#just some *gasp* charged moments*

[lovingapparition]

i’ve got a river running right into you.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Warnings for descriptions of medical gore.

Ghost gets hurt. Ghost is touch starved. You just want to help. It’s awkward. 

NOT COMPLETE / NO BETA

It's loud in the medical bay. The lights overhead buzz, adding their hum to the sound of clinking medical instruments, shouted calls for supplies, and the pained sounds of the injured. No set of hands are still as the wounded are wheeled in on gurneys or dragged in by their fellow soldiers. There's too much iron in the air to really adhere to the stricter medical protocols, and it's a scramble for everyone to assess and treat the damage in front of them. Each doctor's movements are efficient and practiced; stitching a wound just as a soldier would clean a gun. 

Just another day on the job.

You were hustling from one sectioned off bed to another, caught in the flow of all the action in the medical bay. The thin curtains between beds did nothing to muffle the chaos of the situation. Too many bodies were moving in and out of the area, it was almost dizzying. Your section of the unit had been chaotic for the better part of three hours, leaving you no time to stop and breathe. It seems things had gone south on the recent mission. The details of which were lost on you, but they didn’t matter now.

Stepping behind a curtain, you immediately get to work assessing the situation the soldier on the bed has found herself in, and you set about putting her back together. She's only caught minor fragments of shrapnel in her upper arms and chest. Nothing deep and nothing dangerous. It doesn't take you long to patch her up, thankfully. As you work, your brain vaguely registers that your medical team must be shifting focus to the less severely injured of the bunch.

You and the soldier both breathe a shared sigh of relief as you finish up her sutures. She only needs a few, and you tell her to return in about a week to check in before they can be removed. As you fill out her paperwork with a quick hand, you notice that the sounds of the room have hushed. You must be reaching the end of the torrent of injured soldiers.

Though small, your team was incredibly efficient; working like a machine during frenzied moments like these. Every second counted, nothing could go to waste.

You briskly step into another curtained area to see a broad, masked man on the gurney. The poor bed looked like it might strain under the weight of his bulky frame and plethora of equipment. For a moment, you can't even tell what's wrong with him. Stepping closer, the scent of fresh blood hits you just as you notice the dark wetness blooming on the upper right thigh of his gray fatigues. It looks like he’s used his own belt as a tourniquet. Your eyebrows scrunch down as you move to his side, your gloved hands automatically moving to his mask.

"Are you awake? Hey-" you're interrupted with a stiff, gloved hand gripping tightly at your wrist. Looking through the skull mask's eye sockets, you can see the whites of his half-lidded eyes starkly against his eyeblack. He's staring evenly back at you.

"I'm awake," he rumbles, low in his chest as if through water, "leave the mask." The directive is clear, even through the murk of his discomfort. You're not sure who this guy is, but from his tone he clearly expects to be obeyed. You knew there was a special operations unit active out of the base, and you can only guess that he's a part of it. Those types tended to be.. odd. This guy fit the bill.

The exchange doesn't last long though, and you immediately move down to visually assess the rest of his body as you open a new emergency medical kit. "Can you feel anywhere other than your legs that you've been injured? Have you hit your head at all?" you ask, running through regular questions since he seems to be lucid enough to give clear answers. He watches you intently, blinking slowly and almost lazily when you look at him, trauma shears in hand.

He simply shakes his head, grunting what sounds like a negative response. Great, how very helpful. You sigh as you work the shears beneath his pant leg. Without even looking up at him you slide the shears up, cutting half of his pants away to reveal the mess of both fresh and congealing blood on his thigh. Without a second thought, you cut through his briefs, pushing them aside just enough to allow him privacy as you get a better view of his injuries. The belt stays for now, it’s probably the only thing keeping him from passing out. 

It's not great. He definitely needed to be seen sooner, and you're worried about exactly how much blood he's lost. Some of these wounds are deep and still bleeding. Small bits of metal are visible through the clots. You can see bruising already beginning to form on the skin around the lacerations. The hot iron scent of his blood floods your nose, thick in the air between you.

"I need help in here- I've got shrapnel, heavy blood loss and I need extra hands!" you shout to your team without looking up, busy flushing his wounds with saline to clear any loose debris. Your hands are practiced and steady, one hand deftly wiping the blood and saline as you work. The man shifts, a strained breath escaping him. You spare him a sympathetic glance, knowing this part made many uncomfortable. Why had no one tended to him? He should've been among the first.

Evidently, so is the man in the bed. 

Before you can ask, your colleague steps in and immediately gloves up before getting to work with you. Together, you clean and stitch the man's wounds. He remains almost totally silent for all of it, save for the soft grunts as he's sewn back together. Even with the local anesthetic, it's still a bit uncomfortable. Throughout it all, he peers at you, his pale eyes flitting between your hands and your face as you work. At one point his gloved hands twitch at his side like he wants to move them. He doesn’t.

Your colleague quickly removes the man’s vest, knowing just as you do that there could be more injuries beneath it. The vest goes in a chair by the bed for later. The black shirt shirt he's wearing beneath it isn't torn or bloody, but you’re aware of your colleague’s intention to begin feeling for broken ribs as you get his IV drip ready. 

His hands catch your colleague’s wrists with a quickness you wouldn’t have thought possible given the amount of blood he’s already lost. “That’s enough,” he hisses. Your head snaps up, and you can only see the tight narrowing of his eyes through the mask. Before you can react, your colleague jerks from his grip. 

"I need to get these pants the rest of the way off, and then we're done. I'll get you cleaned up and finished for the night," you explain, falling back into your doctor mindset and practiced speech to ease the tension. He makes no response to this, so you take his silence as the go ahead. It's not like his pants were salvageable anyway.

"Are you gonna be okay in here? I have to go check on someone," your colleague asks, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t anything new to have a rude patient, but everyone’s nerves were fried after the hectic shift. You couldn’t blame them at all.

You wave them off, tired. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him. Shouldn’t be much longer anyway.” They head off, and you turn back to the man, sighing. He’s clearly had a rough night, maybe he could use the benefit of the doubt. You were certain that you’d be a bit pissy after catching some shrapnel. 

"Do you think you can get into a clean bed without ripping those stitches?" you ask tiredly as you remove your gloves. Without looking up, you move to unlace his boot. You swear you can feel him watching your fingers loosen the laces, watching your hand wrap around his ankle as you pull the boot off. His stare holds a weight in it you've never experienced before. When you look up at him, he's ready looking away.

You offer him a fresh towel for privacy as you cut his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and gingerly slide them from beneath him. They go straight in the red trash bin specifically for biohazard waste. You gingerly clean his thigh one last time and apply a thin layer of ointment to his sutures to encourage healing before you wrap his thigh in gauze. He helpfully spreads his legs enough to allow you to securely tape the gauze in place. His skin is warm, even through your gloves.

You blink once, twice, forcing the thought away as you finish up. 

"I can." is all you get out of him. You sigh, it's been a long day. His boots join his vest in the chair, and you roll a clean cot into his room. This one has a thin cotton sheet and a blanket on it. You could almost swear his head is cocked, ever so slightly, with a question, and you answer it without thinking. "You're sleeping here tonight. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll need IV fluids to recover. It's not much, but it's better than that gurney."

He huffs, you can only guess he’s annoyed, but he looks the bed over. The cushioned pad was minimal at best. He would definitely feel it in the morning in addition to whatever pain arose from his stitches. “Look, I’m going to override whatever authority you think you have here. It’s safest for us to be able to watch you, just for tonight.” It’s your turn to leave him without room to argue.

For a long moment, he looks at you indignantly, like he’s not covering himself with a thin towel and your sutures aren't in his thigh. Then the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and he nods once.

You don't look away as he slides his legs around to the edge of the gurney, one massive hand still covering himself with the towel for decency. It's nothing you haven't seen before, and you're more concerned with whether or not he's okay to stand without support. You step closer, clearing your throat to cut the silence.

You roll an IV pole to the side of his cot and hand the fluids you’d prepared earlier on it. “Okay, last thing and then I’ll fuck off for the night, I swear,” you tell him dryly. He huffs, a short sound that’s close to a laugh, you think. 

"I'm here, if you need a hand," you tell him, more confidently than you feel. Seeing him standing now you realize he's nearly a full head taller and twice as broad as you. Your hand finds his elbow, and to your surprise he doesn't tell you to back off as you help him ease into the bed.

A low, cut off groan escapes him as he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. When he eases back to lay down, his shirt rides up just enough to hint at the bloom of a purple bruise draped over his side. His eyes are pinched shut as he slowly settles into bed.

He doesn’t get the chance to try to help himself get comfortable. “Here, just let me. I’ve got it.” You tell him quietly, batting his hands away from the sheets. You gingerly help him maneuver his legs into a comfortable position and tuck the blankets loosely around him. Another stolen glance at him tells you he’s still got that dreamy half lidded look. It’s enough for you to not exactly trust him with getting settled in bed on his own.

“I’m going to give you an IV to replace the fluids you lost and some light pain medication. Then we’re all done,” You tell him as you add more of those shitty military issue pillows to the bed. It’s the least you can do to make him comfortable. The local anesthetic won’t last him the entire night, and you’re certain the rest of his body must be sore from the aftermath of the mission. 

Placing his IV goes without fuss. He's slumped back against the pillows, breathing evenly as you fill out his paperwork for his overnight check in. You'd managed to fill out most of it, but you still didn't know his name or what unit he belonged to. "Hey, what's your name and unit? I need to fill this sheet out for my records,” you ask, not even looking up.

"Ghost. One four one," each rumbling word has you bristling, your face paling. Oh hell. 

"..Thank you sir." Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even bother asking for his actual name. You’d heard about a Ghost on the base, but you’d never seen him; never thought you would. It was all just rumors, something to shoot the shit about over dinner in the cafeteria. 

You wanted to sink into the floor. How could you have missed the literal skull mask? The hectic rush of the day coupled with your exhaustion must have completely cleared your brain out of any irrelevant gossip, and now it was biting you in the ass. For the last half hour you’d been practically ogling him and talking to him like he was any other soldier on the base. 

The rest of the shift moves by in a blur, it’s mostly paperwork and cleanup since everyone has been seen too. You luckily are not chosen to pass food out, so you’re saved the further embarrassment of having to interact with Ghost even more. With any luck tomorrow morning would be the last you two ever speak, and he could go back to being invisible to you, and you’d be saved from dying of embarrassment.

A low chuckle rolls from his chest, and your head sharply snaps up. You fight the urge to apologize and dig your hole deeper. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize he’s laughing at you. You had heard rumors about his particularly efficient methods of combat and data extraction from captured enemies; some of the things you’d heard made your spine chill.

You can only smile nervously back at him and tiredly drag your hand over your eyes. You can only cling to the last vestiges of professionalism that you have left. “You’re all set here. Once things calm down someone will be by with some food for you, if you feel like eating,” you tell him, your mouth dry. He hums softly in response, and you figure the pain medication has started to take effect. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, have a good night, sir.” 

