#lad tag

[calicohyde]

i hate when ppl act like the only reason to not like a "sad" ending is because you can't take it or whatever. personally as a tragedy enjoyer, i hate a poorly written ending. i hate an ending that is just kind of a bummer. i hate an ending that feels mean-spirited to the audience. i hate an ending that's redundant. i love a sad ending that is thematically consistent, poignant, and bespoke to the rest of its narrative.

[eliotbaum]

My Sun 🌤

(Lydia Petrovna from Curse of Strahd and my cleric PC)

[will0waesthetic]

“her lovely hazel eyes”

“her breasts and perky rosy, pink nipples”

“for her petite physique”

Well damn , give her a name and we’re good to go 💀 the reader having a backstory , yeah no problem it’s cool but why do you have to describe the physical traits ? Just make an OC

Back story + physical description = OC

Back story + no physical description = reader insert

[bitingbooth]

Thinking about indulging in masochism as a positive part of play. Like so often I see people talking about a sub getting hit for disobedience or failing to do something or even as just a passive thing that happens and like sure that has its place. But like what about a sub doing a good job so they can earn getting flogged? Warning a brat that you won't bite them for the rest of the night if they keep up the attitude. Offering to beat someone until they're crying as motivation for them to get all their work done? What if the violence was full of love? What if I want your skin to show the world how much I love and care for you?

[ripeteeth]

"’As I recall, they used to sing it after battles,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen old men cry when they sing it,’ he added.

‘Why? It sounds cheerful.’

They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You'll learn. I know you will.”

- Night Watch, Terry Pratchett

[snowballseal]

How they react to you feeling insecure (LaDS)

Summary: How the Love and Deepspace boys react to you feeling insecure about various things. Includes Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier. Lots of fluff.

Word Count: they're all around 1000 roughly

Note: Warnings of different kinds of insecurity, ranging from physical to mental. I'm not sure of how well the Xavier one turned out, he's harder for me to write, but I couldn't leave him out!!! Anyways, hope yall enjoy!

Rafayel

His ended up being a lot longer, so it's posted separately.

here

--

Sylus

Being partners with Sylus is a…daunting position to be in.

You always considered yourself a fairly average person, more focused on who you are than what you look like. It’s not that you don’t like the way you look - you do - and you don’t like comparing yourself to anyone, but you don’t plan on being a model anytime soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Then you met Sylus, a man who looks like he was carved from the marble of ancient architecture. He could stand in a room of masterpieces and people would still look at him instead of the art. And since you’re by his side now, that means they’re also looking at you.

Being stared down by wanderers in one thing. Being stared down by the most powerful and prevalent members of the N109 Zone? You hate to admit that it gets to you. In fact, it gets so under your skin, that even when you’re dressed in the most extravagant dresses and decadent jewelry, you can’t help but feel…insecure.

Twisting in front of the mirror, you eye every detail of the dress Sylus bought you. It’s perfect, of course. The man has an annoying knack for getting you the most beautiful things and knowing exactly what fits you. The color compliments your hair and it’s comfortable to boot.

Still. You can’t help but feel like a kid trying to fit in at the adults table, wearing your mother’s heels even though they don’t fit. A bit ridiculous.

“Do you not like it?” Sylus appears behind you, dressed in a matching, lavish suit. 

You jump a little, eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror. His eyes burn into you, reading the hesitation on your face as you curl your arms around your stomach. There’s no fiery retort or witty comment like usual. You just look back at your dress, the tips of your ears tinging pink.

A frown pulls at Sylus’ lips, his voice softening, “What’s wrong?”

“...Do you really think people believe us? That we’re together?” You ask quietly, shuffling your weight back and forth. “That I’m a good match for you?”

You’re keenly aware that you’ve never had a conversation like this with Sylus. For the most part your relationship has been filled with teasing and playful bickering. It’s always light. Or about work. This is new, and while you trust him more than anything, you hate not knowing how he will react.

Sylus hums, low and thoughtful, as he curls his arms around you, “Does it matter to you what others think?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back into his touch thankfully. You want to say no. You want to keep up the air of confidence, but that quiet voice of doubt keeps worming its way through your thoughts.

“I just…I feel like I’m not what people expect. And…” you try to explain, hesitating. Sylus presses a kiss to your shoulder, offering a hum of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you add, “It bothers me. It feels like I’m being forced into the spotlight but I’m not meant to be there. Like I don’t fit.”

“Hmm, so you feel like an odd duckling.” You give him a small jab, and Sylus chuckles. “My apologies. I think you misunderstand the attention though.” He pulls you closer. You shiver as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder, pressing delicate kisses up the side of your neck, until he can murmur lowly into your ear, “You’re too humble, kitten. When you walk into a room, all eyes turn to you, not out of judgment, but out of jealousy. Afterall, you’ve tamed the leader of Onychinus. Even if you walked in with your uniform, they’d look at you the same. And I get the pleasure of walking around with the most powerful-” He presses his lips to your jaw. “-beautiful-” His lips trace against your cheek. “-woman of Linkon City. Don’t let the attention of those lesser than you make you doubt, otherwise I might have to find another way to show them just how well we fit together.”

Sylus’ eyes catch yours in the mirror again. They’re dark, like coals surrounded by flickering cinders. So intense you can almost feel the flames licking along your skin. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s being genuine. And that sets your heart racing. Along with the way he holds you so close, equal parts possessive and reverent. Like worship.

“Your devotion might scare some people, Sylus,” you whisper, glancing sideways at him.

He flashes a dangerous smile, “Does it scare you?”

You cast one final glance at your reflections before turning around in his hold and curling your arms around his neck. Sylus raises a challenging brow.

“I’m not. I like how you stand up for me, even when it’s against my own insecurities.” You draw him down, pressing a kiss to that carnal smile. Sylus softens immediately, cupping your jaw to draw you into a deeper kiss. The warmth that simmers in each and every touch leaves you a little breathless when you pull away. Pressing against his chest before he can drag you in again, you make sure to say one last thing, “Thank you, Sylus. I’ll make sure to remember all of that…especially the part about you being wrapped around my finger.”

“Hmm, such a cruel mistress, indeed.”

“And you love me.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “Yes, I do. So, will you accompany me to this auction now?”

---

Zayne

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going?” You ask, voice wavering with nerves as you straighten Zayne’s tie for him.

“Isn’t it natural to bring one’s partner to these kinds of events?” He tilts his head, brow perked ever so slightly.

You nod, but can’t seem to erase the frown on your lips.

A week ago, Zayne had asked if you would accompany him to his medical school’s class reunion banquet. He had been asked to give a special word, given the reputation he had developed in his time at Akso Hospital, not to mention winning the Starcatcher Award for his work.

At first, you were ecstatic to have an opportunity to learn more about his old life. He has such a thing about living in the present, you hardly get to hear any stories about his time in med school, or when he was doing rotations at the hospital. You were eager to meet the people who he used to spend time with and hopefully catch a few stories you could tease him with later.

