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mephisto-reporting · 3 days ago

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Wearing This Dress Was a Mistake…or Was It?

Premise: You decide to prank him by making him think that you'd be wearing that risque, revealing outfit when you are about to head out... only to find out that pranks have consequences. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

CALEB

Caleb was lounging on your couch like he owned the place, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other holding a can of soda that he swirled absentmindedly. He had taken a few days off, escaping from his duties as Colonel to come back to Linkon. And now, here he was, making himself right at home in your apartment like he had never left. The sight was almost domestic, but you knew better—there was nothing ordinary about Caleb. Not anymore.

He was on leave, a rare moment where he could shed the weight of his uniform and just be Caleb. It was a refreshing change to see him like this—less guarded, more relaxed—but something about it sparked mischief in you. You'd always had a playful, mischievous relationship with Caleb when you were younger. Pranks, jabs, teasing—it had all been part of the dynamic. And now that he was back, you couldn't help but feel a familiar tug to push his buttons just a little.

You'd planned this prank for a while. Slipping into the most scandalous, revealing outfit you could find in your closet, one that certainly wasn’t something you'd wear out in public. You had no intention of actually leaving—just giving Caleb the briefest hint that you were about to, and seeing how he’d react.

You walked into the living room, draped in the most inappropriate outfit you could manage. A fitted dress that barely covered your thighs, a deep V that left little to the imagination, and a loose, barely-there wrap that hung carelessly from your shoulders. Your intention was to get under Caleb’s skin, to push him just a little—just enough to remind him that the old pranks hadn’t gone anywhere.

When Caleb glanced up, his relaxed demeanor faltered for just a second, his sharp gaze lingering on you. There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes, something predatory. But he said nothing at first, just observing you with a cold silence that sent a chill down your spine. Your pulse quickened slightly under his intense gaze, but you pushed down the thrill crawling up your spine. This was just a joke.

You took a deep breath, feigning innocence. "I'm heading out to meet some friends," you announced, grabbing your purse.

The shift was instantaneous.

The lazy, relaxed Caleb from moments ago was gone. His can hit the coffee table with a soft thud, his entire frame tensing as he straightened up. His gaze darkened, trailing over your figure with slow, possessive deliberation.

"You're wearing that?" His voice was low, almost casual—but you could hear the undercurrent of something dangerous lurking beneath it.

You swallowed but kept up the act. "Yeah. Why?" You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "It looks good, doesn't it?"

"You’re not going anywhere dressed like that." he muttered, the words falling from his lips in a near-growl.

You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest. "What, you think I can’t pull it off?"

He stood in one smooth motion, and before you could react, he was standing in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist with a surprising amount of force. His fingers were warm, rough, as if he were trying to ground himself with the touch.

"If you're so insistent on showing this side of you to others," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "then it’s only fair that I get to see more of it, isn't it?"

Before you could protest, he hoisted you effortlessly onto his shoulder, your legs dangling in the air as he carried you toward your room like a caveman claiming his prize.

"Caleb!" You gasped, half-laughing, half-embarrassed by the sheer force of his actions. But Caleb wasn't listening. His grip was firm, his footsteps purposeful as he crossed the room.

He threw open your bedroom door, his eyes locking with yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "You think you can strut around like this for anyone else?" His voice was dangerously calm, but the heat in his gaze betrayed the undercurrent of rage—jealousy, possessiveness—swirling just beneath the surface.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for argument. His lips were urgent, demanding, but still with an edge of care as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in that outfit.

"Do you want me to show you what that outfit can do to any individual with a working braincell?" Caleb murmured against your lips, his breath shallow as he gently pushed you onto the bed. He towered over you, his body a wall of heat and strength, completely commanding your attention.

You couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, still shaken by the intensity of the moment. "It was just a prank, Caleb. I didn’t mean—"

His fingers traced the line of your jaw with surprising gentleness before his eyes darkened. "No," he whispered. "You didn’t mean to tease me like this, but now that you have, you’re not going anywhere. Not until I’ve had my fill of you. I don’t like the idea of anyone else looking at you like this.”

You opened your mouth to explain, to tell you weren’t actually heading out like this, but before you could say a word, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a possessiveness that left you breathless. His hands roamed down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, gripping you tightly as if he were afraid someone might take you from him.

You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and heavy, as he pulled away just enough to whisper, “You’re mine, understand?” His words were both possessive and adoring, a dangerous combination you knew too well.

And as your neighbors found out soon after, the only sounds that filled the air that evening were far less friendly than the teasing words you’d exchanged earlier.

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was early. Again.

Technically, he was supposed to be on time tonight—after all, it was his gallery event. But you knew better. You had predicted, with painful accuracy, that he'd find some way to ding-dong ditch his own damn celebration. Which was exactly why he was here at your apartment an hour before you needed to leave.

"I'm only here because Thomas would physically drag me if I didn't show up at all," he muttered from the other side of the door of your bedroom. "Consider this me being a responsible artist. All of you should be grateful."

You hummed, feigning disinterest as you checked your reflection in the mirror. "Oh, I am grateful, Rafayel."

"Good, as you shou—"

He cut himself off entirely as you stepped out from your bedroom.

You had planned this prank the moment you'd heard he was coming early. Because if Rafayel wanted to ditch the gallery, you'd at least make sure he suffered before he got his way. So, instead of slipping into something elegant and refined for an art exhibition, you had opted for something else entirely. It wasn’t even an outfit you would wear outside—it barely covered anything at all, and the material clung to your body in all the wrong places. A sheer, tight-fitting slip with lace accents, enough to leave little to the imagination. The fabric wasn’t completely transparent, but it did the job well enough to make every inch of your skin noticeable. Every inch of skin exposed was deliberate. Calculated. A direct attack on Rafayel's composure.

And oh, it worked.

His entire body stiffened, the lazy smirk on his lips frozen mid-form. His next grape missed his mouth completely, bouncing pathetically off his chin and rolling onto the floor. But he didn't even notice.

For a long, silent moment, all Rafayel did was stare.

Then, dramatically, he clutched his chest. "No."

You blinked. "No?"

"I can't take you anywhere like this," he lamented, waving frantically at all the exposed skin. "You—You will steal the show! The gallery will forget my masterpieces the moment you walk through the door!" Rafayel’s eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his expression a mix of shock and something darker. “You’re kidding. You want me to take you to the gallery dressed like… this? Everyone will be staring, and I can’t have that.”

He turned his back to you with a huff, clearly flustered. He spun around to face you again, his eyes narrowing, and a flicker of possessiveness flashed across his face. “This is too much. I’m not taking you out like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

His expression faltered, and for a split second, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by his usual dramatic demeanor. “Embarrassed? No!! I just don’t want everyone gawking at my—especially when I’m the one who’s supposed to admire you tonight. How am I supposed to take you out like this? All eyes will be on you, and I don’t know if I’m prepared for that level of attention. How am I supposed to look at this…”

"Is that such a bad thing?" You teased, twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger.