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@scribble0rat

[sushiyuzu]

sleepy sylus

warning: fluff + tension — eepy sylus moment! 💤

- second acc: @blushpawss

you walk into sylus’s office late at night, expecting him to still be working. but as you step inside, you see him slouched over at his desk, his head resting on his arms, fast asleep. his silver hair falls messily over his forehead, and for a moment, he looks so peaceful. you can’t help but smile, thinking about how rare it is to see him like this—relaxed, without his usual guarded expression.

so cute. you smile softly, careful not to wake him up from his slumber.

quietly, you grab a blanket from the nearby couch and drape it over his broad shoulders, hoping to keep him warm without waking him. just as you’re about to turn and leave, his hand suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. you freeze, feeling the warmth of his touch, your heart skipping a beat.

uh oh.

“you’re not going anywhere,” sylus mumbles in a low, sleepy voice, his crimson eyes cracking open just enough to glance up at you. the tiredness in his voice makes it sound deeper than usual, sending a shiver down your spine.

“sylus, you should get some rest,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice soft. “you’ve been working all day.”

he doesn’t let go of your wrist, though. instead, he pulls you closer, his grip gentle but firm, guiding you down onto his lap. you let out a small gasp, your hands instinctively landing on his chest as you straddle him. the sudden closeness makes your heart race, and you can feel his warmth seeping through his shirt.

“i’ll rest... if you stay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. the heat of his breath sends a wave of warmth over your skin, and you can’t help but lean into him, your body melting into his. his arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“sylus...” you start, but your words trail off as he shifts beneath you, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. there’s something possessive in the way he holds you, even though he’s half-asleep. his head rests against your shoulder now, his silver hair tickling your neck, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each slow breath he takes.

you’re not sure if it’s the quiet of the night or the way he’s holding you so close, but the air between you suddenly feels heavier. your heart is pounding, and your body reacts before your mind can catch up. you gently run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face, and he lets out a soft hum of approval, his lips grazing the skin of your neck.

“you shouldn’t work yourself so hard,” you whisper, trying to focus on anything but the growing heat between you. but it’s impossible to ignore the way his hands grip you a little tighter, or the way his lips barely brush against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“it’s hard to focus on work... when you’re around, sweetie.” he murmurs, his voice a little more awake now, but still laced with that deep, sleepy tone that makes your stomach flutter. his hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. you can feel the heat of his body against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips finally press fully against your neck. the sensation sends a jolt through your body, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips. sylus chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your skin, and his hands move to cup your face, tilting your head slightly so he can look at you.

“you look good like this,” he says, his crimson eyes heavy with sleep but filled with something else now—something that makes your heart race even faster.

“sylus...” you whisper again, but your voice is barely more than a breath as his lips move closer to yours. the moment stretches out between you, charged with the quiet tension of the night, and then, finally, his lips meet yours. the kiss is slow, unhurried, as if he’s savoring the moment, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into him, your hands tangling in his silver hair.

his lips are soft but firm, guiding yours with a quiet confidence that leaves you breathless. and even though the kiss is gentle, there’s a possessiveness behind it, a quiet reminder of the way he always seems to be in control, even now. his hands move down to your waist again, pulling you tighter against him, and you can feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours.

when he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your head spinning from the intensity of the moment. sylus rests his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in slow, steady puffs as he tries to calm himself.

“i think i could get used to this,” he says quietly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you should be sleeping.”

“i will,” he murmurs, his hands still resting on your hips. “as long as you stay right here.”

with that, he pulls you closer once again, and this time, you don’t resist. you settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms wrap around you protectively. his heartbeat is slow and steady beneath you, and it doesn’t take long before the warmth of his body and the quiet rhythm of his breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep.

and just before you drift off, you hear his voice, soft and low in the quiet room.

“i’ll always keep you close.”

[dollgxtz]

Night Of Secrecy (Unfolded)

Word Count: 3k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, fluffy near the end, petnames like kitten, sweetie, my love :3

AN: Yeah so, I typed this up really quickly cause the whole "fade to black" isn't enough for me. Infold I wanted to read some action, not innuendos! (¬_¬"). So here it is, my personal take on what happened between us and Sylus that night <333

The room was charged with unspoken desire as your eyes locked with Sylus's, the air thick with anticipation. His question hung between you, a silent plea for confirmation of your shared longing. "Say it again," he whispered, his voice a low rumble, his crimson eyes piercing through you. "Kitten, do you want it?"

Your heart raced, its beat echoing in your ears, a rhythm that seemed to sync with his. You knew this moment, this silent understanding, was Sylus's way of seeking your consent, his unspoken question hanging in the air.

With a deliberate move, you reached out, your fingers gently threading through his short, damp hair, the sweat a testament to the passion simmering between you. You felt the tension in his muscles, the coiled energy of his desire, and you wanted to soothe and stoke the fire simultaneously.

Leaning closer, your breath mingled with his, your lips an inch from his, you held his gaze, your eyes conveying the depth of your answer. "This," you whispered, your voice a caress, "is my answer."

Your kiss was a declaration, a surrender to the desire that had been building between you. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a language of passion and consent, your lips moving against his with a hunger that matched his own.

Sylus responded with fervor, his hands cupping your face, his kiss deepening as he claimed your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm. The kiss was an affirmation, a seal on the unspoken agreement, a promise of pleasure to come.

With deliberate slowness, Sylus lowers himself, his hands trailing down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His lips brush against your skin, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, the warmth of his breath a teasing promise of pleasure. Your body responds, a shiver running through you as he kisses his way down, leaving a trail of molten heat.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, his touch is gentle yet insistent, coaxing your legs apart with a confidence that leaves you breathless. He pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, seeking that final confirmation, that last unspoken consent. The intensity of his gaze is a question, a challenge, and an invitation all at once.

"Say it, kitten," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. "Tell me what you want."

Your breath catches, the words tangled in your throat, a heady mix of need and anticipation. "J-just go down there already...," you manage, your voice a whisper, a plea, and a command all at once.

With a wicked grin, he lowers his head, his lips finding your clit with a precision that makes you gasp, your back arching off the bed in response. His tongue is a velvet caress, teasing and tormenting, each flick and swirl sending jolts of pleasure through you. He takes his time, savoring every moan, every shiver, guiding you to the brink with a skillful patience that leaves you trembling.

Your body quivered with the intense pleasure as Sylus's skilled tongue danced over your sensitive bud, sending sparks of delight through your core. "It's...too much, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea, your fingers tightening in his hair, holding on as if seeking solace from the overwhelming sensations.

"You can handle it, kitten," he murmured, his husky low voice sending vibrations through your body. "Let me show you how much more there is to explore."

His tongue, warm and wet, continued its dance, licking and swirling, building the pleasure to a crescendo. Your breath came in short gasps, your body trembling, your hips moving involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.

"Ah....mhgn..." you moaned, your voice a surrender to the sensations. He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound, his tongue increasing its pace, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"That's it, my love," he encouraged, his voice a low, primal growl. "Let go, let me take you there."

His words, spoken with raw desire, spurred you on, and you surrendered to the climax, your body convulsing under his skilled tongue, your release a powerful wave of pleasure that left you trembling. He continued his oral ministrations, riding the waves of your orgasm, his tongue moving in rhythm with your body, drawing out the pleasure, ensuring you were sated and satisfied.

As you lay there, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm Sylus had coaxed from you, he smiled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're so responsive," he whispered, his fingers trailing along your sensitive skin, making you shiver under his touch. "Just as I imagined."

"I need a moment…" you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your body still recovering from the overwhelming waves of pleasure. But Sylus, ever relentless, leaned in closer, his intentions clear and unwavering. His fingers found their way to your soaked core, teasing the sensitive flesh there. The sensation was electric, a jolt that made you gasp and arch instinctively towards him.

"Shh…" he soothed, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Just one more." With that, he slipped another finger inside you, his skilled digits working in perfect harmony, coaxing you to the edge once more. The ache was relentless, a tide that surged through you, each movement of his fingers a spark that ignited your senses.

Your body, still sensitive from the previous orgasm, erupted with ecstasy once again, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, your release a powerful wave that left you trembling and breathless. Sylus, ever attentive, captured your climax with an almost reverent precision, his fingers now drenched in your essence.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste delectable, sweetie" he murmured, his voice a velvet purr that sent another shiver down your spine. "I think we're both ready for the main course now, though."

With a fluid motion, Sylus rose, his fingers deftly working the zipper of his pants, the metallic sound slicing through the air like a promise. He freed himself, his cock standing proud and ready, a testament to his desire. The sight of it sent a thrill of anticipation through you, a visceral reaction that tightened your core and set your heart racing.

Yet as your eyes traveled the length of him, another feeling began to grow within you, winding its way through the anticipation like a serpent.

Fear.

You'd figured he was big, had felt the weight of him against you in teasing moments, but the reality was something else entirely. His cock was long and thick, a formidable presence marked with prominent veins that seemed to throb with every beat of his heart. It jutted out with an air of authority, each pulse a silent declaration of its intent.

A tremor ran through you, a mix of awe and nervousness. How was that ever supposed to fit inside you? The sheer size of him made your stomach flutter with nerves, a delicious yet daunting challenge.

"I don't think that's going to fit…" you managed to say, your voice a breathless whisper laced with both apprehension and a reluctant excitement. Your eyes were glued to him, unable to look away from the imposing sight of his cock, each moment stretching into the next as you tried to reconcile the image before you with the anticipation of it penetrating through your body.

Sylus, sensing your hesitation, moved closer, a reassuring presence that grounded you in the moment. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, a soothing gesture that belied the intensity in his gaze.

"Oh, but it will, sweetie," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Every inch of it. I promise I'll start slow".

His words eased the growing fear in your chest and you nodded, a reassurance that melted some of the nervousness away, leaving in its place a simmering desire to see just how far you could go together. Though you couldn't help but inwardly laugh at his promise to only start slow.

Sylus hovered over you, a smirk playing on his lips, reveling in the power he held in that moment, the anticipation he was crafting with each deliberate movement. He guided the swollen tip of his cock to your entrance, brushing it against your slick folds with a teasing gentleness that made you shiver.

The sensation was electric, a fleeting contact that sent jolts of pleasure zipping through your body, but it was also a maddening tease, leaving you aching and wanting. You tensed, a soft whine escaping your lips as your hips instinctively pressed forward, seeking more, craving the fullness you both needed and desired.

Sylus chuckled softly, his amusement a warm rumble that vibrated through you. He continued the tantalizing game, the head of his cock sliding against you, slick with your arousal, each pass a whisper of what was to come. The teasing was relentless, a slow torture that had your nerves singing, your body begging for more.

Finally, the tension became too much, the need too great. "Please," you breathed, your voice laced with a desperate edge that surprised even you. "Please, I want you inside me."

The words hung in the air, a plea and a command intertwined, and Sylus's expression softened, his teasing smirk giving way to something deeper, more intense. He nodded, positioning himself with care, his hand steady on your hip.