But as the night drew closer, you started actually thinking about all the people you would be around, all of whom graduated from the same medical program Zayne did. You can only imagine how smart they all are. And how you’ll get lost the moment any medical jargon comes up. 

The more you think about it, the more nerves you feel buzzing under your skin. You know you’re not the smartest, not compared to Zayne at least. He’s a genius, after all, and could probably outsmart most anyone. You’ve always been better at the physical stuff. That’s what makes you such a good pair. 

It’s not like you can impress everyone by whipping your gun out and fighting, though. All you’ll have are your words, and you’re not particularly good with those…

You blink when a large hand suddenly circles your wrist. Glancing up, you find Zayne looking down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“While I appreciate your attention to detail, I believe you’ve been straightening my tie for five minutes now.” Heat creeps up your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had been lost in thought. Zayne’s eyes narrow inquisitively.  “What are you thinking about that has your mind so preoccupied?” 

His thumb brushes casually along the inside of your wrist, not so subtly checking your pulse. A strangely endearing habit of his when he’s worried about you. You let out a long sigh and hide your face against his chest, feeling the heat bleed across your cheeks.

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re insecure about how smart all his friends must be?

Zayne doesn’t push right away. He knows you’ll explain when you want to, and if you don’t, then he knows you’re not ready to. It was an unspoken rule between you, something you started with him because you noticed he likes to think his words out. It felt natural to offer you the same when you struggle to express yourself. Like now.

Ultimately, you figure it’s better to just be straightforward. That’s how he would do it, and it’s better than dancing around the subject.

“I guess I’m nervous because I feel like I’m going to be the dumbest person in the room tonight,” you mutter against his coat. Your fingers tap out an anxious beat against his abdomen. “It’s silly and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I just don’t want to make you look bad.”

Zayne remains quiet for a long minute. Your fingers move a little quicker, matching the stuttering rhythm of your heart. His hand slides up, gently trapping them against his body.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Physical tics are a common result of anxiety,” he hums dismissively, thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “As is your rapid heart rate. This truly bothers you.”

“Of course it does,” you sigh, a bit exasperated, ”You’ve worked hard to get where you are, Zayne. I love you so much, and I respect your work more than anything. I don’t, I don’t want to say something stupid and have it reflect on you badly.”

The doctor clicks his tongue, “First, I would prefer if you stop using that language to describe yourself.”

Your heart falters when his cool fingers touch your cheek, drawing your face up to his. He looks upset, but not exactly at you, the sharp line of his jaw contrasting with the softness of his eyes. Like it pains him that you think this way. Which it does.

“Those words don’t suit you. I wouldn’t allow another to call you them, so why would I allow you to?” He asserts, the corner of his lips twitching with distaste. “I don’t want to hear them again, do you understand?”

“Okay.” A thread of warmth curls around your heart when Zayne nods approvingly. His protectiveness really knows no bounds.

“Second, I do not agree with your diagnosis.” 

Your brow furrows a little. What? What does he mean, he disagrees? He’s literally surrounded by geniuses, you can’t match up to any of them if they’re anything like him. 

Seeing you start to overthink, Zayne shakes his head and gently pinches your cheek. You jolt back a little. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making you pout.

“Meanie,” you grumble, “Fine, explain your reasoning, Doctor Zayne.”

“It’s simple. Intelligence is made up of more than just academic knowledge, which, I assume, is what you are thinking of when you make such comments.” You nod. He’s not wrong about that, you guess. “Intelligence also includes the knowledge of how to use one’s strengths to achieve the best outcome. It is true that for some, this means using academic reasoning. However, it also includes those who develop the skills and discipline to maintain their bodies and fight for those who can’t, like…”

He pauses and gives you an expectant look.

“...me,” you finish slowly.

“Yes,” he hums, stroking the redness of your cheek, “I believe, under these standards, you are far more intelligent than most of the people you will meet tonight, darling. Though there is no comparison in the first place.”

His words sink in slowly but surely, filling in the cracks of your doubt. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he probably has some kind of healing magic, because you can already feel the burden of your insecurities melting away.

Leave it to Zayne to know exactly what to say, but in the most complex sounding way.

“You always know how to make me feel better, huh?” You ask, finally cracking that smile he loves.

“I am simply telling you the truth.” Zayne leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “There is not a lifetime in which my reputation will be more important than you. I would gladly throw it all away if it meant reminding you of that.”

You snort, “Don’t do that, please. I can only imagine the fit Doctor Greyson would throw. He’d be so mad at me.”

“I can handle Doctor Greyson, in the same way I can handle everyone tonight.” He slips his fingers between yours, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. You wiggle your fingers  happily and Zayne can’t help but grin to himself. “If at any point you find yourself uncomfortable, just stay by my side and I will act as your distraction. Though, I’m sure they will all love you, just as I do.”

“...Thank you, Zayne.”

“Of course, my jasmine.”

---

Xavier

Working with Xavier is a blessing, as much as it is a curse. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. Someone who you know will always have your back, who can handle himself completely, who is probably the most talented hunter you’ve ever met in your entire life. He’s undeniably amazing.

On the flip side of that, though, you often fall into the trap of thinking about how he deserves better. Wondering if, maybe, the only reason he chose to stay with you was because of the aether core in your heart. If that’s also the reason you’re in a relationship now…

And some days, these thoughts win out over the rest. Like today.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink, eyes flickering up from the bowl of ramen in front of you. Early on, you had started a tradition of eating a meal together after a successful mission, to just enjoy the peace of your home and each other. But today, you weren’t feeling that hungry, just…tired.

Xavier tilts his head, concern furrowing his brow - he noticed your mood start to shift days before, but didn’t want to push since you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. Now, though, it’s too obvious for him to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you sigh, flicking your chopsticks back and forth to watch the noodles swirl around in the broth, a small frown capturing your lips. It’s a horribly obvious lie.

“Is it something I did?” His voice isn’t accusatory or upset. It’s just a rational question to help him figure out what’s wrong. Still, you feel guilt tug at your chest, and you set the chopsticks down with another sigh.

You don’t want him to think that. You’d never blame Xavier for something like this. That would be like asking him to be a worse person, which is stupid. It’s just you. Your problem. Dragging him into it will only make you feel worse.

“No, Xavier, you didn’t do anything, promise. I’m not upset…with you.” 

“But you are upset.”

Chancing a glance up at him proves a bad idea, making it all that more difficult to keep your thoughts quiet. Behind his normal sleepy expression, worry gleams in the deep blue of his eyes, unyielding and undeniably calm, like waves lapping gently at the beach. 

The sight makes your heart ache and the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Do you think I’m actually a suitable partner for you?”

Surprise flickers across the hunter’s face. Of all the things he was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. He doesn’t laugh though, or take your question lightly.

“Do you mean, as a hunting partner? Or as a romantic partner?”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes falling back to your ramen, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He hums softly. You try to ignore the nerves fluttering in your chest as Xavier gets up, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he circles the table to stand next to you. The hunter drips his head, catching your gaze.

“May I see your hand?”

