#l: drabble

[lalunanymph]

PAYBACK

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ when it comes to putting you back in your place, no one does it better than sylus

⋆｡°✩ tags: sylus x fem!reader, established relationship, d/ry humping, t/easing, s/ucking him off through his sweats, m/istress kink, whiny!sylus, r/estraints, b/dsm, o/rgasm control, t/ease and denial, dom!reader (for like, a little while) -> sub!reader, p/leasure dom!sylus, noncon (reader ties sylus up first), o/ral sex, petnames (baby, kitten, little dove), s/ir kink, b/egging, r/uined orgasm

⋆｡°✩ dawn says: SYLUS DAY TOMORROW !! may all the sylus wanters be sylus havers 🙏🏼 also tags were glitching on me so i had to change up the warnings format SORRY :')

"Hmm... what's this?"

Sylus blinks the sleep from his eyes to find you straddling his thighs, a smirk in place.

It's not like the Onychinus leader to ever let his guard down, but give the man a break—he's exhausted after trying to escape a raid last night.

And instead of letting him sleep, what does his precious little lover do?

That's right—she's got him all tied up to their bed.

His brows furrow, and he tugs on the knot, frustration growing alongside his respect. The knots were a solid 10/10; he could barely move if given a chance.

"Little one, what is this?" He tries to sound understanding, concerned, even.

You snicker. "What does it look like, Sy?" The pretty manicure you got on his card makes him pause. He barely blinks, taking in the sight of your hands sliding down his bare chest. He thinks the red and black combination suits you very, very well indeed.

Blood-red eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. "I would say you're playing with fire, kitten. Let me go—now."

It's an order—one you don't listen to.

"Say, Sy," you casually drape yourself all over him, enjoying his squirming. "Your neck is very sensitive, isn't it?"

Your finger trails from his jaw right to his jugular, hovering over the strip of skin.

"Shit, no," he cusses, flinching back from your touch. "Don't even think about it—"

Your lips replace your finger, trailing hot kisses down his neck. Sylus swallows down an embarrassing gasp, hands turning to fists above his head.

"Kitten, I'm warning you."

But, you don't listen to him—you never do.

Your mouth moves from his neck down to his chest, circling over his well-built chest. Your hair tickles him, trailing after your mouth that moves from chest to stomach down to his pelvis. So dangerously close to where he can feel you the most.

"Kitten, I'm serious here." His voice is a low growl, shooting a dirty thrill up your spine. "Stop teasing me and let me go."

You hum, moving your teasing little mouth to band of his sweatpants. Sylus' abs constrict the second he sees your naughty tongue lick a strip across his happy trail and he swears Devil horns appear on your head.

You grin, running your hand down the seam of his inner thigh.

"Sy," your tone is innocent, though a lustful demon is controlling you. "You're naked underneath those sweats, right?"

The 28-year-old underground leader is no idiot. He can tell when a kitten is itching to stretch her claws.

"Don't even think about it," he warns. Except, you're already doing it.

You touch the impressive bulge, proof that he was not immune to your teasing.

Oh, if only the Hunters Association could see you now. Sylus aches all over thinking about how he's gone off the deep end and ruined you—Linkon's shiniest Hunter—all for the sake of satisfying his dirty games.

The old you would never have found the guts to tie him up to his own bed and suck on him through his sweatpants. She would never have the nerve to be such a little slut.

But, he's changed you. For better or for worst, he can't decide.

Especially not right now when you straighten and he finally notices you in his black silk shirt, buttons sloppily done like a child did them, the too big collar slipping down to expose your shoulders.

Shit. An unwilling groan slips past his clenched teeth when you straddle his lap again and he sees you have no panties on. Fucking hell... she's out for my blood.

"Y/N," he growls your real name now, dead serious. "No more games. Untie me right this instant—fuck."

You grind down on his still clothed bulge, blinking your eyes innocently.

He growls, shaking his head. "I'm the one who ties you up. Or, have you forgotten, kitten?"

A tinkling laugh reaches his hot ears. "You sound like you're not enjoying yourself when this—" you reach for his dick and squeeze it, ignoring his hiss of pleasure. "—is proof that you are."

Oh. He narrows his eyes, licks his lips. You're going to get it this time.

But, your hand on him feels too good, and Sylus can't deny that a sick, twisted part of him is loving this.

His arms tense, tugging on the rope, his expression a cross between ecstasy and pain.

"If you beg me, I'll suck you off," you promise.

A hollow laugh. "Beg you? Beg. You? Shit, a-ah—no way. I'm not giving in. Not gonna give into you. I'm not—" He chokes on a moan. You're fondling his tip through the scratchy material. "Fuck. Fuck. Okay. Okay. Please?"

His voice goes quiet at the end, and you hum.

"Please, what?"

Sylus bares his teeth. No fucking way were you being dead serious.

You grin, twisting your wrist. "Say it, Sy. Please, Mistress."

His jaw ticks, glare deepening. You think he's going to give in—his surrender right at the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly, he starts to laugh. "Oh, Y/N. Sweet, sweet little kitten. You forgot something. Wanna see it?"

You stare at him in confusion, not sure what he's hinting at.

Sylus' smirk deepens, and he exhales another diabolical chuckle.

"You forgot to loop the tie, you foolish little Hunter."

Before your fast reflexes can kick in, his super fast ones have you pinned to the bed, beating you at your own game. The ropes you restrain him with are now around your wrist and you're tethered in the same spot you once had him in.

Pink dusts his cheeks, and Sylus is breathing hard like he's run a marathon. His frosty locks are a mess, but nothing is as terrifying as the sneer on his face.

It burns through you, leaving you breathless when he presses his face closer; you can physically smell the triumph radiating off him.

"What was it you said just a few minutes ago? Ah." His voice drops to a hush whisper; deep baritone caressing the shell of your ear as his hitched breathing teases you, drawing you deeper into the pit of your mistake.

Rubbing in your face how wrong you are for trying to play the master manipulator himself.

"Call you 'Mistress'? Make me beg? Oh, my little dove." He yanks the knots tighter and you yelp at the bite of pain. Sylus leaves enough room for you to wiggle around and make sure the blood still flows, though there's no other give.

Once again, you're trapped under him.

"I can smell your fear," he mocks, raising a brow. "It's so... addictive."

Returning the favor, Sylus nudges your chin up. "Lift your face up, baby. Lift it."

His mouth touches the nape of your neck, dragging towards your pulse point, your jaw, and back to your collarbones, leaving hot and wet kisses everywhere he can reach. Your sweet sounds are addictive, driving him crazy.

"You kissed me all over my body," he drawls in that seductive accent.

Another wet kiss on your shoulder. Sylus takes his time to unbutton the shirt you stole from him, humming under his breath. You flinch once your chest is exposed, and his smirk deepens.

"No way to escape for you now, kitten."

"Sylus, I'm sorry," you blurt out, but it's too late. He's already decided on your punishment.

"Tch." Clicking his tongue, he stands, looking ravishing in just his low slung, gray sweatpants. "I'll be back, little dove. Wait for me."

You can't see where he's disappeared to, only hearing him come back with more loops of rope.

"What's that?" you squeak.

"Nothing for you to worry," he hums, grabbing your ankle and fastening it with a round of rope, attaching it to the bed post. He does the same with your other ankle, and you're truly spread out for him with no way to escape.

Caught in his web you spun of your own stubbornness and greed.

"Sy—"

He shushes you, bringing a dark material right to your face and you tremble when you realize what it is.

"I told you that you have nothing to worry about, little dove," he murmurs, fingers working deftly to secure the blindfold around your eyes.

Darkness encases you, and you're tied to his bed, spread-eagle and helpless.

The bed dips beside you, and you feel the heat of his body hovering over yours.

"Now, what did you do to me a few moments ago, little dove? Oh, right." He grabs your face, tilting your head back. "You kissed me all over my neck."

His mouth resumes its carnal path across your sensitive skin, your hips bucking whenever a bite of pain from his teeth grazes you.

"My chest."

Sylus mouths at your collarbones, smearing hot kisses down your clavicles, over your breasts, stopping to suck and tease your nipples until you cry out in pleasure.

"Oh, I forgot how sensitive your sweet buds are," he murmurs huskily, pinching your nipples until they swell and throb. "What else did you do, hmm? Oh, yes..."

The marks of heat move down your body, right to your tummy; his kisses loud and lewd.

"Mhm, you kissed me right over my stomach..."

"Sy." Your whimpers draw another evil smirk on his handsome face. He can tell you're crumbling in real time. "Please."

You have no idea what you're begging for. But, Sylus hears you loud and clear.

"Don't worry, little dove. I won't tease you like how you teased me." His voice is magnetic, drawing you deeper into his web with his husky baritone and deep whispers. "Not... like... this..."

As he speaks, he caresses your stomach, loving how it flexes and twitches when he moves his touch right to your inner thighs.

"Do you want me to eat you out, kitten?" Sylus hums, and you fight back a shiver at the possessive undercurrent in his question.

"Yes," you admit, unable to help yourself. Your hips quiver, a moan falling past your mouth when he presses a languid kiss onto your inner thigh. "Yes, please."

"Please, what?" he taunts, drawing circles on your hips with his thumb. "Ask me nicely and I might oblige, little dove."

This is Sylus in his element—on top, domineering and controlling all the ropes. You have no choice but to give into him if you want to feel the barest hint of pleasure that he's holding back from you.

"Sir," you gasp, flinching at the bite of his fingernails digging into your plush thigh. "Please, Sir."

The second the word leaves your mouth, he's all over your drooling cunt.

Sylus eats you out in broad, languid strokes, focusing on your clit; using his tongue to play with it, bathing it with tender mouthfuls of praises and degradation all in one.

You wanna come, baby? Wanna mess up my face?

In another breath, he pushes a finger past your quivering pussy, curving it upward to hook on your softest spot. Your hips drive forward, a yelp perforating the heavy air.

No, kitten. You can't come. You can't—oh, fuck.

Sylus drinks in your taste, spreading your shaking thighs further apart. His broad palms trickle up your chest, cupping your heaving breasts and playing with your stiff nipples. He pinches them just as his tongue slips inside your tender heat, nose rubbing against your clit.

Tears stain the blindfold, your mouth hanging wide open in ecstasy. Sylus wishes he could paint a picture of you looking this wanton and needy.

You can't come, baby, he murmurs in between your folds. I won't let you. You've been such a bad girl. I'm gonna edge you until you can't think. Ah-ah. No cumming. No, no. He grounds you back down onto the mattress with those large palms, stopping you from grinding on his face.

I'm gonna ruin every orgasm you have—don't think I don't know when you're coming, baby. I know you. I can taste you. I know when you're close.

Your body is taut as a bow, teeth gritted and nails digging crescent indents into your palms.

Every time you climb towards the point of no return, Sylus drags you back down; backing away from your pussy, leaving you squirming and desperately writhing on the bed for minutes on end until your orgasm fades away—only to restart the entire process again from square one.

"Now you feel my pain, little dove?" He wipes your tears away, humming lowly. "It's not nice to tease people, isn't it?"

Point taken. You mumble his name, and twist your head as if trying to search for him. "Sylus, please. I wanna come."

Oh? This delights him. You're finally breaking down. You want to come, little one? Then, beg.

Your hips clip all needy against his, and your mouth puckers into a frown.

"Sy—"

He grabs your chin, holding you fast as his lips barely touch yours. Beg me.

Please. You lick your lips, tasting nothing but him. Please, Sy. Please, please. Make me cum.

He's back between your thighs, a fiend for your pussy. Sucking, licking, moaning and breathing deeply—it's erotic and obscene, salacious sounds bouncing across the walls. Your head is spinning, the entire room tunneling into one singular sensation of his tongue deep in your cunt.

Those slender, calloused fingers are back on your nipples, bringing you to the brink of insanity. You've bitten your lips hard enough to draw blood; your hips buck, and you're begging for him to give you a reprieve without a second thought.

Please, Sir. Please. Please make me come. I can't—I need it. I need you.

Yeah? A ghost of his chuckle caresses through your folds and you think he's going to relent.

Going to give you what you want, so you try again.

"Please?" You're so close it almost hurts. Your thighs are cramping, arms straining, back about to break with how tautly you're struggling in his restraints. "Please? Please, Sy. Please."

"Mhm," he murmurs, and you think he's going to give in. Finally going to let you climax after stringing you along for what feels like hours.

"No."

He kisses your clit as tears of frustration trickle down your face.

Sylus was never going to give you what you wanted—not when he already has you in the palm of his hand.