"Yes!" Rafayel practically whined. He circled you like a predator, eyes flickering with a hunger he hadn’t quite named yet. "Some art should be displayed for the world, sure," he murmured, voice turning dangerously low. "But some art? This should be kept private. Mine."

You bit your lip, barely suppressing a laugh. "Raf, it's just a prank. I'm not actually going like this."

He stilled. Then, very slowly, he grinned.

"Oh?" he purred, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. His fingers skimmed the edge of your exposed thigh, tracing your skin before gripping it lightly. "Then you should go change, hmm?"

You moved to step back, but Rafayel caught your wrist. His grip was loose, teasing, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it.

"Ah, wait," he murmured, feigning deep thought. "Actually… No. That would take too long."

You frowned. "What—?"

"We're already late," he sighed, tone laced with mock regret. "And if we're already late, then it doesn’t really matter, does it?"

Before you could say anything else, Rafayel scooped you up in one swift motion, his hands firmly gripping you. “Forget the gallery,” he said, his voice practically a growl. “You’re not leaving this apartment until I’ve taken my time enjoying this… work of art.”

“Rafayel, wait!” You tried to protest, but he was already striding toward your bedroom, his grip firm around you.

“You don’t deserve to wear something this distracting for anyone else,” he muttered, his voice laced with a possessive hunger. “I’ll be the only one to appreciate it properly.”

Before you could even respond, his lips were on yours, demanding and heated, the rest of the world completely irrelevant. You could barely keep up with the intensity of his kiss as he stripped away the fabric, each motion more urgent than the last.

As the sound of Thomas’ calls rang through both your phones, going straight to voicemail, Rafayel didn’t spare it a second thought. The gallery? It was already a lost cause. Tonight, he had you—and he was taking his sweet time with it.

SYLUS

As Sylus prepared for his mission, a sense of anticipation hung thick in the air. He was packing his gear with the meticulous attention of a man who thrived on the chaos he created, readying himself for whatever dangerous task lay ahead. This lifestyle was no stranger to him —the dangerous, dark heart of his empire. But you couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at you every time he walked out the door. Dangerous, illegal missions were a regular part of his life, and while you knew he could handle himself, the thought of him in harm’s way left you restless.

But you weren’t about to voice that concern—not when he took so much pleasure in riling you up with his teasing. Tonight, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine—payback, as you saw it. After all, his teasing and his ability to keep you on edge with his deep voice, knowing smirks, fleeting touches, and that intense gaze deserved a little retaliation. This time, you were going to make him work for it.

Fair was fair.

You stepped into the study, heels clicking against the floor, the sharp sound enough to draw his attention. His red eyes flickered up from his preparations, widening just slightly before narrowing with intrigue. You had dressed specifically to get a reaction—a short, black mesh dress that left little to the imagination, the sheer material teasing glimpses of lace underneath. The plunging neckline dipped scandalously low, while the cutouts along your waist accentuated every tempting curve.

Sylus let out a low, appreciative hum as he leaned back against the wall, taking his time raking his gaze over you.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going dressed like that, sweetie?” His smirk was lazy, but the sharp glint in his crimson stare was anything but.

You let your eyes linger on his figure for a moment, before casually offering, "Actually, I’m heading back to Linkon for a night out—clubbing with some friends." Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you took a few steps closer, and you could see his pupils dilate briefly, his reaction evident, though he masked it quickly with another smirk.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes still locked on your attire. "Funny, I’ve never gotten the pleasure of seeing you in such bold outfits before."

You shrugged nonchalantly, your lips curling into a playful smile. "I dress for the occasion."

A small chuckle escaped him, the sound rich and dark. "Interesting, these 'occasions' never seem to happen when I'm around." His eyes trailed over you once more, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse quicken.

He walked slowly, closing the distance between you in a few slow, measured strides. When he reached you, his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your thigh, the touch featherlight, deliberate.

“I suppose I should consider myself unfortunate, then,” he murmured, trailing his hand higher. “But I’ll be damned, sweetie, you do look ravishing.”

You hummed, feeling the heat of his touch ghosting over your skin. "Maybe ypu were just not paying enough attention before."

His laugh was low, dark, full of amusement. "Oh, kitten," he purred, his hands drifting lower, tracing the dip of your waist before pulling you just a little closer. "Trust me, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you."

Your breath hitched as his palm splayed possessively over your hip, his fingers teasing the hem of your barely-there dress. “Not worried about all the attention I’ll get?” you teased, meeting his gaze.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost like a growl. "Sweetie, I know you can handle yourself if things go wrong." he said, his hands suddenly roaming over your skin, slow and deliberate, almost as if he were marking his territory. His touch was magnetic, entrancing. His fingers traced your jawline, grazing over the curve of your neck, and you felt the weight of his presence pull you in, closer to him with each movement.

He smirked, as if he could sense the effect he was having on you. "Go ahead. Have fun tonight," he murmured, pulling out his black card from his wallet and offering it to you. "Just don't have too much fun without me." His breath ghosted over your lips, hot and tantalizing, and you could feel his eyes trailing lower

You saw it then—the flicker of something dark and hungry in his stare, a silent challenge laced with possession. It made you want to push just a little further.

“What if I do?”

The moment the words left your lips, you barely had time to react before Sylus’s hands were on you. A startled gasp escaped you as he lifted you effortlessly, locking your legs around his waist. The back of your dress rode up, and his fingers pressed into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his mouth found yours. The kiss was deep, slow, devastating. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was claiming you, drawing you in until the thought of leaving, of doing anything other than this, felt ridiculous. “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you’re more entertained...” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with possessiveness, as if you were already his in every sense.

Without another word, he carried you through the mansion, his lips never leaving yours as his pace quickened. He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, his hold on you firm, commanding, as though the very idea of you going out tonight was laughable. His smirk never faltered, his confidence radiating in waves.

“You think I’d let that happen?” he said in a husky whisper against your lips, his voice thick with amusement. As he kicked open the door to his bedroom, he laid you down on the bed with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Guess neither of us is going anywhere tonight…”

You tried to speak between stolen breaths, to tell him it was a prank, but he only smirked against your mouth, cutting you off with another slow, intoxicating kiss.His weight pressed you down onto the bed, his hands sliding over every inch of exposed skin. “It’s a good thing you weren’t actually going out,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “Because I plan to keep you here… All. Night. Long.”

A thrill ran through you as you realized just how easily he'd flipped the situation in his favor. And you weren't sure if you could—if you wanted to—fight it.

XAVIER

You had been scheming for a while, setting the perfect trap to prank Xavier, and today was the day you were finally going to execute your plan. You’d texted him earlier, asking him to swing by your apartment to pick up the meals you had prepared for him. You knew full well Xavier could barely cook an egg without burning it, so he was always appreciative when you made him something special. You always made quite a batch of food whenever he came over to pick it up so he could store them in his freezer.

He had a spare key to your apartment in case of emergencies, but today, you were going to make sure he’d get more than just food when he came over. He’d always been so calm and collected in most situations that it was infuriating at times. You had tried to get a reaction out of him before but had always failed. But today, it would be different. Today, you knew you would get him to falter. You’d been thinking of a little prank to get a rise out of him—and you knew exactly what would get under his skin.

