#missaengg writes

[missaengg]

Every Single Last Drop

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, pwp, dom caleb if you squint, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus/oral, unprotected sex, reader referred to as princess Word Count: 1k All you want is for Caleb to hold you in his arms and lie with you in bed, but Caleb has something else in mind…

“Fuu–uuu–uck.”

A long, guttural groan escapes you, your hips bucking wildly into Caleb’s eager mouth as your third – or was it your fourth – orgasm rips through your trembling body. His hands pin you in place, holding your plush thighs open, his sinful tongue doing god-knows-what to your puffy clit.

You hear him chuckle – snicker, really – and a jolt of irritation runs through you, but the nip he gives your bundle of nerves shoves the notion to slap him out of your mind, overwhelmed by the electricity sizzling through your veins.

“Caleb,” you whine pathetically, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging rather painfully on his scalp.

Caleb doesn’t react, refusing to relent for even a microsecond, not even to breathe. He sucks down instead, teasing the overstimulated nub with the tip of his tongue in tiny, rapid strokes.

“Cal–leb,” you whine again, this time with more urgency.

His purple eyes – the ones that remind you of the Orion Nebula – finally flicker to meet yours while his mouth stays locked on to your clit.

“It’s too much,” you whimper, fully aware that you’re begging at this point for him to stop. “I don’t know if I can – fuck — do this – hah – for much longer.”

Caleb narrows his eyes and releases your sex with a sharp, audible pop. “Yes, you can, Princess,” he husks, a low growl underscoring his words. He runs his tongue through your folds, ending with a baby nip on your abused clit. “I know you can.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the exhaustion and overstimulation getting the best of you. You can’t deny the undeniable pleasure you’ve been receiving through just his hot, wet mouth, but you want – no, need – a break to recover from his constant torment.

“I’m almost done,” he murmurs. “I just want to taste you a little bit more.”

He nibbles along your folds, lapping up the thick remnants of your multiple orgasms while his thumb rubs sloppy circles on your clit. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching the fabric as if you’re holding on for dear life… because you are… teetering on the edge of yet another precipice.

“Come for me just one more time, and it’ll all be over. I promise.”

Caleb’s soothing voice lilts into your tired ears. Your muddled brain cries in relief to know that Caleb’s relentless torture will all be over soon, as soon as you allow yourself to let go. With that knowledge, you bring yourself to unravel one more time, willfully falling over the edge into a blissful surrender.

Your hips jerk uncontrollably. A flurry of euphoric spasms rack your body. Gasps flutter from your parted lips.

“That’s it. Sing for me. Just a little more.”

You barely catch Caleb’s coaxing in your dazed state, still riding out your high, feeling him collect every sweet drop of your climax with his tongue.

“Caleb,” you whisper, arching your back.

“One more time, Princess.”

“Oh fuck, Caleb,” you wrench his name out of your throat, arching your back and practically screaming at the pleasure roiling through your body.

Caleb encourages your explosive release, delving his tongue in your warmth. It darts in and out, raking along the sweet, spongy tissue that has you moaning his name and seeing stars. He presses kiss after kiss on your weeping cunt until your body eventually stills and your heaving chest and racing heart calm into a steady rhythm. 

“That’s my good girl.” Caleb presses one last kiss to your clit and releases his hold on your thighs as he removes himself from between your legs.

You sigh, waiting for him to come join you in bed and comb back your sweaty hair and hold you in his toned arms while smothering your neck in tender kisses. Instead, you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone and the rustle of his thick, canvas pants, the bed dipping from the shift of his weight.

“Caleb?” you ask, raising your head to peek at what he’s doing only to find him removing the remainder of his clothes.

He smirks, a dark heat gleaming in his purple eyes, the expression on his face hungry and… sinister. You gulp, a shiver running through your spent body, the realization that your hope for respite might just be a fantasy. Caleb lowers himself, hovering over you and filling your vision with his lust. His necklace – the one you gifted him years ago – skims the dip between your breasts.

“You didn’t think I was done with you already, did you?” he asks, his voice ominously rumbling through his torso. “I’ve got all night to make you mine, Princess. This is just the beginning.”

“But… but you said… it’d be over if I… I…” you weakly protest, licking your lips with what little saliva you have left, your mouth going dry from what you know will come next. Though, whether you want to indulge or want to cry is yet to be determined.

Caleb languidly trails his hand up the side of your body – traveling over your hip, your waist, your shoulder, all the way to your rosy pink cheek, a path of searing fire lingering in its wake. “I said that I’m almost done with your gorgeous clit, not that I’m done with you.”

In that moment, a fleeting thought crosses your mind.

Fuck.

But as he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, the sudden momentary panic flies away as soon as it comes, so consumed with desire, you forget your need for rest. Your body seeks him with a mind of its own, desperate to feel his warmth against your bare skin… to feel his warmth buried in your aching cunt.  

He slides in, deliciously stretching you to your limits despite his overzealous prep, and you note that you have no complaints. Not a single one.

He can hold you and nuzzle your neck after he’s done filling you to the brim with all of him.

Every single last drop.

Tag List: @william-rex

[missaengg]

Couldn't get this post out of my head, and felt inspired to write out Rafayel's portion.

With @jinwoosbabyboo's blessing... I hope I did you proud!! BECAUSE THIS POST RUINED ME 😭

The Last Call

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The top brass at The Hunter’s Association had good intentions. The plan was perfect.

The plan was to take back Hat Island, a small island right off of Linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter’s Associated believed – no, were confident – their new strength, not only in number, but also in the collective Evols and skills of their growing force had improved to finally take back the small island.

But they were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start. 

The wanderers were too smart, too evolved. During their time inhabiting this small, remote island, they had frighteningly evolved past what anyone could have ever imagined. The Hunters never stood a chance.

You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers. Comrade after comrade had been slaughtered before your eyes, the number of Hunters dwindling rapidly with the knowledge that no reinforcements would arrive, until you were the only one left, wounded and alone. You pressed your hand to your side for dear life, trying in vain to suppress the blood gushing from your gaping wound.

You knew. You knew you weren’t going to make it back to Linkon. Back to him.

You had no other choice than to accept your fate.

Dragging your beaten body through the dense, thick trees, you stumbled across a hidden cave on the side of the mountain, a tiny respite from the ferocious carnage roaring outside of it. You slumped against the damp, cave wall, feeling the cold seep into your freezing body, clawing at the last shreds of consciousness so you could make one last call.

One last call to him.

He picked up even before the first ring finished ringing, as if he’d been waiting by the phone just for your call. That was just like him, to be waiting for your call, your Rafayel, your love, your everything.

“Hey, cutie!”

He sounded so happy you called. Your heart broke. It killed you to know that you’d be breaking his.

“You know you create the most beautiful art.”

You closed your eyes, picturing the last painting he proudly displayed to you once he’d finished, a beautiful rendition of the beach the two of you had visited during your last trip together just last month. He’d painted the moment perfectly, the soothing waves crashing on the shore, the cozy tenderness sitting together on the sand with a blanket draped over your shoulders, the wonderment watching the sun fade into a brilliant backdrop of soft pinks and oranges and yellows.

It all seemed so long ago.

“You’re making me blush, stop it.” 

You smiled. You could hear his flustered blush even miles away over the phone.

“I’m going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you, Raf.”

The tears you were holding back finally erupted, stinging your eyes, falling like a torrential storm.

“Huh?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice from wavering, trying to hide your tears from him.

“The next time you’re on the beach, and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise… that’s me… painting the sky just for you.”

Rafayel fell silent. You could almost see the frown creasing his brow, the one he got when he struggled to understand what you were saying.

“No… no, no, you’re–”

Your heart ached hearing the panic flooding his pleas, but you cut him off knowing you didn’t have the luxury of time, and you needed to tell him, you needed him to know.

“I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left…” You couldn’t hide your tears anymore, your anguish and regrets tumbling out in choked spurts. “I’m… I’m not making it back to Linkon…”

Rafayel’s breath hitched, a strangled whimper coming through the phone.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Rafayel was crying now. You heard the strain, the shaky vibrato of his voice, the voice you loved so much to hear murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, the voice you were never going to hear again.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“I can come to you, just tell me where you are.”

You lowered the phone for a second, hot, angry tears streaming down your face, biting back the pitiful, heart wrenching wail threatening to burst from your tight chest, trying so hard not to break at the sound of him falling apart on the other end. You took a shaky breath in, so that he couldn’t hear your pain, hear you dying.

“I’m running on borrowed time right now, Rafayel.” 

He needed to know. He needed to know so that maybe… maybe even after your death he might be okay.

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you… so much.”

Rafayel broke. You clutched at your heart, feeling the stabbing pain of knowing that you were the one who broke him, knowing that you were the one leaving him breaking all the sweet promises you made.

“I love you too.”

You weakly smiled, finally allowing your eyelids to flutter shut.

Your breaths were labored now, your head hazy, unaware of how much blood had pooled on the floor in the short time you spoke to him on the phone.

“Good… good…”

You didn’t realize what you were muttering, your consciousness fading once you heard him say he loved you back, the last thing you needed to hear before you could finally let go.

You were so tired. So very tired.

Your hand slumped to your lap, your phone tumbling to the ground. Your body relaxed. Your breaths stilled.

No longer able to hear Rafayel’s wails once he realized you were gone.

Rafayel was never the same after that. He buried himself in his art, but his art changed. Before, his paintings were breathtaking and beautiful, but after losing you, they turned dark and twisted and deranged, his grief and pain splayed across canvas in dark, brooding colors, unable to use any shade that reminded him of you, and there were so many colors that reminded him of you.

So many colors that had once been inspired by you.

He shut himself away, refusing to leave his studio, refusing to interact with a world you no longer graced.

Thomas grimaced when he walked in. The room was steeped in darkness, the shades tightly drawn to block out the sun. Broken paintbrushes and slashed canvases littered the floor over dark, black splotches of paint staining the once pristine marble.

Rafayel sat in the center of the room, hunched on a stool before a large canvas splattered with black paint, the pattern reminiscent of a pool of blood. Your blood.

“Rafayel.” Thomas approached him, reaching out a hesitant hand, but changing his mind before he placed it on the artist’s shoulder. “You need to eat.”

Rafayel said nothing.

Thomas sighed, making a futile attempt at clearing away some of the resulting debris of Rafayel’s rage. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Silence.

“The art gallery called. They’re canceling your exhibition. They said your new pieces are too… they’re just not what they’re looking for.”

Not even a stir.

It was only when a shrill alarm blared from Rafayel’s phone that he stirred, rousing from his melancholy trance. He moved mechanically, grabbing the only truly intact item in his vicinity, his camera. 

“Rafayel…”

Rafayel looked at Thomas, his face blank, devoid of any emotion save for the red that rimmed his eyes. Without a word, Rafayel slipped out the back door, headed towards the ocean mere steps away from his home.

Thomas exhaled heavily, watching Rafayel walk away.

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after losing you, dragging his weary body out to the beach every morning and every evening, lamenting the days the clouds or the rain covered the sky. That’s how Thomas would always discover him, sitting on the beach, the same blanket from your last trip draped over his shoulders, camera in hand to capture the sunrises and sunsets you painted for him even in your death. 

To capture one more glimpse of you, the only part of you he had left.

Last Call

Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them. A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.

They were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.

You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.

Zayne

The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.

Zayne: Hello MC: Zayne.... Zayne: Yes I'm here

You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.

MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'? Zayne: Of course I do MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park? Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?

You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.

MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today Zayne: What are you saying? MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.

You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.

Zayne: Wh- MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love Zayne: ....dont leave me behind MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......

Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.

Rafayel

He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.

Rafayel: Hey Cutie!

He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.

MC: You know you create the most beautiful art Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf Rafayel: huh?

You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.

MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you Rafayel: No no no you're-

His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off

MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are

Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end

MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much Rafayel: I love you too

Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.

MC: Good ... good.......

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.

Xavier

He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.

Xavier: My little star

His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.

MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

Xavier: What are you going on about? MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest? Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you

He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.

MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me

A brief moment of silence....

Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying

You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.

MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there

And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.

MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?

He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.

Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am

Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.

MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........

Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.

Sylus

Sylus: Hi sweetie MC: I love you!

You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.

Sylus: Why so sudden? MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know Sylus: where-

You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.

MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you

You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.

Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island

You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.

MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me Sylus: but- MC: Sylus please Sylus: I love you My Queen MC: Music to my ears........

Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.

[wistfulwanderingone]

💔Starting Over

I’m starting fresh here, and I wanted to take a moment to explain what happened. My old account (RIP 🪦) was unfortunately deleted, and along with it, all my posts, followers, and memories.

I never thought I’d be here, but my old blog is gone. Everything—posts, memories, conversations, and connections—was lost when my account was deleted. It’s heartbreaking and I'm still in shock and grieving, but here I am, starting fresh and trying to rebuild.

If you were following me before, please follow me back again! I’d love to reconnect with all of you. If you’re new, hi there! I’m excited to meet you and share this journey together. 💖

I’ll do my best to repost what I can recover, but some things just can’t be replaced. It’s bittersweet to lose what was, but I’m taking this as an opportunity to make something even better. It might feel a little empty for now, but I hope it will grow into something meaningful again.

Thank you for being here with me. Whether you’re an old friend or a new one, your support means the world to me. If you recognize me, please don’t hesitate to reach out—it would mean the world to hear from you again.

Here’s to starting over and making new memories together. 🌟

Much love,

Wistful

@aide-falls

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[who-mentioned-rhys-larsen]

Merry Christmas everyone! I was writing for @missaengg, hope you like it and it met your standards! :)))

TW! Sex, riding, hickeys, pinv, kissing, making out, use of no condom. (I don't really know what else to put I'm sorry, lmk if I missed anything though that you think should be here!)

Word count- 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A White Christmas~

It was a warm and cosy morning as you sat with your boyfriend by the crackling fire, finally unwrapping the presents after 24 long days of staring at them under the tree and not being able to do anything about it. The sound of paper rustling echoed throughout the somewhat empty room, save for yourselves and accompanied by the gentle sound of his humming. You both wore matching pyjamas, red and green with cute snowflakes patterns.

"These pyjamas are irritatingly fluffy…kinda like a cat. Eugh."

"Oh c'mon, stop whinging and open this one!"

You replied in a bubbly voice as you shoved another one of your presents in his hands. His brows furrowed as he brought it up to his ear and shook it, trying to guess what was inside it.

"It sounds hollow…"

He mumbled sceptically, raising an eyebrow at your expectant expression before undoing the ribbon and tearing open the wrapping paper to reveal a fish tank box, the writing 'My First Fishtank!' sprawled across the front of it.

"Well? Do you like it?"

You asked softly, looking at him optimistically.

"I thought you might like it because you always liked going to the aquarium and looking at the fish so you might like it more if I bought it to you..?"

You explained, trying to ascertain some sort of a reaction from him. Your nerves settled significantly as a smile formed on his lips. Perhaps it was because of the thought behind the gift compared to it's size as he could easily purchase another, bigger one for his home if his heart truly desired.

"Thanks sweetheart. We can go choose a little fishie for the bowl tomorrow and he can stay in my studio to keep me company. Maybe we'll get two, one for me and one for you."

He spoke softly with a smile as he placed the box down and reached for one of his gifts, giving it to you.

"Now, you have to open one of mine."

He said in his usual teasing tone as he handed you a small box. While you started to try and remove the taping on the box, only to realise that it was practically sealed shut and required the help of scissors, he was silently going over a couple lines in his head, not necessarily paying much attention to you. After going to retrieve them, you came back to find him on one knee, looking up at you. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him with wide eyes as you attempted to process what was going on, your breathing slowly quickening.

"Since I met you by that fish pond that day, I knew it was you. I've always known it was you and that I wanted it to be you. From the way you smile and how your whole face smiles with you, to the way you take care of everyone you love and hold close to yourself and damn me for craving it all forever because I simply cannot get enough of it and I don't think I ever, ever will. My heart yearns for yours and to be connected together, forever. So please, will you do me the honour of being my bride and will you marry me?"