— scenario inspired by one of my fave y2f audios <3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated <333

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or translate across other sites. do not copy my sentence structures, plot or characterization.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[shouyuus]

doctor, doctor

zayne; 3,377; fluff and smut, no "y/n", knowing use of sex drugs, handjob, oral (f!receiving), face riding, shockingly soft intermission, missionary, internal creampies, banter (it's zayne duh), needy!zayne

summary: zayne volunteers as a guinea pig to test out an antidote to a new love drug. spoiler alert: the antidote sucks.

a/n: phew! i haven't written this much porn in... /checks watch/ well ever really. but im not that mad about it! it's a genre i've always felt a bit weak in so im glad to get some practice :) pls enjoy!

aphrodite made me!! masterlist

─── 黎深 YOU KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG the second he gets home. There’s a bright flush to his cheeks, a glassy look to his eyes, and he reaches out to brace himself against the counter almost as soon as he’s through the door, sucking in a deep breath.

“Z-Zayne? What’s wrong?” you rush up to him, reaching out to press a palm to his cheek, lashes fluttering as you pull it away, startled. “Oh my god, you’re burning up!”

“No — it’s fine. I’m fine.” He tries to push you away, but can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips as he nuzzles into your touch. You frown, letting him press into the palm of your hand before he turns to drop a kiss to your skin, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “It’s… not what you think.”

“Not what I…” you blink up at him, worry slowly being eclipsed by a trembling uncertainty.

Something’s not right, you think, but judging by the way he’s still able to hold himself steady, he’s not that sick. So then —

“Ah… fuck —” he curses, leaning forward to bury his nose into your shoulder, tugging you to him in a sudden embrace that has you squeaking, startled by the strength of his hold. And you’re not imagining it; up this close, you can feel his thready heartbeat reverberating through his chest to yours, and his arms around you — is he… trembling?

“Zayne?”

It’s so rare that he curses so easily, so openly. Usually, this kind of language is reserved for the bedroom but —

You go still in his arms, heat washing up the back of your neck into your cheeks as you feel the unmistakable hardness against your hip. Your mind grinds to a startling halt as you try to reconcile these two pieces of strange, incompatible information.

He’s sick… but he’s hard?

“Sorry — I just —” he tries to pull away, shaking his head as if to clear it but his eyes are still glazed when he stumbles back and lets himself sag against the closed front door. You let your eyes take stock of him — his ruddy cheeks and fluttering lashes, the shiver in his limbs, the clench in his jaw as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Zayne. What’ going on?”

He almost hisses at the sharp edge to your tone.

“There’s a new drug out on the market,” he says, his voice thin even as he cards a hand through his hair and tries to take a steadying breath. “It’s… being sold underground, and it’s a potent —” he swallows, tugging at his collar, and it’s only then that you notice the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, “— a potent love drug.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket as you blink up at him.

“A… love drug?”

Zayne sighs, frowning slightly as he jerks at his tie, pulling the knot loose to let it hang around his neck as he thumbs at the top button of his shirt. His fingers, usually so quick and nimble, seem strangely uncoordinated. And after a second, you reach out to gently swat his hand away, popping the top button for him, blushing as he hisses out a breath and lets his head thump back against the door.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice clipped as he tries to look anywhere but at your face. “Our R&D department has been developing a cure and —”

“And?” you ask, letting your finger trace down the thin band of his exposed chest to catch on the next button of his shirt.

“And…” he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he purses his lips, “they needed willing participants to —”

Understanding floods through you like a wash of cold water. You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You volunteered to test the antidote,” you say, staring up at his flushed face, his sweat-slick skin, the unfocused fracture to his eyes, the way his pupils are blown so wide they look almost entirely black.

You lick your lips, feeling another wave of heat crest through you as tingles shoot down your spine at the thought.

“Yes,” he answers again, sounding aggrieved and relieved both that you’ve finally understood.

“But…” you let your words trail off, letting your eyes rake down his trembling body and back up again.

Zayne sighs, shaking his head, “Well, it’s a work in progress.”

“Mm,” you hum, biting back a laugh that you know wouldn’t be entirely appropriate, given the desperate look on his face. Still, that forbidden knot had started to twist in your gut as you assess the situation.

It’s not every day that chance delivers your boyfriend so pliant and willing to your literal shared front door. And you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So?” you say, taking half a step back and folding your arms, reveling in the way he tips forward immediately to chase your warmth. “How do we —” you wave a hand towards him, feeling a strange, impossible fit of giggles threatening to spill from you at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Zayne slates you a rueful look before leaning back to pinch at his nose bridge.

“T-the researchers say that the effects —” he pauses to take another deep breath. You can’t help noticing the increasingly obvious bulge in his work slacks and you feel your own thighs tense as the knot in your stomach twists just a tad tighter. “The effects should wear off on their own in a few hours but…”

“But?” you prompt, lacing your hands behind your back as you teeter on the balls of your feet, feeling an ever-familiar tingle race from the nape of your neck to the tips of your toes.

“But… there’s nothing much to do except to —” Zayne’s fingers twitch as he forces himself to open his eyes and stare at a nondescript point over your shoulder, “to ride it out, as they say.”

At this, you break — you fall into a fit of giggles that has Zayne sighing again as he pushes himself off the door and making his unsteady way to the bedroom.

“W-wait! Where’re you going?” you ask, tugging at his arm.

He twists to stare at you, “I — to bed. Or I can sleep on the couch tonight if it’ll make you more —”

You roll your eyes and yank him down for a kiss. He can’t even pretend to protest as he moans and melts into the heat of your mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and feel his palms gripping at your waist, tight, and then tighter.

“Y’know… for a smart guy… you’re really kind of clueless sometimes.”

“Y-yeah?” Zayne asks, his breath hot against your lips. You nod, letting him tug you both back towards the bedroom, him nearly stumbling in his haste, you biting back another fit of giggles as he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slots you between his legs, running his hands up and down the backs of your legs, fingers dancing towards the lace trimming of your panties.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to help you?” you ask, your voice low.

He lets out another thick groan as you cup his cheeks and tilt his head back to look at you.

“I — I don’t — I thought that maybe —” he stutters, but you shake your head.

“C’mon doc,” you say, grinning as his eyes narrow. You give his chest a light push and watch, satisfied, as he allows himself topple back onto the mattress. “Tell me where it hurts.”

He sucks in a breath between his teeth, staring at you with a look of such unadulterated love that you find yourself almost getting shy. Almost. You crawl onto the bed, nudging apart his legs, walking your fingers up this thighs as he jerks, head falling back into the pillows.

“Please…” the plea leaves his lips parted, and you feel the heat pulse between your own legs, feel your mouth water as you look down at the pliant, panting form of Zayne’s body, spread out on the bed, his chest rising and falling at quick intervals as he watches you from beneath hooded eyes.

Briefly, you consider teasing him, but disregard the thought after realizing that he’d probably driven home feeling much like this. And you reach up to tug loose the belt, making quick work of his trousers, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock — thick and leaking so much precum that your hands come away sticky.

“A-ah — fuck.” Again, he swears, as you tentatively wrap your fingers around his girth, and it’s not the first time you’ve done this, nor will it be the last, but it never fails to surprise you (just a little) how thick he is in your hands — how your fingers don’t reach all the way around.

You give him a few solid pumps, feeling the angry veins pulse beneath your palms as you try to work up a tempo, his hips jumping as he lets out a string of deep, throaty moans that have you clenching around nothing.

“Wait — wait —” he reaches for you, his thighs jumping slightly as your rhythm slows, and he hisses out a long breath, his brows furrowed as you tease your thumb around the underside of his cock hood, allowing yourself a tiny, devious grin as he whimpers high in the back of his throat.

“Yes, doc? Did you have any… complaints?” you drag your tongue across your lips before leaning down and letting your hot breath fan over his purpling head, feeling the heat between your own legs spread through you as thick beads of precum ooze from his slit.

“Come — come here —” he motions up the bed and you cock your head, glancing back down at what you’re certain is quite the painful erection.

“You don’t want…” you tighten your hold around his shaft as he catches his lips in his teeth and groans.

“I — I do. But I want —” he swallows, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, “I want to taste you.”

Desire curls solid at the base of your spine as you feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Zayne’s never been anything but a devout lover, and you’d often reflected that it really does pay to have a boyfriend who has a truly occupational knowledge of human anatomy.

“Yeah?” you ask, your own voice going breathy as you inch up the mattress, his hands settling so easily on the plush of your thighs, his eyes flitting up and down your body almost as if he doesn’t quite know where to look. You lift up your skirt and tug off your panties, with the full intention of lowering yourself slowly, but with a wretched moan, Zayne pulls you down over his face hard enough for you to gasp, your weight tipping forward so hard that you have to brace your hands on the backboard to stop yourself from toppling right over.

You feel his tongue lick a long strip along the seam of your cunt, the sting of his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you over his mouth, groaning into the sopping heat of you, his tongue already pushing into you as he gives your clit a hard suck that has your mind fizzing out into tv static.

“Z-Zayne — oh fuck —!”

He strains against you, pressing his face so far into you you’re almost afraid he’s going to suffocate, but he only holds you tighter when you try to pull away, his mouth chasing your puffy lips. You grind yourself against his face, feeling his nose nudge at your clit as he sinks his tongue ever deeper into you, fucking it into you with a perverse need.

And it doesn't take long like this, not when he's so intimately aware of all your softest parts, all your most sensitive places.

“I — ah — ah — I’m s-so —” you stutter, as you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the coil twisting as thin tendrils of heat start to skitter up through your limbs and you feel your orgasm building inside you.

Zayne lets out a debauched moan, letting it rumble from his mouth straight into your cunt and it’s enough to have your eyes fluttering shut as you break over his mouth, whimpering, hips stuttering as the white-hot fire chases washes through you in a great wave, leaving you feeling boneless and slightly winded.

Zayne pulls away panting, licking his lips, his eyes dark as an oil spill, completely devoid of light as he stares up at you, his gaze more licentious than you’ve ever seen it before. Even in the champagne-bubble weightlessness of your post-orgasmic haze, you recognize the crystalizing need in his movements as he releases your thighs, his handprints inked into your skin, red and fresh — you’re sure they’ll still be there tomorrow.

“H-how do you want me?” you ask, your voice a little slurred as he reaches up to wipe a thumb along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of your slick there, only to lean in and press his mouth to yours. You groan against him, the messy tang of your own juices sharp on your tongue as he kisses you, pressing you back into the mattress till you’re pinned beneath him.

“Just like this…” he whispers, and you marvel at the restraint still in his actions, even as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothing, tossing them off into the careless dark of the room.

There’s a moment, caught in-between one kiss and the next, where he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes so soft, his expression unguarded, where you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see yourself through his eyes, and a tender warmth spreads through you as you realize that this is what love has always meant to feel like. There have been fireworks, yes, and whirlwinds. There’ve been storms and sunny days. But there will always be moments like this, caught in the almost light of a moonless night, when you are so much more than the sum of your parts, added together.

When your bodies are more breath than air, skin and share, and all the parts of you that you might’ve wanted to hide from the world are here, collected in the negative space between your bodies, held and loved like buried treasure.

“I love you,” he says, quietly, simply.

You gasp as you feel him pushing into you, his cock stretching you till you’re nearly breathless.

“I — I love you too.”

Zayne nods, fucks into you till he’s bottomed out, and though you can feel his arms trembling with the effort, he holds still to let you adjust. And it’s not till you give him a tiny nod that he puffs out a held breath and pulls back to fuck right back into you again. You keen, head tossing back into the mess of sheets, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock as it drags along your clenching walls.

“I don’t — I won’t be able to —” he can’t make out a full sentence, but you don’t care, just the size and weight of him are enough to make your vision blinker out at the edges.

“Mm — h-harder — please Zayne —” and its his name more than anything that proves his undoing. He lets out a clipped grunt before straightening and pulling your legs up, shifting your hips till you’re flush against him.

“Y-yeah — I’ve got you —” he gives you calf a quick kiss before rucking his hips down, his cock ramming into your g-spot hard enough for you to see stars. And then hammering into you with a desperate speed, chasing his own pleasure and it’s all you can do to keep from being tossed over the edge, too far, too fast.

“Yes — yes — yes!” you’re babbling something, nails scrabbling at his arms, his chest, his back, at anything you can reach as he pummels your abused hole, bullying his cock deeper and deeper into you till you clench around him, your orgasm blazing through you even as he shows no signs of slowing down.

“It’s — you feel — so — tight —” his pace stutters, his voice breaking over your name as he hoists one of your legs over his hips, “I’m —”

You nod, reaching up to tug a strand of hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“I-inside — you can — want you to fill me up —”

Zayne keens, thrusting forward one last time before you feel him pulsing inside you, the warm spill of his cum stuffing you full till you can feel the remnants leaking down the curve of your ass. You bite your lips, swallowing hard as Zayne jerks into you a few more times till he finally stills, the pair of you both panting, your bodies sticky now with too many bodily fluids to count.

You let out a breathy laugh as he hisses, casting you a reproachful look.