"Tell me if it hurts too much," he instructed, his voice firm yet gentle, a promise of consideration and care. With a slow, deliberate push, he began to enter you, the initial stretch a sweet, exquisite burn. The fullness of him was overwhelming, a delicious pressure that filled you completely, and you gasped, your body adjusting to the intrusion. He let out a soft grunt, clearly experiencing his own sensations.

Sylus's breath was ragged, his voice hoarse as he began to speak, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so tight...fuck," he whispered, his expression intense, a raw display of lust that sent a shiver down your spine. His reaction to your body's response was a powerful affirmation, and it sent your mind reeling.

The sight of Sylus, so consumed by desire, was both thrilling and intense. His raw, unfiltered expression of lust took your breath away, leaving you lightheaded and your body responding instinctively to his, moving in a rhythm that felt like a dance of pleasure and surrender.

You whimpered, a soft sound of discomfort, as the sensation of being stretched by his impressive size became almost overwhelming. "It hurts..." you breathed, your voice a plea, your body squirming beneath his, seeking relief from the intense sensation.

Sylus, sensing your distress, tightened his grip on your hips, his hands firm yet gentle, his body leaning over you, a protective shield. "Don't run from this, sweetie," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "You're doing so well, let me help you through it."

His words, a soothing blend of reassurance and raw desire, eased your nerves, even as your body continued to adjust to the intense sensations. Sylus's strong arms held you firmly, his grip a comforting anchor in the storm of pleasure and pain. He guided you through the intricate dance, his body a source of both comfort and arousal, his movements a delicate balance between pushing you to the edge and providing solace.

"Just breathe, kitten," he murmured, his lips brushing your cheek. "I'm right here with you."

He paused, watching you intently, giving you a moment to acclimate, his presence a comforting weight above you. The sensation was intense, but with each passing second, the discomfort ebbed, replaced by a building pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

With your nod of encouragement, he began to move, each thrust a gradual exploration, a dance of desire that left no room for fear, only the shared rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

Sylus began with a gentle rhythm, his thrusts slow and measured, allowing you to savor each inch as he filled you. The initial tension melted away under his careful ministrations, replaced by a growing pleasure that spread through you like honey, sweet and all-consuming.

With every movement, he watched you closely, reading the subtle shifts in your expression, the way your body responded to his. As he sensed your discomfort give way to enjoyment, he gradually increased his pace, each thrust more confident, more insistent.

"God, you feel amazing," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "So tight, so perfect… and those sounds you're making, kitten, they're driving me wild."

His words were a heady mix of praise and possession, and you couldn't help but flush under his gaze, the heat of embarrassment mingling with the pleasure coursing through you. All you could manage in response was a series of whines and moans, your voice betraying the intensity of what you were feeling.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as if to anchor yourself in the storm of sensation he was creating. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body moving instinctively to meet his, driven by a need that obliterated everything else.

Sylus's pace quickened, his movements a symphony of power and precision that left you breathless, your world narrowing to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin, the intoxicating scent of him surrounding you. His whispered words, his touch, the way he moved—it all combined to overwhelm you, leaving you adrift in a sea of sensation.

"You're so beautiful like this," he groaned, his voice rough with desire, and the compliment only added to the fire burning within you. You whimpered, the sound escaping you unbidden, a raw expression of the pleasure that built with each thrust, each breathless moment shared between you.

The crescendo of pleasure swelled between you like a tidal wave, building in intensity with each thrust, each gasped breath. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, the rhythm of your shared desire driving you both to the brink of release. The air was thick with the sounds of your passion, a symphony of moans and gasps that filled the space between you.

Sylus's breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a rough whisper laden with emotion. "I love you," he murmured, the words a caress that wrapped around your heart, grounding you even as the pleasure threatened to sweep you away.

"I love you too," you managed to reply, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment, the truth of your feelings laid bare in the heat of your shared passion.

As you hovered on the precipice, your body tensed with anticipation, you whispered his name, a soft plea that slipped from your lips like a prayer. "Sylus…"

He responded with a low, questioning hum, his voice vibrating through you. "Hm?"

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless plea that sent a shiver down his spine. "Please, cum inside me."

He paused, his movements faltering for a heartbeat as he processed your request, the weight of its implications hanging in the air between you. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice taut with restraint, his desire a palpable force that surrounded you.

You nodded, the movement small but certain, meeting his gaze with a steady intensity that left no room for doubt. "You said you'd give me anything, and this is what I want most right now."

The world seemed to narrow to that single moment, the connection between you electric and alive. You could practically see his pupils dilate, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and something deeper, something more profound.

With your consent granted, Sylus's restraint unraveled, his thrusts growing more urgent, more desperate as he chased the release you both craved. The pleasure built to a fever pitch, the pressure within you coiling tighter and tighter until it shattered, your body convulsing around him in a blinding wave of ecstasy.

With a final, deep thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his body taut and trembling as he reached the pinnacle of his pleasure. It was as if time suspended, the world narrowing to the intense connection forged between you, the shared pulse of desire that bound you together.

His release came in a series of powerful, pulsing waves, a hot flood that filled you completely, marking you as his in the most primal sense. The sensation was overwhelming, a liquid heat that spread through you, claiming every inch of your being. It was an intimate surrender, a mingling of bodies and souls that left no room for anything but the raw, undiluted truth of the moment.

Sylus's breath was ragged in your ear, his voice a low, guttural moan that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You felt his body shudder against yours, the aftershocks of his climax reverberating through both of you, a shared symphony of sensation that left you breathless.

As the fervor of the night began to settle and both of you lay entwined together, breathing heavily in the dim glow of the room, he stirred beside you.

His hand gently brushed your hair back from your face, his voice soft but sincere. “I'll help you clean up,” he murmured, his concern evident even through the haze of his own exhaustion.

But you shook your head and clung to him tightly, unwilling to let go. Your fingers curled against his skin as you whispered, “Stay.” You didn’t want to lose the warmth of him, the sense of connection that still lingered between you.

You didn’t want to lose his seed either—not yet, not now.

He sighed, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest, and leaned back into the embrace, unable to say no. “You’re so needy,” he teased, his tone playful but filled with affection. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he pressed a kiss to your temple, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin.

But you were already drifting, your eyelids heavy, lulled by the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your cheek. Cocooned in his arms, wrapped in the intimate quiet of the moment, you felt a contentment you hadn’t realized was possible. This was no longer just passion—it was something deeper, something unshakable. Things between you were now more certain, more official than they had ever been, and the thought filled you with an overwhelming happiness.

In the comfort of his embrace, you surrendered to sleep, knowing you were exactly where you belonged.

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.1k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Profanities, Mentions of wounds Summary: There was a connection between you and Sylus that went beyond the typical boss & his right-hand woman dynamic. When you finally had enough of his recent behaviour since his return, you decided it was time to quit.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“We agree to your terms, and as soon as we finish the down payment, we expect to see the firearms—”

Before you could even finish, the heavy double doors swung open with a crash. Sylus strode in, a dark aura clinging to him, and you knew that nothing good would come out of it.

“The deal is off.”

You gasped. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Ms. Y/N, I thought you said you could handle this deal solo?” Marcel—that cunning eel of a man—drawled lazily. “Looks like Mr. Sylus here still doubts your ability, even after all this time.”

On any other day, you would have knocked the smug grin off Marcel’s face. But your attention was fixed on your boss, Sylus, whose expression was a cold, impenetrable mask of indifference.

“I’ve worked on this for months. Alone. When you were gone chasing shadows,” you hissed, “You have no right to dictate me.”

Crimson eyes met your gaze with a fire of his own as he stepped closer. “And do I need to remind you who’s the leader of this organisation?”

How dare he!

It took a while for the others in the N109 Zone to stop belittling you, to finally trust you as Onychinus’s indispensable weapon who could hold her own ground, even entrusted to run the organisation in his absence.

And he knew this.

“I don’t meddle in your affairs, so stay out of mine.”

He exactly knew what, or who, you were talking about.

Somehow, this conversation was no longer about the deal; it was about something else that had been creating a rift between you both.

“You don’t understand—”

“You have no idea what I understand!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at his firm chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke entering the room to usher Marcel out.

“If you’re looking for a new job, my organisation is always open for a pretty little thing, buttercup.” He threw a mischievous wink your way.

The man was clearly not uncomfortable with the commotion; it was satisfying to see Onychinus crumbling before his own eyes.

Kieran cautiously stepped forward. “Boss, Y/N, let’s take a moment—”

“You think I wouldn't find out about your little escapade with ‘Miss Hunter’?”

That struck a nerve; Sylus’s eyes narrowed. 

“What?” you continued, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “Mephisto accidentally charged your card with millions just to buy every single protocore in the auction?”

Any heartfelt emotion you held for him was swallowed by fury and disappointment that had been building for some time. This was the last straw, a volcano ready to erupt.

“I’ve warned you before, Sylus.”

Ever since he came back from doing who knew what, he had been distracted. Physically, he was there—but he wasn't present.

Conversations that once flowed easily between you were now peppered by half-hearted responses.

As a last resort, you decided to prepare dinner for him and the twins that one night, something you periodically did when the mood struck, in the hopes of getting him to come around.

Luke and Kieran were happily munching on the lasagna and sipping wine from Sylus’s favourite bottle, their lively chatter filling up the dining room.

But the man who was supposed to be the centre of it all took only a single bite before abandoning it for his phone.

“Sylus, could you please put your phone down and enjoy the dinner?”

The twins froze, eyes flickering between the two of you, sensing the impending storm.

Yet Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention firmly fixed on the screen in his hand. Somehow, it was more important than the company around him.

“Sylus—”

“Can you get off my back for once?” Red eyes snapped to yours, flashing with irritation.

“You are losing me,” you repeated the words you had uttered that night. The tremble in your voice was a blend of rage and a deeper, more vulnerable feeling.

Sylus's eyes flashed, revealing the first hint of emotion that you recognised—a wounded look, perhaps, or something else that you didn’t dare to think about.

Kieran, determined to defuse the tension, squared his shoulders. “We all should take a breather and approach this with clearer heads.”

Eyes still fixed on your boss’s handsome face, the words came out with unwavering finality, “I quit.”

Ripping the brooch from where it rested just above your heart, you hurled it with such force that it bounced off his chest before skidding across the floor.

The sharp, unmistakable crack echoed throughout the silent room.

Sylus's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Fine.”

And that was it. There were no apologies, not even a 'thank you' for your dedication to Onychinus all this time.

“Please, don't do this. We need you,” Kieran’s voice had a note of desperation in it.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “Your boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me anymore. Apparently, he has more pressing matters than ensuring the organisation's interest.”

Sylus crossed his arms, his voice cutting like a cold knife. “If you're going to leave, then leave. We don't have time for theatrics.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Luke, having just returned from escorting Marcel out, caught sight of the unexpectedly angry tears in your eyes and called out your name as you rushed down the hallway.