He finished, popping open the ring box to reveal a silver ring in the gentle shape of a tiara, adorned with diamonds and sapphires. His heart was beating frantically in his chest as he awaited your answer, desperately hoping it would be the one he was searching for. You felt your eyes water with tears of happiness as you looked and listened, the scissors and present falling from your hands as they came up and covered your wide mouth, your jaw dropped. It took you a moment to realise that he was still waiting for an answer. Snapping out of it, you just began to repeatedly nod your head over and over again, being unable to let any words out at the moment but knowing what you wanted to say. His lips curled into a wide smile as he placed the box on a nearby table and stood up, picking you up and spinning you around as the sound of happy giggles bounced off every corner of the room. There was an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes that mirrored your own. He gently set you down before he pulled you in for a deep and loving kiss, one hand coming up to rest on the curve of your ass while the other came to cup the nape of your neck and tilt your head back further to deepen the kiss. Your hands came to rest against his chest as some sort of steady between you. Without breaking the kiss off, he sat you both down on the floor, positioning you to straddle his lap. He gently licked the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you gladly gave. Your tongues danced with one another's while his hand strayed under your shirt, caressing your skin lovingly.

Soon enough, both of your clothes were off, having been peeled back t reveal the gorgeous secrets that lay beneath. By now, you had both moved to the couch for comfort. You were mounted on top of him, his hands on your hips to steady you, grinding your clothes pussy against his rock-hard cock that was straining against the confines of his boxers.

"Fuck…stop teasing me darling…"

He mumbled breathlessly as he ground his hips upwards impatiently. Alas, he too removed your underwear impatiently, tossing both his boxers and your arousal soaked panties somewhere to be found later. You hastened to lift your hips up slightly, his hand gripping the base of his cock to direct it to your aching hole. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you sunk down on his length, relishing in the slight burn of the stretch and the way he filled you up so well. Your mixed moans and grunts of pleasure echoed through the room, accompanied by the wanton sound of flesh slapping against flesh as you bounced on his dick and the smell of sex was in the air,

"Mmh…tastes so sweet…"

He mumbled against your breasts. They looked so pretty as they jiggled with each jump on him, how could he not be tempted to suck on them until they were littered with hickeys? Your movements slowly started to become sloppier the closer you came to your climax and he started to thrust upwards instead, his hips snapping up to meet yours coming down and to keep the movements going. The sweet noises you made became more frequent, accompanied by the telltale sign of a tight knot building in the pit of your belly on the drive to ecstasy.

"Raf…d-don't stop…close…"

You whispered breathlessly.

"I know…I can feel it with the way your sweet cunt keeps clenching around my cock…"

He breathed out.

"C'mon…n-nearly there…gonna paint your insides as a White Christmas…."

His hand trailed down ot pinch your clit, rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves between his forefinger and thumb.

"Come f'me."

He commanded with a groan as your head fell back in pleasure, your desperate mewls filling the room as your sweet pussy fluttered around his aching cock. He followed suit, his orgasm crashing over him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his veins. Breathless and sweaty, you leaned down for a kiss as you laid on the couch with him, that of which he gladly accepted.

"You've made me the happiest man alive…"

He whispered softly while his lips ghosted over yours, both of you pulling back from the kiss.

"Words can't express how much I feel the same."

You replied with a smile. He wrapped an arm around your waist, encouraging you to lay your head against him and relax. He pulled a nearby blanket close, leisurely draping it over both of you. Neither of you showed any will to move as you gazed at the crackling fire ahead of you, the flames dancing in the hearth as he slowly softened within you. You were both dripping all over each other, but you'd move to fix that later.

"Merry Christmas, cutie."

He said softly as he nuzzled the crown of your head, your face against his chest.

"Merry Christmas Raf…"

You replied, relaxing contentedly against him. It all seemed so sweet and perfect. But then again, things were always perfect when you were with him.

The end~

@nanamiscocksleeve

!!Please don't copy or steal my work!!

[letters-from-ikemen]

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[razrogue]

3.favorite line/scene you wrote this year 9.longest wip of the year 17.fics you’ll continue next year 19.any new fics to start next year 25.a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Favorite line came from my favorite scene in my BG3 post ritual fic - Baby You're The Devil I Know. Gan and Astarion clash during an argument about how he almost turned her in a power fueled haze immediately after the ritual completed (my HC for these two): “We can rule together forever as vampires, as lovers & partners for the rest of my life…” She glared back over her shoulder towards him. “Or you can simply step over my corpse if I don’t survive our clash.”

9. longest wip of the year

Gan and Astarion's fic - Baby You're The Devil I Know - at 4 chapters (last chapter dropping soon) and 5k+ words!

17. fics you’ll continue next year

I have a few Love and Deepspace and Infamous IF fics I plan to finish up next year, especially since both games are ongoing at the moment.

19. any new fics to start next year

Definitely plan to write more Love and Deepspace. Need to show Xavier some fic love and write a bit more for my MC too 🥰

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

I'm heavy in my latest obsessions so I'll post a few!

For LaDS fans: Xavier/Reader(You) - Tastes Like Honey by @xavierslittlecrow , All the guys (this one is an imagine plus a fic in the reblog) - Last Call by @jinwoosbabyboo & @missaengg For JJK fans: Sukuna/F!OC - Beast of No Nation by @osunism , Modern/College AU Sukuna/F!Reader(You) - What You Know by @starmapz

[wistfulwanderingone]

*excuse me while I get a hold of my sobbing self*

This is a GORGEOUS piece and testament to love and to your writing ability. It was emotional, deep, hearfelt, poetic... I cannot find words to fully express how much I love it.

You captured my OC Cassandra and her relationship with Clavis so perfectly...or might I say "enchantingly". I felt like you reached into my head and pulled them right out. Thank you for writing it and for lovingly including Cassandra and Clavis. I am actually giddy right now because my little heart is dancing around happily over this story. I love it so much. It is nothing short of stunning.

I'm tagging my Ikemen peeps cause this might as well be canon.

Tag List:

@ithseem @chirp-a-chirp @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady @nyxthepixystick

@ikeprinces-stuff @kaizoku-musume @candiedcoffeedrops @missaengg @ike-garden2024

@writingwhimsey @reborn-elven-spirit @elixirofubik @avellanas-nutty-empire

Transcendence

Plot: A song about unconditional love has profound meaning for two of Rhodolite’s princes. A series of six stories featuring Clavis and Leon (and their eventual partners, Cassandra and Carla) and how this song is interwoven throughout their lives.  

Alternate Twist: The song is Calum Scott’s Biblical. This piece of fiction reimagines Clavis’s mom Lady Leticia writing the song for her son. Song lyrics referenced are indented throughout the stories.  

Characters: Clavis Leouch; Lady Leticia; Leon Dompteur; The Fourth Prince; Carla (OC for Leon); Richard Demandeur (Carla’s Dad); Cassandra (OC for Clavis)

Tags: Angst and Feels; fluff; unconditional love (romantic and non-romantic); OCs; mentions of slavery, terminal illness, and death of parents; sparkles...lots of sparkles

Tags Part 2: @wistfulwanderingone @ikeprinces-stuff @reborn-elven-spirit Hope y’all like this! @wistfulwanderingone thank you for letting me write this piece featuring your lovely OC Cassandra! (Seriously folks, check out her blog to learn more about Cassandra and Clavis!)

Note: There is list of characters & character pictures (OC pics thanks to neka) for each story. While each story can be read independently, the stories interweave and connect. If there's a callback to a previous story, it will be in bold red/purple font.   

Word count: 6 stories ranging from ~450 words to ~1600. ~6700 in total.

Song

Characters: Lady Leticia and (young) Clavis

Word Count: ~450

Synopsis: Lady Leticia gives Clavis a precious gift.

...

“Come dear, I have something for you.” A woman with flowing lavender hair and golden eyes led a boy of eight up a manicured path amidst the blooming rose gardens. She stopped at a clump of bushes and creeping ivy trellises near the palace. 

“But it’s not my birthday!” Little Clavis radiated excitement, his sparkling eyes darting at every rose bush as if a present would magically materialize.    

“Do I need a reason to give the joy of my life something?” Lady Leticia smiled. She was always smiling of course, but this smile was special—like the entirety of her happiness was concentrated at her son. “Now sit down like a well-behaved gentleman.”

“But how will I open my gift if I do that!?” Despite his question, Clavis sat on the grass, practically vibrating as he hugged his tucked knees. 

“It’s not that kind of present darling. Just listen to what I wrote.” Leticia stood a few feet away, her simple lavender and white dress billowing in the breeze. And then, she began to sing. 

Didn't know that I'd fall so hard Then my feet left the ground Gravity don't make no sense when you're around       

Clavis sat mesmerized. Sure, Chevalier might be the son of the queen and a once in a generation genius, but he didn’t a song written for him. He didn’t have a mom that loved him best. No one did. It was Clavis’s one advantage over his brothers. 

Leticia sang with a grace that transcended the realm of the ordinary. Her words seeped into Clavis’s veins, filling him with joy. 

I slip and wonder what I'd do If you never found me and I never found you I don't know what I'd do Well, I don't wanna see So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

Clavis wanted it all. And with his mom, he had it. 

“I just wanted you to know I love you.” Leticia stopped singing and stepped towards her son, bending down to put both hands on Clavis’s cheeks. “But if you ever forget, remember this song and I’ll come back to you.”

“I’d never forget that mama!” Clavis propelled himself off the ground, throwing his arms around her in a fierce hug. “You’re always here.”

“My good, kind-hearted boy.” Leticia tucked a few flyaway lavender hairs behind Clavis’s ears. “I’ll always love you. No matter where I am.” 

“Can you sing it again? And again, and AGAIN?”

Leticia smiled, the picture of radiance. “OK, my dear. One more time.”

(Leticia would sing the song ten more times that day. Not nearly enough for Clavis.)

Promise

Characters: The fourth prince and (young) Leon

Word Count: ~850

Synopsis: Two boys talk about the future, with Leon making a promise that’ll reside in his heart for years to come.

Note: This story takes a premise mentioned in Leon’s Curse of Love Arc Bonus Ending and expands on it. 

...

A boy peered with wide-eyed curiosity at the singing woman, his breath fogging up the windowpane he pressed up against. His companion chuckled good naturedly. 

“If you lean any further, you’ll fall outside.” A sickly boy whose wild dark tresses and amber eyes mirrored the boy at the window smiled complacently.  

“I-I’m not interested at all.” The boy murmured to himself, moving quickly from his perch to return sitting at the foot of the bed. The window was partially open, the air carrying the woman’s melodious singing into the room. 

“That sounds like Lady Leticia. That’s your brother Clavis’s mother Leon.” 

“You mean YOUR brother’s mom.”  

“Clavis will be YOUR brother when I’m gone remember. That makes Lady Leticia your stepmother. She’s the nicest mom in the palace.”

“Your mom loves you though. Lots.” And it was true. Leon knew the fourth prince’s mom would do anything for her son. Including bringing a dirty look-a-like slave into the palace to replace him. But what she couldn’t do was look Leon in the eye. To acknowledge Leon would be for the fourth prince’s mother to acknowledge—  

“Yes, but I’m leaving her soon.” The prince seemed to read Leon’s thoughts. “And while mother loves me, Lady Leticia is the only mom that is nice to everyone.” The sickly boy patted to an open spot beside him on the bed. Leon scooted so that he and the prince sat side by side, their legs under thick purple and red quilts. The boys craned their heads as Leticia’s voice floated in the room.    

And when you open your eyes I'll be there by your side I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it, I wanna have it all 'Cause your love is biblical It's biblical, it's biblical

“It must be nice.” Leon said under his breath. 

“What?” The fourth prince turned his head towards his companion. 

Leon’s cheeks turned light red, half in embarrassment, half in anger at himself. He needed to control his feelings better if he was going to really be a prince. But this was his friend—if anyone deserved what was honestly in his heart, it was him. The words were whispered, as if divulging his deepest secret. “To…to be loved like that.” 

The fourth prince tilted his head curiously. “You speak as if you don’t know what love is.”

“You know what my life was like before I came here!” Leon’s voice shook in barely repressed anger and anguish. His fingers curled into tight fists, fingernails leaving deep marks on his palms. “It was absolute Hell! Day after day.”

“Before then. Before you were a slave.”

“Before?” Leon grazed a hand over his chest, his index finger rubbing over lacerations covered in ointment underneath his white tunic. The last lashes Leon received before coming to the palace had been especially punishing, tearing through skin so deep there had been concern he would not make it due to blood loss. But that was typical treatment for slaves. They were replaceable, after all.         

“How could you recognize Clavis being loved if you hadn’t experienced it yourself?” The fourth prince inclined his head slightly, his bearing wise beyond his years. “You don’t remember everything that’s happened to you, when you were really young, right? There’s a good chance you were loved before. Even if you can’t recall it, your heart already knows what it is.”  

Leon chewed his lip. It was a lot to take in. 

“You don’t look like you believe me Leon.”

“I WANNA believe you.”

“That’s a start then.” The prince placed a pale hand over top of Leon’s. “You want to be a prince that’ll bring happiness to others. Be kind. Be a good person. Love ties all that together. You know that instinctively. I don’t need to teach you that because someone else already did.”

Leon furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.” 

“If you’ve experienced love before, you can do it again. You’ll love the people as a prince. It can happen to you as well.” 

“Me? A former slave with a borrowed name?” The words were detached yet filled with doubt. 

The fourth prince pulled Leon into a hug, his arms tightening with surprising strength. “Yes, you. My friend.” There was a slight crack in the prince’s voice. “My only friend.”

Leon returned his embrace before pulling away, not wanting to overwhelm his sickly frame. The prince laughed quietly. “See, you chose to be kind even now.”

“Because you taught me—”

“I taught you politics; philosophy; names of important people. I did not teach you kindness.” The prince squeezed Leon’s hand. “When you find love again Leon, tell me what it’s like.”

But Leon thought that love would be for you through me. No one would ever actually love ME.    

“You’ll find it Leon.” The prince’s voice was quiet but resolute. “Promise you’ll tell me when you find it.” 

His friend would not ask him something that was impossible. However improbable it was. Leon squeezed his hand back. “I promise.” 

Loved Best

Characters: Clavis Leouch, Carla (OC) and Richard Demandeur (OC). References to Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~1,600

Synopsis: Clavis prepares for an extraordinary performance. Carla and her dad reminisce about the past and discuss the future.

Note: The male choir mentioned in this story sing the song “Biblical” like Johns’ Boys

...

“Forgive me, I know my handsomeness makes everyone stare, haha!” A pair of golden eyes gleamed through the haze. 

Carla coughed repeatedly, bending over her knees. “Ack, the smoke cannon didn’t work as expected Clavis!” She stood back up, frantically waving smoke away. Carla smoothed her billowing skirt, squinting at the fabric before exclaiming in exasperation. “Did you put sparkles in the cannon?!” 

“A sparkle cannon.” A man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed goatee raised an eyebrow. “THAT is what my daughter was helping you with?” 

“I DIDN’T know—ack, ACK!—sparkles had been added.” Carla hacked up a few shimmery pieces of paper.   

“You speak as if that weren’t a noble task for my seeker, Richard!” Clavis clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

The trio stood on an outdoor stage near an orphanage in the town of Leouch. Richard, one of the orphanage’s directors, had arranged for a performance to raise much needed funds. Clavis had promised to host an unforgettable event, with Carla assisting him. 

As Clavis’s seeker, her official job was locating items Clavis was too distracted to find himself—gears for cannons; chemical compounds; rare spices for Clavis’s…creative culinary pursuits. However, Carla found other things as well: books for the orphanage; jobs for the unemployed; sanctuary for refugees fleeing into Rhodolite. Carla was a seeker. A seeker of connection; of people; of hope. Many of the orphanage’s children (and other citizens of Leouch) had escaped or been spirited away from Obsidian. Where formal Rhodilitian policies did not provide protection for these refugees, people like Carla and Richard filled in the gaps—with shadow assistance from Clavis.    