A small frown pulls at your lips, not exactly sure where he’s going with this, but you offer him your hand anyways. Xavier takes your wrist, touch featherlight, and moves it so your hand is held up flat, facing him. Your brow furrows.

“Xav-”

“Look.” 

Pursing your lips, you let out a little huff. He really hates giving direct answers, doesn’t he? Still, you’re in no place to really judge him, or expect anything for that matter. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to you.

You watch as Xavier places his hand against yours. His palm is warm and you can feel the calluses from who knows how many years of hunting. Your hand looks tiny in comparison, his pale, delicate fingers long enough to curl over your own a little. The sight makes your heart squeeze, fondness competing with the feeling of being so…small.

“They’re pretty different,” Xavier hums, voice still calm, his own eyes fixed on your hands. “Your fingers are always cold, and your hands are small. You have a scar here.” His free hand grazes the side of your palm, along your pinky. “And here” He traces another along your knuckle. Your breath falters at the tenderness behind his touch, like you’re delicate porcelain. “Mine are in different places. Yours are skilled at weaving silk balls and mine can…open jars.”

You snort. Xavier’s eyes dart up to yours, sparkling with humor, a brow raised. You try to smother your laughter, rather ineffectively, and motion for him to continue.

“They’re different, but-” His fingers spread apart, and you mimic him instinctually, only for his fingers to slot between yours in one fluid motion. You inhale softly, laughter dying in your throat. It’s like two puzzle pieces fitting together, a perfect embrace that washes over you with a comforting warmth.

Xavier watches you, keenly aware of the way you squeeze his hand tightly, desperately, like you’re worried it might disappear. He gives yours a tender squeeze in return, thumb brushing over your knuckle.

“I think they’re a suitable match. Don’t you?”

God, how could you go without this man? The worries that have been pricking at the back of your mind all week seem to melt away. It leaves you with that warmth, the kind that only comes from Xavier, that he offers you over and over again.

You give his hand another squeeze, finally smiling, “Yah. I do…Thanks, Xavier.”

The hunter leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “Let me know if you ever feel this way again, angel. I’ll be more than glad to remind you.”

“I will.”

---

This was really fun to write!!! I really hope you guys like it! There are so many freaking tags on this puppy.

[unpeeled-human]

more of this. nonsense

[croudjay]

My EMF design ✨

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[souporsaladnatural]

All I'm getting from you is

c o l o r s

[click for higher quality!]

[wearysparrows]

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Sylus shows up at the door of your motel room after finding out you're investigating protocore energy fluctuations in the middle of nowhere. He claims he has business in the area and needs to stay the night -- but there's only one bed.

CW (18+): only one bed trope, grinding, vaginal fingering, AFAB mc (no usage of pronouns, no use of Y/N), reader is MC, a brief mention of birth control, Sylus comes in his pants, you both have a good time, etc. 6.4k

This situation had turned out to be less than ideal.

The Hunter’s Association had sent you on a mission that had seemed simple enough on paper: investigate the suspicious protocore energy fluctuations that were occurring in a fairly rural area, just outside of Linkon city. However, they had conveniently failed to mention the nature of your accommodations. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to staying in less than ideal conditions – you just weren’t prepared for this situation in particular. You pulled up to the motel on your bike, your belongings in a bag on your back. This was the only accommodation for miles around, and unless you wanted to sleep on the ground again, this was as good as it was going to get.

You weren’t sure how much more of sleeping on the ground your body could take.

There was nothing outwardly alarming about the motel on the outside – it was unassuming, two stories lined with austere gray doors. It was quiet. No one came in or out, despite the full lot. Somehow, this made you feel more uneasy than if there had been people milling about. Attempting to push these worries from your mind, you approached the check in window. A young boy’s face – no older than ten or so – peered at you with wide eyes from behind the glass that divided you. You were momentarily stunned into silence when he asked if you were checking in. You quickly showed him your Hunter’s ID, and he checked you in, giving you the key card to your room. You hurried towards it, now feeling eager to get settled away from the strangeness that was beginning to fall on the goings on around you.

You pressed the key card against the lock, and it opened with a soft click. You opened it just a crack, checking inside before fully going in. All was quiet. You opened the door fully, stepping inside and closing it behind you. The room was unassuming enough – a box spring mattress, a coffee table, a couch that had seen better days, and a strangely large mirror hanging over a countertop in the back corner of the room. You checked the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for a rather tastelessly colored plaid blue shower curtain. You felt your body involuntarily relax. You returned to the main room, and set your bag on the coffee table that sat next to the couch. You sat down on the bed, which creaked loudly underneath you. It was a strange sort of creak, one that clicked loudly with each minor movement you made. A sigh escaped you as you unlaced your boots. It was only until you found the source of the strange fluctuations, you reminded yourself.

Just as you had finished kicking off your boots, your phone rang in your pocket. You checked it, eyeballing the contact on the screen.

It was Sylus. Rather, his contact said ‘Sy,’ as you had recently updated it to reflect the nickname you gave him in your head.

What could he possibly want right now?  

To your own irritation, you felt your heart rate increase exponentially as you looked at his contact. You hadn’t heard his voice in a few days. You missed it, and him. You answered, intentionally letting it ring a few times so you didn’t seem too eager.

“Hello?” You kept your tone level.

“Where are you right now?”

Sylus sounded somewhat out of breath on the other end of the line, like he had been exerting himself. You found yourself wondering what he had been up to, but there were much more important matters – like why the hell he had called you and requested your location so rudely.

“Most people say ‘hello’ back before asking questions, at least. Why are you asking?”

Sylus tutted into the microphone, as if you were asking him something obvious.

“Well, I’m not most people, sweetheart. I’m asking because it seems like you’re stationary in the middle of nowhere. Is this the work of your oh-so-wealthy association?”

You didn’t even bother to ask how Sylus knew where you were. You had unwittingly grown used to his constant keeping of tabs on you. You had long assumed he had put some kind of tracker in your phone (though you could find no such thing after checking), or using Mephisto to keep an eye on you (you hadn’t seen him at all today, either). At the very least, you weren’t expendable to Sylus, though why he went through such great lengths to keep tabs remained unclear.  Sylus’s natural purr of a voice calmed your anxious senses, despite his critical words. You leaned back on the creaky bed before you answered. It was so loud that you wondered if Sylus heard it through the speaker on his end.

“Don’t blame the Association. These are the only accommodations in the area, short of sleeping outside again. Besides, it’s not like it’s the worst place I’ve ever stayed. I only wish I’d come more prepared.”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek after you spoke, unsure why you’d offered that last admission of information. Though you were certain Sylus was aware of your personal flaws, being unprepared usually wasn’t one of them. You didn’t like to tarnish your own image – you had your pride, after all. Sylus hummed thoughtfully. 

“I see that the bar couldn’t possibly be any lower, as usual. Alright, I’m on my way. There’s something I need to do in the area. Don’t be surprised when I knock.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sylus had already hung up on you. You stared dumbly down at your phone. It reflected your stunned face silently. You flipped it over, not wanting to see your own expression.