What you didn’t expect from quitting was the depth of void it created in your life. You missed the twins’ oddball humour and even found yourself longing for Mephisto’s often irritating caws.

It felt strange not to see the black bird outside of your bedroom window or atop the lamppost, as it normally would.

Despite the financial cushion provided by Onychinus’s paycheck, restlessness drove you back to the N109 Zone before long.

“Thought that we’d never see you again, missy.”

The familiar surroundings of Elysium provided a soothing balm to the loneliness gnawing inside you—the rich scent of aged booze mingled with the sound of rolling dice filling your senses.

“You’re not the only one surprised,” you muttered lowly, sitting down on one of the stools.

“Guess you are more used to staying here than Linkon now,” the young woman behind the bar chuckled. “Many might see it as a slum, but the N109 Zone has its charm.”

During Sylus’s absence, you had called the base as a second home. Staying there made it easier for you to manage the daily operation, sparing you the hassle of travelling back and forth to Linkon.

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house.” Before you could answer, the woman beat you to it. “Rum and lemonade?”

A sudden feeling of yearning washed over you. It was Sylus who had first introduced you to this concoction right here, you had even questioned his taste at the time, but it had since become one of your favourite drinks.

You gulped the emotion down. “Yes, please.”

She sent you a sympathetic smile, obviously understanding what crossed your mind.

The burn of the rum started to warm your body as the second glass went down easily. Each sip brought back memories of standing side by side in battles and conversations shared in quieter moments, a foolish longing that settled deep within your chest. 

As you set it aside, you felt someone slid on the vacant stool beside you, encroaching on your personal space.

“What’s a pretty girl doing here all alone?”

“Leave me alone.” You didn’t even look at his direction.

Funnily enough, though you normally no longer felt the weight of the brooch—a symbol of your affiliation with Sylus and Onychinus—you now felt its absence vividly, like a phantom heaviness above your left breast.

With it, no one ever truly dared to come near you, wary of crossing paths with Sylus.

Without it, however, meant you were no longer under Sylus’s protection.

The man sidled closer, clearly not taking the hint. “Still playing hard to get even without Sylus behind you? You should have seen him dragged out of the raid like a ragdoll by his pair of thugs. It was pathetic.”

Your heart stuttered, finally looking at the man beside you. “What did you say?” 

Sylus, hurt? It was unthinkable. You had seen first-hand how his wound healed quickly.

“Heh, you really don’t know, do you?” His smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “The idiot went to finish Marcel off by himself last night. Imagine taking down dozens of Marcel’s men alone, with all their weapons.”

He daringly placed a hand on your thigh, fingers digging in. “So bitch, you’d better get off your damn high horse and listen. Without Sylus, you’re just another pretty face.”

In a quick manoeuvre, you slammed his head on the bar. His painful howl was cut short as you drew your concealed gun, the barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull. “Touch me one more time and I’ll paint this bar with your brains.”

The barkeeper approached, her expression impassive as she took in the sight of your gun pressing against the man's head. However, when she noticed the colour draining from your face, a look of surprise crossed her features.

“You didn’t know?” she asked, her tone softer than you expected. “I thought that was the reason you came back here.”

Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, you stormed out of the bar, the weight of fear heavy on your shoulders.

The city's familiar streets blurred past as you made your way to the base, and you thought you heard familiar caws in the distance.

You didn't spare a second thought as the electronic lock still buzzed with recognision when your palm and iris scans were verified. The reinforced doors opened, granting you access just like usual.

Luke and Kieran met you in the hallway, no doubt alerted to your arrival. Whether by Mephisto or the security alert, you weren’t sure.

Even with their masks on, their surprised body language was unmistakable.

“How did you find out? Boss made sure that none of us tips you off,” Luke asked.

“It’s true?” you demanded, your voice was tight with anxiety. “About Sylus?”

The twins exchanged silent glances. “He’s in his quarters,” Kieran said slowly. “But be warned, he is in a foul mood.”

As you moved swiftly down the familiar corridors, your heart pounded in your chest. The smell of antiseptic hit your senses as you slid the door open, revealing the dimly lit room.

Sylus was seated on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he changed his bandages. “I told you guys to leave me alone. I’m fine,” his voice gruff.

You took a steadying breath. “Sylus.”

His silhouette tensed, and the set of his shoulders turned rigid. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. The sight of bandages covering his injuries made it difficult to articulate your thoughts. “Why did you go after Marcel?”

“This isn’t a place for someone like you right now.”

That comment was odd, but you dismissed it as you crossed the room, closing the gap between you. Up close, you could see the bruises and wounds peppering his body—dark, angry splotches that marred his skin, evidence of the brutality inflicted by Marcel’s men.

While the healing process was slower than usual, it was still significantly faster than it would be for an ordinary person.

You had been working with him for quite some time yet you had never before seen him in such a state.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, catching your concerned gaze.

“You don’t look fine,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what happened.”

Sylus shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he rested his back on the headboard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, “Marcel was the one behind the bombing of the hunter’s grandma’s house.”

As much as you felt sorry for the UNICORN hunter, you couldn’t understand why he would put his life on the line for her.

Was it because of the connection they had with the Aether Core? Or was it something else?

Unconsciously, your steps faltered backwards. The anxiety for his well-being took a backseat as the grip of jealousy clawed at you.

It was stupid to feel this way.

Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot, your body freezing in place. The unexpected use of his Evol caught you off guard. 

“You came all the way here, so you’d better damn well listen to me before jumping to any conclusions.”

Even in his weakened state, he managed to pull you back to the edge of the bed and keep you seated there. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but not so far that you couldn’t see the fatigue etched into his features.

“I kept her around because she was useful. Marcel had been trying to frame Onychinus for the bombing.” His fists clenched, knuckles white. “But that wasn’t what set me off, that scumbag had been running his mouth about you, spreading lies of your incompetence, claiming that you’re nothing more than an empty shell.”

You looked at his injuries pointedly. “You took on his entire army because he taunted me?”

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t you see? I was the one feeding him that narrative. He had the front seat to everything that happened that day. I’m the one who unravelled the respect you worked so hard to earn.”

Was that a hint of guilt you heard in his voice?

“He’d been saying that you’d be better suited working in a whorehouse.”

Well, that explained the man's aggressiveness back at the bar, you thought.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, you don’t need to protect me.”

Sylus looked away. Despite his rough edges, there was a glint of raw, exposed emotion that he struggled to conceal.

“It’s not just about responsibility,” his voice low, “Some things... they’re not as simple as just walking away.”

This was the Sylus you recognised—the same man who, in fleeting moments, had looked at you with an intensity or a softness that spoke of unfulfilled longing.

Everything had shifted since that one kiss, an impulsive act born from an evening of too much drink and unspoken feelings. A kiss that, in its haze, blurred the lines between what was accepted and what was desired.

Yet, every subtle brush of his hands, every act of ensuring your safety, was a quiet rebellion against the boundaries he had set from the start—this was not a place where work and pleasure were meant to mingle.

“That was the reason you called the deal off that day.” You fit the puzzles together.

He nodded. ���I had a feeling that he was up to something.”

“And yet, I still don’t understand why you had to go behind my back with the hunter. This”—you gestured to his injuries and the distance between you—“could’ve been prevented.”

You tried to mask the hurt. “I thought you trusted me.”

Sylus shifted closer, and even though you felt that his Evol no longer held you in place, you allowed him.

“It wasn’t about trust, not in the way you think,” his voice was softer now, “If he found out you were involved, I couldn’t risk him coming after you.”

“I don’t need your protection as much as I need your honesty. And you were being a jerk.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning in closer, he cradled your jaw with a careful touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat at the intensity in his eyes that he didn’t try to mask any longer. “For caring. But I’d rather not see you get hurt again.”

“Can’t promise,” he murmured, “I will always stand between you and anyone who dares to harm you.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched yours, moving in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.

He wanted to savour this moment, to truly taste you with a clear head, unclouded by any alcohol.

Though, before long, a more primal voice seemed to overtake him. The intensity of the kiss grew, fueled by the unfiltered emotions coursing between you.

It was a fierce, unrestrained need to claim you.

No longer feeling tender, his tongue urged your lips open with a determined persistence. Sylus groaned into your mouth as you parted easily, the need to taste you becoming more urgent.

As he took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze locked with the searing flame in his eyes.

A sudden weight pressed against your neck, and you looked down, startled, to find a crow whose wings arched protectively around a red diamond pendant. It was similar to the brooch he had given you, but this was more than an accessory.

It was more personal—more intimate.

“Will you do me the honour of becoming my partner again?” His voice was husky with emotion. “Onychinus needs you. I need you.”

Carefully, you pushed him down the bed, legs spreading daringly caging his form. “Maybe if you beg a little more, I’ll consider it.” 

Both his eyebrows arched in surprise, visibly taken aback by your boldness.

“But, weren’t we supposed to keep work and pleasure separate?” you teased.

A hint of a smirk curled at the edges of his lips. “I’m the boss. I make the rules. Besides, this is more than just a pleasure.”

His large palms settled on your hips, fingers splaying across the curve of your body with a possessive yet tender grip, pulling you closer.

“Can I start by begging you to kiss my wounds and make them better then?”

As he whispered his request, his masculine hands sneaked their way inside your clothes, fingers trailing a line of fire against your skin. Just as the moment heated up, a rustling noise came from outside the door.

The two of you paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open just a fraction. Before either of you could react, Luke and Kieran let out a startled yelp.

“Oh no! They’re doing the hanky panky!” Luke whispered loudly, scandalised.

In a flurry of hurried movements, the twins slammed the door closed and bolted down the hallway, leaving you both staring after them in stunned silence.

Sylus sighed, hiding his face in the soft bend of your neck. “We’ll definitely have to set some new rules about privacy too.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[needypisces]

there's only so much a body can work out, a body can do

Art Donaldson was exhausted.

He was playing tennis for hours a day, exams were coming up, and with Patrick calling from a new time zone every week, he was barely getting any sleep. Even sliding facedown onto the bed next to you offered little relief for his aching muscles.

You let out a sympathetic cluck at his frustrated sigh, dropping your book and winding a hand into his shaggy hair to scratch reassuringly at his scalp. “Poor baby,” you said. “You’re wound up way too tight.”

He didn’t reply, but you could hear his exhale into the mattress. “You need to relax.” You continued, twisting a loose curl around your finger.

“I’m not so good at that.” He admitted in a muffled voice.

“You just need some help.” You paused for a moment, eyeing the tension in his shoulders, the slight arch of his back. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Art tilted his chin up to look at you. “I am lying down.”

“On your back.”

He scanned your eyes briefly before obeying, shirt riding up his toned stomach in the process. “Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that.” You agreed. You sat beside him and he shifted slightly to maintain better eye contact, bringing up an arm to rest behind his head. The movement drew your gaze to his taut bicep, and you couldn’t resist bending down to bite it, just barely hard enough to sting.

You smiled into Art’s skin at his surprised inhale, but you were the one caught off guard when his other arm swept you seamlessly into his lap.