“Impressive, is it not?” Clavis gestured to the cannon now that the smoke had (mostly) cleared. 

Richard kneeled, sweeping away sparkles before placing his knee on the ground. His rust-colored eyes squinted as he inspected the canon and nearby diagrams of the contraption. “If you made it 20% smaller and didn’t choke it up with your nonsensical glitter paper, it would be quite effective.” 

“But the sparkles make it—”

“If you say the sparkles make it sparkle, I will shake you.” Richard’s words were sharp, but Clavis beamed unrepentantly. Richard knew when young people pretended to not care. Prince Clavis presented an irreverent façade, but Richard knew he craved positive affirmation more than most others. However, sometimes a firmer tone was required.  

“I AM a prince, remember.”

“You only pull rank when you know I’m right,”Richard retorted. He returned his gaze to the diagrams, examining them with a thoughtful hum. “If you shrunk this cannon so it could be hand-held, Carla and I could take it on our next mission to Obsidian.” Richard got up from the ground, writing notes next to the diagrams with suggested modifications. The orphanage always had something that needed repair—fixing things was second nature to him. “We could use the cannon to fill a room with smoke or obscure a path.” 

Carla nodded excitedly. “The smoke bombs you gave us last time were GREAT, but once we throw them, we can’t use them again. Imagine a mini cannon we can use repeatedly!” 

“Your beloved prince will see what can be done.” Clavis smiled—genuinely smiled. A handheld canon would inspire much mischief.

“NO sparkles though.” Richard narrowed his eyes. “It would clog the smaller chamber too much.” 

“How boring.” Clavis pouted.   

“I know someone who WOULD appreciate a sparkle cannon though.” Carla’s eyes…well, sparkled, with humor. 

“Hmmm,” Richard murmured.

Carla “whispered” conspiratorially to her father, ensuring Clavis could hear her. “The…enchantress.” 

Clavis’s eyes gave off a mysterious shine, his face turning pink. 

“Am I EVER going to see Cassandra?” Carla jabbed Clavis lightly on the shoulder. “She’s met Cyran and your seneschal. I’m starting to think this lack of introduction to me and papa is deliberate.” 

“I’m starting to think this Cassandra’s mythical,” Richard muttered to himself. "Transcending reality."

“I would be delighted for you two to meet her! When the time is…appropriate,” Clavis intoned, plastering a smile back in place. Richard and Carla were forthright, honest individuals. They would get along famously with Cassandra. And they would quickly ask how she felt about him—really felt about him. And—

He was not prepared to hear the answer. Someone like her did not deserve a fool like him.       

“And when have you cared about appropriateness?” Carla chided mildly. She chose to not press further when Clavis remained silent, his smile shaking slightly. Carla and her father exchanged a look. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to introduce us.”

“In the meantime, maybe the choir could start practicing,” Richard suggested as he left the stage, urging Carla and Clavis to follow. “NO SPARKLE CANNON though.” Clavis pouted again as Carla wheeled the cannon away. 

A group of thirty—some male Leouchian citizens, the rest boys and staff from the orphanage—gathered on stage in lavender, gold, and white choir robes. “What song did you pick Clavis?” Carla tilted her head as the trio sat towards the back of the outdoor theater.  

“Just wait and see!” Clavis answered dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” 

The other orphanage’s co-director walked to the stage with a conductor’s baton. As the choir began to practice, Richard turned a golden ring on his left hand. He sighed wistfully. “Your mother would have loved this song.”

“I’m sure papa.” Carla quietly held her father’s hand. 

And when you open your eyes I'll be there by your side I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you 'Cause your love is biblical Biblical, it's biblical

“There’s no rule that says we can’t talk about the deceased.”  Clavis spoke with unusual mildness. “She sounds like a remarkable person.”  

“She taught me how to love. I have continued the lesson with Carla. And the children I look after, of course.”

“And you have always taught this lesson alone?” Clavis asked sympathetically. 

“When you have experienced love like that, nothing else compares.” Clavis flinched, feeling like he had intruded on something he should not have. “There was life before my wife died and life afterwards.” There was an air of finality in the older man’s statement, as though if he did not end the conversation now, he would break in front of them.  

So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

Out of nowhere, Richard spoke again. “Your mother loved you best.” 

A flicker of shock ran through Clavis. He envisioned the rose garden where his mother first sang to him. I haven’t forgotten mama Clavis thought. If I weren’t a mediocre fool, I could have saved you. And you could have still loved me.

Even if you loved me second best.

Clavis’s thoughts were interrupted by Carla. “That’s not true papa, mom—”

“I don’t say that to make you feel guilty Carla. Your mother’s dearest wish was to see you born. She got that. I just wish...”

I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

“I wish she had had more time with you.”

“And you, papa.” Carla leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Carla murmured. “I wonder if I’ll ever have what you and mom had.”

“You will. One day, your heart will beat for another. Someone worthy—someone will be the hero for you that you are to others and to me.” 

“So, don’t settle for less than perfection?” The corners of Carla’s mouth lifted in a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. Papa always wanted the best. He couldn’t be anything less than protective and sentimental.

“I didn’t say that firefly.” Carla’s smile became warmer hearing her papa’s nickname for her. “Heroes are human. And vulnerable. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, and he with you, that’s love. You’re bad at that.” 

“I’m as bad as you are!”

“See, you deflect again. You’re nearly as bad at that as the purple disaster!” Richard huffed, pointing to Clavis. 

Clavis blinked and smirked to cover his scrambled thoughts. “If I’m the worst, it means there’s no one worse than me. I rather like the sound of that.”  

Carla rolled her eyes. “That’s NOT a compliment.” 

“Oh, papa didn’t complement his darling girl? How rare.” Clavis waggled his eyebrows. 

“You’re impossible!” Carla slapped the palm of her hand against her thigh, eyes flaring in irritation. 

“Impossibly handsome and clever, yes.” 

“CHILDREN.” Richard evoked the stern voice used at the orphanage when the kids were unruly. Clavis was one of the few individuals that could goad Carla into her more petulant, combative moods. “I meant don’t compromise on love. You’re too good for that, firefly. You too, despite your best efforts to hide it.” Richard gestured to Clavis with a jut of his chin. 

“Has old age made you senile?”

“My daughter may be stubborn, but she will not run when she finds her match. YOU, however,” Richard looked the third prince in the eye. “It will take years of patience and care to remove the walls you’ve built up, brick by brick. But eventually, someone will remove enough bricks to allow an opening into your heart. And they will love you as you deserve. And that love will be so strong there will be no room for even YOU to doubt her.” 

A pair of enthralling emerald eyes materialized in Clavis’s mind. A small hole pierced in Clavis’s heart at the vision, allowing a modicum of warmth to seep through. Just as quickly, the hole was patched up.  

Not yet. I must be sure Cassandra will stay.     

Story

Characters: Leon Dompteur and Carla (OC)

Word Count: ~1550

Synopsis: Leon and Carla unveil their deepest secrets/pain.

...

“I miss him. So much.” Carla sobbed, her head buried in the folds of Leon’s black shirt. 

Loneliness. It was something Leon knew well. He had traded the dismal dreariness of a slave’s tunic with the refined radiance of a prince’s robe. But the loneliness remained the same. He hated that Carla was feeling that now. 

Leon pulled Carla closer to him. The pair sat near a half-finished Clavis pit in the palace rose gardens, feet dangling off the muddy edge. The sun was setting below the Castle’s pristine white walls, the sky’s pink and golden hues slowly transforming into inky blues and violets. 

Leon felt useless, utterly useless. There was nothing for him to do. Carla’s father was gone. Grief for a beloved parent did not come with an instruction manual. But he could hold her—offer warmth, a semblance of security, when Carla had none.    

Carla turned her head from Leon, wet cerulean eyes looking down into the pit. “If I fell into darkness, would you catch me?” Carla flinched at her own words and their warbled inflection. What was she saying? Why was she saying it? Why couldn’t she get her father’s final moments out of her head even after all this time?

An arm encircled tighter along her waist. Calloused fingers traced slow, soothing circles below Carla’s ribs. “If you allowed it.” A huff of breath rumbled against Carla’s copper and ruby locks.

“No, that’s a lie. I’d do it regardless, even if you hated me for it,” Leon murmured. He tugged himself and Carla away from the pit, placing Carla’s curled form in his lap, arms enfolding her. Without conscious thought, Leon spoke the words from Lady Leticia’s song he heard all those years ago.  

If you evеr go to pieces Fall between thе thunder clouds I will put you back together, I won't let you down

“I won’t fall to pieces Leon.” Carla hated how pathetic she was acting, nestling her face against the crook of his neck, hands clinching the fabric of his shirt. Leon's words recalled bittersweet memories of her and her dad with that song. She didn’t want to show the trail of tears dripping down her cheeks (she was sure he could feel them dribbling down his skin, but Leon chose not to comment on it). “And I could never hate you. You’re too kind a person for that.” 

“You make me sound nicer than I am.” A low-throated rumble transformed to a rueful laugh. Dark hair tumbled over Leon’s face, tickling her forehead.

“No, I’m not. Take the compliment for once,” Carla sniffed. She found herself wanting to touch Leon’s dark locks—soft, gentle, free. She wanted to bind herself to something beyond the swirl of grief enveloping her.

“Maybe it would help if you talked about your dad.”    

This is just like Leon. Always listening to people’s burdens. What about him? Carla blinked a few tears away, her head moving slightly from Leon, eyes averted from his gaze. And then she saw them—for the first time, really saw them. 

Scars. 

They were faint, but still visible with the setting sun. Two angry lines ran across the top part of Leon’s chest that peeked out from his partially unbuttoned shirt, their fury lashing out. Smaller scars were interspersed with callouses on his hands. Carla was all but positive there were others hidden beneath layers of cloth and the casual but glittering confidence Leon projected.

“Kindness should go both ways.” Carla’s voice shook. She raised her head and straightened her back, turning slightly in Leon’s lap so she faced him. 

“You are kind, Carla.” The pad of Leon’s thumbs wiped away falling tears.       

Leon will always redirect attention from himself. Unless…“I’ll make you a deal.” The corner of Leon’s mouth lifted at her attempt to bargain with him. “I’ll share stories of papa…”

When you allow yourself to be vulnerable…

“…if you share how you got these.” Carla’s fingers grazed a path of a scar on Leon’s chest. 

When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, and he with you, that’s love. Even now, her father’s words guided her. 

Leon caught his breath, his smirk evaporating. Arms that always seemed so strong trembled slightly. He couldn’t bring himself to lie, not to her. He didn’t regret his decision to live as the fourth prince, but he despised the taint of deceit that always followed him with that choice. And the distance he was forced to keep from his heart to enforce that choice. For once, he didn’t know what to say. Leon buried his head against Carla’s shoulder to avoid her look. 

He silences himself when he’s meant to roar. For several moments, the only thing heard was the intake of breath. “Thank you for not lying to me,” Carla whispered, her hand cradling the back of his head.

“I didn’t say anything though.” Leon’s arms tightened around her, as if afraid she’d disappear from admitting even this. 

“You could have claimed they came from battle. But you didn’t. And that’s not where they came from, is it?” It was less a question and more a statement. 

Leon raised his head, his expression giving away nothing. “What makes you so sure?”

“They’re too old looking for them to have happened to you as a soldier.” Carla’s voice was calm at first, but rose in volume, anger creeping in. Anger at whoever inflicted these wounds on him. “And most soldiers don’t carry whips as weapons.” 

“Why do you think they’re whip marks?” Leon did not contradict her previous remarks. Carla’s heart lurched at that. 

“Papa and I helped people who’ve been in Obsidian slave camps. I know what whip marks look like.” Carla continued, her eyes watering again as she envisioned Leon bracing himself against the lash of rawhide. “And if those scars didn’t happen when you were a soldier…” Carla gasped at her train of thought. “They happened when you were a child.”  

A deep, bone-weary sigh escaped Leon. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.” He sounded apologetic, as if Carla had stumbled upon a burden she now had to carry.  

“If you don’t want me remarking on your scars, consider buttoning up your shirt more.” Carla sniffled. Leon’s arms loosened as he tried to move away. Carla quickly pulled Leon back towards her, fingers gripping his upper back. “Don’t you dare let go. Please.”

The please got to him. It was as much a demand as it was a plea—for them both. Leon’s eyes widened and then closed in stark relief, his arms coiling around Carla’s back. “Most folks don’t get close enough to notice.” 

“Because you don’t let them.”

“Consider it a Carla-exclusive perk.” 

Carla’s heart fluttered at his words. “Whatever your truth is, I won’t think less of you for it.”

Leon tilted his head upwards, staring at the sky—a movement so habitual, it was practically automatic. He then looked back down at Carla, his amber eyes burning intensely. “It’s…quite a long story.”  

“Good thing there’s no reading involved then.” 

Ahhh, you really are too much Carla. “Hey, your deal was a story for a story. I won’t hide from this if you don’t.” 

A moment’s hesitation flickered in Carla’s expression. Leon caught her gaze and held it. If Leon can be brave, so can I. With a fortifying breath, Carla released her grip from Leon’s shoulders and began. 

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who held the world in her hand. That world w-was—” Carla stuttered to a stop, her throat catching. “That world was her papa. The pair lived alone, but with papa, the girl was never lonely.”  

Carla’s mouth trembled. Not trusting her voice, Carla shook her head. Leon placed a finger on her lips. “We can take turns if you like.” His eyes softened when she nodded.  

“Once upon a time, there was a boy with no name. Maybe he had one, but it’s been lost to history.” Carla’s body stilled entirely in his arms. “The boy’s first memory was holding bark in his hand. He was hungry, and there was nothing else to eat.”   

As the night wore on, Carla was in awe. She held in her arms a man who had been hurt so much but refused to be hardened. She saw a man who reflected light because he did not want others to feel encroaching darkness like he had. She grasped Leon’s hand, as if she could reach out to the little boy who held nothing but the peeled remains of dying trees.

Leon’s hand grasped back, fingers curling against hers. And then, an image flashed in his mind—several berries being placed in his hand alongside the bark. 

I’m sorry dear. It’s all I have. 

Leon desperately tried to place the disembodied voice with the fragment of memory but couldn’t. But he knew one thing. The voice ached for him. And he had been loved before.

Leon’s fingers moved towards the berries, but instead found something more. His fingers were entwined with Carla’s, her hold tender, but refusing to let go.    

“When you find love again Leon, tell me what it’s like.” The fourth prince’s words rang in Leon’s mind. And finally, after all these years, he had an answer. 

Love left him breathless. It left his heart searing with warmth, seeking light that had long evaded him. 

It left him free.  

Enchanted

Characters: Clavis Leouch and Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~1450

Synopsis: Clavis surprises Cassandra with an unforgettable night.

...

A gentleman must always entertain his audience. But allow me to surprise you. 

“Close your eyes, enchantress.” Clavis’s endearment fell from his lips, a melody that caressed Cassandra’s ears. She wished she could hear her name spoken again in such tender tones—a refrain that, if granted, would make her heart soar.

“Isn’t that a tad excessive?” Cassandra retorted playfully. She could easily picture a breathtaking smile brimming with wonder. Each time they were together, she felt an unspoken harmony between them, one that resonated deep within her. “Afterall, I’m already wearing a blindfold.”

“Two blindfolds dearie.” Clavis bopped Cassandra’s nose twice, his index finger lingering on the tip of her nose with the second bop. Cassandra instinctively leaned forward, missing Clavis’s touch when his hand sauntered away. He had a way of lingering in her thoughts, his teasing mischief inspiring her to enjoy the moment. 

Speaking of inspiration…Cassandra heard something moving, her heart thrumming with anticipation. She sat on a bench, in a location within the palace rose gardens she rarely explored. Yves and Licht had warned her this area of the gardens was where Clavis experimented the most with his pit traps (and the 5th and 6th princes had the dirt-stained clothes to prove it). Not that they needed to caution her on this—besides Chevalier, Cassandra was the only person at the palace who hadn’t fallen into one of Clavis’s traps. 