“Y-you’re still hard…”

He sighs, nodding, “Yes… it’s one of the… more tedious side effects of the drug.”

He makes to pull out but you stop him, tugging him into your chest and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“You need to tell your R&D department that their antidote is very ineffective.”

Zayne chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, the pair of you now curled into each other, his arms around you, his twitching cock still pressed inside you.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to send them a memo.”

You nuzzle further into his chest but your eyes catch on the clock hanging on the opposite wall and you frown.

“It’s only been… 43 minutes?”

Zayne glances at the clock as well before turning his gaze back towards you.

“Seems so.”

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as you feel him throb once more inside you.

“How long… did you say the effects last for again?”

Zayne heaves a very serious-sounding sigh even as you adjust yourself to be sitting over his hips, his cock sheathed inside you as you plant your hands on his chest.

“The R&D department said anywhere from a few hours to…” he lets his words trail off, a devious glint flashing behind his eyes, “in the worst cases, a few days.”

You shiver as he casually settles his palms on your hips, rocking you forward and back. You let out a hitched moan as your over-sensitive clit drags along the skin of his lower abdomen and his cock jerks inside you.

“D-days?” you echo, swirling your hips around in a soft figure 8 that has him sucking in a harsh breath, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Y-yeah… I’m assuming your offer of help still s-stands?” he does his level best to keep his voice dry, but his breath hitches as you pull yourself up the length of his cock before slamming back down. And already, there’s that self-same hunger eclipsing the light in his eyes as he stares down at the place where a thick ring of white has formed around the base of his cock, more liquid seeping out of you with every moment you make.

“Mm — maybe I’ll need a f-few breaks but —” you whimper as he thrust up into you, his thighs clenching beneath you, “like you said w-we just n-need to ride it out, right?”

Zayne purses his lips in concentration as he roots his feet into the bed before fucking up into you once, twice, three times, bouncing you on his cock with the sheer strength of his legs and thighs.

“Right.”

all taglist pt 1: @faeryminnyx @trashkitty @sorapricots @tricia816xoxo @nayo3ns @veetallla @notfr0mh3r3 @sh4nn @animecrazy76 @celestialforce @celestialzdiviner @m00nchildwrites @glitching-wren @ivana013-blog @rafayelsgf @pikachuzhc @angellinnie @stardewy @zombigirlfriendsblog @storyland-ofstars @xxfaithlynxx @crazy-ink-artist

all taglist pt 2: @wowunreal @boobearymuch @livonianmaia @celestialmoni @colorfulgardenerduck @bunnylechef @rikiwaify-blog @deepspacewithrafayel @nogitsune-the @carrotsandkoos @stardustwtx @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies @simpingdailyforthem @love-and-deepstrays @small-fry28

the rest of the tags will be in the reblog!

[potaetopic]

whew, im grinning so bad

xnxx (m)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: pwp smut, drabble.

word count: 1.4k

warning(s): swearing, handjob, sub!jimin if you squint really hard. || unedited 

a.n: it’s a drabble so this one is short but i hope u enjoy it nevertheless!

Knuckles tapping lightly against the bathroom door remind Jimin that he’s not at his apartment and he’s definitely not alone as he would be on any Saturday morning. The previous night was spent at his best friend’s apartment; participating in nostalgic activities such as playing Monopoly, building forts, and listening to whatever pop music local radio stations insisted on playing thirty times in a row.

Jimin stood before the familiar bathroom’s sink and mirror and stared at himself, still wearing his pajamas from the previous night: a white t-shirt and plaid pants. He was only about to brush his teeth and shower afterwards, so it wouldn’t be an issue if someone were to—

“Come in!”

Keep reading

[saintobio]

the biker's book club, feat. l&ds sylus.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, biker au, 18+ tags. petnames (kitten), unprotected sex, spitting, hair-pulling, consensual filming, creampie, dirty talk, possessiveness, violence, slight yandere themes, impregnation notes. ik he’s probably into cafe racers but the sportbike enthusiast in me thinks biker!sylus is the m*tthew w*ods of l&ds, booktok/biketok girlies iykyk

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who collects liter bikes like they’re toys; he’d usually get rid of them as soon as he gets bored, but his current favs are his black & red edition fireblade, m1000rr, and superleggera v4.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who got famous on booktok overnight after posting a video of him riding his bike through the tunnel with a half-buttoned shirt. the view offered a peek on his toned chest and abs, leaving the rest to an innocent girl’s imagination. the comments on that post are wild, and the views went up to 2 mil in a day.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who broke numerous girls’ hearts literally a day after that post, revealing that he already has a backpack (you) and that his sunset and midnight rides are exclusively booked for his girlfriend.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who eventually taught you how to ride your own bike, gifting you a white N400 on your birthday—a bike he calls “too slow” for him, but is actually fast enough for a beginner like you.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who once chased a car for nearly rear-ending you on a red-light. as soon as he saw how the car almost hit you from behind, the loud and chilling roar of his bike bolted you in surprise as he accelerated to chase after the car, breaking the asshole’s side mirror, and teaching him a ‘lesson’.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who always keeps a possessive eye on you, always riding within his acceptable distance because the last time he allowed you to ride ahead of him, some guy on a Ford 150 tried to ask for your number, calling you a hot biker girl he hopes to have a ‘good time’ with. that didn’t end well for the poor guy, because the interaction was cut short when sylus revved his bike, lane splitting between you and the car, and running over the guy’s outstretched arm along the way. he might’ve broken a bone or two, who knows?

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who owns a springfield .45 gun, and claims he has no problems shooting another guy’s head if they dared touch even a single strand of your hair. he’s a very territorial individual and would not think twice on committing a crime if it meant protecting what’s his.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who’s hated by his neighbors, both because of how loud his bike gets in the morning, and how loud his girl can get during the evening. he doesn’t care though, because the sound of your moans were actually music to his hears. he swears he has to hear them every night or he won’t be able to sleep well.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who gets very kissy and touchy whenever you two arrive at home, unable to keep his hands to himself while you’re still parking your bike beside his. his lips would go straight to your neck, placing feathered kisses on your skin, tickling you with his warm breath as he tells you, “you know you’re mine, right?” of course you’d say you’re his. and he always follows up with a reminder, “good, because i’d kill any son of a bitch who tries to steal you from me.”

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who loves to fuck you raw, rough, and fast. he always had you gripping on the sheets, or scratching his back, or screaming out his name in a salacious escape to release your earth-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm. he always had your legs shaking, your body twitching, your breasts bouncing with each slam as he doesn’t stop pounding into you even after you came. he adores the sight of your beautiful, begging face each time he buries his hardened cock inside of your sweet, sweet pussy. “my kitten’s being too needy, huh?” he’d whisper to your ear before meeting your hips with another satisfying thrust. “always a slut for me.”

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who likes to spit on your mouth, pull your hair, and slap your bum. they’re some of his many kinks, and he can get nastier if he wants to, but he’d often say he’d rather save the best on your wedding night.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who enjoys filming your extremely erotic moments together, claiming that he needed to revisit those videos for when he misses you. his favorite content seems to be when he’s cumming inside of you, shooting every drop of his thick seed straight through your womb. kitten, you’re so tight, he’d think to himself. he goes even crazier for the view whenever he pulls out and sees his own semen dripping out of your swollen entrance.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who makes you breakfast the next morning after a long, passionate night. he always seems to cook the perfect pancakes, like he had specifically mastered the skill after you told him that pancakes were your favorite choice for breakfast.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who proudly displays you on social media, and bluntly rejects every girl who’d leave thirsty comments on his posts. he gets a little too sassy for their liking, but he doesn’t really give a damn about hurting another girl’s feelings if it were to protect yours.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who lets you ‘break’ his masculine ego by allowing you to paint his nails, give him skin care, or place cute, tiny, heart-shaped clips all over his hair whenever you were in the mood to. he’d just stare at you the whole time, amused at how you’d treat him like your own ken doll.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus whose immediate response when you told him you’re pregnant was “do you think it’s a baby girl?” there was no ounce of surprise in his eyes, no scintilla of worry at the thought of being an unexpected father, clearly, because he should already see it coming especially with how sexually active you two are. he really wants a baby girl, too. and a boy next. so while you were nearly horrified at seeing your positive pregnancy test thinking he’d ask you to terminate it, his calm and loving reaction to your unexpected baby was what made you realize that there was nothing else you could ever want in a man.

𓆩♡𓆪 biker!sylus who, on the very next day, asked you to try and test start your bike because he thinks something’s ‘wrong’ with it. you hurried to check your bike, of course. little did you know, the keychain strapped onto your key had been replaced, now with a new, embroidered keychain bearing the words, “marry me?”

[sylusdoll]

love language

headcanons of ways sylus touches you (fluff)

♡︎ hes a forehead kisser & a head kisser

♡︎ when in public you need to be holding him some way, either his arm, his finger or interlocking hands

♡︎ he asks you if he can kiss you before he does

♡︎ he likes putting his forehead on yours when hes feeling soft

♡︎ hes a cuddler; holding you tightly before bed always

♡︎ constantly cupping your face to admire you

♡︎ always pinching your cheeks when he has cuteness aggression with you

♡︎ pinches ur lips when you flirt back with him

♡︎ when you flirt back with him his ears turn red and he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat and what you do to him

♡︎ if its a chilly night and ur not wearing a sweater and he is, he holds your hand and puts it in his sweater pocket.

♡︎ when sitting face to face at a table, he likes to play w your fingers and kiss ur hand and maybe even take a bite

♡︎ always takes the opportunity to kiss ur neck when hes putting on a necklace for you

♡︎ likes to measure hand sizes

♡︎ if yalls faces are close to each other best believe hes going to bite your cheek

♡︎ when laying down in bed together and yall r just yappin away hes runs his fingers up and down your arm

♡︎ when he has cuteness aggression with you, he tunes out what youre talking about and just grabs your facing kissing your cheeks real hard

______๑♡⁠๑______

authors note: i want to be known as a soft sylus enthusiast

©sylusdoll 2024

taglist @sanemistar

[potaetopic]

damn, the last line.. caught me off guard fr

Hello! I was wondering If I could request? Yandere bts whoever you choose, where their darling has never cum before, experiencing it for the first time with them and overstimulation, getting dumb off of dick 🥰

yes we can! it wouldn't be us if we didn't add at least a little yandere to it

two sentence horror story

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin... @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @chimmy-licious

halloween masterlist

word count: 2.309

warning: dirty talk, humiliation kink, slight sadism, restraint, bound/gagged, pussy slapping, possessive/jealous seokjin, oral (f receiving), spitting, edging, yandere/dark themes, fingering, squirting,

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

Seokjin likes to think that he’s graced you with his presence. That you are lucky to have him - lucky to have someone so successful, handsome and rich. You were lucky to be his girl, someone who he spoiled with nice clothing and jewelry. He took you on expensively lavish vacations and dates. You ate only the finest food and drank the best wine the world has to offer. You didn’t even have to work, not while you were his girl and he had it - because that meant that you also had it.

But you did work, much to Seokjin’s dismay. You were a woman that didn’t need him to be dependent, no matter how many times he would place his credit card in your hands, you only ever used it on useless things such as gas for your car - the same car he wishes you’d get rid of all together. It wasn’t luxurious and it didn’t fit the look for someone like you - his girl.

Seokjin didn’t appreciate your lack of respect for him. Your refusal to quit your job, stating that you worked hard to get where you were at. So what? Thousands of girls would drop everything to be beside him like you were, and yet everything he did never appeared good enough for you. You didn’t need him like other women would’ve - and that is what upsets him. There was no control over you. You had your own money, car, home - what was he truly useful for if you didn’t need him for anything?

Seokjin had been lenient with you. Even as the months passed and the relationship grew, he had yet to bed you. He learned that you had little experience during one tipsy conversation and that’s all he needed to know to understand now. You couldn’t submit because there was never a reason to - no other man gave you what he could. You wouldn’t submit to a man that couldn’t even make you cum - how comical. 

“J-Jin…”

Seokjin hums, head snapping to your direction. You were always so beautiful to him. You didn’t have to try hard to catch his attention. Your glow was as bright as the sun, radiating off of you heavenly.

Seokjin could say he was a bit of a sadist. It’s another reason why he isn’t quick to bed you - you couldn’t handle then what he had it store for you now. He marvels at your oiled, naked skin, arms wrapped tightly behind you while your legs are spread apart widely, ankles tied beneath the bed post. 

“Remember how you told me you never came before?” Seokjin questions, learning against the bed frame to look down upon you. “That ex boyfriend of yours only cared about pleasuring himself, huh?”

Seokjin notes how you’re confused, wondering why he’s bringing this up now out of all times. 

“I saw you talking to him. It must be awkward working with an ex.” Seokjin’s tone is dangerously calm as he speaks, eyes glaring holes into your face for a reaction. “Is that why you don’t want to quit?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “I have to talk to him. He’s my coworker.”