Something he needed to do in the area?

You couldn’t possibly imagine what Sylus needed to do in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere. Or why he was coming to stay with you. Or if he was planning to stay the night, and where. Or how he would know what room you were in. You felt your face flush at the image of Sylus laying in the shitty motel bed with you. Based on past experiences, you were almost certain he slept naked.

Couldn’t he just get his own damn room?

You shook your head, attempting to free your mind from these circling predatory thoughts. You changed into more comfortable clothes, careful not to let your bare feet touch the paneling of the floor. You showered in the little bathroom, trying to ignore the state of the towels there. After, you busied yourself looking over the mission files in bed, finally losing yourself in the information before you.

A sharp rapraprap on the door broke you from your absorption. It made you jump, your eyes flicking instinctively to your Hunter’s issue gun on the nightstand next to you. The sound came again twice more. All at once, you remembered Sylus had said he was coming, though you had half expected him not to show. You quickly checked your Hunter’s watch. It was nearly dusk, already. You hurried towards the door, feeling irritated and excited all at once at the prospect of seeing the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Of being in the tiny room with him. You steeled yourself emotionally before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 

Sylus stood before you in his usual leather getup that he wore when using his bike. He looked no less handsome than usual – his moon-white hair was tousled by the wind, and his eyes shone deeply in the light of the setting sun. He had a suspiciously large duffel bag thrown casually over his shoulder. He regarded you coolly, an easy smile on his lips. You found yourself struck by him despite yourself, and struggled for words for a moment. Sylus found them for you.

“May I come in, my little hunter?”

You scowled at him, but found yourself stepping aside anyway. He slipped in the room, his steps strangely silent for a man of his size. He set his bag on the table next to yours. You deadbolted the door behind him, and put one hand on your hip. The other pointed at him accusingly.

“Aren’t there other rooms? Why could you possibly need to stay at this motel in particular? Surely this is a hovel compared to where you’d normally stay. And what’s with the bag? It looks like it’s about to burst.”

Sylus had busied himself removing his leather outerwear and shoes, putting them away neatly. He turned towards you with arms crossed. You thought he made the small room look even smaller with his height.

“The other rooms were all full. You’re right about the hovel, though. That’s putting it kindly.” Sylus scanned the room critically as he spoke. He was pointedly ignoring your question about the bag. You eyed it suspiciously. 

“Besides, you stay at my base all the time when you’re on missions. Can’t you return the favor just this once?” Sylus’s tone was playful, and he regarded you with his usual air of confidence. 

He did have you there, and he knew it, too. You more than frequently took advantage of the hospitality and resources he freely offered for your usage. He rarely made comments about it, and now it was coming back to bite you in the form of the man you were doing your very best to hide budding romantic feelings from. You adjusted your sleep shorts, suddenly feeling more cold and exposed under his crimson gaze. You had forgotten you had already changed into sleepwear. You crossed your arms around your upper body.

“Nothing in life is free,” you muttered. 

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” 

You sat back down on the bed, attempting to make a return to your files. You knew it would be impossible to focus with Sylus’s overwhelming presence in the small room. But you could pretend, for now.

“Such a cynical creature, aren’t you?” 

You looked up from your paperwork. Sylus’s words were teasing, but his tone and gaze were incredibly warm. You hurriedly looked away again, hoping to hide the redness of your face. 

Why did he say that like it was a compliment?

You heard more than saw him unzipping his bag and rifling through it. His socked feet appeared in your periphery at the side of the bed, and you felt something plush drape around your shoulders. You looked up in surprise. Your previously bare arms were now covered with the warmth of a periwinkle fleece blanket. You hadn’t even realized how much of a chill had crept into you until the blanket was around your body. You opened your mouth to say something – anything – to Sylus, but he had already turned back around, and was producing another item from the bag. He wordlessly placed a pair of slippers neatly on the floor next to your side of the bed. You watched all of this occur with a degree of shock before finding the ability to speak again. 

“What’s all this? Why go through all the trouble?” You tugged the blanket closer around yourself, grateful for its warmth despite your suspicions. Sylus shrugged.

“You said you were underprepared. So I came prepared for you.”

You stared at him in stunned silence.

For you?

Before you could respond to his previous statement, Sylus spoke again.

“I’m going to shower. There’s more in the bag. Feel free to take a look.” He made his way to the bathroom, toiletry bag in hand, without sparing you a further glance. You opened and closed your mouth silently. He was hardly letting you get a word in. The last thing you had expected the bag to be full of was items for you.

You padded over to it quietly, having slipped on the slippers Sylus had brought. They were annoyingly comfortable, and just the right size. You ignored the little butterflies emerging from their cocoons in your stomach. You peeked inside the bag. It carried the lightest hint of Sylus’s scent.

The contents consisted of various wants and necessities – clothing of Sylus’s (you pointedly ignored the pairs of boxers, though your wicked eyes were drawn to them), extra towels, a small pillow, some food items, and a bag of toiletries. You unzipped it curiously. It was all travel sizes of the same kinds you used at home. You felt yourself blush so furiously that you swore it colored your fingertips, as hot as they suddenly felt. You put the toiletries back in the bag hurriedly, running a hand through your hair in a self soothing motion. The idea of Sylus keeping note of every single self care item you liked should have been alarming, but it only endeared him to you further. Any other man keeping such close tabs on you would have sent you running for the proverbial hills. You decided, distantly, that spending so much time with him had only deepened whatever burgeoning mental issues you were already saddled with. You threw yourself back into bed, and found yourself listening to the comforting sounds of Sylus showering. You could hear the water fall in waves as he moved underneath it. 

You found much of your earlier anxieties had melted away for his presence at the motel. Despite your protests, it was nice to have another soul staying with you. You could take care of yourself, but Sylus’s energy was nothing if not reassuring, and you were grateful for it – even if he was only here on some mysterious business that he refused to disclose.

Not that you could ever tell him that. It would certainly go straight to his pretty head.

As if summoned by your thoughts of him, Sylus appeared from the bathroom, fresh from the shower. He had nothing but a towel around his waist, and was rubbing another smaller one on his wet hair. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him like this, and your mind was immediately drawn back to the brooch fiasco. You swallowed. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t manage it. Steam was still rolling off of his taut muscles, which rippled under his skin as he moved. Your eyes raked over his form, lingering where his obliques disappeared underneath the towel. Your mind kept trying to fill in what he’d look like without it. He really was unfairly beautiful. He looked even more ridiculously out of place in the room while half naked. He belonged in another world entirely. An evocative, tormenting vision of hell.

You felt his gaze on you, then. Your eyes snapped to his face. He was smirking. He gestured to his form nonchalantly.

“You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?”

You scoffed at him, trying to cover the fact that you had been staring. Nearly an impossible feat. You tore your eyes from the sight, insteading focusing desperately hard at your phone. Having no notifications, you opened the weather app instead.

“I wasn’t exactly planning to have a naked man in my room at night. Especially not you.” You grumbled. You didn’t mention all the times you had imagined a naked Sylus in your room, just like this. You kept your eyes glued to the weather. It was getting pretty cold outside. You were glad for the blanket.