“Move it a little more to the left.” 

Even with multiple layers of cloth, Clavis could envision Cassandra’s delicate eyebrows lifting wryly as she spoke. And her eyes—shiny emeralds that captivated with grace and tart humor, were ones Clavis could easily get lost in if he allowed it. “Do I need to add a third blindfold?”  

The force of Cassandra’s tinkling laughter moved the blindfolds just enough for her to see the faint flush of pink on Clavis’s cheeks. She quickly readjusted the cloth to cover her eyes as to not ruin the surprise Clavis had put his heart into producing—whatever it was. 

“No, you need to move whatever it is you have to the left.” Cassandra’s feet shuffled in anticipation. When she didn’t hear Clavis move, Cassandra decided to spur him to action. “You know, I bet Carla would agree with me. Maybe that’s why you won’t let me meet her.” Cassandra had heard many stories from Cyran about Carla—Carla procured most of the items for Clavis’s traps and experiments, a job Cyran was very grateful to not be saddled with. Between collecting things for Clavis and working with former Obsidian refugees, Carla seemed like a fascinating individual. 

Not as fascinating as Clavis, Cassandra thought. No one is.    

A quick, sharp burst of jealousy tore through Clavis at the mention of his seeker’s name. He did NOT want his enchantress to be thinking of anyone else besides him in this moment. “You will meet Carla when it is…appropriate.” 

“Do you know what appropriate means Clavis?” Cassandra murmured. 

Oh Hell, Cassandra and Carla would get along all too well. Clavis had thought this more than once in his life. Both ladies had remarked on Clavis’s questionable perceptions of appropriateness. But while he and Carla bickered with the familiar but fierce affection akin to siblings, he and Cassandra danced an elusive tango of delicate flirtation.  

Cassandra gave him everything—her laughter, her patience, her impatience. She was the first person in two decades who made him feel like he was enough. After years of banter, they had built a rapport with one another—one where Cassandra felt free to drop her walls and the lofty expectations placed upon her by her family. Over time, Clavis had seen a glimmer of defiance from her noble upbringing, and it had become a powerful beacon that shown within.  

Moreover, she stayed with him. And she seemed all the more delighted for it. 

“This performance is for your eyes only. But, as a gentleman, I will move your surprise as requested. Which left should I move it towards?” 

“There’s only one left!”

“My left or yours?” 

“Why don’t you pick then?”

“I thought there was only one left I could choose dearie.”

Cassandra was delicate like fire, her words playful, hinting at the ability to scorch if truly provoked. Yet her essence was all warmth. “Why don’t you pick the left that is…appropriate then?”

With a chuckle, Clavis wheeled his new and improved cannon from behind a pink rose bush. The cannon was designed smaller per the recommendations of Carla’s father. Clavis winced subtly at the memory of Richard. He was gone far too soon. The one specification Clavis did NOT adhere to—he kept the sparkles. Cassandra deserved the best after all.  

“Clavis, are…are you sure I deserve this?”

Clavis turned his head upon hearing Cassandra’s hesitant tone. She was an honest individual—more so than most. Her question was not a feeble ploy of feigned doubt disguised as flirtation like many noble women were taught. Clavis knew Cassandra would occasionally throw a spark of doubt at herself, a spark that could rage into an inferno quickly. Who better to diagnose crippling doubt than a mediocre fool like myself? 

“Absolutely. No one is more worthy.” Clavis spoke seriously, prepping the cannon to be ignited. 

Cassandra bit her lip, her thoughts scattering at Clavis’s sincerity. In moments like this, when the carefree mask of Clavis was gone, and their light banter pushed aside, it was impossible to ignore how she needed him. Before Clavis, Cassandra lived within the shadow of her family and what they permitted for her. Without Clavis, Cassandra forgot how to live, how to find joy in the unexpected and the unimagined. But now…

Cassandra lowered her face. Even while wearing blindfolds, she could feel the intensity of Clavis’s gaze. She then spoke with quiet reverence.

I slip and wonder what I'd do If you never found me and I never found you I don't know what I'd do

“How…how do you know those words?” Clavis blinked in astonishment. His hand slipped from behind the cannon, unaware that he had now lit a rather shortened fuse. “Surely you haven’t heard that song—"

“Song, what song?” Now it was Cassandra’s turn to be confused. “I…merely spoke what’s in my heart when I think of you.”

My God, Clavis thought. She’s an enchantress. She’s an ACTUAL enchantress. I really MUST—

BOOM!

There was a cacophony of sound—a cannon explosion, feet shuffling and stumbling, Cassandra coughing as smoke billowed all around, and Clavis yelling in shock before—

THUD!

Cassandra yanked the blindfolds off, coughing as lavender smoke sprinkled with golden sparkles swirled in the air. She suspected the smoke wasn’t supposed to be this pervasive. Her eyes widened once she saw an outline of a cannon through the haze, and widened even more when she didn’t see Clavis anywhere. 

“Ugggh…”

Cassandra walked past the cannon, squinting through the smoke to see a half-finished pit trap. At the bottom was a disheveled, slightly dazed Clavis. Clavis raised his head, waving his hands to clear his vision, and at the sight of Cassandra, wholly wished he could bury himself alive. He sighed inwardly, trying to not unravel each flaw before her.

“Are you OK?!”

Clavis could only nod. To do anymore would break the control he tried desperately to hold onto.

And then, the most remarkable thing happened. “You DID promise me a surprise. You certainly delivered that.” 

There was no mockery in her statement. With one fell swoop, Cassandra managed to both unsettle and sooth him.

“I’m touched. No, really Clavis. No one has ever done something this extraordinary for me before.”

Extraordinary? You really think so? Clavis couldn’t believe it.

“CASSANDRA?!” Yves’s voice pierced through the air. “I heard an explosion!”

The lavender haze still obscured Cassandra from Yves’s line of sight. Without thinking, Cassandra jumped into the pit, fumbling a bit until she was laying down next to Clavis. 

“Well, you finally fell into one of my traps dearie.”

“I don’t think it counts if I willingly jumped in.” Cassandra leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“Oh, I suppose so. I’ll just have to double my efforts then.” Clavis bopped Cassandra on the nose, his playful demeanor almost completely back.

“Can we stay here a little longer? Before Yves finds us?” Cassandra dared to ask. She did not want the night’s adventure to end. “We could watch the stars.” Clavis did not point out the impracticality of this with the smoke. 

“Oh look. Hehe!” Cassandra’s laugh was unguarded and full of joy as the wind carried numerous golden sparkles that floated into her outstretched hands. At the sight of her laughter, Clavis remembered his mother’s singing. 

I come up against myself when Demons in my head get loud I don't know how you do it, but you turn them down

“It’s like the stars have come to us!” Cassandra took the sparkles and placed them in the third prince’s hand. “Thank you Clavis.”   

Clavis smiled softly. No, thank you, enchantress. For thinking I’m worthy. For caring for me. For loving—

Maybe you do love me best. 

Transcendence 

Characters: Clavis Leouch; Leon Dompteur; Carla (OC); Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~800

Synopsis: Sparkles. Lots of Sparkles. And six stories connecting together.

...

“Blindfolds, again Clavis?” Cassandra murmured in amusement. “This is starting to feel like de ja vu.”   

“Clavis blindfolds you on a regular basis?” Carla tittered, her copper locks swaying lightly. She and her dear friend Cassandra sat in a rose covered gazebo within the palace gardens, their eyes concealed with golden blindfolds. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s on a regular basis…”

“Tut, tut, tut!” Two fingers encased in a white glove lightly touched Cassandra’s mouth, tracing her lower lip. Clavis tilted Cassandra’s chin so he could better view her rosy face. “Don’t give away our secrets my lovely lover!” 

“I AM surprised at how you’ve corrupted Leon!” Carla turned her head towards the direction of Clavis’s voice.  

“My little brother is quite the mischief maker beneath his golden image.” Clavis preened with pride. “He didn’t need much convincing.”

“I did say your night was gonna change forever.” Leon grinned shamelessly. 

“When you told me to take your hand, I didn’t think I would be blinded later.” Despite her grumbling, Carla was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Blindfolds can add a little spice to things,” Cassandra chimed in. 

Carla chuckled. “I bet Leon has a giant smirk on his face.” 

“Hey Clavis, you got another blindfold? I think my lioness can see us.” 

“Ha! I think Carla can see through YOU.” Clavis smacked Leon on the back. “And no, no more blindfolds. But I DO have rope if a certain seeker is being naughty.”

“I am NEVER procuring you rope again Clavis!” Carla stomped her foot on the ground. “I know Sariel, Yves, and Licht would be thrilled!”  

“Ropes ALSO can add a little spice to things…” 

“Don’t talk about spices Cass. I just had to buy the oddest seasonings for your prince—do you know how difficult it is to find purple—Hey!” Carla giggled as she was lifted from her chair. Her hands looped around Leon’s neck as he sat down. 

“There aren’t enough chairs. Guess we gotta share.” Leon’s voice nipped at Carla’s ear, his nose nuzzling against her cascading locks as he placed her in his lap. “Don’t let go. Keep your eyes on me.”  

“That’s kinda hard to do with—!" Carla gasped as the blindfold was pulled down towards her neck by Leon’s teeth.   

“I’m pretty sure there are plenty of spare chairs in the Castle.” Cassandra replied, smirking. 

“Shhh!” Leon and Carla placed a finger on their lips. They turned, and upon seeing their expressions mirroring one another, burst out laughing.  

“And Clavis, would a gentleman keep his lady—”

“You’re absolutely right, enchantress.” Clavis removed Cassandra’s blindfold with a theatrical flourish before placing his hand back in her lap. “Just wait everyone. My brother and I have a grand surprise.” 

A group of ten men appeared in front of the gazebo facing the two couples. Carla’s eyes widened as she recognized the lavender, gold, and white choir robes the group wore. Suddenly, twin explosions erupted nearby, lavender and red smoke rising in the air.  

“The cannon!” Cassandra exclaimed in delight. “Two of them!”

“You got it to work! And with the sparkles!” Carla beamed, glittering paper cascading all around.  

Clavis grinned at their reactions, his excitement infectious. “With a few modifications, nothing is impossible. Plus, Leon helped.”

“Actually, one of my soldiers has a brother who’s a weapon-smith helped out.” Leon combed his fingers through Carla’s hair to remove sparkles. 

“Sparkles as weapons. And entertainment.” Cassandra laughed, her eyes dancing. 

“Oh, there’s more to enjoy.” Clavis gestured as the choir began singing. 

Didn't know that I'd fall so hard Then my feet left the ground Gravity don't make no sense when you're around

Each person watching the performance was caught in their own thoughts and memories.

Carla’s eyes shimmered with affection, her hand grasping Leon’s. Once upon a time, there was a girl who held the world in her hand. She did not need words to tell the story that was in her heart.

Leon held Carla close, basking in her warmth. 

“Love can happen to you as well.” 

“Me? A former slave with a borrowed name?” 

“Yes, you. My friend.”

She would always be there for him, regardless of who he was.

Cassandra caressed Clavis’s cheek. “You really are the best, love. Never forget that.” I merely spoke what’s in my heart when I think of you.

Clavis brought Cassandra’s hand towards his lips, kissing her palm. 

I love you. But if you ever forget, remember this song. He would never forget. Cassandra was here to stay, her love healing the fractured parts of his heart.

So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

And the two pairs knew that they always would.

[missaengg]

Xavier is an Insatiable, Little Freak

Day 24 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Xavier x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, deepthroating, rough oral sex, face-fucking, fucking, p in v sex, creampie, Xavier is a freak Prompts: Deepthroating | “I can't stand a second more of not being inside you.” A/N: Ahhh... and I've finally caught up to Day 24 T.T ... minus a few days I skipped... ao3 link here.

Xavier needs to have his dick inside of you. Constantly. Doesn’t matter where as long as his cock is buried in you.

Your mouth. Your hands. Your thighs. Your breasts. Your sweet cunt.  Anywhere his dick can fit.

He just has to feel you wrapped around him.

He’s an insatiable, little freak.

It doesn’t matter if you’re going to sleep. Or cooking in the kitchen. Or taking a shower after a long, brutal day of fighting wanderers.

He needs to feel you.

And when he does feel your delicious warmth around his pulsing, trembling cock, he can’t help, but shower you with wave after wave of his scorching cum.

On the couch. On the bed. On the kitchen counters. On the floor. On the balcony. Against the mirror. Against the window. 

It doesn’t matter where as long as he gets to be inside of you.

You’re playing video games on the couch when he suddenly sticks his dripping cock into your wet mouth, curling his fingers into your hair, pumping into you with the desperation of a man deprived, getting off on hearing you choke and mewl and drool as his cock mercilessly bullies you, his fat tip slamming into your soft palate, refusing to stop until he’s painted the back of your throat white. 

Even as you push against his thighs. Even as you hit him with your fists. Even as you sputter and whine and gag.

It just excites him more.

And if you’re out in public, if you even brush against him, he’ll achingly groan, his eyes fluttering shut, a pained expression clouding his cherubic, chiseled face, and he’ll say… 

“I can’t stand a second more of not being inside you.”

Then he’s pushing you into a changing room, a closet, a bathroom, anywhere that has a shred of privacy before he’s bending you over, thrusting urgently into you without a single care for decency like this is the last time he’ll get to taste you, to feel your weeping pussy sucking in his needy, thick cock, and he won’t stop until he’s stuffed you full with his cum.

And he’s wearing a shit-eating grin from the mere knowledge his cum is pooling in your underwear while everyone you talk to is unaware of how lewdly you were crying out his name just moments before.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s had you. 

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The record for one day is eight.

He’ll go all day if you let him.

And Xavier knows you’ll let him.

Because you’re an insatiable, little freak too.

[missaengg]

A Magical First Christmas

Pairing: Zayne x f!reader Tags: mdni, fluffy smut, very little plot, established relationship, kissing, cunnilingus, dirty talk, praise Word Count: 2.1k Part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve and written for the host, @nanamiscocksleeve!! I hope I did you proud, enjoy~ Merry Christmas! 🥰

You’re not trying to fall asleep. In fact, it’s the opposite, you want nothing more than to stay awake, not quite ready to put an end to the most magical Christmas of your life. 

In the back of your mind, you can still see the gorgeous lodge coming into view. Puffs of white smoke floating out of the chimney. A fresh blanket of snow covering the roof and the ground. The image of icicles hanging off the roof’s edge sparkling like crystals in the morning sun and the Christmas tree glittering in the window with white lights twinkling between the dark green branches still vivid in your memory.

It was the most perfect day — a surprise gift from Zayne to celebrate your first Christmas together — complete with a full day of skiing and a lovely dinner at the lodge restaurant.

You don’t want this day to end just yet. You want to enjoy this moment, savor it — not quite ready to say good night to the golden glow of the fire, the soft bed and the luxurious, silky sheets, and Zayne’s arms wrapped around you while your head rests on his chest. But you can’t fight it, the crackle of the wood fireplace too soothing, the warmth of his embrace too relaxing, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear too comforting. Especially with your belly full of a delicious meal and mulled wine and the fatigue of today’s skiing session settling in your aching limbs.

“Are you falling asleep?” The deep rumble of his voice cuts through the cozy silence.

“No,” you utter, forcing your fluttering eyes open, desperately trying to fight the lull of sleep. You feel his fingers comb through your hair, the caress of his fingertips only making it harder to keep your drowsiness at bay.

“Liar,” he chuckles, the sound deep in his throat.

“I’m not lying,” you weakly protest, but your closed eyes say otherwise. You hear Zayne hum, an affectionate note of disbelief. “Really, I’m not.”

“It’s been a long day. You should sleep if you’re tired,” Zayne says softly, adding a teasing, “Doctor’s orders.”

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Do you want me to keep you awake?”

“Yes, please,” you mumble, half-asleep.