“Hey!” You said, sitting up straight. “Hands to yourself.” He pouted, hand still gripping your hip, but you weren’t joking. When you started to lift yourself off, he caved.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He said, propping himself up with both arms now. “You’re in charge.”

“Don’t forget it.” You warned. He watched, chastised, as you dropped your own hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up until it bunched at his collarbone. Then, finally, you leaned down to kiss him.

Art was a needy kisser, always waiting for you to guide him, chasing your mouth with his own any time you tried to pull back, whimpering when you licked at the inside of his mouth. You loved kissing him, loved how much it worked him up. He was still a teenage boy, after all.

Once you could feel him properly hard beneath you, you began to descend, teeth scraping his jawbone, his collarbone, his nipple, followed soothingly by your tongue each time. Art’s abdomen was tense beneath your mouth as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his ribs, his navel, his hips.

The tip of his cock was already sticky when you pulled down his boxers and grasped him in your fist, and you wasted no time in leaning down to tongue his slit. Normally you’d tease him much longer, make him beg, but right now, you just wanted to make him feel better. Art could hardly believe his luck.

You pumped the base of him with one hand and cupped his balls with the other as you suckled at his head. A whine escaped from high in the back of Art’s throat, and it only encouraged you to swallow more of him down.

“Oh,” he gasped, hips bucking into your mouth. “Fuck, please, please.” You moved a hand to rub his thigh reassuringly, a wordless promise, and lowered yourself further until your nose nestled against his pelvis. Art was panting desperately above you, the noises so sweet you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down against his leg. He moaned at the feeling of your wetness, which only spurred you on more. For a while, the only sounds in the room were your slurps and gags against Art's cries.

Before long, you could feel the familiar signs of his impending orgasm, and you popped off. It took Art a moment too long to comprehend that you were speaking, too mesmerized by the string of drool connecting you to his dick.

“Where do you want to come, baby?” You asked again, hand continuing your work. “Hmm?”

“Is this a trick question?” He asked between shallow breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Art’s chest flushed pink. “No.” You promised, ducking to mouth at his balls. “Anywhere you want. Do you want to come in my mouth? On my face, or on my tits?” His face was beautifully unforgettable when you glanced up, eyes dazed and cheeks glowing as he tried to form a thought. “Come on, princess, use your words.”

At that, Art’s cock twitched in your grasp and you took him back into your mouth, tongue working at the underside. “On your face,” he finally said above you, and your stomach swelled. “Wanna come on your face.”

“Okay, baby,” you murmured. “Anything for you.” You pulled off long enough to soak two fingers in your spit, simultaneously gulping him back down and pressing the pads of your fingers behind his balls. Art clenched down and let out a strangled moan as you rubbed over his hole. You teased him with the tip of a finger, nudging at the muscle but not quite penetrating him, soaking up the mewls that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna- you’re gonna make me come,” he panted. His thighs were quivering; he was so close, the tension ready to drain from his body. You gave an encouraging hum, swallowing around his cock, and Art’s gasp broke into a sob as he came. You kept him in your mouth for a moment, letting yourself swallow just a little before pulling off to let him splatter onto your face. Art’s whimpers were delicious as he watched himself coat your swollen lips, your long lashes.

“Good boy,” you cooed, fist still working his cock even as he began to flinch from the overstimulation. “That’s it, does that feel better?”

Art’s head was tipped back as he struggled to catch his breath, but even still, his eyes refused to move from the mess on your face. You kept your eyes on his as you lowered your mouth once more, lapping at the dribble of cum down his cock. He started to whine in protest, it was too much, but you took pity and let him go, rocking back on your heels.

“So much better,” he whispered. “That felt so good, I needed it, thank you."

“Good.” You said, licking your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

[bewitchabyss]

— THE LOVE & DEEPSPACE MLS' NSFW HEADCANONS

PAIRING(S): rafayel + sylus + xavier + zayne x afab! reader

TAGS: bathroom sex + bondage + exhibitionism + fingering + marking + mirror sex + missionary sex + oral sex (cunnilingus) + riding + rough sex + sensory play + spanking + voice play

NOTES: the new set of cards is insane and you bet i'll be whipping out oneshots for them once they drop ;) anyway the grip that these cards have on me is insane, i'm on my knees frfr 🧎‍♀️

— RAFAYEL | QI YU

oh sure, he will play nice at the beginning and let you have your way — he will let you do anything you want to him. that is, until you push him to a point where he's too riled up to sit back and pretend it does not affect him at all. that's when he will uno reverse you and put you in your place.

on some occasions, he likes holding your arms over your head and watch you squirm as he thrusts into you, completely at his mercy. other times, he enjoys the sensation of your nails scratching his back, leaving red marks across his shoulder blades. after all, it's proof that he made you feel good, right?

he lives to serve you and puts your needs first before his. he could eat you out and his dick could be throbbing and call it a night.

i assume ebb day works similar to a rut cycle, so he would get especially needy during this period. he would be rubbing himself all over you and would, quite literally, take you right there and then at his doorway the moment you walk into his studio. (have you had sex on his couch before? multiple times.)

he would always check in on you to make sure he didn't hurt you in any way. he could be biting you and leaving a whole trail of hickies down your neck, but once the high is over, he will look at your neck wide-eyed, run his fingers gently down your skin, and ask, "sorry cutie, did it hurt a lot?"

— SYLUS | QIN CHE

he is big on sensory play and particularly enjoys blindfolding you during sex. he claims it's because your senses are heightened when you are deprived of sight, but mayhaps it fuels his innate desires seeing you so helpless without being able to see. ("who's the hunter now, kitten?" he purrs as he licks your neck, eliciting a choked gasp from you.)

he particularly enjoys eating you out this way. he enjoys hearing the sounds you make when he goes down on you like this and he swears you're a lot more vocal when your sight is impaired.

when you take charge, he can be an absolute brat and enjoys teasing you to push you (and himself) to the limit. you can tie him up or spank him and he would still cock an eyebrow up, as if challenging you, "oh, was that it? we both know you can do more than that, sweetie."

there have been multiple occasions where an innocent (or is it?) shower together leads to bathroom sex. he will hoist you up with his arms and lean you against the shower wall, then push his dick inside you as you wrap your limbs around him and ask him to start moving.

he is very open to any ideas you have in the bedroom, but will draw the line at exhibitionism, because, in his words, "i'm a selfish man; i want to be the only one who sees you in that state."

— XAVIER | SHEN XINGHUI

he would 100% be into mirror sex. he would take you from the back while standing in front of a full length mirror, hand cupping your jaw and guiding your head to look at your reflection in the mirror, making you watch how you come completely undone under his touch.

he is also lowkey a freak and would be into exhibitionism, but he doesn't want to get caught (or does he?). he would fuck you with your chest pressed against the glass for the whole of linkon to see (a hundred floors up), hot breaths fanning across your ears, "do you want the whole city to see you unravel under me, hm?"

he enjoys marking you up, no matter who is in power. he enjoys leaving marks in places that are subtly visible so that 1) it's within your view when you look in the mirror and hopefully it reminds you of just how much of a space you have in his heart and 2) any good-for-nothing guy who tries making a move on you will see the mark and know that you already belong to someone else.

if you're inexperienced, he will guide your hands to the places that make him feel good. he will gently lead your hand towards his lower abdomen and whisper, "try here, honey."

he likes you being rough with him. you could be aggressively biting down on him and that would probably turn him on. ("harder, my love, i can take it," he says as you push a second digit into his twitching hole.)

— ZAYNE | LI SHEN

he is not very kinky per se, but simply enjoys being close to you. he wants his hands on you at all times, and in such moments, his lips. he wants you to know what effect you have on him and how much he needs you.

he enjoys missionary a lot. zayne is a traditional lover and wants to see your face during intimate moments like these. he wants to see your every reaction to every move he makes and wants to memorise the things that make you feel good. he is very diligent and dedicated like that.

he may or may not be into roleplay, and it doesn't matter who's in charge. he enjoys it either way, and all in all wants it to be an experience that both of you enjoy. however, he does let you initiate things first because he's afraid he might overstep some (unsaid) boundaries that you might have.

we all know he enjoys having you on his lap, riding him. there have been many a time where he has had you bounce on his dick late at night at the hospital when he has late night shifts (with the doors safely locked at zayne's behest, of course). you guys also have a rocking chair in the living room for the said riding purpose.

no matter the dynamic, he would always speak in that low, breathy voice of his (very similar to a boyfriend asmr, if you will) and it always makes you weak in the knees

© BEWITCHABYSS. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[josephandrewstarkey]

Drew request!! Drew and Reader early on it to dating. They are still just at that stage where you maybe kiss each other at the end of them, some hand holding. One day Drew surprises reader by showing up at her apartment just because he wants to see her. She doesn’t look in the peephole, thinking it’s her friend (for whatever reason) and opens up in a very sexy set, perhaps a bit see through at the top. And Drew’s brain shortcuts and he looses his gentlemen side (not like full on smut but….he looses his manners)

hi anon! ty for sending this, i love this request sm! i hope you enjoy x

no more manners

warnings: i lowk don’t know, mentions of smut?

pairing: drew starkey x reader

Drew had been thinking about Y/N all day. It was still early in their relationship, where every touch and kiss felt new and exciting. They hadn’t yet crossed the threshold into something deeper, keeping things light and sweet with the occasional kiss at the end of a date or holding hands in the park. But today, something had shifted inside him. He couldn’t wait to see her, to be near her. On a whim, he decided to surprise her by showing up at her apartment.

Y/N, on the other hand, had been lounging in her bedroom, half-expecting one of her girlfriends to come by any minute. She had thrown on a new lingerie set—a delicate, sheer thing she had bought for herself, just because she liked how it made her feel. She hadn’t planned on wearing it for anyone, least of all Drew. But when the knock came at the door, she assumed it was her friend, arriving as planned.

Without thinking twice, she got up and padded to the door, too comfortable in her own space to consider looking through the peephole. She swung the door open, a casual smile on her face.

But it wasn’t her friend.

Drew stood there, eyes wide, his mouth parting slightly as his gaze trailed down from her face to the very revealing lingerie she had on. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he didn’t move—his brain seemingly short-circuited.

Y/N froze in place, the realization hitting her all at once. “D-Drew!” she gasped, her face flushing a deep crimson as she instinctively moved to cover herself. “Oh my god, I thought you were my friend!”

Drew blinked, finally snapping out of his daze, but his expression was still one of awe, his gaze slowly lifting back to hers. “Clearly, I’m not,” he said, his voice lower than usual, rough around the edges. He took a step forward, the door clicking shut behind him. “You—uh—wow, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting this.”

Y/N, flustered beyond words, tried to laugh it off. “I wasn’t either,” she mumbled, her arms wrapping around herself in a futile attempt to cover the sheer fabric. “I thought you were my friend. I wouldn’t have—”

Drew shook his head, cutting her off, his eyes softening as he took her in. “Don’t,” he said quietly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her body. “Don’t hide. You look… beautiful.” His thumb lightly brushed against her wrist, sending sparks through her skin.