When you heard the door click open, you made sure to pick up your purse slowly, letting Xavier get a good look at the outfit you’d chosen: A tight, revealing midnight blue dress that clung to your curves like a second skin, the plunging neckline barely covering what was necessary and the high slit on the side showing just enough leg to drive anyone wild. The fabric was soft, almost like a second layer of skin, and you knew it would make his blood run hot.

Xavier’s footfalls slowed, and the air seemed to thicken with tension as he entered the room, his eyes immediately darkening the moment they landed on you. His usually calm expression shifted, but only slightly, and his voice, low and even, carried an edge. “You have plans?” His tone was casual, but you could tell it didn’t match the storm brewing in his gaze.

“Oh, yeah, I’m heading out with some colleagues,” you answered nonchalantly, knowing full well that would get him riled up. In your mind, this was all part of the prank. You were expecting a laugh, a joke, maybe even a playful remark.

His eyes narrowed, the calm veneer slipping away. “Wrong answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with feigned confusion. “Huh?”

“I said, wrong answer. You are not going out to meet them… in that?” He spoke slowly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with the dress? I think it makes me look nice.” You looked at your dress pretending that you didn’t know what was wrong with it. “Plus, I already made plans with them…”

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the door behind him with a soft thud. His hand rested on the doorframe as he leaned in, towering over you. “Your plan,” he said, voice gruff with unspoken demand, “is with me. Right here. And only I should be the one seeing you in that dress. And outside of it.” he added, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Your heart raced, though you maintained an innocent air. “Xavier, come on... I’m just going out for fun. It’s not a big deal.” You tried to laugh it off, but your breath caught as his hands trailed over your skin, tracing your body with an intention that left no room for interpretation.

You didn’t have a chance to react before he was right in front of you, his frame crowding you against the door, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you slightly.

He didn’t respond to your attempt at casualness. Instead, his gaze was fierce, intense, and utterly unyielding. The meals you had prepared was forgotten. The only thing on his mind was you—and the dress you wore, too.

“Why do they get to see you like this when it’s meant for me?” His voice dropped, each word heavier than the last.

Your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice. The heat between you was immediate, pressing, suffocating. Xavier reached up, his fingers gently grazing your neck, then sliding down to your waist, his touch possessive and slow.

You tried to laugh it off again, your playful nature not quite prepared for how serious he had gotten. “It’s just a prank,” you said, offering an innocent smile, hoping to break the tension. “I am not going anywhere…” You giggled, but it came out a little nervous. “I swear… It’s just a prank, Xavier.”

He blinked once, the twice, confusion flickering in his eyes. His boyish, innocent looked returned, stunned at your words. He seemed to process it for a moment. Then, the intensity of his gaze returned, fiercer than before. He took a step forward, closing the non existent distance between you, and his lips were suddenly on yours—hard, commanding. His lips crushed against yours, his tongue immediately claiming dominance as he growled low in his throat.

Before you could even process what was happening, you were on the couch, his body pressing you into the cushions. His hands roamed, touching you everywhere. as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Prank or not,” he said, his voice hushed but full of intensity, “you’ve got me thinking about you in that dress with them—with anyone else.” His hands moved lower, sliding over the fabric of your dress. “You thought teasing me would be funny, huh? Let’s see how funny it is now.” His tone was equal parts teasing and threatening, a dangerous mix that made your heart race.

You gasped as his hands found your thighs, pulling you against him, his body already pressing into yours. There was no more pretending, no more games. Xavier’s need was undeniable, and you couldn’t escape the heat between you.

His lips met yours again, deeper, more frantic this time, as if making sure you understood just how serious he was about what was happening between you. You didn’t stand a chance against him.

And when the night ended, teasing Xavier definitely wouldn’t be on your list of things to do again... or maybe it would be.

ZAYNE

The dress was daring—too daring, perhaps. The fabric clung to your body, smooth and sultry, dipping dangerously low in the front and riding scandalously high on your thighs. The sheer lace along the sides barely covered enough, teasingly revealing glimpses of skin beneath. It was the kind of dress that would have heads turning, and you knew it.

That was the point.

You had planned this all too perfectly. A new pastry café had just opened downtown, and you’d invited Zayne out for a date. You had been expecting a reaction when he arrived—maybe a subtle quirk of his brow, a small shift in his usual stoic demeanor. Something.

Instead, when you opened the door and greeted him with an innocent smile, his gaze flickered over you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, the door clicked shut behind him.

His expression remained unreadable, but his movements weren’t. The way he took his time removing his gloves, slipping them off with methodical ease before placing them neatly on the nearby counter. The way his fingers traced the hem of his coat, unbuttoning it in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Interesting choice,” he finally said, his voice calm—too calm—as his gaze finally lifted back to meet yours.

You grinned, shifting your weight just slightly to make the dress slide a little higher along your thigh. “Do you like it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, and you felt the weight of his presence settle over you. His fingers brushed your arm, barely there, before trailing down your wrist. The lightest touch. A doctor’s touch—controlled, precise. But beneath it was something else.

Something simmering.

“Tell me.” His voice was still even, his tone almost thoughtful as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your fingertips. “How far were you planning to go with this little game of yours?”

Your heart stuttered. He knows.

You feigned innocence, tilting your head as if confused. “Game? I was just dressing up for our date.”

“Is that so?” His lips curved, the barest hint of amusement slipping through. “Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we went outside right now.”

Your stomach flipped. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Before you could respond, his other hand moved—so subtle, so swift—and in one seamless motion, he pulled you closer, his fingers splaying over your lower back. Your breath hitched as your bodies pressed together, the warmth of him seeping through the thin material of your dress.

His lips were close now, brushing against your ear. “You forgot,” he murmured, “I know you.”

Your skin burned.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “Okay, fine. It was a prank.”

Zayne chuckled softly. The sound was low, velvety, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew that before coming over.”

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against the small of your back, and suddenly, you were all too aware of how little there was between you. How easy it would be for him to simply pull—just a little—and the dress would slide right off your shoulders.

You blinked. “Wait, you—?”

“Of course I knew.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against your jaw. “You think I don’t know when you’re trying to get a rise out of me?” The heat in his voice made your knees weak.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as his fingers traced a slow path up your spine, dragging along the zipper of your dress.

“I knew the moment you picked up my call earlier and sounded too innocent. The way you sent me a picture of the food but conveniently cropped yourself out.” His fingers pressed, teasing, against the small of your back. “And now? Now you’re here, looking like this and expecting me to just let you waltz out into a crowded café?”

You barely managed a breath before he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of something more. “Cute.” His lips brushed against yours, feather-light. “But you knew better.”

You shivered at the subtle challenge in his voice, the sheer restraint beneath it. “Zayne, we have a reservation—”

“Mm.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. “We’ll reschedule.”

“I—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed by his kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate. A slow, consuming thing that left no room for escape. His hands were firm but unhurried as he guided you back, step by step, until your back met the nearest surface—the couch, the wall, you didn’t even know anymore.

