WE cANOOT LET THIS FANDOM DIE!!! 😭😭😭 YOOO NOOO!!!! MYSTIC MESSENGER GIRLIE FOREVER. 707's 606 4ever!!
I joined this fandom on 2023. Yes, way after it died but heyyooo ion want it to end!! The new otome games are nice but, nothing can ever replace MYSME!!!!!
please heed all of the authors' content warnings & check out their other amazing works too! show them some love; be kind!
.°•𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗/ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥ᯓ༊·˚
never will I let you go by @blessdunrest (mdni)
sylus x readers late night swim by @catbolt
best laid plans by @deepspacenova
sweetie by @deepspacenova
Crescendo by @dizzydaisychains
To See You Like This by @hopeyoufindalovelikethis
The Sound of Staying by @iraot
Cat-fe by @lorelei-larai
Little Flame by @maddamoiselle
Capture my heart and frame it, won't you? by @memephi
cherry wine by @mythblossoms
Your trash, my treasure. by @peascribbles
Love Letters, Sylus by @rcvcgers
I see you by @terriblesoup
.°•ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜ᯓ༊·˚
how to accidentally catch feelings while baby-sitting a man-child by @shaiyasstuff
Broke Sylus??!!? by @thesylenttreatment01
.°•𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕥ᯓ༊·˚
the weight of the wind by @abyssyby
to be devoured, to be held by @abyssyby
Sylus - Five Years Later by @aleksatia
A Gentle Touch by @always-just-red
Under the wings of a dragon by @colonelkaboom
Blooming Daturas by @glitch-but-ya
through the fire by @shaiyasstuff (series; sylusxreaderxzayne)
into the flames... by @souliloqui
black velvet by @sysjuicebox
.°•𝕄𝔻ℕ𝕀 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥ᯓ༊·˚
YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS by @atxchiphxbix (mdni)
Power Play by @deepspacenova (mdni; sylusxcaleb)
Ma Meilleure Ennemie by @dijayeah (mdni)
sweet dreams by @fiendsgf (mdni)
runner's high by @humanjarvis (mdni)
A Practical Demonstration by @janumun (mdni)
third tempo by @knightjpg (mdni)
The Mate in the Mountains by @kissandtellus (mdni)
Dragon Tamer by @leighsartworks216 (mdni)
streetracer!sylus x streetracer!reader by @luvinbloom (mdni)
avoiding sylus' kisses prank...gone wrong by @wetforsylus (mdni)
calling him 'husband' during sex by @wetforsylus (mdni)
in your hand. from my heart by @sylure (mdni)
Sensuous Little Thing. by @sylure (mdni; suggestive)
The Marionette's Dance. by @sylure (mdni)
frenetic by @sysyjuicebox (mdni)
sylus when he can't stop kitten licking you... by @thewrldx (mdni)
.°•Miscᯓ༊·˚
coat by @blessdunrest
Take Your Time, Miss Deer by @borkunlimited (series; suggestive)
a soul cast in shadow by @deepspacenova
Error 404: (Self!Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) by @ittybittyfanblog (series; suggestive)
Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe) by @ittybittyfanblog
OUT OF BOUNDS by @novthirty (series ongoing)
blackjack by @peachylynnie (series ongoing)
Elysium by @starmocha (mdni)
Rinse, repeat. by @terriblesoup (series)
Silence is a Virtue by @thechaoticarchivist
ginny's note: this is definitely the biggest list yet 😭 a HUGE shoutout to @/blessdunrest, @/deepspacenova, and my other amazing moots who gave me so many wonderful recommendations!! this list would not be possible without you all 🫂💕
as always, if you have any recs and/or authors to share, pls let me know! i'll have to make a part two since the number of links maxed out on this post, but that is a-okay 🙂↕️ (just give me time LOL)
Aftercare with L&DS men: how they’d look after you?
ft. Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb.
summary: pretty self-explanatory.
rating: suggestive
a/n: reposting some of my content here from twitter, as i have a backlog of stuff needed to upload on tumblr since... april lol. also if you'd like to be added to a tag list for these threads or any of my other writing, please leave a comment!
Sylus: You had sunk into the penthouse sheets with the city breathing against the glass, pulse still skipping while your clothes were all over the place—the bed, the floor, god knows, at this point maybe under the bed too. He had not moved quickly at first, but when he did, it felt like a decision already made.
✧ — He had wiped you down with wet wipes he kept exactly for this, slow and precise, eyes tracking every flinch like data he intended to memorize. His voice had followed each stroke, low with praise that felt like a secret meant only for you. “Good girl, c’mon, breathe for me.” He had paused at the inside of your plush thigh, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to watch your body soften again beneath his calloused hand.