Wrong.

Seokjin slaps his hand against your bare pussy harshly. You jump at the impact, eyes widening. “J-Jin-”

Seokjin slaps you again, and again. Each slap is harder than the last. You don’t notice the moans coming between your lips and just how wet you were becoming. Shivers erupt through your skin and it feels taboo just feeling this way; getting pleasure deprived from pain. 

“You’re soaked.” Jin chuckles, fingertips ghosting across your bulging clit. “I don’t believe you.”

You knit your brows in frustration - both sexual and irritable. 

“You and him had dinner.” 

The prints of Seokjin’s fingers place themself firmly against your clit. He rubs in slow, taunting circles.

“I-I…what?” You moan, hips buckling, arms squirming in the restraints. You’re unsure why you allowed him to have you in such a position. It was brought up randomly when you had come to his home and you’d admit that you were curious. 

“I-I…what?” Seokjin mocks, rubbing along your clit more roughly. “You aren’t a dumb bitch, Y/N. You know what I’m speaking of.”

Seokjin never spoke to you like this, but it was hard being upset when he was pleasuring while doing so. You bit your lip to suppress a moan. 

“A work dinner.” You pant, recollecting the only time you had seen the man outside working hours. “You followed me?”

Of course he had. Seokjin scoffs. You were his girl after all - someone he has graced his presence for. He allowed you into spaces other people could only dream of being in. 

“Have you ever been eaten out?” The question catches you off guard and causes you to grow hot with embarrassment. 

Seokjin hums upon your head shake and now he grows hungry, mouth salivating at the thought of tasting you. 

“Though you do not deserve it,” Seokjin lowers himself between your legs, eyes set right on your wet clit. You squirm once more, humiliated by him being so close to you. “I’ll just have a little taste.”

“Jin- oh!” your words are caught in your throat when you feel him - his tongue wet and warm against your clit. It flickers back and forth at a steady pace.

As for Jin, his nose touches the top of your clit as he dives deeper to have a taste of you. Having complete control over you is an added bonus while getting the chance to finally taste you. His tongue laps between your folds as your thighs quiver.

You gasp when Jin leans back to spit, then suckle onto your clit once more. He looks up, eyes watching the way your head falls back as you continue to moan.

“I-I think I’m gonna-”

“No.” Jin pulls back, lifting himself up and away from your clit. You shivered, feeling your high come crumbling down to a disappointing halt. “What do you two talk about?”

You swallow thickly, eyes flickering open. You’re panting as you speak. “N-Nothing but work.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jin tilts his head. His fingers are dangerously close to your clit once more. “There has to be a reason why you keep going back to work.”

You want to scream that it’s because it’s your job and you need it, but your mouth is shut. Jin fingers enter you swiftly and now he’s pumping inside of you. “You’re so wet that I was able to slide right in.”

Your walls clench around his fingers selfishly, wanting more and more. The pleasure is one you have not felt in a while - and even then it wasn’t like Seokjin’s. Your juices are coating his bedsheets, but he doesn’t care. The sight of you is utterly filthy and worth it.

“You’re going back to see him.” Seokjin’s thumb rests upon your clit as he pumps, rubbing in circles. 

Your eyes are clenched shut and your moaning increases. “Does it feel good, Y/N?” Jin teases - he knows it does. 

“Y-Yes!” you sigh. “So good.”

Jin removes his fingers from inside of you and slaps your clit harshly. You scream, tears lining your eyes. Your high once again came down, disappointed at the lack of pleasure.

“Why should you deserve to feel good?” Jin questions, his tone dark. “It’s not like you deserve it.”

Your eyes blink a few times to look at Jin. He appears serious, waiting for you to respond to him. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” you murmur to him, hands clenching in the restraints. 

Seokjin scoffs. “I want you to tell me why I should let you cum?”

You swallow. “You were the one that wanted to make me cum.” you hiss. You were growing frustrated with the man. He was hell bent on showing you how pleasurable sex could be and not one-sided - but now all it appeared to be was him questioning you about an ex you cared little about.

“Aw, feisty.” Jin cackles.

“If this is what you meant then maybe I could go to my ex.”

Your ears are ringing seconds after you snap at Seokjin, your cheek stinging. The room is eerily silent.

“You…” Seokjin’s tone is deep. The deepest you’ve ever heard it become. 

“Jin-”

Another slap across your cheek, and then another. You don’t manage to speak before Seokjin hovering above you onto the bed.

Seokjin pulls off his pants, underwear going right along with it. He has been lenient enough but your words angered him. To say such a thing to him when he’s allowed you to do what you wanted the entirety of the relationship was a slap to the face.

“I wanted our first time to be enjoyable.” Seokjin says. He spits at your clit once more - not because he needed to. No, you were wet enough, but because spitting on you was what he liked doing to show that you were his - he likes to say it’s a way to mark his territory. 

“Seokjin.” you attempt, but you’re squirming upon feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit. 

“If you cum along the way, that’s great for you.” Jin murmurs, cock now at your hole. He’s entering you slowly.

You widen your eyes at his words. Where was he going with this?

Jin snaps his hips inside of you. You scream out at the sudden impact. He removes himself just to do it again - this time grinding so deep that you swear you could feel him in your stomach.

Jin’s left hand grips your thighs while his right clamps down onto your mouth and just beneath your nose. Your eyes bulge at the sensation of him fucking you. He had no mercy, snapping his hips so roughly that the bedframe slams against the wall behind you.

“And to think I was going to let you keep that little job.” Jin chuckles and shakes his head. There’s already a white ring around his cock. “You’re creaming, baby. You’ve never been fucked this good, huh?”

Your throat groans a response, unable to do a proper one. Your eyes are rolling now, stomach churning. Your walls are clenching around him, suching him in for more.

“But after what you’ve said,” Seokjin pries your mouth open, entering his fingers inside. Your tongue swirls around this, tasting your juices. “I’ll never allow you out of here.”

Your mind isn’t registering his words - after all, you assume this was just roleplay. Men were into weird stuff. Instead you were busy groaning beneath him, toes curling. There’s drool dripping out of your mouth and down Seokjin’s wrist, but he doesn’t go to remove himself inside of you.

“Look at you!” Jin laughs, snapping his hips harder. “Cock drunk. You don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“P-Please let m-me cum!” you gurgle out. You could feel the familiar high bubbling once more, this time even more intense then the last two, 

“Why should I?” Jin removes his fingers from your mouth to cup your cheeks roughly. He was still pissed - and rightfully so. He was already upset that you were a whore enough to have dinner with your edx (colleague or not) and now you were begging him to have you cum?

“Please, Jin!” you feel hot tears pour from your eyes, so far gone that you don’t even realize that you’re crying from pure pleasure. 

Jin’s nails dig into your cheeks so deep that he notices that they begin to draw a pinch of blood. He growls low, feeling his own high coming.

Jin spits on you once more before capturing your lips in his, allowing a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s about to cum. He removes himself from you, cumming right onto your twitching clit, admiring how his cum drips off of you.

“I’ll let you cum, whore.” Jin murmurs, allowing four fingers inside of you now. The stretch causes you to scream once more, but he doesn’t care. He’s pumping inside of you without a care. 

You should be upset. You were being degraded and called out your name - you had spit running down your face. But you weren’t. You were far gone from your sanity, and the only thing you wanted now was to cum like he promised. 

“You don’t understand me now, Y/N.” Jin murmurs to you, eyes fixed on your soaking pussy. “But you’re not leaving. In due time you'll understand.”

“I-I’m cumming…!” you bite your lips, eyebrows knitting. 

Seokjin chuckles darkly, free hand going to rub your clit to bring you closer to your high. He feels you clench around his even tighter, head falling back against the headboard. 

Your juices squirt out, soaking him in the chest. It’s long and accompanied by a low shout.

Your breathing slows as your body twitches. You were feeling exhausted.

“Can you take these off?” you murmur after a few minutes of trying to compose yourself. 

Upon not hearing a response, your eyes blink open to find Seokjin.

“W-What-”

Your eyes are burning and now you’re screaming at the top of your legs. You pull at your arms to shield your eyes, but you are unable to. Your head thrashes back and forth in an attempt to get away.

“Now you can’t work if you can’t see.” Seokjin says in between your screams. “If you can’t see, then there’s no one else to look at.”

You’re crying, but even then it hurts. Your vision is blurred until it goes completely black.

“Now I can take care of you like I intended in the beginning.” Seokjin’s voice is now calm - peaceful. The one you recalled since becoming entangled with him. “Behave, or I’ll have to hurt you again. And I don’t want to do that, Y/N. I love you.”

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

He reminds you every day that if you misbehave, he'll take your hearing next.

[sluttsumu]

high for this - zayne

i just can’t stop thinking about dr. zayne.

personally i love a man with a phd but something about him is so inviting. behind that stoic demeanour is a stone cold freak, a pleasure dom if you will.

zayne is the best partner really; who else would be suitable enough to turn you out, other than a man whose studied the human body his entire career.

—

“no moreeee—” you drag, knees buckling around the vibrator he held right on your clit.

you’d been going at this for 30 minutes, and this little experiment of his is driving you nuts.

seeing how much he can repeatedly make you cum had been on his mind, he couldn’t help but put it to the test in the most efficient way.

“another one,” he repeated for about the fifth time. “you can give me another one sweetheart.”

he watched how your body reacted, how your breath hitched, voice cracked, muscles spazz, even they way you beg for him to stop just to want more in the end. it was quite analytical for him, but that’s just what comes with the job.

“i— ah— gonna cum, fuck! ‘m gonna cum— again..”

your incoherent babbles put a small smirk on his face, not that you can see it considering he’s seated behind you, toying with your pretty pussy in his lap.

“high on all that dopamine,” a slender hand reaches to your throat squeezing just enough to make you feel a little dizzy. “let’s give you some more yea? since you’ve been so good for me.” the euphoric bliss of reduced blood flow, and lack of oxygen to the brain — or more commonly known as asphyxiation.

you could feel the tightness in your head as your eyes roll back, a single tear streaming down the side of your cheek as your hips bucked, cumming for the fifth time in his lap.

as long as zayne had you in his grasp he’d give you the best orgasms until you found your favourite way to cum for him.

© SLUTTSUMU 2023

[syllikins]

You can't convince me that Sylus doesnt know anything.

He knows how he looks. How he says certain words. How he manipulates any situation to sound disgustingly nasty with and without context.

Sunscreen? Ear cleaning? Alright bud.

Day to day life with Sylus would be him making regular things oddly sensual for the hell of it because he likes seeing you embarassed. Before and after the 2 of you start dating he was already making you all tingly by helping you fold clothing or something. Just reminding you he is a man and he knows the 2 of you have some serious unspoken chemistry and sexual tension no matter how you try to shake it off.

"Its hot, help me unbutton my shirt."

He just wants to show off.

Help him apply some lotion?

He just wants your hands running all over his slutty waist.

You're onto him. And he pretends to be so innocent.

"But i just wanted your help" he practically pouts in his voice as he feigns ignorance.

Yeah whatever Sylus.

You love it though. You get to grab and feel a man like that? Where is the dotted line?

Help him fix his tie? This is just a little turn on for him.

Now he doesn't think it goes well with his outfit so he needs you to take it off.

You look so cute when you're frustrated.

Now he can gently caress your face as he whispers in your ear about how cute you look with your little attitude as you practically tear the tie off him and tell him to quit pestering you. But no need for you to be upset right? The tie has other uses.

He has to punish you for snapping at him about how difficult he was being earlier. But he really needed your help though?

Now you can't stop cumming from his fingers.

"Sylus- wait...i'm sorry.." you whine

You're terribly overstimulated.

"Hmm?" Like he didn't understand what you just said.

Aw too bad.

Your hands are bound by that acursed tie.

© syllikins 2024

[lalunanymph]

KITTEN, BEHAVE ☆

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ there are consequences to teasing your biker boyfriend...

⋆｡°✩ semi-public s/ex, fem!reader, biker!sylus, reader wears a skirt, reader's a nasty gal <3, undertones of dom/sub (sylus is one kinky mf), finger sucking, finger gagging, petnames (kitten, baby), fucking on his bike (hehe), c/um countdown, unprotected s/ex (wrap it up babes), sylus matches our freak perfectly, based on this thot i had

⋆｡°✩ dawn says: i've been a nasty girl ive been a nasty girl nasty nasty (sorry zayne)

Sylus isn’t one to find beauty in the mundane but the wind whipping past his frosty locks and your arms wrapped tightly around him makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

“Kitten, are you alright?” he calls over the lashing breeze. 

His leather jacket is ridiculously thick, but even through the material, he can feel the heat of your cheeks seeping through.

You always flush whenever he calls you your favorite pet name, and Sylus forgets that just like a kitten, you can be just as playful. 