Sylus’s face appeared in your vision. He was bent over at the waist next to where you sat on the bed. He was significantly more dressed than before, wearing a black tee and corresponding sweats. Definitely not how he usually slept, you noted. 

“Is there another man you'd have preferred to have naked here tonight?” His voice was low, teasing – but there was something darker underneath it. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You rolled your eyes at him, trying to cover the way you felt. His gaze was burning into you, intent on your answer.

Why the hell was he even asking?

“Sy, are you jealous of just the idea of someone else being here with me?” 

Your nickname for him inadvertently slipped out. At some point (which you would hardly admit to yourself), you had started shortening his name to a diminutive form. You pressed your lips together, and hoped he had either missed it, or would simply choose not to acknowledge it. 

Sylus’s eyes flashed at the use of the nickname. No such luck. A little chuckle reverberated out of him, and he removed himself from your personal space, standing upright. 

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about, actually.” He had returned to his usual tone. His back and forth always gave you emotional whiplash. You attempted to control your expression.

“I’ll take the couch.” 

He jabbed a thumb towards the offending piece of furniture, and your eyes followed the motion. It was a sad excuse for a couch, and had a suspicious sunken-in shape in the middle. It was much too small for a man of Sylus’s size – even for someone your size. You shook your head immediately. 

“No way. You’re way too big. I’ll take it.” You made to stand up and head towards it, but Sylus was in front of you just as quick, blocking your way. You poked him in the chest with a finger.

“You’re in the way.”

Sylus had hold of your index finger, now. It was dwarfed in the grip of his large hand. 

“So you won’t even pull back this duvet to sleep on the sheets,” he nodded towards the bed, “but you’ll sleep on that couch?”

Sylus was right. Considering the state the towels had been in (and the sudden appearance of a new blanket), you had elected to sleep on top of the duvet with just the blanket Sylus had brought. You didn’t trust the state of the sheets. The couch may have been even worse off. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice – but he was as perceptive as ever. Sylus released his grip on your finger, and your hand fell limply by your side. He continued.

“It won’t kill you to share in the name of comfort. Besides,” he went around to the side of the bed you hadn’t been resting on, and sat down.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed, right?”

Sylus’s words brought back memories of the times he was referring to. Not only had you shared a bed before in similar circumstances, there were times you had slept in his bed. You rubbed a hand over your face. Why did it always feel like he was catching you in a trap with his words? You really didn’t want to touch that couch. You also knew you wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep with Sylus next to you in bed. Your pulse was already thundering at just the sight of him adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the mattress, as if he already knew what your answer was. 

You resigned yourself to your fate, sitting back on the bed, leaning on the pillows that had been propping you up to do your work. Sylus looked at you, his expression somewhere between smug and pleased.

“Perhaps being in bed together more often will make our resonance stronger.” He said offhandedly.

 You shot him a look.

“Aren’t you normally only active at night? Why are you suddenly going to bed at the same time as me?” You pulled the blanket over yourself, chasing away the chill of the night air in the room. You ignored the siren’s song of the heat radiating off of Sylus’s body. Why did he only bring one blanket to share?

“I always adjust my schedule to accommodate yours, kitten. Especially since you’ve so kindly agreed to let me impose on your space.” He turned away from you to do something on his phone. He made no effort to hide its screen from your eyes. You turned your head ever so slightly towards it, so as not to alert him to your prying. Sylus turned his phone to a vantage point at which you could see better.

“You’re welcome to watch, but it’s not very interesting. It might put you to sleep. Actually, in that case, maybe you should watch.”

You felt like you should be embarrassed at having been caught, but something about Sylus’s devil-may-care attitude kept you from feeling too ashamed. You scooted a modicum closer to see the screen better. Sylus leaned towards you. Your shoulders were practically touching. You focused on the screen instead of his proximity.

“Are these businesses?”

Sylus hummed in affirmation.

“These are just what’s for sale at the moment. So far nothing is standing out, though.”

You watched as Sylus scrolled through the listings. The sound of the gentle tap of his thumb against the screen somehow made you feel more at peace. The pricings next to the listings suddenly reminded you that this was the leader of Onychinus who was staying with you in this seedy motel, looking at buying listings that were likely worth this business ten times over. The thought made you puff out a little laugh. Sylus tilted his head towards you, questioning.

“What?” He sounded amused just to hear you amused. 

“It’s just funny that you’re here. Probably the most wanted man in the world – the leader of Onychinus. Relentless Conqueror. Endless assets at your disposal, and you’re at a shitty motel in bed with a Hunter. Shopping online.”

Sylus laughed too, then, and the smile lingered on his face. He set his phone down, and put his hands behind his head, relaxing. The movement was decidedly masculine, and found yourself even more attracted to him in that moment.

“Here – with you – I’m just Sylus. The ‘where’ doesn’t really matter.” He was looking up at the ceiling as he spoke, sounding sort of far away. His words made your stomach twist and flip upon itself, like a prey animal that chose to freeze rather than run from danger. You propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him, turning on your side. 

“Are you saying you can be yourself around me?” You were half teasing, half actually asking. You tried not to wait for his answer with baited breath. He turned his face towards you, the back of his head still in his hands. He had a soft smile on his lips. 

“Is there anyone else who I devote so much of ‘myself’ to?” 

You were taken aback by his question, though not surprised he answered one question with another. 

Devote?

His wording made it sound like this side of himself – this sense of self – was dependent on his devotion to you. Words had power, and devotion was a particularly strong choice. You felt like you and Sylus were always dancing around each other, just on the edge of the truth. He was always trying to say something without actually saying it – without inciting you to run away. You struggled to maintain eye contact with him, but managed to hold your ground.

“What are you trying to say, Sy?”

Sylus was quiet for a moment. He shook his head.

“Nothing. You don’t want to listen to me wax poetic about meaning all night. You have an early morning, right?” 

His words prompted you to check your Hunter’s watch. It was way later than you thought. You nodded, though you wanted to press him again for answers – you knew he would offer none. 

You found yourself laying on your back in bed, sharing a blanket with Sylus. His breaths were coming deep and slow. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, and you realized he must have been exhausted. You wondered what he had been doing before he made the decision to come stay at the motel – and whether it was really true that he had some business to attend to out here. Eventually, the serene sound of his breaths lulled you into a dreamless sleep. 

You woke, eyes creaking open in the pitch blackness of the room. You really didn’t want to get up, but your bladder had other ideas. You slunk out of bed and to the bathroom in the darkness, careful to not wake Sylus. The bathroom light was bright, and it cast a menacing orange beam on the room before you could shut the door and finish. You cursed it mentally. 

You washed your hands in the darkness, as the sink was outside of the restroom. You fumbled around for the hand soap, and found it, turning on the water to just a drip. You didn’t think about why you were going to such lengths not to wake Sylus. You just did it. You dried your hands, and tiptoed back to bed, sliding in under the covers. 

