garbled words when he meanly asks you questions after questions with each thrust, kissing your swollen lips as a reward when you actually manage to answer him, albeit barely. You start to think he's mean when his hand snakes down to your abused clit to draw taut circles on it, grin widening when you wail out at the overstimulation and scratch at his back. His reasoning of abuse? He's probably not fucking you hard enough since you're still able to think, why were you still talking?

He doesn't love you, he can't love you but he just can't help the pulls in his heart strings when you wiggle your way through his arms to rest your head ontop of his chest with a bright grin, asking him questions that you pull out of your ass. He can't stop the small smile tugging at his lips when you absent-mindedly flop down on his lap, leaning against him as you flip through your newly purchased book, too engrossed to notice his arms locking itself around your waist and burying his face in your hair. He can't stop the mini butterflies in his stomach from going wild when you lazily drawl out a 'Welcome back' from the couch in the living room, head propped up on the arm rest as you watch the movie adaptation of your favorite book for the billionth time. He doesn't love you but he sure as hell doesn't hate the way you love him despite his initial expectations. He doesn't need you to love him but sometimes, just sometimes, he just wants you to continue loving him like this sometimes.

___________________________________________________

Midnight inspirations hitting me hard😖

Characters that this applies to? (I need serious help, writing this took all my thinking capabilites😔)

Satoru (I wrote this based off him in the start lol), Suguru?, Chrollo, Lawliet

Links : Masterlist ♤ Serieslist

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

[withlove-xixi]

— WORTH THE RISK: chilchuck x reader

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR: ALMOST CAUGHT ᥫ cw: nsfw, accidental voyeurism, public sex ᥫ wc: 1117 ★ I FORGOT WHO SUGGESTED THIS TO ME (I WILL CREDIT YOU WHEN I REMEMBER) BUT THIS WAS SO GENIUS TBH HEHE HEHE ✧⁺⸜(●′▾‵●)⸝⁺✧ i hope yew enjoy! cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— CHILCHUCK WAS A CAREFUL MAN.

[♡]: he was a father after all, and a businessman too. it was almost second nature to be careful, taking risks just didn’t sit right with him. it always made his stomach churn and left a sour taste in his mouth. the same taste he gets when he indulges you.

CHILCHUCK LIKED BEING ORGANIZED, he liked separating work life from personal life. And in all fairness, he had good reason to. For one, he absolutely hated the conflict those things brought, the interference of drama and gossip into what should’ve been work. It pissed him off, it created unnecessary problems (most of which were complete headaches to fix). Another thing was he was a private man. It was why he wasn’t really the biggest fan of small talk, he just liked keeping things like that to himself. He didn’t like so publicly sharing his feelings, he didn’t quite like causing a scene. Even before he got into this dangerous line of work, he was like this. Chilchuck didn’t maintain much of a relationship with customers other than them being customers, he treated friends that came to him for help as clients first, he only ever scolded his daughters in the confines of their house.

Chilchucked liked his way of life, living in a little, safe bubble where his boundaries were carefully guarded and his lines were never ever crossed. He was a careful man, after all.

Though he… might also be a hypocrite.

Because careful men who valued their privacy don’t give playful winks at their coworkers when they catch them staring, careful men who valued their privacy don’t sneak off some poorly lit corridor when the rest of their party was fast asleep, and careful men who valued their privacy certainly don’t fuck said coworker in said corridor.

So it was either Chilchuck’s privacy was worth less than he liked to show or he was a hypocrite. And really, the latter option was kinder; kinder because as a hypocrite he gets to bite down your neck and hear you moan breathily against his ear.

Your arms wrap tighter around Chilchuck’s neck and your legs wrap tighter against his waist, holding onto him like he was your anchor to the real world as his dick pushed in and out of you, deliciously scraping against your insides. He has you pinned against the damp, mossy dungeon wall, using it to help stablize you as he fucks you.

His pace is rhythmic, frantic, even. Normally, he was a guy that liked to take things slow, draw out such intimacy for as long as he can, kiss your neck and hold your hand while he whispers to you how good you feel. But in the dungeon? When's already breaking so many of his rules? Some part of brain is high alert, scared you'd both be caught red-handed and half-naked, so as much as he wouldn't want to, he's forced to fuck you like this, hips snapping back and forth like he had a deadline to meet (though really it's not like you minded much, either way you got to be fucked by Chilchuck).

Such is the case tonight, after a long exhausting dungeon crawl, the party finally stops to rest in some more residential looking area of the dungeon, one with dysfunctional houses and corridors and alleys that lead only to deadends. The party had settled to finally get some well deserved sleep, but you and Chilchuck had other plans. All the pent up stress and exhaustion blurred Chilchuck's judgment and reason, so when you invite him for a quick session of indulgence, it wasn't too big of a struggle to refuse. And while he'd usually wait until you were out of the dungeon to give in to your advances, something about you was simply too alluring tonight.

So here you were, forehead against his shoulder, breath ragged and needy, arms and legs tightly wrapped around his frame as he thrusted in and out of you. You moan loudly and he's quick to shush you, one hand leaving its place on your waist to cover your mouth, pushing your head back until it thuds against the brick wall.

"Please— fuck— Quiet or I'll stop." Chilchuck says, his pace never faltering despite his threat.

He sees you swallow, feeling the movement of your lips against his palm, and he hears you try to silence yourself, reducing your usually loud moans and whine to half-baked whimpers that intentionally died in your throat. He smiled at the act. Chilchuck wouldn't lie, you looked pretty good like this, all needy and thoughtless it was nearly pathetic.

He kisses your cheek, chaste and sweet. "That's it." He praises as his hand tentatively lifts off your mouth and goes back to gripping onto your hip.

Chilchuck groans as pulls himself almost completely out then quickly pushes himself back deep inside. It's his turn to rest his head against you, burying it against the exposed crook of your neck, his bangs stick to your skin from his slick sweat, his warm breath fanning against you. He peppers your neck with small kisses, the only other thing his mouth does besides let out soft, deep groans.

Until he hears something, some distant sound he's sure you haven't picked up on yet because you're still clinging onto him so desperately, clenching around him so tightly. It was some meaningless sound, a rustle of sorts that really could've been any other noise in the dungeon. But when Chilchuck has himself buried balls deep inside you? When he has you clinging onto him like a lifeline, has you whimpering so needily like a little puppy? It's suddenly a sound that means so much more.

Because it could be the sound of some other energy-filled adventurers looking to make the most of their day by heading just a bit further, it could be the sound of nearby monsters lurking around in search for their next meal, or worst of all, it could be the sound of Laios waking up to go pee.

His hips slow, thrusts quickly turning into weak rolls. Chilchuck keeps his head against your shoulder, but he’s turned towards the entry of the corridor, straining them to see past their limit through the darkness of the hall. His fingers twitch as his mind races with thought after thought, conjuring every excuse imaginable if ever it was Laios that made the noise.

But then you whimper, something so sweet and so soft still because he told you to be quiet. “No…” You whine, nuzzling your face against his shoulder like he had done with yours. “No, Chil… Please… Been quiet, been so good… Don’t stop now…”

He lifts his head to look at you, cheeks dusted a light pink. You look at him, lips curled into a pout, brows furrowed into a pleading look. He feels you flutter around him, and he’s not quite sure if it’s intentional or not.

“Fuck.”

Well, what the Hell. You were worth the risk.