A slender hand tipped with French nails slides down his torso, leaving blistering heat in its wake. The thin compression shirt he’s wearing under his jacket can barely fight off the warmth of your palm bleeding past the material and onto his skin.

His heart doubles in speed, and in response, he revs the N-907 Ultrabike, its wheels kicking up more dirt and dust. Linkon City speeds into a blur, White Coves’ beaches in the distance and to his right, Bloom Forest spreads her velvety green arms open for adventurous outdoor lovers to play in. 

Your hand trickles down his abs, stealing his attention back to your whims, and he smirks behind his visor when he feels your dainty, pretty little palm resting on the front of his pants.

Looks like the little kitten wants to play a dangerous game.

Two can play the same. 

Sylus pretends to ignore you, and he can tell it only frustrates you more when he remains stone cold and unmoving; a statue you’re trying to thaw.

Your free hand creeps under the hem of his shirt, and thank fuck the wind is too loud because a groan slips past his clenched teeth—it would be absolutely embarrassing if you heard it. His mind works doubly hard to focus on not crashing the bike, maneuvering it down the winding steep roads.

“I thought you said you wanted to take me for a ride,” your voice touches his heated ears, innocent and alluring. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, kitten?” He tilts his head back slightly and hears your snort. 

Your antics will never cease to amaze him. Whatever possessed you to be bold also eggs you on to be audacious. Your hands travel further up his shirt, pressing right onto his broad pecs and you smirk when you feel the bike wobbling slightly under his control.

“Kitten,” he hisses. “Stop it.”

But, you don’t listen to him. You never do. 

This insolent prey. He tries his damndest not to buck his hips when you start to rub his bulge, merciless with your teasing. Your other hand reaches up to his neck, where his favorite leather collar sits prettily on his defined clavicles, and tug on it, earning another hiss.

The bike skids to a stop and you’re not sure how you ended up pushed against the pillion seat, Sylus looming over you. He kills the engine and kicks down the stand, the sudden deafening silence exacerbating your heavy breathing. 

“Wait,” you squeak, and he shakes his head.

“No more waiting. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

Looking around in a panic, you notice that he’s parked the bike under a secluded shade of trees, next to an empty strip of road. 

This was the same route you took to the edge of the N-109 when you were given the mission to retrieve Sylus a few months ago. 

“Familiar, isn’t it?” He reads your mind with a dark chuckle. 

Those ruby red eyes bore into yours with the grace of a predator provoked, and you, his favorite prey, will finally get what you’ve been asking for. 

“I think it’s high time we recreated some memories from the first night we both saw each other,” he drags his palm up your bare thigh, making you shiver. “It’s a good thing you’re in a pretty little skirt, kitten,” he hums, pushing the hem of your leather mini skirt—a gift from him—out of the way. 

Sylus inhales sharply when he notices the micro thong you’re wearing which barely covers anything, his nostrils flaring.

“Insufferable.”

“Sy,” you whine, unsure what he's waiting for. It's never like him to play with his food.

The press of his bigger body on top of yours cages you to the pillion seat, the friction burning when he unceremoniously drags you closer to him. 

Those intense eyes seem to devour you, and for the first time since you’ve been together with him, you see a shadow of his villainous evil in them. 

“Is this what you wanted?” 

Is this what you’ve been begging for? 

Sylus wraps a hand around your throat in broad daylight, not caring for morals or decency when he squeezes. Hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head, regret streaming in for how you teased him earlier. 

“A-ah—” you choke lightly. “Was jus’ tryna play around.” 

Sylus ignores your whimpers, a bored look on his face as he loosens his fingers, letting you suck in a wheezy breath. 

“Little hunters never learn their lessons, do they?” 

He smirks unexpectedly. 

“Remember that night you tried to tame me during our interrogation? In the end, I was the one who had you screaming, didn’t I, kitten?” 

You did remember—of course, you did.

The shine of your boots spreading his kneeling thighs apart. Leather collar around a pale strip of throat you just wanted to suck on and leave a mark. His smug leers, those glowing ruby eyes that shone like dying embers when he finally snaps off the handcuffs you placed him in and pins you to the ground for a taste of your own medicine.

As much as you hate to confront the truth, it stares you down with an impassive face and dark eyes—a truth that breaks the delusion that you were the one in control when it came to Sylus. 

He touches your thighs, spreads them further. Bright sunlight speckles through the trees, casting webs of shadows across his crooked nose and high cheekbones. 

Sylus takes his time to peel your thong off, and you bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper.

“What? Don't tell me you're all shy now?” 

He snorts in amusement at your attempts to be innocent, prying your lower lip free, stroking the curve of your plush mouth with his thumb until you relent and suck on his digit docilely. 

While you’re not inexperienced when it comes to such carnal submission, it’s the first time you’re doing it outside of the bedroom where anyone could stumble upon the both of you. 

The thought makes your thighs tense and your needy pussy clench down on thin air, something that Sylus doesn’t miss.

“You like this, huh? Being slutted out so publicly… it turns you on to be so open to me.” 

He continues to push his thumb around your mouth; pressing down on your gums, flicking the tip of your tongue, inspecting the ridges and juts of each pearly white tooth. Intentionally drawing out your humiliation. 

Satisfied with the oral inspection, he removes his thumb, swiftly stuffing your protests with two thick fingers. 

“You say ‘no’, but I can smell that sweet little cunt getting wetter,” he murmurs, flitting his dark gaze right to your folds flushing readily with need; right to that cleft which houses his favorite hole.

Lewd doesn’t begin to cover how Sylus can treat you in bed. Outside the sheets, he’s content to play the role of your partner and friend, tagging along on your adventures and explorations. 

But the second he has you trapped in his bed, he becomes a different person. 

Meaner. Assertive.

Downright cruel. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” He goads, locks of silver hair falling across his damp forehead. Sweat dews across your chest, and you feel the heat of shame rising in you.

Sylus, I was just joking, you try to argue, but he’s not hearing it. 

“Didn’t seem like a joke when you were pawing at my cock earlier, kitten,” your lover hums, unable to take his half-mast red eyes off of you.  

He slots a hand between your thighs, and you swallow a cry when he drags your thong to the side, spreading your wetness around roughly with his thumb. Sylus rubs tight circles on your aching clit, forcing you to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Ssh,” he whispers when you give a tiny, choked cry. Sylus takes this chance to nuzzle your neck, inhaling your scent like a starved man. “We don’t want anyone to find us out, don’t we, kitten?” 

Evil, evil man. You bite on the inside of your palm to keep quiet when he lifts one leg to wrap around his narrow waist, effortlessly tugging his zipper down and freeing his cock. 

“One single sound and I will stop, do I make myself clear?”

There’s no choice but for you to nod. Sylus doesn’t waste a single second once he’s got you all nice and wet for him, grasping the base of his girthy and veiny length, stroking it a few times to make sure he’s hard and ready for you.

The thick tip breaches past your tight ring of muscle, and you bite down on a sharp gasp, squeezing your eyes close.

His breathing is getting heavier, and he curses the second he bottoms out in your tight heat. 

The bike begins to shake with every clean stroke, his thrusts making your toes curl and heels dig into his back. Luckily, the pillion seat is wide enough to accommodate your shaking bodies; never imagining for a single second that your lover would be boldly fucking you on it in the middle of a dangerous zone.

But, Sylus has always been like this—addictive, painful.

Dangerous. 

How he fucks you is no different. 

The blunt head touches the deepest spot inside of you, and you’re helpless to do anything but cling onto him like second skin, muffling your whines into his broad shoulder.

“Looks like the little kitten is enjoying her cream,” he murmurs, trailing his gaze down your body taking him so well. 

The veins on the back of his hands stand out, drawing your attention to him dragging the front of your blouse down, tucking your bra cups under your heaving breasts. 

Sylus’ mouth wraps around one turgid bud, sucking it till it’s shiny with his spit and throbbing from oversensitivity. 

He repeats the same motion on your neglected nipple, savoring your hitched breaths and muffled whines. 

Your thighs start to shake, and you turn your head to the side. 

Look at you, he coos and grabs your chin, forcing you to gaze at the spot between your thighs where he’s fucking into you. Look at how well you’re taking me. 

You’re so wet that droplets of white are trickling down your inner thighs, frothing into stickiness where his cock is rutting shallowly inside of you. 

“Sy,” you moan softly, eyes glossing over with tears of pleasure.

He loves how needy and pathetic you look for him with your swollen, parted mouth and tight nipples just begging to be pinched or flicked.

A furrow creases between his brows, drops of sweat trickling down his jaw. 

You surprise him by leaning forward, flattening your tongue and lapping it right up, shameless in your desire for him. 

“Naughty girl,” Sylus purrs, his red eyes darkening to an impossible black until you’re sure not a shred of your sweet boyfriend remains. Two thick fingers part your mouth open, sliding down your welcoming throat until he’s knuckle-deep in you.

Sylus chokes you out as his other hand trails down your body towards your clit, rubbing the flushed nub until your hips buck and you cry out; a master at bringing your body closer to the pleasurable brink. 

The tears beading in your lash line finally freefall down your face, triggering his devilish satisfaction. 

Returning the favor, Sylus licks them clean, chuckling cruelly at the arousal turning you cross-eyed. 

He loves it when you look this fucked out, and one day when you’re comfortable enough, he hopes you’ll relent to him taking a picture of that messed up, pretty face for his safekeeping.

Baby, you gurgle around his fingers. I’m close… 

Yeah? He goads. Gonna break for me? Come on this cock? Make a mess? Fuck—do it baby. Mess me up. Make me feel so good because that’s all you’re good for, huh? 

He grits his teeth, fighting back the cresting pleasure, needing you to come first.

Come on, baby. Come with me. Five… four… three… that’s it, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you. Don’t come until I reach zero. Fuck—that pussy’s so tight. Two… one… fuck, fuck. 

High strung keens are escaping past the cracks of his fingers stuffed in your mouth, your entire body shaking violently that Sylus thinks you’re being wrecked by an internal earthquake.

Zero. Zero. Fuck, baby. Come for me. Come on, give it to me. Give me that sweet cum. Yeah, that’s it, that’s it—

He grunts, his patience breaking, flooding inside of you in waves of heat; filling you up to the brim.

In this moment of weakness where anyone targeting him can put a bullet right through his head, Sylus thinks that if he dies right now, he would do so happily in your arms.

His forehead gently thumps onto yours and you must be as fucked up as him because you push his hair back, scratching his scalp lightly.

Your sculpted, 6’2 menace of a lover who’s seen death and destruction since the day he could speak, groans and nuzzles your cheek like a weak puppy. With every version of Sylus that you have seen before, this will always be your favorite one—where he’s comfortable enough to kiss you affectionately, bringing you down from the high.

He hums. “Satisfied?” 

Sylus would never say he loves you out loud—that’s not in his nature.

But, his actions scream louder than words when he adjusts your rumpled clothes and gives you a peck on your cheek.

“Do you still want to visit that mad scientist or should we scrap it for another day?”

The implicit invitation tempts you. 

A boring lecture or a whole day spread out on my sheets, kitten?

“Let’s go home,” you choose the latter, and Sylus tries his hardest to hide his smug smile when you refer to his penthouse as your own home.

“Of course. But, for the sake of not violating any more public decency laws, you better keep your paws to yourself until we get home, kitten.”

Proving your disobedience and your unwillingness to learn your lesson, you sink two fingers under his collar, dragging him close enough for your lips to touch. 

“That depends on if you can get us home fast enough, Sy.”

He takes it as a challenge, a grin touched with a hint of lunacy splitting across his face.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?” 

“No, I—”

He pulls you into a kiss, devouring your breaths until your lungs are filled with nothing but him, him, him. 

His fingers in your hair, an arm wound tightly around your waist so his favorite prey can never escape him. Sylus breaks off the kiss, ruby eyes like two bloody pools when he stares at your warm cheeks and puffy mouth. 

“You should know I always—always—win our petty bets.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated luvs <33

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or translate to another site

[mephisto-reporting]

Don’t Die on Me

About: You’re hurt—badly—wounded while shielding him from danger. As he rushes to your side, there’s a shift in his demeanor; he seems different, more vulnerable beneath his usual bravado. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Angst, injuries, mentions of blood.

SYLUS

The sounds of gunfire had finally faded into silence, leaving only the shallow, ragged pull of your breath and the press of Sylus’s hand against your side, trying to stanch the bleeding. You had been hit during the ambush, shielding him from a blast intended for his head—an instinct you couldn't explain, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Sylus's expression was a mask of controlled fury, his jaw clenched as he knelt beside you, his usual cocky, unyielding demeanor giving way to something sharper, darker, and far more personal. He applied pressure to the wound with a fierce intensity, almost as if he could hold you together through sheer force of will alone. His fingers, usually steady and sure, shook faintly against your skin.