You don’t hear Zayne reply, though you’re unsure you would have even if he did as your mind drifts off to a place somewhere between here and the land of dreams. The next thing you know, you’re jolted awake. You’re flat on your back, blinking up at the ceiling and wondering what the hell just happened while Zayne looms over you, caging you between his arms. His face is inches away from your own, so close his nose just barely grazes yours and you can feel his breath warm your cheek.

“Zayne?!” you yelp, staring at him wide-eyed, all traces of sleep banished from your startled mind.

“You asked me to keep you awake, didn’t you?” he remarks with an amused chuckle.

“Wha—” Before you can finish, his lips are on yours, stealing the words right out of your mouth.

Zayne’s tongue traces the crevice between your lips, and out of habit, you part them ever so slightly allowing him to slip inside. With your eyes closed, your hands find their way to his shoulders and then around his neck. He takes your lips slowly… sensually… The musk of his cologne and the hint of mulled wine still lingering on his tongue cloys your senses, and your heart flutters in your chest, thrumming with pleasure. Your lips come together and pull apart in passionate increments, deepening every time they reunite. By the time he pulls away, you’re panting, trying to catch your breath.

“Are you awake now?” Zayne asks, his eyes twinkling down at you.

Your lips purse together into a pout. “I wasn’t falling asleep to begin with.”

Zayne brings his head to your neck, grazing the flesh with his teeth, his breath hot on your skin. “What did I say about lying to me, darling?”

“I’m not!” you exclaim, shivering only to squeak when he bites down on that ticklish spot beneath your ear. “Zayne!”

“You know I don’t like it when you lie to me,” he purrs, gently sucking where it stings. “Now be a good girl and answer me. Are you awake now?”

A spark of electricity prickles down your body, and you shudder. You briefly contemplate whether you should dig in your heels, be stubborn, but his soft lips on your neck feel so good, you don’t want him to stop. “Yes,” you breathlessly accede. “I’m… mmm… I’m awake.”

“Good…” His mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in its wake. “...because I’ve wanted to do this…” He nips yet another ticklish point, swirling his tongue over the forming bruise. “...all day.”

You cling to him, involuntarily arching your back, one hand sliding up the back of his head where your fingers tangle through his hair. You can’t help the sultry moans that escape you or how you squirm as he continues to tease all the sensitive points of your neck. By now, any remaining tendrils of slumber have vanished, replaced by a wanton desire. You crave his touch, his caress, him.

“And because it’s Christmas…” he murmurs, his voice deep and throaty. “...I plan on taking my time unwrapping my Christmas present.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, a thrilling anticipation building in your core. His knee comes between your legs, brushing against the apex, and a jolt careens through your body. You can feel your desire pooling, growing… A voracious hunger that can only be satisfied by him.

Zayne’s mouth continues its descent, ending only when it reaches your collarbone peeking out of your silk pajama top. His fingers slip through the opening, stroking the skin underneath and deftly undoing each button one by one. It feels hot every time they graze your skin, each graze sending yet another shiver through your flushed body. Each touch eliciting yet another charged gasp from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already moaning so sweetly for me.” Zayne takes his time parting your open shirt, slipping it off one shoulder, then the next, down one arm, then the other. “I wonder what you’ll do when I do this…”

Your body spasms, a startled squeal flying out your mouth when Zayne’s teeth catch your nipple. You arch into him. Your fingernails dig into his back. Your fingers pull his hair. A hot wave of pleasure crashes over you, and a restless ache stirs deep in your abdomen.

“Zayne…” you hoarsely whisper, trembling and shaking as Zayne tastes your breasts, swirling his tongue over the peaks and massaging them with his large hand. 

“I love how you say my name,” Zayne groans. 

Pulling back onto his knees, he hooks his fingers under the waistbands of both your pajama pants and your underwear, sliding them down slowly. He takes his time, savoring the sight of you coming into view bit by bit. With every inch exposed, the heat in his eyes grows darker. More urgent. A dark heat that stokes a fire deep in your belly.

He places a hand on each of your thighs, parting them enough for his wide shoulders to fit in between, and he kisses your inner thigh, starting from the midpoint and working his way up dangerously close to where your arousal glistens. He slides a finger through your slick folds, grinning as he rubs his pointer and his thumb together.

“Someone’s eager for me,” he smirks. 

You feel your cheeks color because you know just how much of a mess you make merely being in his presence, let alone when he touches you like this, and from how much throb down there… you know just how much of a mess you’ve already made. His rapt attention makes you feel self-conscious, the way he takes note of every little detail while you’re so exposed.

Zayne returns his attention to between your legs, resuming his grip on your upper thighs. Lowering himself, he deeply inhales your scent, groaning as he does. “God, I love the way you smell.” His mouth encircles your clit, the tip of his tongue darting out and prodding the sensitive nub, massaging it in circles. “I love the way you taste.”

Each stroke of his tongue sends you reeling, a jolt of electricity sizzling up your spine as your muscles tense and you arch your back, your hips bucking against him. Breathless gasps leave your mouth in erratic spurts, and your fingers curl into the sheets, clenching the fabric as if your life depended on it. With just his mouth, Zayne has you seeing stars and crying out his name in strained mewls.

“Zayne, please…” you beg him, the stimulation too much, the desire to feel him inside you too big. You squirm, trying to find some relief from how he tantalizes you, but his grip holds you in place no matter how much you struggle. “Please…”

“No,” Zayne rasps, the timbre of his voice low and husky. “I’m taking my time today, sweetheart. I want to taste you, savor you, devour you. I’m going to worship you like the gift you are.”

He slips a finger in, and then another, curling them against the sweet, gummy spot that makes you squeal. He pumps them in and out while his mouth continues to ravish you, coaxing you into crying his name, moaning breathlessly for him. If you thought his mouth was enough to have you seeing stars, the addition of his fingers sends you into a feverish frenzy, all your senses overloaded.

“It’s t—too… much, Zayne,” you plead, “...ngh… to—too much.”

“You can handle it, love.”

But even as tears prick the corners of your eyes and your legs tremble, Zayne doesn’t stop, alternating between relentlessly bullying or worshipping you — sweet and rough, soft and hard — leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented and close… so close.

“Zayne…” you choke out, trailing off.

Zayne understands what you’re trying to say and before sucking down hard on your clit, he commands, “Come for me.”

Something about the commanding authority in his tone throws gasoline on the fire burning in your center. It blazes into an inferno, and as the heat overtakes you, you wretchedly call out his name, a guttural scream rising from deep within and exploding out your throat. You’re so consumed, you can barely feel his fingers dig into your flesh or his tongue find its way to your entrance and lap up every drop of your arrival. All you can do is shudder and quake, riding out each wave of ecstasy.

When the waves finally stop, you can barely breathe. Your chest heaves up and down, desperate for oxygen to fill its lungs, and you can’t stop quivering as if phantom waves still pulsate through your body. You watch through hooded eyes as Zayne sits back on his knees and wipes the remnants of your ecstasy off of his face. He leans forward, propping himself on his elbows and hovering over you, just enough that his body is flush against yours without crushing you with his weight.

He looks deep into your eyes, a primal yet tender gleam in their depths, and gently, ever so gently, he brushes away a sweaty lock of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You did good,” he coos, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

You wrap your arms around him, returning his little kiss with a little one of your own on the tip of his nose. “Merry Christmas,” you murmur, nuzzling your nose against him. “Thank you so much for making our first Christmas so special. I love it. I love you.”

“I’m glad you like it. I love you too.” Zayne brings his lips by your ear, and then whispers, “But, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

It’s at that moment, you realize how painfully hard his erection is digging into your pelvis and how the dark gleam in his eye has only grown darker instead of abating. You tremble once more, but this time, it’s from the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the thrill of anticipation buzzing through your veins.

“Help me take off my shirt,” Zayne murmurs silkily in your ear.

You’re only happy to oblige, and as your fingers make their way to the line of buttons on his top, you can’t help, but think it’s going to be a long night though you have no complaints. In fact, it’s the opposite, you hope this night never ends.

[missaengg]

Who Are You?

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, smut, some fluff and humor if you squint, kitchen sex, nipple play, p in v sex, creampie, pouty Rafayel Word Count: 2526 “Who are you?” Oh god, not this game again. Rafayel was pouting because of some unknown transgression you had committed against him, and he demanded restitution for your offense. A sinfully, delightful repayment. One you were only happy to oblige. ao3 link here.

“Who are you?”

Oh god, not this game again. You glanced at Rafayel, clocking his over exaggerated pout. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was staring you down like you were an absolute god damn stranger in his kitchen. You could feel your blood pressure rising. As much as you loved this man in front of you, it was no secret he could also very much be a child. A fact Thomas would only be too happy to confirm.

“How did you get into my house?”

A frustrating, annoying child.

“Rafayel, will you please—“ 

“I don’t listen to people I don’t know.”

You groaned. “Will you please stop acting like a five year old and—“

“Lalala, I can’t hear you.” Rafayel plugged his ears with his fingers and sang obnoxiously at the top of his lungs.

You let out a slow, agitated sigh. The last time he played this game, it had taken an hour of coaxing and a bribery of kisses to get him to stop, all because you had forgotten to send him a ‘good morning’ text that day.

“Oh my god, what have I done now?”

Rafayel stopped. He stared at you with those gorgeous blue and pink eyes of his as if you were an absolute dunce for not knowing the transgression you committed against him. “You really don’t know?”

“No!”

Rafayel’s eyes deeply bore into yours, and after a long pause, he asked, “Who are you again?”

Ugh. This… This bitch! A deep, aggravated growl exploded from your throat. Sometimes… sometimes you really wanted to slap him silly. He was driving you absolutely fucking insane! Why couldn’t he just tell you what was upsetting him?

“Rafayel, I swear to god I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

“How the fuck do you not know?” Rafayel petulantly asked. “It’s so obvious.”

“Clearly it’s not because I don’t know!” You fought off the urge to shout a string of expletives. If you could read his mind, you would in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, because you were only human, you needed him to tell you in words why he was so upset.

Rafayel crossed his arms again, his pout deepening on his face to the point you wondered just how much farther his bottom lip could jut out. He scowled at you from across the kitchen island. A stalemate, one where the first to break would lose.

You played his game back, crossing your arms, raising an eyebrow. Your steely eyes drilled into his, daring him to continue.

The clock on the wall ticked away.

Tick… 

Tick… 

Tick…

You raised an eyebrow at the man standing in front of you as if to ask, ‘Well, you going to tell me or not?’

Tick…

Rafayel’s eye twitched.

Tick…

He scrunched his nose into that childish expression you adored — most of the time.

Tick.

“You didn’t come see me last night!”

There it was. Victory. You suppressed the urge to smirk in celebration.

“I see,” you drawled.

Rafayel’s pout grew deeper, his bottom lip indeed jutting out even further than you thought possible.  A furious blush spread across his cheeks and up his ears, a consequence of breaking his composure. “I demand restitution for your offense.”

You slunk towards him, keeping your brows furrowed in mock concern. “What did you have in mind?”

Rafayel opened his mouth and closed it, his pouty lips puckering as he deliberated on what would be the most appropriate form of repayment.  Approaching him, you placed your palms on his chest, slowly sliding them up until they were locked around his neck.

“What can I do to make it better?” you purred into his ear, now a dark beet red from how flush your body was with his. “Hm?”

Rafayel faltered, especially as you nibbled on his earlobe. You could feel him tense each time your teeth lightly pulled on the soft flesh of his ear, his resolve chipping with each caress of your tongue.

“Fuck, cutie.” Rafayel’s ragged breaths tickled your neck. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, his fingernails digging into the skin underneath.

“Is this restitution enough for you?” You tongued Rafayel’s neck where you could feel his heart beating rapidly, grazing your teeth right above his artery. 

“No,” he forcefully groaned, a shudder running through him when you suddenly nipped him. Rafayel ground his hip against you, his arousal demanding stimulation.

“No? How about if I do this?” You trailed your hands down his back to his ass grabbing both cheeks and jerking his hips into you.

“No…”

You slowly undulated your pelvis against his painfully hard erection eliciting choked groans from the stupefied man. Grinning wickedly, you sensually pressed your lips to his, biting his bottom lip and then caressing it with your tongue, all while your hips moved against his arousal. Rafayel shivered, his breath catching in his throat, delicious little breathy moans spilling from his lips.

“Is this enough for you?”

A guttural choked groan escaped Rafayel when you slipped your hand into his pants, stroking his twitching member. A dark heat smoldered in his hazy eyes. He looked alluringly erotic.

“Stop— stop teasin’ me,” Rafayel husked, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His hands roamed up and down your back, fingernails burrowing in your flesh with every squeeze you gave his shaft. “Hah…”

The hot puffs of air from his breaths wisping on your neck sent tingles tickling down your spine. Your own arousal began to pool, a needy throbbing growing between your legs. Closing your eyes, you subconsciously rubbed your pelvis against his trying to find some relief from the swelling tension.

“I’m not teasing,” you fired back, “I’m making up for my… my transgression.”

Rafayel whined when you removed your hand from inside his pants, but quickly realized you stopped to unbutton them instead. ”Want more… more than this.” 

He wasted no time kicking off both his pants and his underwear discarding them haphazardly off to the side. Your eyes darkened at the sight of him standing at attention, swollen to the point of bursting. You licked your lips. His tip glistened with his obvious desire.

Rafayel roughly spun you around against the island, bunching your skirt up around your waist and yanking down your damp underwear.

“Rafayel,” you squeaked in surprise. “We cook here.”

Rafayel ran his length through your folds, coating himself with your slick. “Don’t care. S’my repayment,” he mumbled, lining himself up with your entrance. In one swift go, he plunged in, sinking in until he was fully buried.

You let out a sharp gasp, a flash of white overtaking your vision. You were practically dripping, but it didn’t matter how ready you were for him, he somehow always managed to stretch you out to the point you felt as if you’d split in two.

Rafayel gripped the sides of your hips, hissing at how readily you sucked him in. “Fuck, cutie, you feel so… so good,” he choked, his greedy hands kneading your breasts, fingers pinching with no regard as to whether he caused you any pain.

Each hard pinch sent a spark shooting through you, the pain only adding to the pleasure blooming within your lower abdomen. You snapped your head back, gasping at a particularly rough pinch.

Rafayel lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking hard, no doubt leaving a dark bruise. His mark.

“Raf, not where people can see,” you weakly objected.

He thrust into you slowly, taking his time to pull out and sink in his entire length. “But then” –he swirled his tongue against the darkening bruise– “how’re people” –he moved up higher on your neck– “going to know” –he sucked down hard again– “y’were a naughty girl?”

He bit down and pinched your nipple simultaneously, and you keened, the combination of pain and pleasure Rafayel provided you too much. You trembled in his hands, so hard you had to brace yourself against the counter if only to prevent your shaking legs from crumpling beneath you.

“How else am I going to hear you” –he snapped his hips– “make that lewd sound?”

You moaned. Rafayel entered you so deeply, you swore you could feel the tip of his cock in your throat.

“Besides, s’my repayment, right? Can do… can do whatever I want.” Rafayel rolled against you in a slow, steady pace, and his bulbous tip dragged sinfully along your walls, teasing that sensitive patch of gummy flesh that left you writhing in his hands.

“Raf, harder,” you whined, pushing your hips back, desperate to hear the slap of your skin hitting his. 

“Fuck,” Rafayel rasped under his breath.

He pulled out, and before you could even begin to process how empty you felt without his presence inside you, he whirled you around and grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you onto the kitchen island. He moved so quickly you didn’t have time to yelp or note how cold the granite felt on your ass.

Rafayel’s lips came crashing down on yours. His tongue flicked your bottom lip. Your head spun trying to keep up. You parted your mouth, allowing him to dart in and twine your tongues while your heavy breaths mingled together. You curled your fingers into his hair, raking your fingernails against his scalp.

“Y’drive me… crazy,” he breathed.

“Should… be saying… the same thing… about… you,” you quipped in between kisses.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt. You wanted to feel him, all of him, against you. Breaking away, Rafayel ripped the damn thing off of him and tossed it somewhere you couldn’t see because he immediately attacked your own right after, pulling your shirt over head and capturing your nipple between his teeth.