✧ — He had pressed a glass of water to your lips, thumb smoothing along your throat as he tilted it just enough to make you swallow without having you get up fully. He counted your sips mentally, gaze fixed, amused when you tried to set the glass aside too early, as if he would allow such shortcuts tonight after all that he had put you through. When you pouted, he only tipped the glass back toward your mouth again, murmuring, “One more, kitten. Don’t test me on something this simple.”
✧ — After that was done, he had slid the small, soaked towel he had tucked under you earlier out with neat efficiency, tossing it into the laundry basket with a flick of his wrist as he noted how wet it was.
✧ — Taking his time, he had checked your wrists and hips with deliberate care, fingers ghosting over the places he knew he had used, cataloguing every mark and bruise. Each time you winced, his mouth found the spot, kissing it as if reclassifying it from territory to treasure. When you whispered that you were fine, he only laughed under his breath, the sound curling low at the base of your spine. “You’re better than fine. But I’ll decide when you’re done being looked after.” He had wrapped you in one of his expensive shirts after, buttoning it himself with unhurried patience, his knuckles brushing your skin as if daring you to tell him to stop.
✧ — To wind down completely, he had put vinyl on at low volume, the crackle filling the room like static electricity, and lay beside you on his back. You climbed into his side instinctively, his hand stroking your hair until your breathing matched his. “I’ll massage the rest of the soreness out of you tomorrow after the shower.” His tone made it sound less like a favor and more like an inevitability, as if even your recovery belonged to him. The declaration had made you giddy enough, but when you tucked your head against the slope of his neck and shoulder, his fingers tightened fractionally in your hair as his skin prickled a little, reminded of your touch earlier.
Xavier: You had collapsed against him on the living room couch, muscles jelly, the lights in his apartment dim and kind as the last tremor left your legs. He had smiled like he had been granted a miracle and tried not to let you see how much it rattled him.
✧ — He had gathered you into his lap, hands steady even if his chest still rose too fast, thumb tracing thoughtless shapes against the back of your neck. When he finally moved, it was only to grab water and a protein bar. He broke it into pieces, feeding you between playful kisses until you mumbled that he was ridiculous. His laugh was quiet against your mouth. “Ridiculous, maybe. But I intend to keep you upright tomorrow.”
✧ — He had pressed the glass to your lips, insisting that you don’t drink enough, then watching every swallow like proof (maybe aside from, uh, other things you’ve swallowed earlier), thumb resting at your jaw as if to guide each one. When you tried to set it aside early, his brow lifted, amused. “Half, at least. Consider it my price for the next kiss.”
✧ — He had coaxed you toward the bathroom after you were able to move a little more, not giving you the option to argue. “You’ll rest better after. Trust me.” He stepped in with you, adjusting the temperature and washing you with deliberate care, his hands gentler than his words had been an hour before. When you leaned against the tile, too tired to move, he tilted your chin up and rinsed your hair himself, his focus absolute. “Let me handle it, you’ve done enough for one night, yeah?” He hid a smug smirk at the fact that you smelled like him now.
✧ — Afterward, he had wrapped you in a large towel, drying the drops that slipped down your shoulders before letting you tug him back to bed when you fussed that he was overbearing.
✧ — Xavier had stretched out beside you, one arm loose behind his head, the other tracing through your damp hair until your breathing settled against his pale chest, indicating you fell asleep. The tune he hummed was soft, imperfect, something remembered in pieces, his lips brushing your crown as he whispered, “So much for trying to keep me up all night, huh? Fell asleep before me, classic.”
Zayne: You had sprawled on his bed while the city noise receded, muscles spent, mind empty in a way that felt like relief. He had already switched modes, the feral softened into method, the doctor awake under the lover.
✧ — He had laid a towel beneath your hips before you’d even caught your breath, already cleaning you with unscented wipes, movements precise but never detached. His voice had been steady, almost clinical, as he asked about sharpness, overstimulation, and whether any pain lingered in places you hadn’t noticed yet. You murmured answers, and each one was met with a quiet hum, catalogued in that sharp mind of his.
✧ — He had whisked the towel out from under you with neat efficiency, folding it into a square and setting it aside like a surgeon clearing a tray. When he turned back, his palm pressed cool against the curve of your thigh, Evol thrumming under his skin until the flushed ache began to settle. The faintest smirk touched his mouth when you sighed at the relief. “Better, sweetheart?”
✧ — He had checked your pulse at your wrist, then at your neck. His brow eased fractionally when your pulse fell back into range, satisfaction softening into something warmer. He pressed his lips briefly to your temple, murmuring, “Exactly where I want you, means I didn’t overwork you too much tonight.”