“You’re a damn fool,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger and something else—something deeper. “I didn’t need saving. Have you forgotten that I can heal quickly!?.”

You managed a small, pained smile. “Maybe I did it for the fun of watching you panic for once.”

His hand gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face to meet his intense, searching stare. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you, kitten?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was laced with something raw, something unsteady.

“I thought… I had it under control.” you mumbled, trying for a smile, though even you knew how weak you sounded.

“Under control?” His laugh was short and sharp, a bitter edge in it. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sylus hissed through gritted teeth, his usual cool facade crumbling. He never panicked—not him, not the man who’d handed you a gun to his own heart just to see if you’d pull the trigger. But right now, he was faltering, his steps uneven as he pulled you closer. His hand, normally so sure, so controlling, was shaking against your side. “You think I wanted you to jump in front of me like that? What were you thinking?”

You tried to catch your breath, his words slipping past you in a haze. You knew the risks of sticking by Sylus, knew that you’d inevitably end up in danger—but you couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. “Had to protect you,” you whispered, voice barely a thread. “I couldn’t... let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something far softer, something unspoken. “Protect me..?” he repeated, his voice lower, and you could feel the barely-contained fury laced with worry beneath it. He was trying to keep his grip on his composure, but his eyes betrayed him. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he traced the edge of your cheek, the words slipping through clenched teeth. “You’re an idiot, Sweetie. A reckless, stubborn, damnably frustrating idiot.”

His expression twisted, the frustration in his eyes unmistakable, but there was something else too—something vulnerable, barely concealed beneath his usual scowl. You’d seen it before in the softer moments, those times when his hand would linger just a moment too long, or his voice would drop to that rare, gentle murmur. But this was different, more unguarded.

“Sylus…” you whispered, but he cut you off, pressing a hand to your wound. You stifled a gasp as his fingers met the raw injury, his jaw tightening in response, an unexpected flash of helplessness slipping through his mask.

“Quiet,” he muttered, his voice almost breaking. “You don’t get to talk right now.” He ripped off a piece of his sleeve, wrapping it tightly around your shoulder, though his touch was uncharacteristically tender. “This isn’t part of the plan, sweetie. You’re supposed to stay in one piece, just like I ordered.” The usual bite in his voice softened, desperation pooling in his dark gaze.

You chuckled weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but the pain pulled a groan from your lips instead. His expression grew even more intense, the hardness in his eyes melting into a quiet sort of anguish.

“Stop laughing. Stop… smiling like that.” His voice was fraying, edges cracking, a wavering panic he seemed unable to fully control. “You… you have no idea how hard it is not to tear this entire place apart for hurting you.”

The statement caught you off guard, and it must’ve shown in your expression because he let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that he’d never let you see before. It was strange to see him so unguarded, the man who played god in the N109 Zone suddenly grappling with the possibility of losing you.

The corner of his mouth twisted, and he tried for his usual smirk, but it faltered. “What would I do without you, hmm? My little hunter, so brave and foolish…” His words softened, and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, holding you securely against him as he continued on, urgency in every step. “You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

You managed to laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “Then… don’t let go,” you whispered. “Sylus…” Your voice was weak, your head spinning, but you reached up, brushing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw. His expression softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer.

“You’re… more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” he whispered, his voice breaking the slightest bit, but he forced a smirk, trying to hold onto his usual bravado.

“Guess I… picked it up from you,” you murmured, your vision growing hazy, but the warmth of his hand grounding you.

His grip tightened, and his lips brushed your temple, an unspoken promise lingering in the gesture. For once, Sylus seemed stripped of his dominance, his bravado washed away by the raw fear of watching you slip away. His hands shook as he held you, his mask cracking with every ragged breath you took. The man who’d taunted and tested you now held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable.

“Hold on, Sweetie… just a little longer.” he said fiercely, and in his voice, you heard something you never expected from him—fear. “I won’t let anything or anyone take you from me.”

XAVIER

Xavier’s arm is tight around you, steady even as he fights his own injuries. The blood trails hot down your side, and you can barely see it through the blurred edges of your vision, a dark stain spreading across your suit. Xavier’s face, usually a mask of quiet calm, is set hard with a sharpness that you rarely see. Xavier's hands, usually steady and almost uncaring, were shaking as he tried to press down on the wound at your side. You'd taken the hit for him, jumping between him and that blasted Wanderer with a split-second of hesitation—or none at all. He hadn’t expected it. Neither had you.

Blood soaked through his fingers as he crouched beside you, his face tight with a look you’d never seen. Fear, maybe—though he wouldn’t admit it.

"Why... did you do that?" His voice was low, but it felt like he was questioning the universe itself. His usually calm tone was laced with an edge that made you dizzy or maybe it was the blood loss, hard to tell.

“Instinct…?” you murmured, managing a weak smirk despite the pain slicing through you. “I know, I was a bit reckless.”

“Reckless isn’t... you bleeding out on this floor,” he muttered, pressing harder against the wound, a little too hard, but you didn’t have the strength to complain. “You should have left me to handle it.” His gaze softened when you winced, and he pulled his hand back, immediately brushing away the edge of guilt. Yet the blood still glistened darkly on his fingertips, his gloves, on the floor where you lay.

“It would’ve been worse if it got you,” you mutter, trying to summon even a hint of humor, though the attempt falls flat against the pain.

Xavier doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at you, and the deep space void reflected in his eyes almost draws you in. That familiar aloofness fades, and for a brief moment, his concern seeps through, raw and achingly close. He shifts his weight to press you more securely against him, his free hand gently adjusting the strap of your gear as if every second counts in keeping you here, anchored.

“Look,” you managed, reaching up, even if it took everything in you to keep your voice steady, “you’d do the same for me.”

Xavier’s mouth set in a thin line. You’d hit a nerve, that much was clear. Despite the unspoken rule between you two—the sidelong glances, the unsaid things—he wouldn’t entertain the possibility that he would have let you get injured in this manner on his watch.

“You don’t know what I’d do,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper. His words held a weight you hadn’t expected, making you look at him closely even as the edges of your vision began to fade. “And you won’t have to, because I'm getting you out of here.”

He hoisted you up, careful, gentle, though he flinched when you sucked in a breath from the pain. He started forward, one arm cradling you as he moved you through the wreckage of the battle toward the shelter of the shuttle. It was strange, seeing Xavier so unguarded, every step almost too fast as though he feared stopping would break you.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, voice low. You feel his breath, close enough to count heartbeats, to wonder if his pulse is racing like yours. The space between you feels impossibly small, and the silence stretches, vulnerable, bare.

You manage a faint smile, fingers brushing his, a silent reassurance even as the sharp ache of your wounds thrums persistently in your bones. “You know, if I’d known I’d end up leaning on you like this, I’d have come up with something... cleverer to say.”

To your surprise, he huffs a small laugh, his gaze softening. “You always talk,” he murmurs, with a hint of that familiar, boyish charm, though it’s laced with worry now. “Save your strength. I’ll get us out of here.”

You felt yourself drifting, and his voice brought you back.

“Hey,” he said, tightening his hold. “Stay awake. I can’t have you falling asleep on me now—I'm the one who does that, remember?”

His humor was strained, like he was grasping at something familiar to keep himself steady. You let out a soft chuckle, the sound weaker than you meant it to be. “Guess we’re trading roles today.”

There was a moment, somewhere between one step and the next, where he stopped. He looked down at you, his gaze intense. For once, his expression was completely open—his worry and something warmer simmering just beneath.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “Not here. Not now. Not ever.”

You felt a wave of heat rise within, one that made the pain more bearable, somehow grounding. Before you could respond, he resumed his pace, carrying you as if you were the most precious thing in the galaxy.

The world swayed, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, but you forced yourself to focus on him, on the boyish charm that hid beneath his cool exterior. “Xavier,” you rasped, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

“Just keep looking at me,” he replied, his voice steady. “We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

In the quiet of the shuttle, as he set you down and the medics began patching you up, you felt his hand graze your cheek, lingering just a little too long. You dared to meet his gaze, and for once, Xavier’s eyes didn’t look away. They softened, and the smallest hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Next time,” he said, voice warm with unspoken promise, “let me protect you.”

RAFAYEL

The harsh winds of the remote village howled around you as Rafayel’s face loomed over you, more serious than you’d ever seen it. You hadn’t intended for things to get this bad, but the ambush from the Wanderer had been swift and brutal, and you’d thrown yourself between its claws and Rafayel without a second thought. A mistake, maybe—though you could hardly think of it as a mistake, even now, lying on the cold, unforgiving ground with blood soaking your side.

“Damn it, stop being so heavy,” Rafayel muttered, though his voice trembled, barely hiding the edge of panic. You glanced up, expecting his usual smirk, his smug teasing, something bratty, but his face was blank—frustrated, pale, and determined in a way you’d never seen.

“S-sorry to inconvenience you,” you managed through the haze of pain, trying to keep it light. “But I think I lost quite a bit of blood back there.”

Rafayel’s usual smug charm was gone. His carefree expression had twisted into something you couldn’t place—anger, worry, a flicker of panic as he knelt down beside you. He pressed his hands over the wound, and though it was uncharacteristic, there was no teasing, no insults, just an almost frightening intensity. “You… Why did you do that?” he demanded, his voice low and jagged, as though the question alone might tear him apart. “Do you think I’m some helpless damsel? You could have been killed.”

Your breath hitched, and you were grateful that it could just as easily be the pain causing it. Still, you shrugged, or tried to, but your body had other ideas, and you stumbled. Rafayel caught you, his arm firm around your waist as he steadied you. You managed a weak smirk, though the effort cost you. “Guess… I wanted to make myself useful as a bodyguard, for once,” you rasped, feeling the humor fall flat even as you said it.

“Useful?” His eyes, normally filled with a cocky gleam, were sharp with frustration. “Throwing yourself in harm’s way is your idea of useful?” He gave a dry, humorless laugh, his hands applying pressure that made you wince, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You’re dumber than I thought. The one time I actually need you to stay out of my way, and you—” He broke off, swallowing hard, his fingers trembling ever so slightly against you.

“Don’t… act like you care now, Rafayel,” you murmured, half-teasing, though the words came out weaker than you meant.

His face twisted, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected—hurt, genuine and raw, like you’d struck a nerve. “Idiot,” he whispered, and his tone was so low it was almost drowned out by the wind. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get… what?” You were slipping a little, your vision swimming, but you caught his gaze, and for the first time, you saw past his bratty facade to something deeper. He took a breath, his jaw set in determination, and then he did something you never expected: he carefully scooped you into his arms, his hold gentle yet fiercely protective.

“Stay awake, all right? I can’t have you passing out on me,” he ordered, though his voice had lost its usual bite. His words were soft, desperate, as he moved through the bleak landscape, carrying you with a carefulness that belied everything he usually projected. For a long moment, you stared at him, the pain numbing under the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t the bratty, arrogant god who’d dragged you into mess after mess. This was someone else—someone who, behind the charm and teasing, was scared. For you.

"Idiot," he muttered, his words a tangled mess of relief and frustration. “Why would you do that?” He repeated.

And you almost laughed, wincing through the pain, because wasn’t it obvious?

“Because… I care,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper. It was the closest you’d come to admitting the truth—to saying what had long hovered between the two of you, unspoken, stubbornly denied.

"Just shut up for once,” he whispered, his voice strained, almost a plea. “You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like.” His arms tightened around you, as if holding you close could somehow protect you from the damage already done. “You… throwing yourself in front of me like that—do you have any idea how reckless that was? I didn’t need you to… risk yourself.”

“Couldn’t let the prince of the art world get scratched up… on my watch,” you said, trying to maintain your humor.

Rafayel glanced down, his usual piercing eyes softening, his expression raw. “If you’d died, I wouldn’t…” He paused, his gaze slipping away, the words seemingly caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” he finished, barely audible.

You managed to brush a finger along his wrist, grounding yourself, anchoring him to you. “You’ll… still have the sea. And everyone to charm.”

For once, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked down at you, and his eyes were so intense, so filled with something you’d never seen before. “None of that matters,” he murmured, his voice raw. He shifted, his hand grazing your cheek, lingering there for a moment too long. “Stay awake,” he commanded, a note of urgency threading through his tone. “You can’t just pass out on me. Not like this.”

You blinked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the clouds casting a warm glow around his figure. “Not… gonna pass out,” you whispered, though it felt like a lie even to your own ears. You could see the worry etched across his handsome face, something raw and unfiltered. “You need me for your—”

“Stop it!” he snapped, but there was no bite in his voice, only a desperate plea. “You don’t get to joke around right now. Not when you’re bleeding out.”

“Rafayel…” you began, but he cut you off, a flicker of his old bravado returning.

“Save your strength,” he snapped, though the edge was softened by concern. “I’ll get you out of here, but you have to stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you managed to murmur, your vision dimming as the waves of unconsciousness tugged at the edges of your mind. “Not without you.”