Zayne finally pulled away, but only just. His breath fanned across your lips, his fingers still resting against your waist. He looked at you then, truly looked at you, his eyes dark with something unspoken.

“You wanted my attention.” His voice was a whisper now, a dangerous kind of quiet. “You have it.” Your protests faded the moment his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips trailed downward, past your jaw, tracing a searing path along your neck before murmuring, “Tell me, was the prank worth it?”

And as his hands began to move, taking their time, exploring, savoring—one thing became very, very clear.

Prank or not, you wouldn’t be leaving for that café tonight.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace@sinsodom@m00nchildwrites

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nanaslutt · 30 days ago

Text

At your mercy

ʚ pairing: sylus x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, switch!sylus & reader, “good boy” kink, dirty talk, teasing, restraints, riding, masturbation, finger sucking, nipple play

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“So…” You drawl, prowling around Sylus like a predator. He’s strapped to a chair, his arms bound behind his back while his legs are secured around the legs of the chair, spread wide. “How does it feel to be the one tied up and at my mercy?” Your foot presses between his spread legs, and his hips leave the chair as he scoots down, giving you more access between them.

Tilting his head back, his crimson gaze rakes down the length of your leg hungrily. “I’m at your mercy now?” He hums a thoughtful sound, gaze laser focused on your heel clad foot that slowly inches towards the bulge between his thighs. “Have you thought to consider I’m allowing myself to be at your mercy?”

Narrowing your eyes, you place your foot back on the ground and stand between his legs. You reach out to touch his chest, finger trailing from the column of his pale neck to where the first button of his shirt is undone. He gasps. “You do look like someone who is awfully willing to submit, right now.”

He laughs, but it sounds breathy when you teasing undo the buttons down his torso. Each scrape of your nails against sensitive skin makes his breath hitch. “Perhaps I’m being so still because the look on your face is too sweet to ruin. You look awfully confident right now, kitten.”

You hum, peeling open his shirt and pulling it out from where it’s tucked into his pants. It flares out, exposing his impossibly defined abs, and a chest that is rising and falling too quickly, betraying his calm demeanor. But you could tell his impatience from the bulge in his pants as well–and from how he was spreading his legs wider, he wasn’t ashamed of his reaction. “Having the leader of Onychinus like this…”

A half sigh half grumble vibrates in his throat when you undo the belt around his hips, clanking noisily in his quiet room, save for the soft music playing on vinyl in the background. “Heady? Your cheeks are flushed.”

His hips raise when you slide the belt through the loops, gathering it in your hands before discarding it to the floor. “You should see yourself.” He watches with rapt attention as you lean in and brush a finger over his pert nipple. He gasps at the featherlight touch, abdomen clenching. “You’re even red here.”

Sylus grunts, and the excitement in his pants twitches hard enough to be shown through his dark pants. With each touch, his eyes grow more lidded, until he almost looks tired, but you know he’s anything but.

Flicking your finger over his nipple for the last time, he grunts and jerks against his restraints when you pull away. “Sensitive?” You ask.

His smirk is dizzying. “I enjoy everything you do to me.”

With a mischievous look on your face, you wrap your arms around his waist and settle into his lap. His reaction is immediate. His deep groan finds its way to your core, making you clench around nothing. You can feel him so clearly under you, throbbing and twitching like crazy.

Lust filled eyes meet yours. “Getting excited? I thought this was supposed to be torturous for me?” He gasps, lips parting when you roll your hips against his bulge, trying not to show how much it affects you.

“So this isn’t? Me grinding on you like this, knowing we're so close, yet so far…” You lean in and lower your voice, speaking against the shell of his ear. “Knowing I’m dripping for you and you can do nothing about it, because I am in control… That isn’t torturous?”

When he doesn’t respond, you pull back and smile at the drunk look on his face. All teasing is gone, the look he gives you is almost scary, intimidating, and if he wasn’t restrained, you might have lost confidence. But you were in charge, so he could stare at you with pleading looks filled with dark promises all he wanted.

He parts his lips when you lean in, expecting a kiss, but you divert to his neck instead, laying kiss after kiss in his most sensitive points. He groans, and you can feel the vibrations pressed against you. His hips thrust upwards, and it feels too good to reprimand him verbally, so you instead sink your teeth into his skin.

His reaction is immediate. He laughs through a groan, biceps straining when he struggles. “So rough, kitten.” He thrusts his hip upwards again, and you respond with another bite. He grunts, gasping heavily. “So that’s it, this is my punishment for being greedy.”

Pulling away, your lips feel swollen when you look down at him. “And you’re not being a very good boy.” He groans at the name, and something inside your head clicks open and malfunctions.

Sylus. The leader of Onychinus, just moaned at being called a good boy.

“You moved on purpose because you wanted me to bite you, didn’t you?” You ignored the feeling of losing control in your mind, pretending to have composure and not give away that you had probably soaked through your panties.

Sylus cocks his head to the side, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pinching his chin, you tilt his head upwards, fingers finding his neglected nipple at the same time. His stuttered, deep groan and half eye roll nearly makes you cum. “Good boy’s don't lie, Sylus.”

He smiles, and he looks ruined. “Then punish me. I’ve been bad.”

It took an insurmountable amount of strength not to whip his dick out and sit on it in one go. He had to be punished first.

He groaned when you slid off his lap, purposefully pressing down on him while you did. Then, you dropped to your knees and parted his thighs. “Careful kitten, you don’t look like you’re getting ready to punish me down there.”

You smiled, not diverting your eyes away even while your fingers found his fly and unzipped it. His legs twitched. You pulled his slacks down a few inches, with his help of him raising his hips. They sat low on his ass, giving you just enough room to pull him out. But not before a little teasing.

You ran your fingers along the soft white hairs on his pelvis, dangerously closed to the half slack-half boxer covered monster in his pants. He thrust upwards, and you retaliated by pinching what little fat he had on the side of his hips, making his cock twitch.

“Pinching now?” He gasped, the deep baritone of his voice growing more gravely with his arousal.

You ran your hands up and down his muscled thighs, occasionally teasing his pelvis with your nails. “Down here didn’t seem to hate it so much.” Pressing the points of your nails against his naval, you scratched down his skin with little force, enough to leave red marks on his pale skin. His gasp was loud, followed by smaller grunts and heavy breathing. “Yeah, I don’t think you hate pain at all.”

He laughed at that, the sound expensive and rich. “I told you once before, kitten, I like everything you do to me. Scratch me, bite me, tease me, do whatever you want with me.”

Eyes on his, you dipped your fingers under the band of his boxers and grabbed the base of his cock. He inhaled sharply, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs fast enough. “Even if I don’t put this inside me tonight?”

His eyes flickered to your hand that pulled him out of his boxers, pants still on his waist. He looked good like this, half dressed and disheveled, with a drunk expression. “I’m not worried about that.” He replied confidently.