You arched your back, tugging his hair a little harder than you intended. You heard him mutter something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath, too absorbed in the delectable way his mouth ravaged your inflamed peaks. 

“Raf, would you just… just fuck me already,” you demanded, the unbearable ache between your legs now too agonizing to ignore. 

Your plea seemed to light a fire within Rafayel, and he gripped you firmly by your thighs, hauling you towards him until your ass hung precariously off the edge of the counter. Holding you in place, he dove in, and without waiting, he bucked his hips. You gasped. Your arms instinctively rose to his shoulders in a futile attempt to brace yourself from his assault.

Your cunt sang, avariciously clenching around his shaft with no intention of letting go. Unlike the slow, methodical thrusts from before, Rafayel pounded into you without abandon in a dizzying speed. 

He was bullying your cervix, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

You hooked your legs around him driving him in as deep as he could go. “Deeper, Raf,” you pleaded, catching his eyes. “Need you… need you deeper.”

Rafayel gazed into your eyes, and then abruptly rammed your hips.

“Fuck!” you screamed, reeling from the sudden sting of pressure radiating through your lower stomach.

“That deep enough… for you?” he growled.

Stars dotted your vision, and all you could do was mewl as you clutched his shoulders with all the strength you had left in your fingers. You heard Rafayel snicker, but his moment of triumph was short-lived when your legs locked around him even tighter.

Shit, cutie,” he rasped.

Your clit brushed the jut of his pelvis every time Rafayel even shifted. Your head flopped back, your eyes closed. “Feels… fuck… feels so… good,” you whimpered.

Your bodies rocked together. The coil within you grew taut, a bundle of energy ready to burst and fling free with the slightest provocation.

“Raf…” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shit, cutie, I’m–” Rafayel took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m–”

His body tensed, and then he spilled into you, jerking with every spurt of his hot cum. You enveloped his head in your arms, stroking the back of his head as he helplessly clung to you.

“I love you… so… so much… so… fuck, cutie… don’t even… know,” Rafayel babbled, his voice a strangled, hopeless mess.

His sweet, earnest cries set your heart aflame, the tipping point for your own release, and the coil within you snapped. You felt yourself clamp down around his pulsating length, and your body roiled with ecstasy, shattering into a million pieces.

“God, Raf…”

Your body was on fire. Your blood roared in your ears, and you captured his lips with your own, falling deeper into your shared intoxication. The two of you shared kiss after dizzying kiss, riding out the blissed-out haze of your releases together.

You planted one last kiss on his swollen lips before pulling back. “So, was that enough of a repayment for you?”

Rafayel nodded blankly, and you tittered at the blank glaze in his eyes. 

“Good.” You brushed your lips on the tip of his nose. “Next time, can you please just tell me why you’re upset instead of being difficult about it?”

You watched as clarity returned to Rafayel and he wrinkled his nose.

“Baby, I’ve waited 800 years for you. The least you can do is let me pout about petty things.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re still holding that over my head, are we?”

“Yep,” Rafayel drawled, smirking at you. “For as looooooong as I waited for you.” He exaggerated the ‘o’ in the word ‘long’ as if to make his point.

You sighed and shook your head, but a smile danced on your lips. “Fine,” you conceded. “If it means I get a good dicking like this in the process, I guess it can’t be helped.”

You cackled with glee as Rafayel sputtered, another blush coloring his cheeks. You held his burning cheeks in your hands and tenderly pressed your lips to his.

“I love you,” you murmured, peering into his eyes. “Even when you’re being a child.”

This time, it was Rafayel who rolled his eyes, but he pounced, bombarding your face with wet kisses.

“Rafayel, stop,” you squealed and made a fruitless effort to push him away.

“No,” he protested.  “I waited 800 years for you. Least you can do is let me love you as much as I want.”

You melted, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him with your full body, a wicked thought occurring to you. “You know,” you whispered suggestively into his ear. “We still haven’t christened the grand piano sitting in your living room.”

You snickered when Rafayel choked, but yelped when he swept you into a princess carry. 

“Should probably fix that, shouldn’t we?” He devilishly grinned and strode out of the kitchen with you kicking delightfully in his arms.

“Raf, put me down,” you cried as you swatted at his shoulder.

“No, we’re going to go christen the piano.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you hummed, snuggling into his hold. As much as Rafayel drove you insane, you couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he warmed your heart just as much. 

Maybe the childish nature of your boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all.

[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[missaengg]

Massaging Lord Sukuna

Day 23 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Sukuna x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, massage, hand job, Lord Sukuna, servant reader, Sukuna is massive Prompts: Massages | “That's it, you're doing such a good job.” ao3 link here.

“Enter.”

The deep, foreboding voice commands you through the sliding doors. You enter, hastening to your Lord’s feet and falling to the ground in a deep bow.

“You called for me, my Lord?”

“Uraume tells me you’re well-versed in the art of massage.” “Y–yes, my Lord.” 

You keep your eyes trained on the polished wooden floor. You’ve heard the stories whispered among the other servants, how Lord Sukuna can change his mood on a whim, how if you happen to be present when his mood shifts… You shiver. You’ve seen the empty beds of those who entered his chambers and never returned.

“Stand before me.”

You scramble to your feet keeping your head bowed. You don’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, you raise your chin, tentatively gazing into his cold, demon eyes. They appraise you slowly, taking his time to drag over every inch of your tiny form. You hold your breath, terrified of making the wrong move and catching his ire. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he looks away, releasing you from his hold.

“Do not disappoint me, wench.”

You inaudibly release the tense breath you’re holding in your lungs. “Yes, my Lord.”

Lord Sukuna disrobes, casually slipping the luxurious silk material fluidly off his shoulders and discarding it carelessly to the side. You gasp and avert your eyes quickly, a blush blooming on your cheeks at your Lord’s unabashed naked form. It’s your first time seeing a man – if Lord Sukuna can be considered a man – bare, and you’re surprised by how much you relish it, at the rush of heat overwhelming you. While it’s no secret Lord Sukuna has an informidable build, seeing him disrobed… you can’t help, but admire just how chiseled he is, how clearly each contour of his body is outlined under his flesh.

“Where…” You clear your throat, reaching for the massage oil. “Where would you like for me to focus, my Lord?”

“My shoulders and my back. Do not skimp on the pressure.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

You get to work briskly, slathering a generous amount of oil on your hands, rubbing them together to warm up the oil so your hands aren’t too cold. You don’t know if he’ll mind, but you prefer not to find out at the cost of your life.

Desperately attempting to quell your shaking, you place your hands on his shoulders, feeling his taut muscles ripple under your palms. You can tell that he’s tight, and you knead along the fibers, pressing as hard as you can with your thumbs. You run your thumb along a particularly dense knot, and Lord Sukuna grunts. Lightening your touch, you wonder if perhaps you’ve pressed too hard, and you wait with bated breath, waiting to see if he’ll turn on you in rage.

“Harder, brat. Do not make me say it again.”

You bite your lip to keep from squeaking in fear. “Y–yes, my Lord.”

You dig your thumb in the knot again, harder this time, rocking it back and forth to loosen what you can. Lord Sukuna grumbles in displeasure, your thumb too weak against the thick fibers of his dense muscle. Coating your elbow in oil, you press your bony joint into the stubborn point. You relax when Lord Sukuna sighs, now using your forearm and elbow to soothe the strain in his back.

“Uraume was right. You are satisfactory.”

A rare utterance of praise.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

The tense clench of your body begins to subside as you focus on the task at hand, finding a rhythm to the way your arms slide along his broad torso. You frown when your thumbs travel down towards his waist. His lower back is an impenetrable column, even tighter than the knots in his shoulders. Re-coating your hands with more oil, you rake your knuckles against the firm ropes of muscle, following the path to his glutes. 

You almost topple over once you realize where your hands are placed.

“F–forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to touch you indecently.”

Lord Sukuna simply chuckles. “You wish to seduce your Lord?”

“No, my Lord!” You throw yourself into a deep bow even though you know Lord Sukuna can’t see you. “For–forgive me, my Lord!”

Lord Sukuna sighs. “You may continue.”

Shaking, you place your palms back down on his glutes, but the heels of your palms are too feeble against his powerful muscle. You wince. You have no choice, you’ll have to use your knees. Hiking the hem of your yukata up to your hips, you coat your knees in massage oil.

“Please excuse me, my Lord.”

“Hm?” Lord Sukuna’s bored hum hangs in the stifling tension, but he doesn’t move, uninterested in your next move.

You carefully climb on top of your Lord, your knees moving in opposing circles on his cheeks, leaning with your hands on his shoulder blades. You’re practically laying on top of him attacking both his glutes and his upper back simultaneously, painfully aware of your close proximity. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him in heavy crashing waves. For such a cold, imposing demon Lord, his body heat is impossibly, scorchingly hot, and you’re burning in its presence.

Lord Sukuna tenses, and you freeze. Are you not using enough strength? Remembering his earlier threat, you prepare to sink more of your meager weight into his flesh when he suddenly rises, and you tumble unceremoniously off his back to the hard floor below. 

Your breath catches in your throat, fear dancing in your now teary eyes. Is this where your life will end?

Lord Sukuna simply flips over in one swift movement, his back now on his futon. You catch a glimpse of his impressive twitching cock, and you almost choke at the sheer, monstrous size of his appendage. It’s standing at attention, fully engorged, a bead of something glistening on his tip. It’s your first time seeing a cock in real life, but they can’t possibly be this big… Can they?

“I’ve changed my mind…”

You forcefully tear your wide eyes away from his lap.

“I want you to work on my front.”

You’re still too dazed to fully comprehend Lord Sukuna’s request or wonder why he suddenly changed his mind when you’ve hardly worked on his back, which is still a mess of crunchy, tangled fibers. All you can do is stutter, “Yes, my Lord,” before moving to kneel by his head.

You jump when Lord Sukuna grabs you by the wrist, snapping you out of your dazed trance.

“By my side.”

You blink. You don’t understand why he wants to keep you by his side to massage his chest. The best placement for the neck and chest is with his head cradled between your knees, but you comply. You aren’t reckless enough to argue with him. What Lord Sukuna wants, Lord Sukuna gets.

“Yes, my Lord.”

You kneel by his chest. Despite the awkward angle, you do your best to knead his pecs. 

“Lower.”

You move your hands down until they’re directly cupping his chest.

“Lower.”

Abs aren’t quite an area that’s normally massaged, but you accede. While humans don’t generally prefer having their stomachs pressed, perhaps demons are different in that regard.

“Lower.”

This time you pause. Lower would mean… you blush furiously at what his command is implying.

“My Lord?”

“You heard me, brat. Lower.”

You hesitantly slide your hands lower following the trail of hair leading down to his… your blush deepens. There’s only one thing in that region that’ll require a massage, and it’s currently twitching quite violently in your view.

“Do I need to spell out what I want?”

The irritation threading through his words is clear. 

“N–no, my Lord.”

You know what he’s asking you to do. Taking in a deep breath, you grasp his thick shaft, your tiny hand barely able to close around its full girth. It’s throbbing, the protruding veins pulsing in a steady yet demanding rhythmic beat. You exhale. The feeling of a man’s dick is foreign to you, and you’ve heard other ladies giggling over their midnight trysts with the other men, but this is your first time even holding one in your palm, much less one this massive. 

Struggling to remember what exactly was shared in the cover of night, you timidly move your oil-slicken hand up and down his shaft. Are you supposed to squeeze? How fast are you supposed to go? Do you include the tip?

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears prickling your eyelids. You so desperately want to please your Lord, but you have no idea what you’re doing, and you’re too scared to ask. Too scared of the consequences that may follow.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Lord Sukuna is staring at you, contemplating something in his head. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. You don’t know whether you should be struck with fear or something else entirely or a combination of both. Your hand stills. The moment is tense with unspoken words.

“Apply more pressure and increase your pace gradually.”

Relief floods your anxious, fearful heart. For whatever reason, he is being patient with you, and you’re grateful for his mercy. You strengthen your grip around him, and pump, twirling around his shaft to cover every exposed inch.

“That's it, you're doing such a good job,” Lord Sukuna purrs, his eyes still trained on you, still gleaming with the something you can’t identify.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Do not forget to include the head of my cock.”

Your hand aches. After the strenuous exertion of massaging Lord Sukuna’s dense body and the width of his member, your fingers are cramping, at their limit, but you refuse to give in to the strain. Lord Sukuna has spared you several times already, and you’re determined to keep him pleased.

Lord Sukuna growls quietly under his breath, and you take a peek, taken aback at the rosy flush that has appeared on his cheeks and at the way his eyes are rolling under his eyelids and his mouth hangs open. His breaths are rapidly shallow.

He’s enjoying this.

Emboldened by your Lord’s response, you pump furiously. This time remembering to include the bulbous head. Your hand glides easily, the massage oil acting as a slick lubricant allowing you to increase your pace smoothly.

Your aim is to please your Lord, but you feel unsettled by the way your thighs are rubbing together, the way his growl has awoken a fluttering in your belly, the way you ache and throb between your legs.

Sukuna’s growls grow louder, interspersed with guttural grunts, all laced with a feral edge. Every so often his hips jerk against your fist until his cock pulls taut, and with a fearsome groan he erupts, shooting wave after wave of his white cum, his explosion so powerful and copious, his cum is spilling over your fist and spurting onto your clothes.

The ladies spoke of what happens when a man is pleasured, but this… This is something else entirely. Lord Sukuna’s release is a relentless torrent of white far beyond anything you’d previously heard. 

Lord Sukuna finally stills, his breathing labored. Despite spilling an impressive amount, his cock is still undeniably firm. He cracks his eyes open, and he languidly smirks, taking in the way you’re practically bathed in his cum.

“You have pleased me, little one.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” You bow, ignoring just how drenched you are from his release. “If you are satisfied, I shall take my leave.”

You’re so shaken from how much pleasure you also felt from pleasing your Lord, you forget you must first be dismissed before leaving his presence.

Lord Sukuna narrows his eyes, and he grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer towards him. “I’m not done with you, brat,” he hisses.

You flinch, recognizing your impudence. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” you whisper, flushing from how close his face is to yours.

Lord Sukuna trails his finger down your cheek, a wicked grin gracing his lips. You look into his eyes, finally understanding the gleam you couldn’t identify earlier.

Ravenous hunger.

He brings his lips so close to your ear, they brush your helix causing you to shiver, and says…

“I won’t be done with you until morning.”

[missaengg]

Falling for the Head of Onychinus

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, some fluff, car sex, hand jobs, semi-public sex, penis in vagina sex, alternate universe, not edited in the slightest... Prompts: Sex in a Vehicle | “Look at you, you're taking it so well.” A/N: OMG THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED, BUT I JUUUUST MADE IT FOR DAY 8!! 🙃 ao3 link here.

God, it was wrong. It was so wrong. You knew it was wrong. He was the head of Onychinus, the biggest crime syndicate in the N109 Zone, and you were a Hunter, sworn to uphold the law and bring him to justice. And yet… despite knowing how fucked you would be if The Hunter’s Association knew, you would find yourself once again in his bed or in a changing room or in a dark, seedy back alley or in his car moaning without abandon, writhing on his taut, muscular body with him deep inside of you. Because fuck, his touch did something to you. One look of that animalistic lust in his crimson eyes, and you melted into a pool of fervent heat practically begging for him to devour you until you were exhausted and spent.

Each and every time after you dragged your sinfully brutalized body back home, you would vow that would be the last time. Never again. Your resolve only lasting until he came around the next time.

Or so it was, until you realized you hadn’t seen a glimpse, not even a hint, of the infuriatingly arrogant crime lord in weeks though it felt like months. He had this annoying stalkerish tendency, and when he wasn’t within your direct view, you swore you would catch a glimpse of silver hair or hear the fluttering of a crow’s wings or catch the tail end of a sport motorcycle zooming off around the corner.

Nothing.

For weeks, nothing. Not a single silvery wisp. Not a single caw. Not the rumble of his bike. Not even when you were in his territory, patrolling the N109 Zone.