“Good,” he replied, and his voice was fierce and unyielding. “Stay alive,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, eyes dark with something he couldn’t bring himself to name. “For me.”

ZAYNE

The world felt hazy around you, pain ebbing in and out of your awareness as Zayne held you steady, his hands pressing firmly yet gently against the wound on your side. Blood smeared across his fingertips, but he kept his touch steady, calculating, his focus a perfect picture of surgical precision.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice level, his eyes fixed on you with a fierce intensity. “I need you to keep talking. Tell me if you’re feeling dizzy or lightheaded, alright?”

You managed a faint smile, ignoring the way your own breaths came shallow and broken. “You’re… really good at this,” you tried to joke, but Zayne only shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. “You should become a doctor...”

“Don’t push yourself to talk. You’ve taken a nasty hit here.” His voice was calm, almost clinical, but you could see the strain in his jaw, the telltale flicker of worry in his eyes. His hands, however, were as steady as ever, working methodically as he inspected the wound, gauging the damage with the supplies he always seemed to have at hand.

“Think of it this way," he continued softly, his calm tone soothing despite the urgency of the situation. "The wound isn’t too bad—lucky hit. If we keep steady pressure on it, there shouldn’t be significant blood loss. You’ll be fine. But you have to focus on breathing for me, alright?”

He was explaining everything, his voice filling the air like a familiar, grounding hum. His hands, wrapped around the fabric of his jacket pressed to your side, were warm, almost protective. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingertips, but he moved with absolute control, unwilling to show even a hint of panic. His gaze flicked up to yours for a moment, his expression softening despite the tension in his features.

“I warned you about being reckless,” he muttered, his tone more of a gentle chide than anything else. “But it’s not the first time, is it?” The slight quirk of his lips, a half-hearted attempt at a smile, almost made you forget the pain. Almost.

“Couldn’t let you get hurt,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“Hold still,” he ordered softly, his voice low and steady as he worked to stop the bleeding. His fingers were meticulous, his hands steady, despite the fear you could feel radiating from him. He couldn’t afford to let it show, so he did what he knew best: he relied on the calm, clinical precision that had carried him through countless surgeries. "The wound's not fatal, but you’re going to need stitches. I’d say you’ve torn through the muscle here by… at least an inch or two.” He let out a breath through gritted teeth, looking pointedly into your eyes. “I can’t believe you tried to shield me from that Wanderer."

Despite his calm, you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that betrayed itself in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands lingered just a moment too long against your skin, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

As he applied pressure to your wound, his tone softened, more to himself than to you. “You’re lucky you didn’t rupture an artery,” he said, hands deftly inspecting the injury with precise, practiced movements. “If this were any worse… I’d be looking at a very different situation right now.” His voice wavered on that last note, but his hands stayed steady, not allowing a single tremor to betray him.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m going to make sure of that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze holding an intensity that went beyond the practiced care of a surgeon. “You’re not allowed to play the hero, you know?. And if you’re trying to impress me… then I’d say you’re not required to be reckless for it.”

“Zayne…” you murmured, feeling the darkness pressing in at the edges of your vision.

“Keep those eyes open,” he whispered, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. “Stay with me. I’ll… I’ll get you out of here. But I need you to focus.” His thumb gently stroked your temple, his touch tender yet steady as he leaned close, his forehead resting lightly against yours, just for a second, as if grounding himself, too.

You managed a faint smile. “Didn’t know you were the boss of me, doc.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t look up. “Believe it or not, I have plenty of experience bossing you around.” He kept talking, his voice low and clinical, grounding you in the familiar, steady cadence

“You always said I was a terrible listener.” Your voice softened as you felt his hand linger, his thumb grazing your skin in a gesture far more affectionate than necessary.

“This isn’t funny.” He met your gaze then, a look so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. “Breathe,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady, despite the chaos swirling around you.

You could see the fear lurking in his dark eyes, a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. But it didn’t matter; his touch was methodical, reassuring, his fingers steady as they pressed against the injury.

“Zayne… the others—”

“Forget them.” His voice was firm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of panic as they darted around the shop, assessing the situation even as he tended to you. “I need you to focus on me. You’re the priority right now.”

You could feel the warmth of his hand against your side, but it was not enough to push away the chill creeping into your bones. “But—”

“Enough.” He pressed down harder, and you gasped, but he didn’t relent, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “You can’t help anyone if you bleed out here. So please, stay with me.”

The adrenaline coursing through your veins faltered, and all you could think about was how you had protected him—how you had jumped in front of the danger without a second thought. The sight of him, typically unflappable, now uncharacteristically tense, pulled at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to form the words.

He shook his head, an intensity burning in his gaze. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to apologize. Not when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out for me.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering. “I’m not letting you leave me. You hear me? We still have so much left to do together.”

You could feel the world slipping away, darkness creeping into your vision, but his voice anchored you. “Hey… Don’t let go.” he murmured, using the nickname he reserved for the most intimate moments. “I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[shouyuus]

─── 恋与深空 APHRODITE MADE ME!!

a mini-series of aphrodisiac-centric fics for our lnds boys bc how else do we celebrate kinktober if not under the influence? here you'll find fics that contain: sex pollen, heat-sex, and not one but two instances of sex-drug induced coitus -- don't say i didn't warn you now!

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged in one or all of these fics! cw and specifics below the cut. pls do have an age indicator on ur blog somewhere if ur asking to be tagged! your my mileage may vary in getting these fics out though, bc the muse is sporadic at best and nonexistent at worse, but i'll eventually have all these written... for sure! also, these summaries/tags might change slightly as i actually start to write the fics to better fit the content, but the broad storkes (ha! get it) won't change :) and without further ado -- here we go!

─── 黎深 ZAYNE

doctor, doctor!

he's not one known for overindulgence, so when he comes home from the hospital one day with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes, you're understandably wary of his claim that he's just fine. but a few more minutes of probing reveals that he'd signed up to test a developing cure for a new strand of black-market aphrodisiacs on himself — well, you think, you might be just the person to nurse him back to health.

cw: knowing use of sex drugs, needy!zayn, internal creampies, handjobs, oral (fem receiving), face-riding, missionary

─── 祁煜 RAFAYEL

so it's that time of year again, except this year on ebb day, he's acting stranger than ever, begging you to touch him, to stay close — it isn't till he'd panting beneath you that he finally tells you the truth, that a lemurian in love reacts to ebb day differently. how differently? well, you're about to find out.

cw: heat!sex, premature ejaculation, power bottom!raf, switch!reader, cowgirl, oral (male receiving), abo-adjacent dynamics

─── 沈星回 XAVIER

it's not often that you come home to find xavier sprawled out on the bed, moaning your name, fucking his fist to the thought of you, but when you do, you can't help but wonder — what brought this on? turns out a lumiere fangirl handed him a box of chocolates and he didn't think twice about eating them. so, what better punishment is there than to let him look but not touch?

cw: unknowing use of sex drugs, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, dom!reader, sub!xavier, orgasm denial, footjobs, bit of aftercare

─── 秦彻 SYLUS

when the twins drag sylus back, squawking about how he nearly got shot, you're more than a little worried. but it quickly becomes apparent that what sylus got shot with wasn't just any normal bullet, and it won't be fatal. but, it is going to be a long, long night, and being the caring captive that you are, what to do but to dress his wounds and help him work through whatever it is that he needs working through?

cw: sex pollen, dom!sylus, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, rough sex, doggy style, creampies, backshot, hair-pulling, biting

[potaetopic]

yes, i do enjoy this v much. thank you for making my morning better

LOVE ME | JJK

୨୧ I guess I'm just a sucker for love.

this is a part of my drabble series, read more here!

Jeon Jungkook is so dead.

You don't care about the fact that you're barging through the men's locker room or that fifteen pairs of eyes are on you as you walk past them and right up to a smug face that lights up when it sees you.

"Hey, baby."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you come to stand right in front of him. The height difference has your head tilting up.

"Did you like the flowers?" he asks, throwing a shirt on over his head. His hair is wet from a shower, that along with the smell of his soap is making being mad at him all the more difficult.

"Yes, they were beautiful. Thank you," you grumble, feeling your goal slipping away from you with every word.

You'd barged in here, flustered after what had happened just mere moments before, but Jungkook had a way of distracting you and making you lose all rationality.

Jungkook was captain of the hockey team, and you'd come to watch his game like the proud girlfriend you were.

Never one to parade your relationship around, not many people knew that you and Jungkook were dating. He was popular and major-league bound, so you weren't the only one with his name and number on your back, so you weren't worried about being called out.

However, someone had other plans.

At the beginning of the game, someone had handed you a bouquet of flowers, with a suggestive note from Jungkook detailing what he wanted to do if he won. You rolled your eyes despite the smile on your face and pocketed the note.

After three periods on the edge of your seat, Jungkook scored the game-winning goal. Everyone in the stadium had erupted in their seats, screaming and cheering, and just as the noise had started to simmer, Jungkook lifted his hockey stick and pointed it right at you, yelling out 'I love you, baby!'.

The stadium had erupted again.

Your cheeks had never been so hot, thankfully the stadium had cleared out not long after the whole incident.

You immediately went down to the change rooms to give him a piece of your mind. You were lucky that you'd barged in when all the guys had at least boxers or more on.

When Jungkook first saw you, he was surprised, but a part of him knew you would have something to say about his declaration of love on the ice.

Your fire was one thing he loved about you most.

When you came storming in, looking like you were ready to tear him a new one, he was smitten. He didn't care if his friends were watching, or the fact that he knew they would give him shit for it later, Jungkook didn't care.

When you're in front of him, little else matters.

"Did you enjoy pulling that little stunt?" you ask, resolve already crumbling as Jungkook wraps his arms lazily around your waist, holding you flush against him.

"I did, actually," he replies smugly.

"I got to tell the world that I'm in love with you."

Ugh, you hated his charming words.

"Now all your fangirls will be after me," you joke, deciding to abandon your fake annoyance. It's not like you were getting anywhere anyway.

"You don't need to worry about them. You know you're my dream girl."

By now, the rest of the guys have moved on, deciding to give you two some privacy as they finish getting changed. Not that you're paying them any attention when Jungkook is right in front of you.

"You're so cheesy, Jeon Jungkook."

Your words carry a teasing tone to them, despite the butterflies that erupt in your chest at just how much his words affect you.

The smiles on your faces are identical as Jungkook leans in for a kiss.

"What can I say? I'm just a man in love."

short lil drabble for you guys, let me know if you enjoyed it :)

🏷️ : @moonstar127 @royallyjjk

[cosycafune]

HE'S ALWAYS WATCHING...

sylus has issues with your absence. therefore, he takes matters into his own hands — cooling the aching from the wound you leave behind. acts: aftermath of intimacy, confusion, angst, and stalking.

a/n: I’d write more for him, but they need to release him first.

Precise, Sylus distributes his crow — searching for a vacant you. Not an ounce of your soul remains before him, just the crumbled up bed sheets you had left beside him. To him, he felt slight unease. Yet, a cruel grin contains his lips — falsifying his usually stoic front.

Calculated, crowded by solitude, Sylus looks around the room. An odd surging clings to his caged heart. Everything in Sylus longed to let his heart burst out of his chest, to chase you until the world’s destroyed. However, you slipped away again.

Searching for you through his crow, Sylus finds himself rendered helpless — stained with the sin of your departure. An uncomfortable sensation tints him, causing Sylus to angrily glance at your tattered side. To think that you’d leave, not wishing him a goodbye or something valuable he could hold.

How could you sleep with him and flee?

“Of course,” Sylus’ voice strains mildly before composure consumes him.

Though he’s nude, written with love bites, scratches, the essence of your intimate love, he still feels alone. Even as his discreet crow finally picks up on you, he’s still left with the scenery of you smiling. Smiling, smartly dressed — waving goodbye in ways you couldn’t do so with him.

He’s always watching…you.

—

do not copy, modify or claim my work as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024.

—

[sylusdoll]

bf sylus headcanons ♡︎

- he’s a biter, likes to bite your hand, cheek and fingers

- wears a ring with your name engraved on the inner part

- very serious about you

- likes when you wear heels bc he knows your feet are going to hurt later, which means he can carry you on one arm, holding your heels on the other

- he always buys you expensive things

- gets offended when you want something cheap

- pays for your nails and other maintenance things

- genuinely gets mad at you if he finds out you paid for yourself one day

- he loves it when youre holding his arm, or any of his fingers when walking out n about

- when it comes to you he gets cuteness aggression which results him in pinching your cheeks a little harder than he intends

- he’s obsessed with your face, when you’re talking he’s just deeply admiring you which makes him unconsciously pinch your lips

“???”