When you released him, he throbbed repeatedly, pearls of pre-cum beading on his tip before dripping onto his pants, leaving a sticky mess. “So confident.” Laying your head on his thigh just inches from his length. You caress his cock starting from the underside with a single finger, drawing it upwards until you reach the wet tip.

Sylus is breathing noisily now, chest rising quickly with his suppressed moans. His bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth when you rub his wetness around the head. “Does this feel good, Sylus?”

He smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. “Very good, kitten. Your fingers are so soft.” His heavy arousal bobs in front of you when you continue to collect his wetness on your fingers.

Pulling away, you sit back on your ass and spread your thighs, rubbing his pre together on the tips of your fingers. Sylus continues to spill on his pants, breathing heavily as he watches you. “What are you doing, sweetie?”

“You said my fingers were soft, I wanted to see for myself.” His lips part when you lift your dress and expose your panty-clad pussy to him, which is of course, soaked. You lift the band and slide your fingers in, not moving the fabric so he can see.

You groan in unison when you rub his mess around on your clit. Sylus struggles more now, looking pained to watch you touch yourself in front of him.

You gasp, running your fingers through your folds, spreading your legs to give him no real view. “You were right, s–so soft.”

His eyes are glued to your cunt, biceps bulge with his incessant pulling at his restraints, and the pool of cum on his pants is now so big it looks like he already came all over himself. “I have much, much more where that came from, sweetie.” He purrs.

You dip your fingers inside, and he moans watching you, even if his view is muted through the fabric. “Fuck.”

“I could fill you with me.” He says, groaning though you don’t miss the plea in his tone. “Anything you want.” He says, before shaking his head. “I know it wants to feel me, such a hot little thing, begging for me to fill it.”

You gasp, plunging two fingers in and out of yourself. “Sylus.”

Sylus’s gasps are stuttered. “Yes, kitten, let me help you. Use me. Sit on me and take everything I have to give.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, realizing you probably look as needy as him now.

He doesn’t look cocky when you pull your fingers out, though his fingers do lock onto them. He doesn’t even look triumphant when you spread your thighs around his hips and grip his base, pressing his soaked tip against your equally soaked entrance.

“What do you want?” You ask, gripping his cheeks with the hand you were masterbating with.

He grunts as you rub his tip through your folds, using him to rub your clit. “I want you to use me.”

You notch his head at your hole. “That’s it? Even if I finish before you and decide I don’t want your release? You'll take it?”

He nods, throat bobbing as he stares at your lips like a man starved. “Yes.” His voice is all gravel. “Use me.”

So you do.

Sliding onto him is bliss and agony, blending and swirling into pure relief in your gut. Sylus groans with you as you take him all at once, until you're seated on the mess of his pants. You don't spare a second before you hook your ankles on his thighs and start bouncing.

“Good boy,” you sigh, mess covered fingers slipping into his mouth. Sylus smiles around them before sucking, cleaning your fingers.

You impale yourself onto him over and over again, loving how good it hurts, loving how deep he fills you in his position. Your eyes roll back in your head and your head falls back. One hand steadies on his shoulder while the other pushes deeper into his mouth. He doesn’t even gag when you hit the back of his throat, but his eyes do water.

Yanking your fingers out, they’re sloppier than they were before, but Sylus has a big stupid grin on his face that wasn’t there before. “I could drown in you while you devour me.” Crimson eyes caress your face the way his hands would. “You look so beautiful taking what you need, what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” You gasp, fingers finding your clit and rubbing hastily when his cock repeatedly thrusts into that sweet spot in your inner walls.

He leans in and whispers against your lips. “Everything.” Then, his mouth is on yours, and you devour each other. It’s a battle for dominance, one neither is winning nor losing, but its so aggressive and feral and needy, and you fucking love it.

His and your sounds slip from the cracks of your kiss, and the wetness on his thighs only makes you get there even faster.

Blindly reaching behind you, you dip your hand into his boxers and find his balls, pulling them out with his cock you cradle them in your hand. Sylus breaks from the kiss to hiss through his teeth.

You grab his jaw. “Bad boy, did I say you could stop kissing me?” He shakes his head, a proud expression on his face, lips curling up at the sides. “You said you would give me everything.” You whisper against him, rocking your hips in a wavelike motion, stoking that fire low in your stomach. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

Sylus nods, “Yes ma’am.” He huskily grunts, before taking your lips once more. The kiss is louder and more urgent than before, and saliva spills from your lips.

Rolling his balls in your hand, they quickly become wet with the two of you dripping from where you’re connected. With your finger between you and your hand on his neck, it doesn’t take much longer before you're tipping over the edge.

“Sylus!” You gasp, “H-help me.”

You start to shake, orgasming around his cock, and he grunts, balls falling from your hands as you wrap your arms around his neck and let him fuck you through your orgasm.

“Can I cum?” He groans, hips losing their rhythm. “I need to stop now if I can’t cum.”

You shake your head, twitching and writhing from the prolonged high as his thrusts get rougher and rougher. “Give me it. Give me everything you have.”

His moans hitch, and a loud snapping sound makes you flinch. His arms are around you then, and hes using the leverage to lift you up and down as he fucks his cum inside you. His thrusts are sloppy and mean as he jerks and twitches wildly, fucking his orgasm as deep as he can inside you.

The two of you are holding each other tightly when he comes down. His thighs shake violently under you, and you can feel his cock throb inside you, softening with his released load.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” He whispers into your hair. You nod, nails digging into his back, and he grunts. “I hope you’re satisfied, because I think I really did give you everything just then.”

You laugh before pulling back, locking your legs around his waist. You both gasp when his cock jolts inside you. “Maybe I should, after all, you did break your restraints.” You raise an eyebrow at him with mock irritation.

He simply smiles, caressing stray hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear. “Do what you want with me, but don’t be surprised when you ring me out again and I’m dry.”

That makes you snort. “Would it hurt? To cum like that?” He goes to answer and you press your fingers to his lips. “I almost forgot about your fondness for pain.”

His laugh is deep, and it warms not only your heart but your entire body. Then, he leans back and gestures to his body. “As you wish.”

You laugh, falling into his chest as his humor blends with yours. You hold each other like that until the ache between your legs from him is too much, and he lifts you off.