She bit her lip, her heart racing as she looked up at him. There was something different in his eyes, something darker, more intense than she’d ever seen before. It made her knees feel weak, and suddenly the space between them felt too charged, like the air was thick with unspoken desire.

Drew’s gaze wandered down again, lingering on the delicate lace of her lingerie. He swallowed hard, his fingers tracing the line of her arm before settling at her waist. His usual gentlemanly nature seemed to be slipping away, overtaken by a need he hadn’t shown before. “You really should check the peephole,” he said, his voice a low rasp, “because I’m not sure I can be the perfect gentleman when you open the door looking like this.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hands finding her waist and pulling her gently but firmly against him. Her head spun as she felt the heat of his body through the thin material of her lingerie. “Drew…” she whispered, unsure of what to say, her voice trailing off as his fingers skimmed the lace along her sides.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’ve been trying to take things slow with you,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to hers. “But, Y/N, you’re making it really hard right now.”

Her pulse quickened as his lips hovered over hers, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. She could feel her resolve crumbling, the space between them disappearing as she leaned into him. “Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman,” she whispered, barely audible.

That was all Drew needed.

His lips crashed onto hers, the kiss far more urgent and intense than any they’d shared before. His hands roamed up her sides, fingers gripping the soft fabric of her lingerie as he pulled her even closer, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest as she clung to him, her mind spinning from the intensity of it all.

Drew broke the kiss just long enough to look down at her, his chest rising and falling heavily. “God, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his hands still firmly planted on her waist.

She smiled breathlessly, feeling the same heat coursing through her. “Maybe you can show me.”

With that, Drew’s lips were on hers again, and all the careful, restrained moments they’d shared before seemed to vanish as the desire between them took over. It wasn’t full-on yet, but Drew had definitely lost his gentlemanly side, and Y/N didn’t mind one bit.

[leona-hawthorne]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 23rd. mattheo riddle — he’s mine!

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; it seems to be a little hard to get into the christmas spirit when your little sister is hogging your boyfriend! words ; 1.4k warnings ; fluff, established relationship

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It had been your idea to bring Mattheo home for Christmas. Of course it had. You’d argued for it, certain your parents wouldn’t mind—and they didn’t. In fact, they’d been surprisingly enthusiastic about it. They liked Mattheo, for one, and they knew enough about his home life—or lack thereof—to see why he might need an escape for the holidays. Besides, the thought of leaving him behind in that cold, empty manor while you went off to bake cookies and trim trees with your family felt unbearable.  

What you hadn’t planned for was your little sister.  

The moment she saw Mattheo, her eyes went wide, her lips parted in a tiny gasp, and for once, she didn’t have a single smart remark. You’d expected her usual groaning protest of Ew, boys are gross or Whatever, he’s probably boring. But instead, she just stood there staring up at him, as though he were some sort of fairy tale prince who’d stepped straight out of one of her bedtime stories.  

“Hey,” Mattheo had said gently, crouching down to her level. He had that rare, soft smile on his face—the one he reserved only for you, and apparently now, six-year-old girls. “You must be the famous little sister. I’ve heard all about you.”  

Her face had turned scarlet, and she’d ducked behind your leg, clutching your jeans for dear life. You’d raised an eyebrow at Mattheo, trying to stifle a laugh. Well, this is new. 

From then on, it was as though she’d claimed him. Every time you turned around, there she was, dragging him off for some new adventure. At first, it was cute. Endearing, even. She’d taken him by the hand to show him the ornaments she’d made for the tree, chattering on about how she’d painted the reindeer one herself. He’d listened patiently, nodding and smiling as though her ramblings were the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard.  

But then it escalated.  

By the second day, you found them at her little pink tea table, tiny porcelain cups in hand. Mattheo’s long legs were awkwardly folded beneath him as he pretended to sip imaginary tea. You’d leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, biting your lip to keep from laughing.  

“Really?” you’d asked, grinning. “A tea party?”  

“She made me a very convincing argument,” Mattheo replied, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Also, I think this is her way of letting me know who’s in charge here.”  

You’d laughed then, shaking your head, but something about the way your sister beamed up at him had made you pause.  

It wasn’t long before her demands grew bolder. She’d roped him into baking cookies—flour dusted all over his dark jumper—and insisted he give her a piggyback ride around the house. And though Mattheo obliged her every request with good-natured patience, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

Because every time you tried to steal a moment alone with him, she was already there, wedged firmly between the two of you.  

On the third day, you figured maybe it was time to steal back your boyfriend.

“Where is he?” you muttered, stalking through the house. The smell of gingerbread lingered in the air, and somewhere, you could hear your sister’s giggles echoing down the hall.  

You found them in the living room. She was perched on Mattheo’s back, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he crawled on all fours, pretending to be a dragon.  

“Really?” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.  

Mattheo glanced up at you, his curls falling into his eyes. He was grinning. “What?”  

“She’s hogging you,” you said, your voice teetering on the edge of a whine.  

“She’s six,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “You jealous of a six-year-old?”  

“What? No, I just– you know what? You two have fun, I’m gonna go help my mom with wrapping.”

And by the fourth day, you’d had enough.  

You didn’t know whether to scoff or to smile as you watched Mattheo from the doorway of the kitchen. He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his dark shirt as he helped your little sister roll out sugar cookie dough. His hands were comically large compared to hers, yet he moved with such careful precision, as if afraid to crush her tiny fingers by accident.

Your sister giggled, a sound that echoed through the space like a bell, and your chest tightened at how easily Mattheo coaxed that sound from her. It was endearing—no, more than endearing. It was heartwarming. But also…infuriating.

You stepped into the room, leaning against the counter as you folded your arms. “How’s it going in here?”

Mattheo glanced up at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s going great. We’re making masterpieces, aren’t we, kid?”

Your sister nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing as she beamed up at him. “Mattheo says my snowman looks perfect!”

You raised a brow, biting back a smile. “Perfect, huh? Even though his head is sliding off his body?”

Mattheo chuckled, brushing a streak of flour off his arm. “It’s an abstract snowman,” he said smoothly, turning back to the dough. “He’s got character.”

Your sister giggled again, clearly thrilled by his attention, and you felt the beginnings of that familiar pang of annoyance. You’d invited Mattheo here for you, not so he could spend every waking moment entertaining your sister.

“Right,” you said, stepping closer and nudging him lightly with your hip. “Well, I’m stealing him now. We were supposed to watch a movie, remember?”

Mattheo looked over at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Baby, are you jealous of a six-year-old?”

Your mouth opened, indignation flaring to life, but before you could respond, your sister tugged on his sleeve. “Wait! We still have to make the reindeer cookies! You promised!”

Mattheo crouched slightly, bringing himself to her level as he smiled at her. “And we’ll make those, I swear. But your big sister’s giving me that look, and I think I’d better listen to her before she drags me out of here.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched upward. “I’m not giving you a look.”

“Oh, you’re giving me a look,” he teased, standing to his full height and brushing his hands off on a towel. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re practically glaring at me. I’d almost say it’s cute.”

“Don’t push your luck, Riddle,” you muttered, though your cheeks burned at the way his breath ghosted against your skin.

Your sister pouted, crossing her arms. “But Mattheo—”

“I’ll be back,” he promised her, giving her a playful wink. “And when I am, we’ll make the best reindeer cookies anyone’s ever seen. Deal?”

She huffed, clearly not pleased, but she nodded anyway, her pout softening.

You grabbed Mattheo’s wrist, tugging him toward the living room before your sister could protest again. “Come on. You’re mine, remember?”

He let you pull him away, laughing softly under his breath. Once you reached the living room, you rounded on him, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re supposed to be spending time with me. Me, Mattheo. Not my sister. Me.”

“Is this really happening right now?” he asked, smirking down at you. “You’re actually jealous of a six-year-old.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not jealous,” you shot back, though your words sounded more defensive than you intended. “I just don’t like sharing, especially when it’s you. And second, it’s not my fault she suddenly decided she loves boys after swearing for years that they had cooties!”

Mattheo grinned, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “So what you’re saying is…I’m irresistible.”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me anyway.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, finding his gaze soft and affectionate, his smirk less teasing now and more genuine. Your frustration melted away as quickly as it had come, replaced by a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest.

“Yeah,” you admitted, dropping your hands and stepping closer to him. “I do.”

“And for the record,” he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, “I’m yours. Always.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Awful Things [TVA!Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Fresh off the interrogation, Loki is emboldened to make a move. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Heavy smut. Dom! Loki.Bondage, impact play. (w/c 2.8k)

You register your door pad beep through the clink of plates as you slide them into the sink. Strange, you think briefly. I didn’t think anyone else had the code.

Turning, you immediately collide with something hard and flat. But there was no mistaking the scent of him. “Loki!?” was all you could muster in shock, gripping the lip of your tiny kitchenette. “I brought you some pie,” he growls, punctuating the statement by tossing it to the counter beside you.

His bicep presses against your own, hard as rock through the thick jacket hanging open at his torso. Those eyes that you’d studied so often were darker now. Deeper, somehow.

Dangerous.

“Everything okay?” you squeak.

There’s an energy radiating from him, a heat that seems to charge the air. It hums like static. The intoxicating scent of him wafts from the open top of his shirt, tie askew like he’d yanked it loose on his way here.

You clench. “I just had a very...interesting experience” he rumbles, leaning towards you. His lips are an inch away from yours, tilting his chin upwards as he looms appraisingly. You realise you haven’t been breathing. “O...Oh?” you gasp, as he presses his body closer.

His chin lies nestled to his collarbone, the popped collar of his jacket framing hollowed cheekbones that flex as he breathes in and out through his nose. His trunk is so solid and flat you’d swear it was marble if you couldn’t feel the beat of his heart through his shirt.

“You don’t seem...yourself” you say cautiously, watching the ring of his pupils explode outward. You’re suddenly reminded of a wolf, stepping on a rabbit before it tears its neck out. “I’m feeling more myself than I have in a...long time,” he purrs darkly.

Loki trails a long finger down your cheek, curling at the angle of your jaw and tipping your chin up to face him. There is a calculated pause.

“And do you know what I want to do?” You shake your head, eyes wide like a virgin. Loki smirks, and it makes your pussy melt into your underwear. He leans closer, inhaling against your hairline. His crotch rubs against you, a low rasping sigh escaping his lips as the weight of his cock drags against the bare skin between your standard issue loungewear set.

“I’ll give you a clue,” he rasps lower and dirtier than you thought possible. “It’s not eating that pie.” His eyes narrow, and stay like that.

A curl has fallen down his forehead, black and slick and every bit as out of place as he is in your apartment. And yet – it belongs there.

The counter-top digs into your spine, Loki’s body crushing into your own with the mass of his towering form. You bring a hand to his chest, pressing lightly against the hot flesh you’ve longed for.

“What happened out there-?” you start, feeling desire slide between your thighs as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Someone reminded me of past transgressions,” he mutters, fingers toying with the sides of your top.