- gets really offended when you don’t give him attention

- despite his exterior he’s a softy

- always puts his hand on top of your head and ruffles your hair a bit

- you get annoyed and then he fixes up your hair for you

- gets very moody when you both get into an argument he makes it everyones problem ( luke and kieran suffer the most )

- luke and kieran literally have to beg you to talk to him

- when you makeup, hes quiet and his eyes soft, very glad that you aren’t upset with him anymore

- whenever you hangout he hands you a rose

- always puts his coat over your shoulder on chilly nights

- when hugging you he lifts you up a bit

- gets very lovey dovey when sleepy, multiple light forehead kisses and on your temple moving down to your eyes and cheeks

- puts your hand on his heart whenever you make him feel something

- always tags along when shopping and helps you pick and choose

- always makes you coffee/tea in the morning

overall he’s head over heals for you, if you asked him to kill for you he would, when it comes to you he’s a big softy, the way he looks at you and the way his eyes soften, confirms you are his moon, stars and universe.

────୨ৎ────

authors note: i had a lot of fun making this, hope it got you feeling a little smth (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

©satroucat 2024 all rights reserved; pls do not translate, plagiarize, repost on other platforms.

[potaetopic]

when i just woke up from my 15-minutes nap, to be greet by this? ure making me softer than a puddle

pairing: yoongi x reader word count: 2.4k genre: roommates to lovers summary: You knew your roommate could cook, and could cook well. You’d never expected him to hand-feed you one of his creations at 7pm on a Tuesday night, though. tags/warnings: kissing, domestic!yoongi

A/N: It's been a while! Hope everyone has been keeping well xo. Also laugh at the title of this fic because I'm hilarious.

The first time he does it, it shocks you. 

He’s cooking across the kitchen as you do your schoolwork at the table, and then suddenly he’s interrupting you with a spoon to your lips, one hand underneath it so as not to spill the broth on you or on the floor. You’re so surprised that all you can do is open your mouth as he feeds you the soup he’s been working on, his eyes expectant and waiting as though he hadn’t just spoon fed you intimately in the middle of your shared kitchen.

Your mind fills startlingly quickly with painful thoughts of domesticity, and pushing them away feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

Watching Yoongi cook. Cuddling with Yoongi on your couch after you’ve eaten dinner together. Doing... other things with Yoongi. Doing things to Yoongi.

You’d moved in with Yoongi months ago on a friend’s recommendation. You’d only met him briefly a couple of times, but he was friends with your friends and you were both looking for a room off campus for your last year of school, so it had worked out well. You’d always thought he was cute from the few times you’d met, but hadn’t thought anything more of it until you’d gotten to know him through late night talks and grumpy mornings. You definitely have a crush on the handsome dark-haired, brown-eyed man now – he’s smart, has the funniest dry humour, and he can cook. 

That last one had been a huge blessing for your tired evenings after class, though you’d never expected him to hand-feed you one of his creations at 7pm on a Tuesday night.

Contrary to how you’re suddenly feeling with him so close to you, spoon still mid-air after leaving your mouth, the man in front of you doesn’t seem fazed at all. He just waits for your response, raising an eyebrow when you’ve long since swallowed and haven’t spoken, and you’re suddenly jarred into action. 

“Oh,” you sputter. “That’s really good, Yoongs.”

Though all you’ve offered him in your daze is the barest minimum of a compliment, he still smiles, pleased. 

“Thanks,” comes his easy reply. “I’m trying something new.” With that, he moves back to the stove, and you’re left completely dumbfounded. 

Due to some kind of strange, unspoken agreement, taste testing for Yoongi becomes a bit of a habit after that.

Now that school is done for the summer for him, Yoongi has a lot more free time. He either spends it making new music, sleeping in, or cooking something new for the two of you. Every night when you come home from your summer classes, he’s hard at work in the kitchen making dinner. 

It’s become so natural. You come home and settle down at the table, where he intermittently feeds you spoonfuls of the dish in progress as you study, pausing your work for a minute or two each time so you can try to guess what he’s making. You guess wrong, he teases. You guess right, you’re rewarded with a soft smile that does wonders to your insides.

You’re so desperate for your new little domestic routine that you start planning brunch dates with your friends instead of dinner dates so that most of your evenings are free to run home. The nights that you are forced into commitments, you still come back to a container full of whatever Yoongi had made that night in the fridge, always packaged neatly for you in a plastic container to take to campus for lunch the next day, and always topped with a simple, Yoongi-esque note. A smiley face, an exclamation point, five exclamation points when it’s something extra good. 

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little bit scared by how easy it is to be with him like this. To let him care for you like this. It’s comforting. It’s warm. It’s you and Yoongi, the same as you’ve always been, except that now it feels like a whole lot more. It feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

And it’s terrifying. 

You’re not sure what to do about it, and what’s worse is that you have no idea if he’s felt the shift, too.

You wake up one morning after a drunk escapade had forced you out of the house the evening before, your head pounding but the rest of you surprisingly unscathed. As you swallow down an Advil from the bottle on the nightstand beside your bed, you register noise from the kitchen, and your eyebrows furrow. 

You find your phone amongst the rumpled sheets, wincing at the bright light of the screen. 9:13am. What was Yoongi doing up so early on a Saturday? You're suddenly hit with the smell of cooking, and you climb out of bed in confusion, leaving your room to follow the scent down the hall.

You enter the kitchen, brows furrowing when you find him just as you’d predicted – by the stove. His back is to you, and you really can’t figure out what he’s doing at this hour. He spares you a quick glance over his shoulder when he hears you walk in. 

“Morning,” he offers.

You hum in response, still confused as to the reason for his early morning kitchen adventure, but you can’t help but take a second to admire the expanse of his back in the white t-shirt he’s wearing. You barely register the apron tied around his waist, even though it’s unusual of him to wear one (“I like the danger”, was what he’d told you once when you’d suggested maybe not cooking while wearing a white t-shirt and no apron). You think nothing of it, though, too preoccupied now with admiring the way his butt looks in his favourite black track pants. 

“What are you making at this hour?” You finally ask as you slide into a chair at the table.

He sends you another glance before responding, “Banana French toast.”

You blink. 

You’d been expecting something extravagant. Yoongi never makes breakfast - he much prefers to sleep in – so you’d assumed he’d had a crazy, wacky idea for something amazing that couldn’t wait. But instead, he’s just told you that he’s making your favourite breakfast, a simple dish that requires very little effort on his part. One you could easily have made yourself. You’re even more confused now – not only does Yoongi hate mornings more than anyone else you know, he also hates not challenging himself.

“You texted me last night that you wanted your favourite French toast when you woke up.”

He seems to have noticed your prolonged silence as he quietly offers up an explanation. You register his words for a minute before you wrack your brain. Unfortunately, your memory of the night before is hazy at best. You remember texting him that you were on your way home, but that was it. 

“Oh,” you say after a moment. “I don’t remember.”

“Yeah,” he turns around now, eyes finally meeting yours. He pauses before he adds, “You asked for some other stuff, too.”

The quiet, slight teasing tone of his voice makes your heart start to pound hard against your chest, and it takes all the strength you have in you not to scramble back to your room to check your phone. Panic begins to ease its way into your veins, and you feel lightheaded (not from your hangover, either). You’re desperate to know what other dumb shit you said… but you really don’t want him to know just how desperate, so you stay put. Completely frozen in your kitchen chair, at Yoongi’s mercy.

“Do you want me to give you a recap?” As if reading your mind for the second time that morning, he speaks again. His face is serious, but his eyes are teasing as he gazes at you.

“I don’t know…” you begin slowly. “Do I?”

He lets out a soft laugh at that. “It’s up to you.”

You let it all simmer for a moment. Apparently, you’re silent for too long again, and so Yoongi takes matters into his own hands – again. You look up in surprise as he slides his phone across the table to you before returning to the stovetop. You hear the click of the stove as he turns it off, but you barely register it. Your eyes are on his phone screen, heart thrumming in your chest as you see he’s opened a text thread for you to read. 

Y/N: immmm so so so drunk!! Y/N: m’y little chef can u pls make me my FAAAVoueite French toast tomorroe?? When I wake up Y/N: i love You. I’m in looooove with u Y/N: and your food. Both you and the food are equally yummy ;) Yoongi: damn, how much did you drink? Y/N: :))))))) Y/N: so is that a yes?? I want yummy food and yummy Yoongi when I wake  up!!! Yoongi: of course it’s a yes haha Yoongi: yummy Yoongi, huh? Y/N: 🥵🥵 Y/N: OMG!!!! can u wear my flower apron while u make my French toast you’d look so cute Yoongi: haha, anything for you  Yoongi: get home safe 

You can’t breathe. There’s no way you’d outed your crush on Yoongi through a drunk text. You wish for the floor to swallow you whole. You can feel his eyes on you as you process, and you don’t know what to do. You’re frozen.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally manage. 

There’s a pause. “Why’s that?” 

You look up to see that he’s still looking at you, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His voice is teasing still, and he’s got a soft smirk on his face. You don’t know what to say, so you look back down, re-reading the traitorous text thread. You finally shove the phone back in his direction, your head falling down dramatically to rest on the table. 

“Y/N.”

You let out a whine in response, and he has the audacity to chuckle. 

“What do you think of my outfit?”

At his words, you slowly lift your head, eyes landing on where he still stands by the counter. As you scan his figure, it abruptly dawns on you that he’s most definitely wearing the apron you’d mentioned in your drunken texts, and your wide eyes fly to his.

He smiles, raising his eyebrows as he asks, “Do I look as cute as you imagined?”

Was he joking? Was he teasing you? Was he mocking you? Your cheeks are flushed crimson as you reply, “Don’t be an asshole.” Your voice comes out weaker than you want it to, but you can’t help it. You feel faint.

“It was a serious question.” Okay, so he’s definitely teasing you. 

You’re on your feet now, and you feel dizzy. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” you mumble as you turn to leave. You’re terribly hurt and confused by his response, and you think you need to lock yourself in your room forever. Also, you need to move out.

“Y/N,” he calls, and you stop, but you can’t find it in you to turn back and face him. “I'm sorry. I promise I’m being serious.” Pause. “Can you look at me?” You finally do, gaze meeting his slowly, and he searches your face. It’s quiet for a minute before he asks softly, “Was that just drunk you talking? Or did you mean what you said in those messages?”

“Yoongi...”

“Did you mean it?” He repeats.

You know you can’t lie to him, so you cave, nodding as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yeah. Sorry.” You wait with baited breath. 

Then he says, “Are you just not going to acknowledge that I did everything that you asked for in your text?” 

Your eyes fly open. You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus as you suddenly realize that he’s right. In your embarrassment, you’d overlooked that. 

“Y/N...” He’s got a smile on his face now. “If you were wondering, I think you’re pretty yummy, too.” He emphasizes the word, and your eyes lift abruptly back to his. Goosebumps shoot across your skin as you search his face, the soft smile on his face entirely genuine.

He’s telling the truth.

Your voice trembles slightly as you confirm what he’s saying. “You do?” 

He hums affirmatively in response, eyes intent on yours. “I do. Always have.”

The weight of all that you’ve both just acknowledged is suspended in the air between you as you stare at one another. 

“Wanna date me?”

It’s such a Yoongi way of asking, such a blunt, to the point question, but you know it’s taken a lot for him to say it out loud. He looks nervous now, as the words linger, and you can’t help the smile that’s begun to grow on your lips. And then you’re crossing the kitchen in quick strides, nearly slipping in your haste to reach him. 

He’s ready for you, hands finding your waist as your hand reaches for the back of his neck, pulling him in before you can second guess yourself. For a brief moment, you panic, wondering if you’ve been too forward, but then he‘s leaving you with no room to wonder as his hands slide to your back, pulling you even closer. He finishes what you started, his mouth on yours in seconds, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your French toast is forgotten on its plate as you push against him, his back against the counter. You chase his mouth as he separates from you briefly, earning a laugh from him as he turns your bodies so that now you’re the one with your back against the marble. His mouth finds yours again, and you let out a pleased hum. His knee is between yours as he pulls you closer and closer, until your bodies are flush and he’s effectively kissed you breathless. When you part again, your eyelids are hooded, a shaky breath escaping your lips. His forehead moves to rest against yours, and you’re satisfied to find he’s just as breathless as you. 

“Yummy,” he mumbles, his nose brushing yours. It’s such a cheesy thing to say – you can’t help the obnoxious giggle that escapes you. He laughs, too, and you can’t help but press a soft kiss to his mouth again. 

“Delicious,” you return, and Yoongi smiles against your mouth.

“Definitely five stars on the Michelin ranking.”

Tagging some loves as always :) @taegularities @tae-bebe @textsfrombangtan @reliablemitten @jeonqkooks @parkdatjimin @sunshinerainbowsbts @taejinnies @jungkool @taeshobipop @sweetpjm @xjoonchildx