#lads smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #sylus x you #sylus smut #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut

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adelheidvonschicksal · 1 year ago

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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut #adelssmut #notsfw

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fionnaskyborn · 1 year ago

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every day (overstatement) i come up with increasingly more ridiculous ideas on how to approach fighting games

#was cleaning a laptop. as one does. cleaned the mouse as well. while doing that‚ a thought bubbled up to the surface. ''what if you bound #the attack keys to mouse buttons.'' IMMEDIATELY grinned in the most mischievous way.#just me mentally smiling like the grinch in that one gif. you know the one.#i think it might work though! see‚ the human hands are wired to default to doing motions in sync. this is why you have to put in effort to #move different fingers on each hand if you're moving them at the same time. it can be done with just a little conscious effort! however‚ if #you're trying to do a similar motion with two different fingers on each hand‚ your hands will tend to move the same two fingers even more #than usual. which‚ again‚ is an easy thing to avoid if you can allow yourself to pay attention to what your fingers are doing #but if you're focusing on something else (like‚ say‚ looking at what your opponent in a fighting game is doing)‚ controlling your motor #functions becomes drastically more difficult. you have to choose between diverting your attention to the placement of your fingers‚ or‚ to #put it bluntly‚ mashing.#HOWEVER #if your hands aren't performing similar motor functions at the same time (say‚ if one hand is controlling the movement via keys while the #other is controlling the attacks via pressing mouse buttons)‚ the issue of the hands tending towards synchronicity is no longer an issue‚#because your hands are doing motion patterns that are different enough for them not to try to sync up!#at least‚ that's how it should work‚ theoretically speaking. i've yet to test this out while playing a game‚ but it worked just fine when i #was testing out the motions themselves! i'm very eager to try this out whenever i end up finding the time to even approach my computer #TL;DR (bilbo baggins voice) after all‚ why not? why shouldn't i play fighting games like a shooter?#logs

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prokopetz · 8 months ago

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I'm not gonna claim that most Tumblr polls are anything like rigorously structured, but I've seen a lot of folks rather smugly asserting that having a "not applicable" option that ends up dominating all other responses is evidence that the person who created the poll is incompetent, and y'all: under the specific circumstances in which these polls are constructed and distributed, that outcome is evidence of good poll design, not bad poll design. Yes, even when the "not applicable" responses outnumber all other responses ten to one. There are several reasons for that:

At the time of this posting, Tumblr polls have no "see response" button. The only ways to see a poll's distribution of responses are to wait for the poll to conclude, or to respond yourself – and not only are people on social media typically curious and impatient, many of them also know that there's no way they'll remember to check back later once the poll has concluded, so in practice, their opportunity to see the results is now or never. Adding a little note to the poll insisting that people who aren't part of the targeted demographic should refrain from voting isn't necessarily going to restrain that impulse. Indeed, it may end up encouraging folks who otherwise wouldn't have picked a random result-revealing response to do so, because fuck you, don't tell me what to do.

Many respondents genuinely won't realise they're not part of the targeted demographic until after they've voted. It doesn't matter how much text you add to contextualise the poll, because they'll read the poll first, and if they read the accompanying text at all, it's only after they've responded. Heck, a lot of folks don't even bother to read the question before responding to a poll; they just start going down the options and reflexively click the first one that seems like it might apply to them, then go back and read what was actually being asked (and complain in the notes if it turns out that they misunderstood). Even a well-meaning person can only comply with instructions they've actually read; for those folks, clicking the "not applicable" option is what compliance looks like.

Even folks who do fit your poll's targeted demographic can fall prey to the imp of the perverse. Giving the most accurate response rather than the most entertaining one can be a real struggle for a lot of folks; in scientific analysis of polling data, this is known as the "mischievous responder bias". In an informal setting like Tumblr, it's reasonable to suppose that the mischievous responder effect might be exaggerated compared to polls conducted in more formal contexts, and a well-designed poll is going to take that into account. A humorous "not applicable" option provides an escape by affording folks the freedom to screw around with the knowledge that they're not polluting useful data by doing so; in practice, the "I am a toaster" option is a mischievous response filter.

What this adds up to is that a poll where 90% of the responses hit the "not applicable" button is more likely to have yielded useful data than a poll with a narrow target audience where some unknown percentage of the responses represent folks not reading the instructions, clicking random options to see the results, and/or taking the piss.

#tumblr #blogging #social media #polls #statistics #swearing

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ssahotchnerr · 1 month ago

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can i request - aaron and reader are just married and on a case where they are sharing a room? i feel like morgan would have a field day with the teasing!

honeymoon phase

YESSS LOL I ADORE THAT cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, suggestive teasing remarks, brief mentions of sex, playful team banter 🤭

"Alright," Aaron approached, his impending footsteps breaking the soft conversation that had been unfolding amongst the team.

"Due to the winter storm that's rolling in, the hotel's almost at full vacancy. We'll have to double up." He handed Dave, Spencer, JJ a key card, keeping one for himself. "You all can decide who you'll share a room with. Sweetheart, you're with me. Let's meet here in the morning at eight, and head to the precinct together." Aaron finished, opting to grab his bag from your grasp, relieving you the need to hold it.

Everyone nodded in quiet understanding, heads moving in unison as they too collected their things. The discussions resumed - quick laughs, pairing up, the usual.

You yawned as you all trudged towards the elevator, eager for the warmth of bed. Additionally, the warmth of your husband's body beside yours.

However Derek stayed put, in such an obvious, idea-brewing sort of way. The gears in his head were turning; an undeniable, mischievous flicker in his eyes. His gaze followed the two of you, the newly wedded couple as of a month ago.

"Oh no," You mumbled jokingly under your breath, smushing your lower face into Aaron's shoulder.

"Hm?" Aaron hummed gently as his gaze shot down to you in question, his finger stopping short of the up button.

"Now remember you two, this isn't your honeymoon." Derek lectured as his index finger traveled between you and Aaron, doing an awfully bad job at keeping a straight face. "These walls," He moved to the side to tap his knuckle against the surface for dramatic effect, the sound produced sharp and reverberating. "are thin. We don't need y'all keeping us up to all hours. I would prefer to get some sleep tonight."

"You brought your headphones, didn't you?" Emily joined his banter, teasingly shoving her go-bag into his.

"You already know it. Now that these love birds have death till us parted, I'll never leave home without them. Can't be too careful." He tossed you a playful wink, daring you to quip back.

"You're funny." Aaron beat you to it, his eyebrows lifting in an eased, amused manner across his forehead.

Morgan flashed his dazzling smile, in awareness that yes, he was.

"But no." Aaron denied, with a small shake of his head. "Not on cases."

"Liar." Emily concealed in a cough, fist in front of her mouth.

But it was true. Moments of intimacy, out in the field, were few and far between. You were on the job, for one. And adequate rest was needed - for energy, focus, and the ability to stay sharp in high pressure situations. Without it, the smallest of missteps could cost lives.

It was achingly tempting at times; there had been countless times where you just wanted to jump Aaron and make him yours - you were still very much in the honeymoon phase. But you owed it to the victims, their grieving families, and any potential, future victims.

In addition, it only worked better in your shared favor when the time for sex did come. The build-up, the waiting, the restraint too much to bear and everything falling into place with a sense of release. It only added to the satisfaction.

If a case concluded, and the jet was grounded until morning - technically you were off the job. Anything could happen then.

"It's a good thing, for you that is. Wouldn't want to hurt your ego, Morgan." You flashed him a smirk. "With these 'thin walls', you'll be thinking you've been doing something wrong all this time."

Morgan's face instantly turned from amusement to slight dismay, his nose wrinkling up in disbelief. "I don't think so."

"She's right." Aaron confirmed, a knowing glint behind his eyes as he swiftly looked you up and down. A smile grew on your face, some heat rushing through your body. "Bed, sweetheart?"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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cameronsprincess · 1 month ago

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Truth or Dare — R.C

summary: A game of truth or dare leads to you and your best friend taking a step over the line of friendship at a New Year’s Eve party.