It was unlike him, and you were perturbed.

You had gotten used to looking for hints of his presence, used to catching tiny signs of him in the peripherals of your eyes, and just when you were starting to get restless, he would appear before you, with his smug smirk and sexy nonchalance, leaving you weak in the knees and shivering.

You checked the date on your phone, frowning once you calculated how long it’d actually been since you last saw the man, Sylus, how long it’d been since he had you bent over a grimy sink in the bathroom of a dingy club he found you in for Tara’s birthday, pushing your head against the foggy mirror and furiously thrusting into your mewling, sopping cunt.

One month. It had been one month and ten days since you last saw him, the longest it had been since he discovered you in the N109 Zone hunting him.

It occurred to you that you might actually miss him, or rather your body missed his delicious touch. After his absence, in the first week, you noticed a peculiar restlessness, a light stirring deep within your lower belly, a flutter of anxiety. In the second week, you felt a disconcerting thirst, a thirst that couldn’t be satiated no matter how many times you stroked yourself or slipped a few fingers inside. In the third week, you developed an aching throb between your legs, painful and distracting and only in want of release. In the fourth week, you found yourself occupied with thoughts of only one man, Sylus, dreaming about coming undone around his thick cock and waking up to a damp mess underneath. All to where you were now, feral and in heat, perpetually dripping, desperate for him to relieve you of this consuming obsession.

He was your addiction. And you were in withdrawal, frantically seeking your fix.

“Fucking bastard,” you huffed to yourself, still staring at your phone in the middle of sidewalk by a busy street within Linkon. “Stupid fucking bastard.”

“Who’s a stupid fucking bastard?”

You recognized that deep, silky voice. You’d recognize that deep, silky voice anywhere. You looked up from your phone to see Sylus lounging in an aggressive sports car, a Lamborghini Revuelto, stupidly expensive and powerful and luxurious and just like him.

“I thought I told you not to come around again,” you scowled, crossing your arms, hiding that you were in fact ecstatic he finally showed.

“That’s not what your body’s telling me, kitten,” Sylus smirked, his smug gaze salaciously trailing from your face to your thighs.

You looked down, cursing under breath at how firmly your thighs were clenched together. When did that happen? But good god, was that voice doing things to you. A blistering inferno was raging in your core threatening to overwhelm you in its desire to consume you whole. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t the same blazing furious shade of red as your needy cunt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm.”

You stared at him defiantly, arms crossed, chin raised, waiting to see who would buckle first because it wouldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you.

“Are you going to get in the car or not?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?” he purred silkenly, a seductive mischievous gleam in his eyes, as if he were confident that you would ultimately end up in his bed that night.

No, you weren’t sure about that. You weren’t sure about that at all. You swallowed thickly, knowing it was over the moment he trapped you with those damn magnetic eyes. Your resolve was crumbling as quickly as he showed up in front of you wanting nothing more than to have him whisk you away and have his filthy, depraved way with you.

“I’m sure,” you hoarsely spit out, convincing no one, not even yourself.

Sylus said nothing. He simply sat there drumming his fingers on his leather steering wheel peering at you curiously with what appeared to be displeasure on his brow. You stubbornly stared back, feeling the seconds click away. A stalemate.

Finally, he clicked his tongue.. “Alright then, kitten. Another time then.” The car roared back to life.

You bit your lip, chewing on the soft flesh inside your lip. He couldn’t just leave, not like this, not after he disappeared for weeks leaving you a tight pretzel of a woman, but you also didn’t want to lose. Not again. The brake lights came on, a sign he’s shifted the car from ‘P’, and as he revved the engine–

“Wait!”

The revving stopped. Sylus, still facing forward, angled his head so he could peek at you.

“Why’d you disappear?”

Silence. You licked your lips and tried again.

“You were gone for over five weeks. Where were you?”

You watched Sylus with bated breath, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. His face betrayed nothing, not a hint of what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

Then a corner of his mouth curled up into a sly, cheeky smirk. There was a dark amusement dancing in his eyes, the force of which was rolling off of him in thick, heavy waves.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you whispered, more out of instinct, but also because you were loath to admit that you did miss him. You yearned for him more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Liar.”

Yes, you were.

“Get in the car, kitten.”

You hated it – and loved it – when he told you what to do, and he hated it – and loved it – when you refused to accede.

“Not… not until you tell me why you were gone for so long.”

Sylus huffed sharply. Your fists curled into fists, digging your fingernails into your palms in sharp mini lines of pain.

“I had to take care of business.”

“What kind of business?”

Sylus scowled, leveling his irritated glare on you. You forgot how intimidating the head of Onychinus could be, how ruthless the man who fucked you so tenderly could be.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Sylus.”

A small, frustrated growl rumbled from Sylus who exhaled heavily, tapping the steering wheel with his pointer, and in an uncharacteristically subdued voice–

“I was injured, kitten.”

Something lurched in your heart when hearing his admission. Something about Sylus disappearing, about knowing he could potentially die on you someday unleashed an all-consuming fear you weren’t even aware you had. You blinked, surprised at the tears welling in your eyes, not enough to fall, but enough to display the dull ache that’s settled into your heart.

“Open the door.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, Sylus zoomed off in the direction of the illicit underground he called his home. You couldn’t keep your gaze off of him, scrutinizing his profile as if you were studying for an exam. He looked as he always did. There were no hints of scars or injuries. He wasn’t holding himself differently or hunched over in any kind of pain. Was it something mild if he recovered in five weeks?

“You should take a picture, kitten, it’ll last longer.”

Sylus still had that infuriating arrogant sneer on his face, but there was something a little more tender about the way he looked at you compared to the ravenous hunger from before. You looked out the window. It was dark and remote, one of the many abandoned roads on the way to the N109 Zone from Linkon City.

“Pull over,” you hoarsely commanded.

“Kitten?”

“Pull over,” you commanded once more forcefully.

Sylus wrinkled his brow in concern, but pulled the car off to the side, thankfully behind a grove of overgrown trees, not that it mattered. His car windows were tinted so dark no one would be able to see anything inside, especially at night.

“Turn off the engine.”

Sylus arched an eyebrow, but did as you asked without question. As soon as the car rumbled off, you were out of your seat, crawling into his lap the best you could despite the cramped interior, smashing your lips against him. Your tongue pressed urgently against him demanding entry, and when given, you wasted no time tasting him, exploring him with your tongue. Sylus hungrily pushed back, laying claim to your lips in a battle of dominating rapacious wills.

The seat fell back, and you squeaked as Sylus hauled you up like a ragdoll onto his lap. Once he had you settled and straddled across his hips, you dove back into fervently connecting your mouths in a dizzying torrent of kisses, losing yourself in the passionate flush of your bodies pressed together. His hands were in your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp as he threaded his fingers into knots, each brush a feverish tingle making its way down your spine and pooling into a slick arousal. Your fingers grasped blindly at his tailored, collared shirt, wrinkling the fabric with how hard you were gripping him. You wanted, no, needed him. You needed to feel the beating of his heart, the breath in his lungs, the warmth of his flesh. You needed to feel he was alive. You needed to fuck him.

Without separating, you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling in your haste, the passion leaving your fingers clumsy and inept, struggling to pop the tiny plastic circles out of their buttonholes. You wondered if you should just rip the damn thing off of him, but then you had the fleeting thought that this shirt likely cost more than what you made in a single month.

“Let me.”

Sylus pulled his lips away and removed his hands from the tangled mess your hair had become, which you protested with a tiny whine, to do exactly what you considered, the heavy breathing filling the car interrupted by the clatter of flying buttons. Your eyes widened, the complete indifference of how easily he ruined his shirt spine-tingling arousing.

“Come here.”

Sylus guided you by the back of your head back down to meet him, this time capturing your lips with a softer, slower kiss, though it didn’t stay soft or slow for long, the intensity building back into a disorienting haze. His hands slipped under your sweater, leaving a trail of lingering fire as they roamed eventually finding their way to your breasts. You moaned into his mouth, his fingers pulling and pinching you sensitive. You ached for him, your slick arousal pooling in the apex of your legs. You ground yourself against the prominent erection in his pants, the friction of the fabric catching on his outline and dragging across your damp slit sending jolt after jolt of electricity up your back intensifying the pleasure you were drowning in.

“Fuck,” Sylus roughly grunted, the rocking of your hips against him chipping away at his composure.

Something inside of you snapped when Sylus grunted. You reached for his pants in a frenzy, undoing the button and yanking them down, whining when you couldn’t until Sylus lifted his hips up for you to free what you wanted, his throbbing cock. You abandoned your quest at pulling down his bottoms when you saw it spring free. Wrapping a hand around it, you thumbed the precum leaking out of his tip rubbing it on his frenulum, reveling in the sharp hiss he expelled at your teasing. You stroked him, slowly, sensually, gripping and releasing as you moved up and down.

“Kitten,” Sylus rasped, grasping your chin and planting a sloppy kiss. “Let me feel you.”

You kissed him back, nibbling along his bottom lip, absolutely tickled by the drunk, dazed look in his eyes, the way he was looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. Your chest was heaving, your breaths heavy with want. Hiking up your skirt, you pulled your underwear to the side, too impatient to contort yourself into a different position to pull them down. You rocked your slick pussy against his engorged cock, making sure your arousal coated him well, and it had to coat him well otherwise he wouldn’t be able to slide in due to his sheer size. Inhaling, you lowered yourself onto him, taking an inch of him at a time waiting to adjust to how deliciously he stretched you to your limits. Each inch sent Sylus groaning – shuddering, strangled groans, and when you finally bottomed out, the guttural grunt he uttered sent you keening, the combination of his pleasure mixed with your own sensation of being full having you see stars.

You moved gradually, gyrating against his pelvis, his pelvic mound stimulating your clit, his tip tapping your cervix just right. Sylus was gripping the sides of your hips, his large hands dwarfing your sides. His eyes were fixed on where you ended and he started, mesmerized by the way your cunt moved against him.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well,” he breathed, voice thick with lust and desire.

He bit his lip, his eyes growing darker and darker with a savage glint. You’d seen that glint in his eyes before. It was always before he’d lose control, rutting into you as if he couldn’t get enough, when he’d let his carnal needs take over and claim you as his own.

“Fuck, kitten.”

He gripped you so tightly you let out a wanton cry, and you could only helplessly bounce on his lap when he took over, pummeling up into you fervidly, mewling cries falling off your lips as the sound of slapping skin filled the car. He was driving into you relentlessly, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, your mouth falling open into a sultry pout. He was driving into you so hard, you were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care, he was intoxicating. You were drunk off his cock, addicted to his cock, and no matter how many times he drilled into you, no matter how many times he brought you to climax, you knew you’d be back for another taste.

“Ngh… Sylus!”

You were close, so close. Your body was taut, every nerve on fire, the quiver of ecstasy building into a crescendo. Sylus nestled his head into your neck, licking and sucking on your tender skin, and then you reached the peak, shuddering uncontrollably, convulsing around him in a cacophony of dizzying bliss. You could barely see, riding the high of your climax while Sylus continued to rut into you rapidly, the feverish overstimulation rippling through you.

And then Sylus burst, his cock spasming in your warm pussy, flooding himself into you, spurts of his cum filling you with his warmth, all while calling your name in a throaty whisper in your ear.

Panting heavily, you slumped against his shoulder feeling his climax seeping out of you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, slick from sweat, and he planted soft kisses behind your ear, his other hand gently brushing back your hair, running his fingers through it to tame the mess he made.

You pushed off of him so that you were sitting upright, taking in every detail you could of his flushed, dazed face.

“Did you almost die?”

Sylus flinched, your question startling him out of his blissful reverie.

“Kitten, what do you mean?”

“When you said you got injured, did you almost die?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you asked the question, unsure if you were ready to hear the answer, heart pounding, brows knit together. Sylus gave you a lopsided grin, tenderly placing his hand on your cheek.

“No, kitten, I didn’t almost die.”

“Then why were you gone for weeks?”

You knew you sounded angry, but you weren’t angry, not really, or maybe you were a little. But more than that, you were worried. You were worried about the man you were supposed to be hunting, the man you weren’t ever supposed to fall for, the man who had the ability to derail your entire life in his hands.

“Because, kitten, I didn’t want you to worry.”

Your mouth dropped open. You expected a lot of things, but you didn’t expect that. Not that. Not that what you were sure was just animalistic fucking had turned into something else entirely, not just for you, but him as well. Not that the infamous head of Onychinus might actually care for you.

“That’s silly,” you muttered, a faint blush dusting your cheeks, averting your gaze from him.

“As silly as you worrying about me?” Sylus chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and tantalizingly through you.

You pouted, because it was, this whole thing was silly. You were a Hunter for god’s sake. This was unprofessional and wrong and fucked up and yet so deliciously wonderful and sinfully good and thrilling.

“I hate you.”

“I like you too.”

You sighed, annoyed, but that didn’t stop you from leaning down and snuggling back into his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ear, the sound soothing your anxiety. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to let go in his embrace. There was a lot you had to think about, but tonight… tonight all you wanted was to be in his arms in his bed.

Tomorrow. You would think about everything else tomorrow.

[missaengg]

His Dirty Little Secret

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Xavier x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, smut and fluff, body worship, legs worship, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, gentle kissing Prompts: Body Part Worship | “And here I thought you were an innocent one.” ao3 link here.

Xavier loved legs, or, more specifically, your legs. He worshiped them. Couldn’t keep his hands off of them. Drove him insane.

You’d be sitting together on the couch in your short little lounge shorts, and his hands would be crawling all over them, sliding up and down, kneading the soft skin, nuzzling his soft nose and pressing his plush lips all over them.

Your lap was his favorite pillow. The scent of you that enveloped him his aphrodisiac.

They were his joy, his exhilaration, his dirty little secret.

He started with tender hands and soft kisses, kneading the skin in a sensuous massage, exploring every exposed inch, breathy sighs warming up your thighs until they turned greedy… needy… fingers gripping you tight, eyes darkening with a carnal hunger. He drooled as he devoured them in his supple, needy mouth like they were the last, scrumptious meal he’d ever have, erotic throaty moans expelling from him with every caress.

He’d look up at you through half-lidded, lusty eyes, tongue gliding up your inner thigh, dangerously close to the apex between your legs.

Every time he looked at you with that longing smoldering in his beautiful sapphire blue eyes, your breath would catch, an overwhelming heat flooding your own body. 

And… almost as if he knew how flushed you were becoming, he’d nudge himself in between your legs, burrowing his nose into your dampening slit, breathing in deeply, flicking his tongue against your sensitive, throbbing bud over your clothes, groaning at your arousal seeping through the fabric.

Until something deep within him snapped, and he just had to have a taste.

Emitting a low growl, he’d rip off whatever offending pieces of clothing were in his way, ruining many hapless pairs of bottoms and your favorite underwear in his haste, in his feral need to run his tongue along your slit, all in a desperate attempt to drink from you to quench his unbearable thirst.

Your fingers would thread into his silky, ash blonde hair, tugging at various levels of intensity based on what his mouth was doing, from tiny kisses along your folds to nibbling on your bud to plunging in as far as he could go, firm hands holding your hips in place while they jerked wildly into his fervent ministrations.

Each lick, each nibble, each suck, each dart all building into a sweet symphony of blinding, pulsing bursts of ecstasy, and he’d latch on with the entirety of his mouth, lapping eagerly in order to catch every last drop you weeped in an all-consuming bliss.

Each whimper you uttered sending him into an uncontrollable frenzy, and without providing you any respite from the electric jolts of his staggering provocation, his ravishment would start anew, teasing you into yet another swell of a glorious, dizzying crest, over and over until he finally had his fill of your sweet nectar, though it was never enough. 

Upon finally releasing you, he’d murmur how much he adored you, once again trailing the softest, fluffiest kisses away from your thoroughly loved sex while you trembled beneath him.

You’d peer down at him, a flushed fondness glowing in your eyes, drowning in his drunk gaze, and every time you’d say, “And here I thought you were an innocent one”, a whimsical smile gracing your lips. 