They slide beneath it, his large hands making quick work of cupping your breasts. The rough wool of his jacket grazes your nipples, hard and ripe for his attentions. His eyelids flutter as the flesh moulds to his touch, heavy cock pulsing.

“They reminded me of some terrible...awful things I’d done,” he enunciates slowly. His eyes are alight with mischief, with seduction. Pure godhood is leaking from him like a vapour, saturating the air around you grown heavy with the humidity of sex.

“And it reminded me, of the terrible...awful things I wish to do to you.”

Your legs feel weak. And Loki can feel it too.

His hands slide quickly down your waist, casting the loose sweatpants you wear to the floor. You gasp, gripping the sides of his face and pulling him to you.

Whatever the reason, if this is your chance – you’re taking it.

In moments, his tongue jams into your mouth. It’s wild, unhinged- and for now, the notorious Loki Laufeyson is all you can feel. All you can breathe and taste – every sense alive with his urgency.

He seems to have known the curves of your body for a lifetime, dexterous fingers curling into the perfect dents as he hoists you into the air. Immediately your legs lock around his hips, the flat of his cock pressed against your eager, soaking cunt. “Want me to go easy on you, little thing?” he groans as he spins you round. “Now is your chance.” You decline between grunts as you force his face to yours, tugging at his slut-mussed curls. His chuckle vibrates against your teeth. “Good,” he utters quietly into your open mouth.

Suddenly a cool, flat surface presses against your back. You cast a glance to the side, checking that you are still in fact in your sparse TVA studio. A flicker of green licks the floor beneath Loki’s feet, magic recoiling to its master now that its work is done. A shudder runs down your spine, hips bucking into the thick of his cock still tight beneath the pants.

“A little...theatre, for your initiation.” he purrs smugly as he raises a hand above your head and smacks the newly placed wooden beam twice.

It runs from the ceiling to the floor at the end of your bed. Before you have a chance to process, Loki tosses you to the mattress.

“On your knees, face me.” You comply. The wetness between your thighs is unbearable now, every involuntary clench of your pussy sending pathetic shock-waves of desire rippling across your skin. “Take it off,” he rumbles as he lowers his chin again with a devastating glint. It flickers to the t-shirt.

You pull it over your head, casting it to the floor. Satisfied, Loki raises a hand, curling his fingers. You can feel invisible binds licking around your wrists, winding and whispering against the skin. He pulls the fist towards him with a flourish – and by doing so, you. Yanked forwards, your hands fly to either side of the beam. They meet in the middle, a low hum of magic sizzling as Loki watches on. He widens his legs, the fabric of his trousers creasing and straining beneath the mass of muscle beneath. The triangular stance makes a whine snake from your throat, and a small smile twitches the corner of his mouth.

“Right where I’ve wanted you, all this time,” he hums while his fingers work his belt-buckle with aching slowness.

“Fuck me, Loki” you gasp desperately, clenching around air. It’s all you’ve wanted since the first time you laid eyes on him, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this. Loki chuckles mirthlessly, biting his lip. “Oh sweet one,” he coos darkly, “you know not what you ask.”

The leather slides from its holster with a rough hiss as you groan, resting your head against the beam. Anything. You would do anything.

Butterflies soar in your belly as the god loops the belt around one palm. With the other, he pops the button of his trousers, releasing his cock. The obscene bulge you had only fantasised of as you writhed beneath your bedsheets under the cover of darkness lies tantalisingly in the grasp of his hand, pumping slowly back and forth as his head tilts.

Your tongue flattens, already imagining choking on it as he takes his pleasure; saliva dripping in whoreish swathes down your jaw.

“How like you this?” he growls while clasping his hands behind his back with a ceremonial stiffen. He shifts his feet on the floor while you squirm against the post. It's too much to take in. A garbled moan is all you can manage as magic melts the thick jacket from his body, and then his shirt...and then his pants.

But the belt? That stays wound around one hand, the veins taut and thick and pulsing.

A thrill drops your stomach. You realise that before now, you had only ever met the shadow of Loki Laufeyson which stalked the halls of the TVA. A mirage, dulled by the weight of what he tried to suppress.

Now, somehow, he was free.

But there would be time for understanding later. Loki paced naked around the beam, unwinding the belt from his palm. The muscles in his ass tighten and relax with ever careful pace, cock bobbing with every measured step, muscles in his thighs clenching as he inspects his meal. He’s hungry, it seems. Thick valleys dip in the side of his waist, the ripple of thick shoulder muscle making your thighs tremble as you hold position. “I want to make love to you,” Loki pondered as if to himself. “I want to pleasure you beyond an inch of your sanity, until you are breathless putty begging for release from your amorous torment.” He spins pointedly to face you, gaze afire with an aura you’ve only seen in the archives. “But not tonight,” he says.

Your cheek presses against the beam with a whimper, pussy throbbing. Anything. He shakes the belt out with a dramatic flourish, looking at it and then to you with a jovial air of expectation. An eyebrow cocks. “Just one. For me” he purrs sweetly, undertones of velvet obsidian spicing the air between you. “Two,” you gasp as you squirm. Loki throws his head back in laughter, wild curls tickling down his shoulder-blades. He snaps back up, and with a single graceful bound he positions himself behind you on the bed. Large hands roam your body, biting kisses marking down your neck, your shoulders. There will be marks, you think. It is not a supposition, but a certainty.

He is everywhere at once, fingers trailing through your dripping sex while he utters the filthiest praises the timeline has ever known. The fact he desires you, is touching you – that simple act alone is almost too much to bear.

“I knew this day would come,” he whispers deviously as his lips and teeth make their procession down your spine, your hips, your ass. “An inevitability...perhaps” he groans before sucking the plump round of your ass with an obscene moan. A whizz cuts the air as the belt lays claim to the soft curve with no warning, impact sending your hips flush to the beam with a snap.

You cry out his name, the biting pain followed by the moist slather of his tongue against the tender skin. He bites down, catching only a sliver between his teeth. Groaning against his prize, Loki slips his digits through your sopping folds. “Good fucking girl,” he rasps wetly, thrumming your clit. Bucking against him, you try to slow time as his fingers go about their light work. It’s gentle. Too gentle.

“I knew we’d get along.” he smarms. You can feel his gluttonous smirk thick in the air.

He pulls away, the second smack of the belt coming down in the same precise location as the first.

You yelp, bracing against the beam while Loki moans behind you. He runs his palm across the skin, breathing heavily.

The god’s body presses against your own, flattening you against the pillar while you grunt his name into the wood. Condensation is forming on the grain, the heat making your eyes sting as keenly as your ass. Loki chuckles darkly. A menacing thud sounds to your right as the belt is thrown to the floor, immediately followed by the curl of his fingers around your hips. A sharp inhale sears the back of your throat, realising what is to come.

Your only regret, is that you can’t see his face as he squeezes his huge cock inside your heat with a guttural gasp of air. Another time, you think optimistically; all other thoughts leaving your body as Loki releases a ragged, choking splutter.

He’s settled on his knees, guiding your pussy down his iron manhood with devastating slowness. Your ass meets the expanse of his thighs, the softness of your curves against his animalism making you feel like you might break. And perhaps you would. He thrusts up with the precision of an executioner. Never in your most unhinged fantasies did you think being full of Loki's cock would feel this good. Make you feel this free. The fingers of one hand twist in your hair, tugging it back. If you crane far enough, you can just see the bow of his jawline flex, his chin pointed to the ceiling. The veins in his neck strain, Adam’s apple tight and static with the clench of his teeth. Every filthy, whoreish grunt from his throat is heaven.

The stick of your arousal coats him, every squelch as he fucks into you making your eyes roll back. Your arms ache, but the thrill rising in your blood as orgasm bubbles makes it peel into oblivion. “Who am I?” he growls, the tone seeping into the depth of your soul.

Words have left you, rattling around in a haze of pleasure and utter bemusement. Short gasps are all that come out, but Loki’s showmanship will not be thwarted. “Who am I?” he repeats ceremonially, bottoming out with a punishing thrust.

You yank against the invisible binds, clenching around the root of his cock as he drags it out with a thundering groan. Every vein, every ridge of his manhood makes your soul ignite. “Loki-” you pant, muffled by the squash of your cheek against the wooden beam. Another punishing thrust. If his fingertips weren’t digging so much into the dip of your hips, you were sure you’d hit the ceiling. “Who?” he spits.

You feel a spray of venom hit between your shoulder blades, the violent smoulder of his eyes piecing the top of your spine as he rails you like a bitch in heat. His fingers curl around the nape of your neck, massaging gently as the fire between your legs reaches critical levels. It’s not a threat, it’s incentive. Your lips part, climax threatening to undo you from the inside out. And somehow, you know what he wants.

“God of Mis-mischief – urgh-ah, Loki...Laufeyson, God of..fuck, Mischief”

You and he moan in unison, rising orgasm shuddering your bodies as Loki’s stomach folds flush against your back.

The force of his primal need settles on your neck from his breath, twitching cock tugging inside your desperate pussy with shallow thrusts as he comes undone with a thunder of your name. The force of his seed hits like a flood, spurting against your fluttering walls as you clamp around his girth. A mess of shuddering, juddering, raw flesh. He settles back on his calves, rocking you gently as he milks himself to completion.

All you can feel is the haze of his attention in your orgasm-addled state, hands massaging the spill of your sweat-damp breasts while blood thunders in your ears. You’re vaguely aware of him speaking. “Sorry can you repeat that?” you murmur, tilting you chin. He’s right there, soft lips capturing yours in a messy kiss. It hurts your neck, but fuck...is it worth it. “I said, I have to follow up on something,” he whispers conspiratorially.

His hand travels downwards, tucking between your legs before taking hold of the root of his cock still buried deep inside. You can feel it slide side-to-side, his fingers playing in the swell of hot cum from gathered there.

He brings the hand slowly upwards, scissoring his fingers. Strings of arousal glint in the low light as he hovers it in front of your mouth. Instinctually, you point out your tongue, leaning forwards to meet his fingers.

“Ah,” Loki breaths as you take both fingers between your lips, sucking gently; deep to the second knuckle. His hips pump up gently, hot breath misting your ear as he buries his face in your neck. “F-fuck, little thing…” he rasps, “-you’re even more than I thought you’d be.” Sliding his fingers from your mouth, he picks up the wisp of his train of thought. “This was more of a...flying visit.” he says. Your brow knits, trying in vain to tug your hands from the beam. “But I shan’t be long. Believe me, I would rather be here. But what can I say, I am much in demand.” The mattress shifts as Loki swings his legs over the bed, standing with a stretch. You watch the muscles in his back flex, every inch carved by the gods themselves. Naturally, you muse with a thrill as his freed cum drips lazily down your inner thighs. “Forgetting something?” you purr, enjoying the slant of Loki’s brows as he turns. Your smile fades as that look crawls over his face again. “Who am I?” he quips with a smirk. Magic rolls over his body. The trousers unfurl, followed by his shirt and tie – as fresh as ever. There is a rustle of leather as his belt rears from the floor, and with a decadent click of his fingers, it slithers around his waist; cinching in. The brown jacket appears folded over his forearm.