CW: smut! 18+ only! bsf!rafe x bsf!reader, slightly angsty? (oops), drinking, game of truth or dare, mutual pining, spitting, handjob, male receiving oral, fingering, shared climax (is that a thing? they cum at the same time lmao)

note: happy new year babies🖤🥂 also big thank you to @cameronwillow + @rafesthroatbaby for helping me out with dares and truths for this!🤞🏻🤍

“Alright, the rules are simple,” Topper shouts, passing out solo cups to everyone sitting around the table, “Truth or dare, we all know how to play it. But, tonight’s game is going to be a little different.”

You shift in your spot, your eyes glancing over at your best friend, Rafe Cameron, and the girl he had sat in his lap. You quickly stand, tuning Topper and his explanation of the game out, heading into the kitchen.

Your eyes scan the various bottles of liquor, settling on the Patrón silver. You glance back over at the table of your friends, eyes burning into the back of Rafe’s head before you tear them away, pouring the shot glass full and throwing it back, slamming it onto the counter and repeating the process.

The liquor burns as it slides down your throat, but you keep pushing, taking shot after shot until your face tingles, body buzzing from the tequila coursing through your veins. You slightly shake your head, the high pony your hair is in swaying side to side on top of your head. You’re not sure why you give a shit that Rafe is here with Brooke, it’s not like he’s yours. He’s not yours. He’s just your best friend. Always has been your- “Yo, Y/L/N. You gonna play or what?” Kelce shouts, cutting your thoughts off.

You give a weak smile, nodding your head and slowly making your way back to the group. The second you sit, you can feel his eyes on you, and you quickly glance at him, concern etched in his perfect face. You roll your eyes, tearing them off of him and focusing your attention on the game.

Topper goes first. “Alright…Ahhh, Tatum,” everyone laughs, knowing that Topper would choose Tatum first. “Truth or dare?”

Tatum gives him a mischievous smile, “Dare.” she says confidently.

Oohs erupt through the group, and Topper chuckles, flopping back into the chair he’s in. He places a hand on his chin, as if he’s in thought before his own grin spreads across his lips.

“I dare you…to do a body shot off the person you find most attractive in the group.”

Tatum snorts out a laugh, her lips pursed as she pushes herself out of her chair. She slowly makes her way toward Topper before quickly swerving to the right, her hand reaching out for Gabby.

Both girls erupt into a fit of giggles as Gabby lays on the ground, lifting her shirt just enough to expose her stomach. Tatum returns from the kitchen, bottle of Patrón in hand, before she sits herself on her knees on the floor. All of the guys are deadly silent, and you watch the expression on each of their faces as they watch Tatum pour the tequila on Gabby’s stomach, a lime held between the latter’s teeth. Tatum then pours a small amount of salt across Gabby’s upper stomach, licking it clean before drinking the shot from her belly button and moving to grab the lime from her teeth.

Your eyes land on Rafe’s, his bright blue pools burning into you instead of watching the show the other two girls were giving. The two of you keep your eyes on each other, not once breaking eye contact until Brooke’s voice breaks through the tension surrounding you.

“Rafey, truth or dare?” she asks, voice all high pitched and annoying as she bats her lashes at him.

Rafe clears his throat, “Uh.. Tru-Truth.” He replies, bringing his solo cup to his lips and taking a long sip.

Brooke lets out an obnoxious groan, like she was hoping he’d choose dare. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth as she thinks of a question to ask him. Finally, she smiles, “If you had to make-out with anyone in this room, who would it be and why?”

Rafe clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He places his hands on Brooke’s hips, lifting her from his lap and placing her in the empty chair next to him. She scoffs, crossing one leg over the other before she takes a long sip of her drink.

“Well? You gonna answer or lose a piece of clothing, Cameron?” Topper teases.

Rafe looks toward you, taking a quick sip of his drink and rolling his neck before he confidently says your name. A few shocked gasps tear through the room, and you choke on your drink, the rum and pineapple juice spilling down the front of your dress. You narrow your eyes on him. Is he fucking joking?

“Well… Alrighty then.. So it would be Y/N, but you have to tell us why?” Kelce says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Because why not? She’s hot, my best friend, and I dunno, I think she’d be a fun time.”

Your cheeks heat up, the alcohol along with Rafe’s words making your already foggy head spin.

“Alright, move on.” Rafe says firmly, standing from his chair and making his way into the kitchen to make a new drink.

You quickly stand from your spot, following Rafe into the kitchen. His body tenses the second you’re beside him. “What the hell was that?” You ask him, arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe pours more whiskey into his cup, quickly downing it before he turns to face you. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you suck in a breath when he lowers his face to yours. You can smell the whiskey and mint on his breath, the warmth sending a shiver down your spine. “It was nothin’ alright? Just wanted Brooke off my dick, she’s been trying all night, and I… I’m not into it. That’s all.”

You scoff. “Sure didn’t look like you weren’t into it, lettin’ her sit all pretty in your lap, I mean hell, you kissed her tonight did you not?”

Rafe sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah.. Yeah, fuck. Alright yeah I did. But that was before I realized I didn’t want to go into next year lyin’ to myself about who I really want sittin’ in my lap at all these stupid ass parties.”

Your head tilts to the side, confusion written across your face. “And who do you want… Hmm? Anyone I know?”

Rafe laughs. “I think you know her pretty well.”

Jealousy sparks deep in your stomach, of course he’d be into one of your friends. It would never be you. He saw you as a sister, a best friend, nothing more, nothing less. The quicker you got that through your head, the better.

“Hey, look at me.” Rafe whispers, his thumb and index finger hooking under your chin to lift your head, forcing your eyes on him. You force the tears back, refusing to let him see you break. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you so..so angry? Emotional? I don’t know but you’re just off tonight.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, opening your mouth to reply but Topper’s voice cuts you off. “Y/L/N, Cameron, get your asses back in here, it’s Rafe’s turn again.”

You take advantage of Rafe’s hold loosening on your chin, yanking away from him and making your way back to your seat. Rafe follows silently behind you, his ringed fingers tightly gripping at his solo cup as he sits down. Brooke places her hand on his thigh instantly, but Rafe roughly shoves her off, causing you to smile to yourself.

“Alright bud, truth or dare?” Topper asks Rafe.

Rafe straightens his spine, chugging down his whiskey before he says, “Dare.”

All the girls get excited, but you just roll your eyes, crossing your feet under your chair and sipping at your Malibu and pineapple.

“I dare you to spit tequila into the mouth of any girl in this room. The choice is yours.”

Hushed giggles fill your ears, every girl in this room— yourself included— hoping to be Rafe’s choice. Any girl would kill to have Rafe Cameron spit liquor into their mouths, but the off chance of him picking you is slim to none…

Your small pity party is short lived as Rafe stands, harshly yanking the Patrón bottle off the table, slowly making his way toward you. Your eyes flit up to his face, before looking back down at his outstretched hand. You take it, allowing him to pull you onto your feet. His right hand grips the back of your neck, squeezing softly before his left hand brings the liquor bottle to his lips. “Open up, sweetheart.” He rasps, bringing the lip of the bottle to his lips and filling his mouth with the clear liquid.