Just as you thought you had accomplished your stealth mission successfully, Sylus had turned towards you, and wrapped you in a too-warm embrace. He had you crushed up against his chest as he lay on his side, your head now resting on his bicep. 

“Sylus?” You asked, your whisper intense. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might make an exit through your throat. You could feel every part of his body against yours – the hard lines of his muscles were pressed flush to you. Your hands had been pushed up against his hips. You kept them very, very still. Sylus didn’t respond.

He was still asleep – or so you thought. The arm that was thrown around you came up to rub circles in the back of your scalp. His thumb brushed the shell of your ear a few times – intentionally or not, you couldn’t be sure. Your hands fisted the material of his shirt near his waist, and your knuckles were touching his lower abdomen. His scent completely enveloped you. You knew you should have pulled away, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t even sure you would have been able to, with how strong Sylus was. You could feel your own arousal curling in your belly despite your best efforts to curtail it.

His voice, rough from sleep, came from above you. It shot tingles up and down your spine. 

“When did you get so close?” 

He made no move to remove you from his embrace. His hand had migrated from your scalp to in between your shoulder blades, pressing between them like he was trying to make space for you to sprout wings. The touch caused the smallest arch of your back in surprise, and the movement pressed your flesh harder against him. You heard him let out a quiet gasp, nearly imperceptible. 

“You pulled me close in your sleep, dummy. You’re like a vice.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you thought you heard some of the heat you felt slip into it. You could feel his growing erection pressing hard against your stomach. You steeled yourself mentally, willing yourself not to acknowledge it. You weren’t in any better of a state, being so close to him. 

You tried to push him away, but only succeeded in putting pressure on his lower abdomen with your knuckles. You felt his hardness twitch against you at the touch. His bare skin was hot under your fingers, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. He held you a little tighter, hand finding your lower back now. Pressing. Massaging. You couldn’t help but relax some into the touch, but your mind still raced. It was like some invisible force was testing the level of your self restraint, tugging at the needs of your flesh, inciting them to rear their ugly heads. 

“You’re so soft.” He murmured. His fingers were trailing lazily up and down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You weren’t sure if he meant your skin, your body, or your mind – or that it really mattered.

“Sy?” You questioned, not even really sure what you were asking. 

Why haven’t I pushed you away yet? Why haven’t you pushed me away yet?

Sylus rolled on top of you suddenly, legs on either side of you, holding himself up by his palms. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see the heat of his carmine eyes. He was so close that his hair was brushing your face. 

“I like it when you call me that.” 

“Yeah?” You squeaked out. Everything around you was Sylus – the sound of his voice, the heat of his body, the scent of him – it was overwhelming, all encompassing. Your body was pleasantly too hot, lulled into submission underneath Sylus’s dominating aura on top of you. You swallowed dryly. 

“Yeah.” You could feel his breath against your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was heady with need. 

The question barely registered in your brain. He was on top of you, pinning you to the bed, and he was asking you for permission to kiss you. How many times had you thought about him kissing you? You managed a nod, beginning to wonder if this wasn’t just some elaborate fabrication of your desires haunting your restless dreams. 

Sylus’s lips on yours were very real. The kiss was languid and warm, but insistent and desperate all at once. His tongue pried your mouth open, and he pressed it against your own. The inside of his mouth was even more unbearably warm than the rest of him. Your hands, which had found their way to his chest, were sliding down his abdomen now, lost in the heat of the moment. Sylus was sucking on your tongue, which made you pause your ministrations. The sensation had done much to increase the wetness pooling in between your legs. He pulled away, laughing breathlessly. Your chest heaved, having finally been given back access to air.

“I’ve been wanting to do that. You have a cute tongue.” 

Sylus pressed his forehead against yours. You struggled to form words.

“How can a tongue be cute?” 

Your hands resumed their downward journey, emboldened by his compliments on the muscle in your mouth. You found what you were looking for – Sylus was rock hard underneath your touch, straining against the thin material of his sweatpants. He hissed as your hands made contact with him, instead of coming up with an answer to your question. You wrapped a hand around him as best you could through the fabric, feeling momentarily brought out of your reverie by the sheer size of him. You palmed him up and down, trying to gauge his size.

“You’re so big.” You blurted out. Like he didn’t already know. You felt him twitch once, twice, under your touch at your words. He pressed another kiss to your lips. One of his hands was making its way underneath your shirt. He cupped your bare breast with his warm hand, squeezing. His fingertip circled your nipple, and it hardened under his touch. You shivered.

“Yeah. You feel how hard you make me?” His hand enveloped yours that was touching him, pressing down. He ground into your palm, and you could feel the wetness of his precum through his sweats. This only lasted for a moment. He released your hand, instead sliding his fingers inside your sleep shorts. Everywhere he touched left a buzz under your skin in his absence. He slipped two fingers against your cunt over your panties. You arched into his touch, fully knowing he could feel the wetness there. There was no way your attraction was a secret, now. It felt so good to finally have his hands on you. That you were mutually aroused.

Sylus was kneeling in between your legs now, fingers sliding up and down your pussy, refusing to give you what you wanted. His free hand alternated fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples in between his fingertips. You were caught between enjoying the pleasure, the ache for him that was reaching through you, and telling him to put it in you already. 

This thought caused something else to occur to you.

“Sy – ah – do you have…a condom?” 

Sylus paused his movements. His fingers hovered above you. He cursed quietly under his breath. 

You couldn’t help the exasperated laugh that escaped you. You hadn’t been on birth control for a while – not since you had stopped seeing other men because of your feelings for Sylus. You hadn’t expected this to happen, ever. 

Sylus pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I don’t. I didn’t think…” He cleared his throat. 

“I came here in a bit of a rush.”

You filed that comment away in the things to ask Sylus about later drawer in your mind. 

“Fuck.” You exhaled. You didn’t want to come away from the momentary bliss and back into reality. Before you could take the thought any further, however, a pair of strong arms had wrapped around you, carrying you in front of the large mirror in the room. Sylus set you gingerly in front of it, and you instinctively put your hands on the counter to steady yourself. Even in the darkness, you could see how Sylus’s form dwarfed your own in the reflection. He was pressing up against you from behind. Not just pressing, but grinding his arousal against your ass. He wrapped a hand around to your front, and began rubbing little circles on your clit through your panties. His voice was low in your ear.

“Let’s do this instead, then.”

Sylus set a pace, rutting against you. You were so wet that one of his fingers slid inside you easily, and you ground down on his palm, attempting to find friction there against your clit. You could tell Sylus was losing as much of his composure as you were, because he was pressing you hard into the counter, and kept sucking hickies into your neck that you knew would bruise later. You couldn’t find it in you to care. The sensation of him marking you was exhilarating. He had two fingers inside, now, the lewd wetness of the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet motel room. 

“Sy,” you panted out, “want you inside me so bad.” 

You felt yourself clench around his fingers, which only seemed to encourage him to add a third. You were close now, over stimulated by Sylus in every way possible. He was grinding on you at a stutteringly erratic pace. 