Closing his eyes, he’d wrap his arms around you, nestling his head back into your lap, and in a thick voice quip back, “But I am” before being lulled to sleep with your fingers stroking his hair, enveloped in the smell and warmth of you. 

Laying together for hours as the sun set and the room turned dark, wrapped up in one another.

[missaengg]

Missing You

Day 3 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, established relationship, phone sex, dildo, sex toys, masturbation, pwp Prompts: Phone Sex | "See this? It's going to go inside you." ao3 link here.

You stare morosely at your phone. Rafayel had left for an art exhibition in another city a week ago, and despite knowing that he has an insanely jam-packed schedule, you feel miffed he hasn’t had a chance to call even once during that time. 

Your face lights up when your phone starts ringing, the face of your boyfriend lighting up the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, cutie. Miss me?”

You sigh, leaning back against the sofa. “Tons. When are you getting back?”

“Next week. Thomas has me touring the west side. I think I’ve got an exhibition almost every other day, interviews lined up in between, and gallery parties in the evenings.”

“I love and hate that you’re so busy.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound tinny and flat through the phone speaker. “I hate being away from you for even a day.” 

“Me too…”

“I have a surprise for you to make up for how long I’ll be gone.”

Your ears perk at the word ‘surprise’, bolting up in eager anticipation.

“It should arrive right abooooooout… now.”

The doorbell rings as soon as Rafayel finishes speaking. Curious, you make your way to the door, opening it to a medium sized box on your welcome mat.

“Open it.”

You bring the box inside back to where you were sitting on the couch, ripping open the tape and pulling out the crumpled paper inside to… what appeared to be a dildo? “Um, Rafayel, what is this?”

"See this? It’s a mold of my dick. It's going to go inside you."

You gulp. For some reason, this replica seems much bigger than he is in real life. “Are you sure you didn’t make the dildo bigger? I could’ve sworn you’re not this big.”

“I–” Rafayel pauses, and in the most indignant tone he can muster, utters, “Of course I’m that big. How the hell are you remembering me?” An irritated sigh floats through the speaker. “I’m going to have to remind you just how big I am when I get home… but in the meantime, that’s going to go inside of you.”

“You want me to have sex with a dildo?”

“My dick shaped dildo. And we’re going to have sex using the dildo as a temporary placeholder until I get back.”

You squint your eyes, staring at the smooth, silicone dildo before you, tilting your head at how we would be having sex. “How?”

“Like this.” You can hear the mischievous twinkle in his voice even over the phone. “I kiss you lightly. My hands are on your cheeks, and they make their way down to your neck, over your shoulders, down to your chest, grazing your breasts. Touch yourself lightly there like I’m touching you. What are your nipples doing? Are they hard?”

You blink. Oh. You follow Rafayel’s instructions, lightly grazing your hands across the front of your breasts. Your nipples pucker under your clothing into firm nubs poking through the thin cardigan you’re wearing. “They’re hard. They’re… poking through my sweater.”

“Good, good. Now I’m placing my thumbs on them, applying pressure, rolling them underneath.”

You roll your thumbs over yourself, feeling tingles within your core from the stimulation. “That feels good, Raf.”

“Now give them a pinch for me.”

You squeeze with your pointer and your thumb, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. 

Rafayel groans in response to your gasp. “Are you turned on yet? Getting nice and wet for me?”

“I’m not wet enough.”

“Hm… we’re going to have to fix that then, aren’t we?” You hear him shift on his hotel bed, the covers rustling from his movement. “I slide my hands down your torso – are you wearing a skirt or pants?”

You still when your hands reach the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m wearing a skirt.”

You swear you can hear Rafayel smirk over the phone. “Even better. I slide my hands down over your hips to your thighs until I reach the hem, and then I push the fabric up exposing you to your panties. My fingers–”

“– I’m not wearing any.”  

“...What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat at your admission, and knowing your lovely boyfriend, you imagine his face is turning beet red. When he begins breathing again, his breaths are shallow and rapid, and his voice is strained. “Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

“...iwasthinkingaboutyou…” you mumble into the phone, your own face now a brilliant shade of red mirroring the blush that has likely formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“What?”

“I–” you groan at having to voice this thought out loud, the flush on your face growing even darker, “I was thinking about you!”

A long guttural groan comes through over the speaker. “Naughty cutie,” Rafayel practically hisses. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“Are you hard right now?” 

“Yeah, so hard for you.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” You ask Rafayel tentatively, feeling shy at being this vocally intimate for the first time.

“Of course I am.” 

Rafayel’s groans flood your core, tingles radiating throughout your lower belly, leaving you squirming in your seat. You don’t care that you might stain your couch with your arousal. All you care about at the moment is Rafayel’s desire for you.

“Fuck, play with yourself for me.”

“You mean my clit?” “Yeah. Imagine I’m touching you, and touch yourself for me.”

You press a trembling finger to your clit, rubbing it in a circle, feeling your nerves burn. You close your eyes, imagining it’s Rafayel stroking you. You moan with each pass, the fire in your core growing hotter.

“God, I wish I could see you touching yourself.” Rafayel’s grunting quietly. 

You can barely hear his grunts over the phone under your own moaning, but the sound is only adding to the throbbing growing between your thighs. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” Rafayel croons. “Are you dripping yet?”

You slide your finger through your slick folds, toying with your opening. “Tons. I’m so ready for you.”

“Grab my dick.”

You grasp his dick-shaped dildo in your hand.

“I enter you slowly, sinking in all the way until I’m filling you entirely. Can you feel me?”

“Ngh.” The sensation of his dick filling you leaves you gasping, your walls sucking his replica in. “You’re so big.” You’re panting already, delighted at how much he’s stretching you out.

“God, I can almost feel you.”

“Are you sure you’re really this big normally?”

“Seriously? I’ll remind you just how big I am when I get home, multiple times. Now focus.” Rafayel sulks, his pout reaching you though you’re unable to see the expression on his face. 

You grin wickedly hearing your boyfriend flounder. “Multiple times. You promised.”

“Honestly,” he huffs, his voice strangled on the other end of the line. “I should cancel the rest of this trip and come home right now.”

“But you can’t,” you hum in faux sympathy.

Rafayel growls impatiently. “I thrust into you. Follow me, baby. Fuck yourself with my cock. Pretend I’m there fucking you.”

You pump the dildo furiously, the silicone dragging on your walls. Your body remembers your boyfriend’s shape, your walls greedily dragging him in deep. 

“Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear it.”

You place the phone on the couch by your gyrating hips hoping the sounds of his replica entering and exiting you carry through. “Can you hear it?”

Rafayel sharply inhales, which he then exhales in a low, guttural groan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” 

Desperate for more, you reach your other hand down to probe your engorged clit. Your eyes roll back in your head, ecstatic moans ripping from your throat, his name falling off your tongue.

“Say my name, cutie.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Hearing his name on your lips excites Rafayel, and you hear the slapping of his fist against his pelvis accompanied by the sound of skin against skin. He’s groaning, the pace of his pumping growing into a feral frenzy. “Are you… are you close?”

“Mmhmm…” Your butt lifts off the couch, all the muscles in your legs tensing from the electricity building in your core. “Close, so close.”

“Cum for me,” Rafayel commands.

You let go, the shockwaves of your ecstasy washing over you in waves, a passionate cry bursting from your chest. “Rafayel.” Feeling your walls convulse around Rafayel’s replica, you repeatedly cry out his name.

Rafayel follows soon after, his utterances of ‘fuck’ making you smile in your blissed out state. You sink to the soft cushions below you without pulling out the toy Rafayel sent you.

“Did you make a mess?” Rafayel’s voice floats to you, twinkles of laughter evident in the satisfied exhaustion.

“When have I ever not with you?” You sweetly chuckle, curling up next to the phone now by your head.

“Heh… we’ll have to make a mess together then when I’m back.”

You hum, smiling as you close your eyes. “I need to inspect how big you are compared to your dildo. I seriously still think you may have augmented yourself a bit.”

“This again? Cutie, I promise you I really am that–”

You shake with laughter at Rafayel’s indignant protests, interrupting him to say “I prefer the real you. I miss you.”

“Me too. One more week, and I’ll be home.”

“I may need to sleep with Little Rafayel until you get back.”

“Don’t replace me with him!” Rafayel falls silent, and in a little voice adds, “Please.” 

You shake your head. “Never. Only when you’re not here.”

“Good.” Rafayel clicks his tongue. “I have to go, I’m supposed to attend some dinner soon, but I gotta clean up first.”

You whine feeling empty at the prospect of having to hang up the phone. You hear Rafayel sigh from the other side.

“I’ll try to call you soon,” he murmurs, feeling forlorn himself. “Keep Little Rafayel on hand for when I do. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” you tease, covering up how much you loathe to let him go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rafayel hangs up the phone. You stare morosely at your phone again, but this time, you feel a little less lonely knowing that you have a little piece of him – as reminded by the feeling of him inside you – to keep you company until he returns.

[missaengg]

Kitten, You're Beautiful

Day 5 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, mild angst, mirror sex, comfort sex, established relationship Prompts: Mirror Sex | "Let's see how long you can last." ao3 link here.

Your clothes didn’t fit anymore. Sighing, you pinched the fat above your tummy, grimacing at how much more flesh was caught between your fingers than before. The floor-length mirror in front of you reflected your entire body, clad only in ill-fitting underwear, back. You hated it. You hated what your body had become, the soft dimples on your thighs, the extra cushion around your waist, the jiggle on your upper arms.

You angrily sighed, eyeing the clothes you ripped from your closet lying on the floor of your bedroom. You tried on almost every item of clothing you owned. Nothing, absolutely nothing laid on you correctly. The waistband of your jeans pushed up the fat on your hips into a hideous muffin top. Your crop tops showed too much of your swollen belly. Your blouses strained against your chest and shoulders. An aggravated, disapproving growl erupted from your throat, and you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears prickling your eyelids from falling.

This was so stupid. You knew all of it was so stupid. You could just buy new clothes. But seeing how small your clothes had gotten made you feel hideous and bloated and unattractive. It made you hate yourself.

“Kitten?”

A familiar voice drifted through your bedroom door. You quickly reached for one of your boyfriend’s sweaters he left behind the last time he was over, a soft, cashmere pullover that used to at one point hang loosely off your body. 

“In here, Sy,” you called out, covering yourself as fast as you could, ashamed to let him see you like this. You suspected he knew something wasn’t quite right, especially because the last time the two of you were intimate, you insisted on turning off the lights. He didn’t push though because that’s what he did. He always waited for you to tell him when you were ready.

Sylus poked his head into your bedroom, his silver hair brushing against the top of the door frame. His brilliantly vibrant, crimson eyes brightened when they saw you, but wavered when they noticed how red your eyes were and what appeared to be the remnants of a scowl on your brow. “Kitten, are you all right?” he asked, his concern for you obvious. 

You weakly smiled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m fine.” You took a deep, shuddering breath in, kicking yourself for how poorly you were hiding how shitty you felt, especially when you saw Sylus’s eyebrows pull together. “Really, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” Sylus leaned forward until he was level with you, tenderly placing a palm against your cheek. 

You involuntarily pulled back a hair at his touch, eyes averted towards the ground. “Nothing, really. I’m fine.”

His frown deepened, especially when you pulled away from his touch. He peered at you intently, his crimson orbs searching for a sign of why you were so upset. “Sweetie, did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I–” “No!” You sighed, roughly yanking your fingers through your hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that I… I…” You trailed off, feeling ashamed at why you were so upset, at having to voice what was upsetting you. You could feel Sylus looking at you, that warm, sweet, concerned gaze of his that made you feel warm and fuzzy. But right now, all it did was make you feel more shame, more self-loathing.

“Sweetie?” His thumb wiped away the tear that fell from your eye. 

God, you loved him when he was this sweet. You hugged yourself tighter, intrusive thoughts running through your head whispering that he would be repulsed by the change in your body, that he would fall out of love with you, that he would leave you if he knew, that he would find someone slimmer and more attractive than you.

“My–” You licked your lips, blinking to keep more tears from falling. “My clothes don’t fit anymore,” you whispered in the tiniest voice you could muster while still remaining audible. 

“Oh,” Sylus quietly uttered.

“I– I look awful,” you hoarsely whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. As the tears began to fall, you buried your face in your hands, unwilling to let him see you ugly cry, snot running and all.

“Kitten…” Strong, but tender hands gently moved yours out of the way allowing him to wipe away your tears. “Kitten, look at me.”

You reluctantly raised your head, flinching at how much he was taking in. He grasped your chin, and very gently leaned in to graze his lips against yours. You melted, desiring the comfort of his warm embrace. Your anxiety spiked when he pulled away.

“You’re beautiful.”

You frowned at him. “No, I’m not. I’m ugly, and you’re going to want someone younger and prettier and skinnier than me.” Sylus clicked his tongue, displeased at how quickly you dismissed his compliment. He spun you around so that your back was against his chest and the two of you were facing the mirror. He placed his hands on your shoulders, bringing his lips close to your ear. “To me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he asserted, staring straight into your eyes in the mirror. “And I will not have you disparaging her. If you don’t believe me, then I will have to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

A delicious tingle ran up your spine when he placed a wet kiss behind your ear. 

“I don’t care what size you are..”

Another tingle when he nipped your artery.

“You are the only woman for me.”

His hands slid under the sweater you were wearing, the friction of his calloused palms hot against your soft skin starting a smoldering fire deep within you.

“And I will never, ever let you forget it.”

His hands were kneading your soft flesh, the ragged breaths he was expelling erotic in your ear while his mouth feasted on your neck. You found yourself melting into his embrace, relishing the way he grabbed at you, feeling his bulge press into your back.

“I want you to see how much I love you.”

Sylus tugged his sweater off of you, throwing it behind him and bringing you back into his arms quickly. You instinctively raised your arms to cover yourself, but Sylus caught your wrists before you could. 

“Don’t. I want to see all of you.”

Your nose wrinkled at your reflection, at the imperfections you wished didn’t exist. You yelped when Sylus roughly bit down on your shoulder. 

“Kitten, I said none of that now.”

Sylus hooked his fingers into your underwear and pulled them down, taking his time, grazing his fingertips along your leg as he did so. You squirmed at how exposed you felt, seeing yourself on display both in the mirror and in his hungry, heated eyes. He squeezed your breasts.

“This is mine.”

You gasped as his hand slipped between your legs, stroking your slit from front to back, slipping a finger in. Your body involuntarily clamped down onto his finger. He trailed kisses along your shoulder, wrapping his free arm around your waist so that you were tightly flush along his back while his finger curled inside you. You threw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, your chest heaving faster. 

“This deliciously wet pussy is mine.”

You felt Sylus shift behind you, the arm around you momentarily disengaging so he could release his erection. 

“This gorgeous body is mine.”

After sliding his length against your folds to lubricate himself in your slick, he slid in, taking his time burying himself fully in your warmth. The breathy moan falling off your lips caused Sylus to feverishly groan. Sylus moved against you slowly, enjoying the way your walls dragged along his shaft. Your eyes flickered to the sight of your union in the mirror. You could see the flush spread on your boyfriend’s face, the drunk look of pleasure glazing over his eyes. He looked positively intoxicated by you. 

Sylus noticed you watching him in the mirror. Breathing heavily, he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, tickling the spot where his lips rested. “I will always love you, no matter what because you are beautiful. Inside and out. Your size doesn’t dictate that. Do you understand me?”

You felt the prickle of tears along your eyelids again, but this time it was because of how adoringly Sylus cradled you in his arms, at how safe he made you feel, at how much his love for you felt like a gentle, spring rain on your heart. You nodded, unsure whether you could speak without erupting into full-blown tears.

“Now, kitten, let’s see how long you can last with my dick inside you.” You shivered, anticipation fluttering down your back, knowing you wouldn’t last very long. That devilish smirk he flashed was going to be the death of you, but you didn’t mind because he was your Sylus and you were his kitten, and that was all you needed in this world.