You obey, opening your mouth and allowing him to pull you into him, his grip on your neck tightening before he’s messily spitting the tequila into your open mouth. He pulls back, a smirk on his face as he watches the liquor that missed your mouth dribble down your lips and chin, falling onto your chest and dripping down the valley of your breasts. Rafe’s tongue darts out, licking up the liquor that’s on the side of your lips, running it down to your chin before stopping at your neck. His blue eyes burn into yours, silently asking for permission to continue.

You give him a small nod, your eyes never leaving his as he dips his head lower, his tongue softly licking at the skin of your neck, running it down low, low, all the way down to the exposed skin of your chest. He licks over the swell of your breasts, pulling a small, hushed moan from you. Rafe pulls back, placing a hand on your cheek, his thumb soothingly rubbing at the skin. His eyes dart back and forth between your eyes and your lips, and your heart rate picks up a notch. He leans in until his lips are brushing against yours, a smile taking over his face before he finally presses his lips against yours.

He kisses you slowly at first, but then he picks up his pace, slipping his tongue into your mouth and getting lost in your taste, your scent, just as much as you get lost in him. He wraps an arm around your waist, all the noise, everyone else in the room drowned out. It was just you and Rafe in this moment.

The sound of someone clearing their throat has you pushing off Rafe, face flushed and mind buzzing from the kiss.

“Alright, alright. It’s about damn time you two came to your senses, but do us all a favor? Get a room!” Topper jokes, throwing a small pillow at you and Rafe while laughing uncontrollably.

Rafe looks down at you, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Do you want to? Get a room, I mean..” he laughs.

You bite at your bottom lip nervously. You want to, you really do, but you’re afraid to ruin what you and Rafe have. What if this messes everything up? You’ve wanted him for so long, and after that little show, it’s obvious he feels the same, but what if something goes wrong? What if this ruins your life-long friendship? What if-

“We don’t have to, sweetheart. There’s no press-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, you’re cutting him off with your lips, pressing a quick kiss to his before you say, “Of course I want to.”

Rafe is quick to grab your hand, dragging you toward the stairs as all of your friends hoot and holler behind you. Rafe starts pulling you up the stairs, dragging you down the long hallway upstairs before reaching an empty guest room at the end of the hall. He pushes the door open, softly nudging you inside before shutting and locking it behind him. He’s on you quick, his large hands gripping both sides of your face and pulling you back into him.

You and Rafe kiss each other fast and rough, tongues swirling, teeth clashing. You moan against his mouth when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a soft “pop”.

He pushes off of you, standing to his full height before you. You watch intently as he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, exposing his tanned and toned stomach and chest to you. Your hands fly to the belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. You slowly pull the belt through the loops of his khakis, tossing it to the ground and popping the button on his pants before slowly pulling at the zipper. Rafe breathes heavy, his eyes darkened over with lust, watching your movements in awe. He’d never seen anyone so fucking perfect in his life. You were it for him, always had been.

You slowly push his khakis down his thighs, sucking in a sharp breath when you see the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his briefs. Rafe smirks down at you, his fingers hooking under your chin and forcing your eyes back on him.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Absolutely sure.”

Rafe breathes out a sigh of relief, dipping down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. You dig your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, shoving them down his thighs, his rock hard cock springing free, a bead of precum already leaking from the tip. You softly take him in your hands, giving slow, deliberate strokes, leaning forward and licking the precum from his slit.

Rafe lets out a throaty groan, his right hand sliding up your back, gripping at the back of your neck again. He squeezes softly, “Go on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.” he teases.

You hold eye contact with him, continuing to slowly stroke his cock. Slowly leaning forward, you wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the swollen head before pushing more of him down your throat.

Rafe groans, his fingers wrapping around the high ponytail you wore and tugging at it softly. You bob your head up and down his length, your tongue flattening against the vein on the underside of his cock running up as you pull back. You flick your tongue against his tip, swirling around it, teasing him.

He pulls you back by your hair, dropping himself onto the mattress and turning your body. You tuck your legs underneath yourself, folding yourself over, forearms resting on the mattress as you poked your ass out. Rafe runs his hands down your back, reaching the globe of your ass, gripping a handful in his hands through your dress before sliding his hands down to the hem of the dress.

His fingers rub over your pussy through your panties, a small raspy groan escaping him. “So fuckin’ wet aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You moan around his length, pushing him to the back of your throat and holding him there. Rafe groans, bucking his hips upward, his tip hitting the back of your throat. He slides your panties to the side, his fingertips teasing at your dripping entrance. He slowly pushes a finger inside you, curling it upward and toying at your g-spot. You quickly pull your head up off his cock, strings of spit pulling with your lips. You find his eyes, lips slightly parted as you breathe heavily, pushing yourself back onto his hand.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Rafe groans, adding another finger and harshly thrusting them in and out of you.

Your loud cries of pleasure fill the room, your eyes on Rafe as he finger fucks you, your hands making slow strokes to his shaft. You slowly rotate your hands, running them up his thick shaft and to his swollen tip. You close your hand around his tip, squeezing gently as you slowly circle your hand around it.

“Fuck, keep that up and I won’t last much longer, sweetheart.”

You smile up at him, wrapping your lips back around his cock and sucking at him fast. You keep your right hand wrapped around him, stroking and sucking simultaneously as Rafe picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them in and out of your pussy roughly.

The loud chants of your friends downstairs catch your attention for a moment, the countdown to midnight starting. Rafe bucks his hips upward, fucking himself down your throat as his fingers push you closer to your release.

“Don’t focus on them, focus on me baby.” he says breathlessly, his cock pulsing against your tongue.

Your walls clench around his fingers at the same time his cock twitches, both of you about to come undone for one another.

“Three.. Two.. One.. HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Your friends shouts boom downstairs, you and Rafe’s pleasured moans filling the guest room. Rafe thrusts up one final time, his dick stiffening before the hot ropes of his cum spill down your throat. You’re coming undone at the same time as him, legs shaking and body rocking against his hand as he fucks you through your high, riding out his own.

The two of you come down from your shared highs, trying to steady your breathing. Rafe pulls his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. You lift yourself up onto your knees, your eyes finding his again. You smile softly at him, “Happy New Year, best friend.”

“Nah, fuck that. You’re still my best friend, but we’re going into this year together. I mean that. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I think I always have been yours.”

You can’t contain the smile on your face, feeling giddy like a child that your best friend was now your boyfriend. You press a kiss to his lips, sighing contentedly as Rafe kisses you back with a hunger you’d never experienced.

tagging some moots: @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysbabygirl @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @bloodibambiidoll @cameronwillow @oceandriveab @httpsdrewstarkey @cherrygirlfriend @sarahsangelicdoll @lacydollette

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