Your brow furrows, yanking at the invisible binds. “Loki-” you say. It’s a warning, not a statement.

“Who am I?” he repeats, arching a brow.

You roll your eyes, teeth gritting. “Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief.” Loki smiles. The type of smile you’ve seen in the corridors many times. The type of smile that usually precedes something which increases your workload. His gaze flickers from your face to the beam, hands still bound as he begins to pace backwards towards the door. He raises his palms in a gesture of feigned sympathy, a devious tug at one corner of his mouth betraying him.

“Always have been,” he smoulders, a wolfish grin spreading.

“Always will be.”

Tags (cont in comments) @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @buttercupcookies-blog @mrs-illyrian-baby @ohboyanotherlokiblog

[jenomi]

after your boyfriend jaemin shuts your car door for you, he quickly loads the trunk with your picnic date necessities before hopping into the driver seat.

jaemin planned a cute picnic date for the both you all by himself. whenever you asked him if he needed your help planning or doing anything for the date, he would say, "no, just pick something cute to wear. i'll handle the rest" with a smile.

this happens often, jaemin always taking charge for planning every single detail when it comes to dates. today, he was prepping your lunch in a bento box for the picnic and when you tried to help him cut the fruit, he would lightly push you away and make you sit down. you pouted and insisted on helping him, but eventually you gave up since you knew jaemin would never give in.

jaemin grabs your hand over the console of the car and starts to drive to your favorite park for dates. on the way there, you roll down your window to soak in the sun and let the wind through your hair. the stereo was playing jaemin's playlist, which you loved as he had the best music taste and it fit the vibe for today.

you watch jaemin expertly parallel park his car on the road, hand on the back of your seat, eyes and jaw set in focus as he slots himself perfectly between two cars.

"great job~" you both say in sync, making you laugh at how jaemin complimented himself on his parking skills.

as you unload the car, jaemin has no choice but to let you help him but he only lets you carry the blanket (the lightest thing he brought). you both settle on a spot that's half shaded by a large oak tree and half in the sun. it was a warm day but there was still a small breeze in the air that made the temperature perfect.

you and jaemin work together to lay out the blanket that could easily fit 4 people, but you know that you and jaemin will be pressed together the whole time that more than half the space will barely be used.

finally, jaemin takes out a bento box of the food he prepared himself. you gasp at not only how much food there is, but also how beautiful it all looks. onigiri balls, savory ham & cheese sandwiches, dessert sandwiches with the strawberries cut to look like hearts when cut in half, kimbap and other picnic essentials are fit perfectly into the 3-tiered bento.

"jaem, this look so good!" you exclaim, grabbing a grape from one of the boxes.

"anything for my girl," jaemin smiles at your excitement at his food before pecking you on the cheek. he can always count on you to praise his cooking, even if it's the simplest thing like a sandwich.

you give him a quick peck on the lips before digging into the lunch jaemin prepared. of course, jaemin insists on feeding you some bites here and there and his habit of opening his mouth when feeding you shows itself making you giggle each time. as you eat, jaemin watches you as your eyes light up when your favorite flavors hit your tongue and laughs as you dance a little at how happy you are in this moment. he brings out his camera to snap a few pictures, most of them you're looking at jaemin behind the camera shy and telling him not to take pictures of you eating.

"whyy you look so cute," he says snapping another picture of you with a grape in your cheek and your cheeks flushing at his compliment.

as the boxes clear out, jaemin brings out two coloring books, your new favorite hobby. he pulls out a box of markers from his picnic bag and sets them between the two of you.

you both start coloring a page while laying on your stomach, but jaemin keeps getting distracted by you. he keeps snapping pictures of you coloring the page, smiling and hair falling over your face (jaemin tucks it behind your ear ofc).

jaemin's page is completely abandoned as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and watches you color your page, offering suggestions here and there which you take.

as you finish the page, jaemin exclaims, "IT'S PERFECT!" one of his many exclamations whenever you show him a completed coloring page. you laugh and push his shoulder.

"what? did i lie? it's perfect!" jaemin continues, you know he's saying it in a joking tone but really means it.

"no, you didn't lie. of course it's perfect, i made it," you reply proudly in return.

now its jaemin's turn to laugh. you smile at him before kissing him on both cheeks and the lips. jaemin lays down with his hands under his head and you laying on top of him. you share your moments of comfortable silence mixed in with random conversation.

as you start to draw hearts with your finger in random spots over his chest, you hear from him say, "i love you too."

"i love you more," you whisper kissing his neck.

"not possible," jaemin smirks.

as you're about try to fight him about it, jaemin interrupts by grabbing your face and kissing you. guess you'll have to let him think he loves you more.

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[aurorawritestoescape]

STEAM || Javier Peña x f!reader || 1,3k

Summary: you take a shower with Javi

Tw: 18+, mdni, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie

A/n: huge thank you to @callachloe for sending this ask and inspiring me to write this🩷 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST || same couple - gif blurb || shaving Javi

You can’t believe that the wait is over. His hands all over you are drawing needy whimpers out of your open mouth, his eager lips sliding along your neck, his hard cock thumping between your wet heated bodies.

Javi led you to the shower as soon as you arrived at your place from the office. As always in separate cars. Now bathing in the steamy air, he’s kissing you with passion, your body caged by his tall frame against the shower wall. The water is hitting his back, warm rivulets flowing down his broad torso. His body against yours feels so good, you might as well be in heaven or under a waterfall in a tropical paradise and not in your tiny bathroom on the outskirts of the city.

Javi’s hands are roaming your sides, back, squeezing your asscheeks, kneading your slippery breasts. You feel him everywhere and melt under his scorching touch. Your needy whimpers and his low growls merge into a symphony of lust and pleasure, reverberating through the room. Being on the edge from teasing you all day, unable to act on his desires, bound by your shared secret, Javi finally has you to himself, and his every movement is charged with a need to satiate his hunger.

He grabs his cock and pushes the tip between your pussy lips, making you gasp when the fat head bumps into your clit, that is buzzing with arousal, ready to send your nerves ablaze from the lightest stimulation.

“Wanted you so fucking bad—been driving me crazy— naughty girl.”

You choke on another moan and mumble, through heavy breathing.

“Me? You’ve been taunting me all day.”

He pulls away from you to let his dark eyes slide up and down your naked body. You seize this moment to take him in as well- his handsome face, his toned shoulders and chest, his golden skin, glistening with water droplets. You can’t help but let your gaze follow the path of his damp happy trail that leads to his gorgeous hard cock. Just like whiskey that you love licking off Javi’s lips, the sight of his beauty intoxicates you, makes you bolder than you really are.

“You’ve been so cruel to me, Javi,” you tut with a playful smile.

This immediately feels like a mistake when the man replies to your fake scolding with a smirk. The punishment comes fast. Javi pinches your hard nipple, and a pathetic moan crawls up your throat when he twitches it between the pads of his fingers. A hot lightning of arousal shoots through your body and your knees almost buckle. Javi hastily presses his hips against yours, keeping you steady and cups your pussy with his free hand.

“Javiiii,” you whine when his thumb starts stroking your clit, his digits not leaving your stiff nipple. He leans closer to you and as his hot breath fans your lips, he whispers,

“Remind me who wanted to keep us a secret, baby? Believe me I’d rather show everyone who this pussy belongs to.”

He claims his possession by inserting two fingers into your sopping hole and starts fingering you, not letting go of your tit.

“Hate the way some of them look at you. Like they have a chance.”

He curls his digits inside you, immediately finding your g-spot. You’re trying to stay upright, your hands gripping Javi’s broad shoulders while his fingers are fucking into you relentlessly, pushing you higher towards your peak.

“Do they have a chance, beautiful?”

Drowning in pleasure, you shake your head, mumbling ‘no’s in a trembling voice.

His lips brush against your whimpering mouth, and he gruffs,

“That’s right, baby. So how about I fuck you tomorrow in my office so everyone could hear that you’re mine?”

The image appearing in your mind makes your pussy clamp around his moving fingers.

“No, Javi— no—I can’t—we shouldn’t.”

You’re barely able to protest, so far gone in the pleasure. Javi lets go of your nipple and his hand slithers down to grab your ass. He tilts your hips to make your orgasm unforgettable before you feel his lips move against your cheek.

“That’s what you said the night I kissed your pretty pussy for the first time. Maybe I shouldn’t listen to you.”

The memory of that night overflows the glass of your pleasure and you come with your loud moan ringing in the bathroom, until Javi shuts you down with a passionate kiss.

Your core is still pulsating when he lifts your trembling body and throws your arms and legs around him. You’re trying to hold on but your limbs possess no strength. He fucked it out of you with his fingers, his mouth, his lustful glances.

He manhandles you into the position he wants and with his hands under your ass he practically seats you down on his throbbing cock.

His half grunt-half moan vibrates against your lips and you echo him with your sweet noises. Your pussy’s fluttering around his manhood, welcoming it.

“Ohh, baby. So tight and wet. Fuck.“

You moan the name of your lover, filled with his cock to the limit, and tilt your head back in ecstasy when he starts moving you up and down his member.

Your back is sliding easily against the wet tiles and with your hand gripping his strong shoulder, you brace the other one against the glass door. It’s not to keep yourself steady, you know he’ll never drop you, but to ground yourself, let the cold wet surface wake you up from your fucked out state. You need to feel Javi sharper, memorize every tiny sensation he’s giving you.

“Yes-yes- yes-,” you chant while he’s thrusting up into you. Soon you get overwhelmed with emotions and tears of pleasure well up in your eyes.

“Javi,” you plead not sure what for.

“Yes, baby, I’m here. You’re taking me so good, my good girl.”

Javi’s close, judging by his strained voice. His grunts are getting louder, in rhythm with him bouncing you on his cock. Your tits are jiggling and he catches your nipple with his mouth, wraps his lips around it and sucks. Your hand flies to his head and you run your fingers through his wet silky hair.

A few thrusts and he presses you hard against the wall, painting your velvet walls white with his hot cum. The pulsations inside you light up your nerves and you explode in unison with Javi, on his cock, hugging him as hard as you can.

Your bodies vibrate with euphoria against each other and your pussy contracts around his stiffness again and again, taking everything he’s giving you, milking him to the last drop.

Gradually you descend back into reality. Javi’s holding you in his arms, while his cock is slowly softening inside you. Your lips gravitate to his, your bodies glued to each other as if you forgot how to be apart.

After a few moments Javi breaks your slow kissing and gently lowers you to your feet. His hands slide up your sides, your shoulders and then wrap around your neck. He’s brushing your jaw with his thumbs and tilts your head to face him.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, mi amor. We have a long night ahead of us.”

You look up at him, mouth agape after hearing what he called you, and Javi smiles and leans down to plant a soft kiss to your lips. Yes, you’re definitely in heaven.

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