“Fuck. ” he growled.

“I wanna be inside you, baby. Fill you up. Stretch you out.” 

His fingers forced your mouth open, and he stroked your tongue with them. You sucked them eagerly. The thumb of his other had found your clit again, pressing against the hard button of your own arousal with increasing desperation. His words were enough to bring you over the edge. You clenched around the fingers inside you, your orgasm finding you white and hot, making your knees buckle underneath you. The sound of your own moans was foreign to your ears. Sylus held you up by the waist, the force of his movements practically lifting you off your feet as he ground on you.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Baby, fuck.” His hips stuttered against you without further warning, and you felt his cock pulse against your ass as he rode out his orgasm onto you. He groaned through it in a way that made you want to cum all over again. Through your blissed out state, you distantly realized he had cum in his pants. Not that you were any better off. Your panties were completely soaked. 

Sylus peeled himself off of you gently, still supporting your weight. He hoisted you up instead, and held you in a princess carry. Your head lolled against his chest, and you were hit by what had just occurred. Sylus had worked you to orgasm with just his fingers, and he had cum from grinding on your ass. You looked up at him through your lashes. He was carrying you back to the bed as he spoke.

“Was that alright?” He was looking down at you. You thought you could see concern on his face in the dark. He set you gently down into the bed, sitting next to you. You stared at the stain on his pants. It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so hot that you had worked him up so much – so easily. 

“It felt really good for me. Did it feel good for you?” 

The words felt a bit awkward on your tongue, but they were the truth.  You liked him too much to be crass – you couldn’t believe he had just fingerfucked you to orgasm in a run down motel and cum in his pants from grinding on you. You felt like you were floating outside of your body, still not fully accepting that you had very nearly had sex with Sylus. Your face flushed hot all over again at the thought. Now he knew without a doubt that you wanted him inside you.

“Very good.” He gestured to the spot on his pants. “If you couldn’t already tell.” 

The two of you had cleaned yourself up separately that night, settling for changing into clean clothes. Showering would have to come in the morning – you were both too exhausted. As you lay back down to sleep, Sylus had pulled you close again, and you didn’t try to protest. You fell asleep against his chest to the sound of his steady heartbeat. 

The blaring of your alarm awoke you with a frightened start in the early morning. You sat straight up, cutting it off quickly. The events of the night before came crashing back into your mind. Sylus’s fingers inside of you, his body pressing you against the counter – you felt yourself flush all the way up to your scalp.

Now how were you supposed to act?

Sylus sat up next to you, pushing his hair out of his face. He was squinting in the morning light. You felt a pang of regret that you hadn’t been able to see the way his face looked while in the throes of pleasure last night. He turned to you, blinking. A large hand squeezed your thigh. 

“If you’re going to investigate the fluctuations in the area, let me come with you.” His voice had the same sleep roughness to it that made your stomach hot. You cocked your head at him.

“I thought you had business in the area?” 

“You are my business.” He deadpanned.

You groaned, and reached out to smack him half heartedly on the shoulder. He caught your hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles instead. You couldn’t deny it – he really had come all the way out here just to see you. The thought made you giddy rather than annoyed, now. The mighty leader of Onychinus really went the extra mile when you gave him an inch.

[prettyboykatsuki]

do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home  from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.  

Not a good one.  

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.  

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.  

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.  

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.  

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.  

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.  

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”  

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it. 

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.  

“Can I sit with you?”  

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—“  

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”  

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”  

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays. 

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.  

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”  

“Oh? Is that so?”�� 

Warm, you think. You nod.  

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”  

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”  

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“  

Hot. “Rafayel.”  

“What.” 

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.  

A beat. His frown deepens.  

“And?”  

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”  

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.  

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in  his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.  

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.  

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.) 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”  

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”  

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”  

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?” 

“I don’t know. Can you?”  

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”  

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.” 

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”  

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”  

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else. 

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.” 

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”  

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”  

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”  

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily. 

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.  

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”  

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”  

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”  

__  

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.  

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.  

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as  he slips between your fingers.  

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.  

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.  

“What are you thinking about?”  

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes. 

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”  

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“ 

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.  

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.  

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.  

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.  

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”  

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”  

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work  a little harder?”  

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.  

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.  

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.  

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather  unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.  

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”  

“You’re—“  

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact. 

 Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.  

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.  

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.  

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.  

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”  

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”  

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”  

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”  

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.  

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”  

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.  

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”  

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.  

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”  

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.  

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”  

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.  

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.  

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”  

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”  

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.  

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..  

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.  

“Not today,” You promise. 

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.  

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.  

“Keep your eyes on me,”   

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.  

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.  

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.  

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.  

“Oh, fuck.” 

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.  

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.  

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”  

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them. 

 You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him. 

 Rafayel heaves in relief.  

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.  

“So what if I did?” 

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”  

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”  

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.  

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.  

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”  

“So what if I—aah—did?”  

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice.  I was going to save fucking you for the end  but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”  

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.  

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“  

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.   

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”  

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move 

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.  

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“  

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”  

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”  

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.  

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.” 

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor. 

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him. 

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own. 

“How do you want it?” You ask.  

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…” 

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.  

“You were being so bold a second ago,”  

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”  

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”  

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.” 

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.  

“Sure. Anything else?”  

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,” 

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”  

“Say it again,”  

“All yours.”  

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”  

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.  

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to  it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.  

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement 

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.  

“Fuuck,”  He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”  

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”  

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.  

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”  

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”  

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”  

His impatience amuses you.  

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”  

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.  

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.  

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.  

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin. 

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.  

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”  

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.  

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”  

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,” 

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”  

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“  

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.  

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.  

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.   

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”  

“Isn’t this about you?”  

He frowns, looking at you seriously.  

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”  

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”  

“It’ll just be once for now,”  

“For now?”  

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”  

“Right.”  

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”  

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”  

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”  

You break out into more laughter. 

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”  

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.  

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight. 

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”  

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”  

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”  

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue. 

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.  

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.  

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.  

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.  

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.  

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”  

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.  

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”  

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him. 

You bend down to kiss his forehead.  

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

[kushinadragneel]

Sylus brainrot bcs I cannot stop it so

Dad! Sylus, dragon! Sylus (blame my friend and our rp, I adore them), king Sylus actually, twins (I love how the whole fandom seems to agree on that), headcanons, short

Genres: fluff, kind of hurt/comfort with a lil bit of angst/sad, very indulgent, might be a bit ooc, admittedly very influenced by my oc as the thoughts swirled with her in mind

Mentions: pregnancy, female anatomy, motherhood, post partum, insecurities, lactation (not the kinky kind)

Dragons were peculiar beings, you've found out as quite the only human in this weird, entirely draconic kingdom. Though, so to speak, you were the weird one here, lacking horns, scales, a tail…

To say you've had many to learn was an understatement. From heats to mating to their habits, everything had been new.

But there you were, mated to their very king and very much pregnant sooner than quite expected to Sylus's delight.

So here's how your pregnancy goes:

Sylus discovered you were pregnant before you even thought of it. He said your scent got sweeter

You were put on rest instantly. Wrapped in furs that deeply smelled of the both of you, with the finest of silk as clothes and constantly doted on

His habit of scenting you? Got even worse. He's constantly glued to your side. Claims he can't help it, it's in his very instinct to protect you.

He was constantly piling up food on your plate

One child was a blessing. Hearing two heartbeats? Unheard of. Unprecedented

He was glued constantly to your tummy so he heard them. He denies crying to this point, but his eyes had been watery

Carries you whenever for his own pleasure. Your feet have barely met the ground, even as you got fuller and heavier

Massages you when he feels you being restless or tired

Constantly caresses your tummy and talks to the babies

Guilty of taking naps with you, curled around you protectively

Also guilty about stirring the twins with his nips, licks and caresses (got decked one too many times by his babies)

You and him bickered on who the kids will resemble (they ended up mini carbon copies of him)

Dragons do start being more welcoming to you and you slowly start feeling included in the community you're very emotional about it

"One carries a child for 9 months and they end up looking like their father!" one of the dragons playfully complained, pretty much in a similar situation to you. "Doesn't it ever bother you?" she asked curiously

No, it doesn't. Sylus is the favorite parents and the twins have your temper. Bless his patience

Talking of patience, he's had plenty of it with you. Especially as you were pretty much glued to his side and snappy to everyone else your instincts craved your mate pretty heavily during the pregnancy. And after

Talking of after

The first two weeks had been so hectic you were more in and out of sleep, barely remembering anything

Sylus is the light sleeper between the two of you. Surprisingly attuned to the kids, considering they barely start squirming and he's already picking them up

He's constantly scenting them. Playing with them. Is a natural at holding them in the weirdest positions while they babble and laugh

Very protective and possessive of them. Nobody but you and the doctors are allowed to touch his precious treasures (even the doctors are constantly under his scrutinizing gaze)

He does so much it's quite making you feel bad. Especially as the twins seem to favor him right out the womb and seem to need you just for feeding

It's been two weeks and you barely even remember anything. It crushes your soul, especially as one of the babies starts getting fuzzy and he is again the one reaching out for them, soothing the precious chubby cub between his arms.

It makes you sniffle and you have quite the breakdown about not being a good enough mom, crying about how he's doing everything and you barely feel like you've done anything.

He soothes you by holding you closely and nuzzling your hair. "You deserve to rest. You're doing more than enough. Let yourself heal"

You get worried about how much time he actually spends glued to your side, simply because it feels like he's ignoring his duties as a king because of you

He does explain to you that dragons do understand and nobody would be insane enough to expect him to not be by your side constantly at first

Tender moments

He always makes sure to have a regular bath prepared for you and is keen on washing your hair

He truly is a fiend. A kiss stealing fiend

His hands are so gentle over your body, massaging oils and kissing every inch of you. God forbid you ever feel less than wanted, he would snap someone's neck

He's still a flirt with you, just softer

He's actually more worried than you, he just doesn't let it on

He has to stop himself from growling whenever his kids stumble or cry at anything they find scary

The twins are menaces. He spoils them too much

He plays fight with them in the way wolves and lions do. He fakes being tackled to the ground and everything. Barely has the heart to scold them when they nip a bit too seriously at his skin

Though, he does have the heart to scold them when they try the same with you. He's very stern about your safety

[pinacoladamatata]

I realize now I've never really had anyone. not really. nothing that compares to you.

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[misshuntereevee]

you get jealous of a female doctor flirting with zayne ... this was supposed to be just fluff until it got dirty, so enjoy!

content: jealousy, fluff, smut

You're a nice person. You're a kind person. At least, you remind yourself of that as you stare down the intern that is all over Zayne. And you know that he's being polite. You know that he's just trying to make sure she has everything she needs.

But the way she's leaning in, touching his shoulder, and giving an absolutely god awful laugh -- it's making your skin crawl. you're so disgusted that you don't even realize that you're walking over until you're there.

"Oh, you must be the new intern," you say a little too cheerfully, piling on the niceness. You're still reminding yourself to be nice. You were taught to kill them with kindness.

But to your actual shock, the woman turns bright red. "Doctor, actually. I'm new to the ER."

You wouldn't have guessed it by the way she looked so confused. But you keep your mouth shut, already knowing that you fully embarrassed this woman.

But she doesn't seem to know who you are just yet. "But I do know enough that patients wait in the waiting room." Her eyes are narrowed into thin lines at this point.

Zayne finally interjects. "Dr. Madden, this is my partner."

You give another saccharine sweet smile to the woman, who looks like she wants to disappear. "I have paperwork to fill out," she finally says abruptly before walking away.

You watch her scurry away for a moment, but it's not long before Zayne hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his office. In rare fashion, he locks his door as soon as you both enter.

And in even rarer fashion, he pushes you against the door, his mouth descending on yours. "You're really pretty when you're jealous," he says when he finally pulls away. His mouth ghosts down your neck, inhaling your scent. It's the perfume you picked out just for him. It's new actually. One of the things you came over to show him.

"You smell amazing," he groans, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands find purchase on the back of his head, and you giggle.

"I bought a new perfume. It's made with jasmine. I thought you'd like it," you tell him. He gives another groan.

"I need you," he breathes against your neck. "Please."

As if you would deny him. You nod, biting your lip as he pulls back to look down at you. As soon as he has your consent, it's like a dam breaks in him.

He lifts you up. His desk is meticulously neat, all of his papers filed for the most part. A few rogue papers crinkle under your ass, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"I'll print another copy," he grunts.

You giggle, widening your legs for him tauntingly. "You said you wanted something?"

"I believe I said I needed something."

He starts to kiss you again, his hands reaching down to fumble with your pants. Just like the doctor he is, he's precise with his movements, and it's not long before he has them on the floor.

Your own hands fumble with his belt, then his zipper. As you do, his mouth leaves slippery, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. When you push his boxers down, his cock springs free.

"You're pretty when you're jealous," he says, stepping closer to you. His fingers hook into your panties, pulling them to the side. His looks to you one last time to see if you want to stop. When you nod for him to continue, he slowly sinks into you.

He groans, his forehead falling against yours as he buries himself to the hilt. The both of you are still semi-clothed. His hands find purchase on your hips as he slowly starts to thrust. The fabric of his clothing starts to rub against your clit as he fucks you.

"But you should know," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace. "I'm not interested in any other women. I only want you, for as long as you'll have me."

His romantic words drive you closer to the edge. Sensing how close you are, his finger comes down to rub your clit in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Oh my God," you pant. "Zayne, please. Please, right there, I'm so close."

Just as you say that, he gives your clit a little slap and the unexpected harshness from your normally gentle lover is enough to make you fall apart instantly.

He's groaning your name all through your orgasm, the both of you chanting your names at each other. Just as your orgasm starts to subside, he thrusts once, twice, and then stills. Warmness fills you as he releases. His head drops against your shoulder.

"No need to be jealous, ever. I'm yours," he murmurs.