✧ — He had drawn a bath to a precise temperature, steam curling low, salts dissolving into the water with a faint shimmer. His sleeves were rolled, forearms bare as he knelt by the tub, easing you in with a hand at your spine. His fingers had worked the knots from your calves, Evol cooling the worst of the strain until the ache unspooled and you leaned against the porcelain with a quiet moan. His eyes gleamed at that, but his hands never strayed.
✧ — After all that was done, he had carried you back to bed in your pjs, ignoring your insistence that you could walk. You’d clung to his broad shoulders anyway, your protest undercut by the way you nestled closer when he set you down. “Stubborn and soft,” he had murmured against your hair, almost amused, “my favorite combination.”
Rafayel: You had floated on the edge of sleep with sea air curling through the open doors of the balcony, skin salted, thighs sore, heart too full. He had lounged like he had all the time in the world, and you were his favorite way to spend it.
✧ — He had carried you to a bath that already steamed, the water laced with oils that smelled of sun and citrus. Sliding in behind you, his big hands had moved like tides, gentle as he washed your hair and kissed the slope of your shoulder between strokes. Every motion was unhurried, as if he meant to stretch the night into eternity.
✧ — When you whispered an apology for the marks across his skin, he had laughed, low and wicked, before pressing his mouth to your collarbone and sucking a new bruise into the hollow there. “Prettiness never needs apologies, cutie, but if you insist, I will mark you back.” The grin he gave you afterward was trouble disguised as devotion. It was a good hour you spent in the bath, and you even had the audacity to whine about the water cooling down before he used his Evol to heat it up to a nice temperature again. “Spoiled brat.” He murmured, not really meaning it.
✧ — He had brought slices of chilled fruit and a glass of water to your lips later, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you chewed. He made a game out of every piece, coaxing you to smile around the straw, pretending to withhold the next bite until you pouted. Each laugh he stole from you seemed to please him more than the taste of anything else.
✧ — He had massaged your thighs with slow, sure pressure once you were settled in bed, sheets freshly changed, chasing down every knot his roughness had left behind. When you hissed at the tenderness, he bent close, voice lazy against your ear. “I’ll pay interest on every ache, miss bodyguard. Name your price later.” His thumbs had pressed deeper, coaxing the soreness into something warm and pliant until you melted under his touch.
✧ — When all was said and done, the man had the audacity as he sprawled half over you like a living blanket, making you groan, “Raf, too heavy.” A huff, leaving your swollen lips before you’d hear him laughing at your dramatic reaction. “Are you saying you dislike me being your personal barnacle now?’
Caleb: You had sprawled across the kitchen counter first and had been carried to the couch like a sack of potatoes, legs useless, work shirt missing half its buttons because his impatience had not been subtle. He had looked smug and soft at once, sweat still cooling at his temple.
✧ — The violet-eyed man had spooned you, muttering a gruff apology for getting carried away while kissing your forehead hard enough to make the words feel more like a brag. His arms had locked around you in that heavy, immovable way that made you feel pinned and safe at the same time.
✧ — When you whined that he was too hot against your back, he sighed like you were impossible and got up only long enough to grab water. He downed his own in one gulp before pressing a glass into your hand, refusing to let go until you drank. “Drink up, pips. I’ve seen your water intake during training, it’s shameful.”
✧ — Cleaning came next, his big hands surprisingly careful as he used wet wipes and gravity (aka his evol) itself to help shift what mess clung stubbornly. Every time your breath caught, his eyes flicked up quickly, searching your face as if he could check for hurt before moving on.
✧ — He had pulled you into the shower whether you wanted it or not, grumbling that you would only make a bigger mess without him. He washed your hair slowly, fingers strong but gentle, and when you stepped out, he wrapped you in a fresh towel, making sure you had the soft hair towel he preferred for you. Sitting you down, he brushed through the tangles until your shoulders relaxed under his touch. “Haven’t done your hair in a while,” he said, like it was your fault, though the quiet pride in his voice betrayed him. He even braided it neatly, lips curving at how you leaned into the brush like a sleepy cat.
✧ — Once he was satisfied you were looked after, he carried you to bed like it was second nature, sheets already turned down for you. Tucking you beneath the blanket, he settled in behind you, his chest firm at your back, his arm heavy across your waist. The heat pack he prepared for you, stayed warm against your spine, and the words “I got you” rumbled against your ear until your body believed him.
i had to bunny. the temptation was too good hehe. continuation of this amazing work by @comatosebunny09
cw: fem! reader, kitty shenanigans, fluff, reader is boss's right hand
“He’s doing it again.”
“What?”
“You know that thing he does when he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.”
“You mean pretending to read a report when he’s actually browsing the photo album he shares with you?”
Your laughter is contagious, eliciting twin snorts in the dark.
“Shhhh, quiet, Luke! You’re too loud.”
The doors to the closet rattle, quaking from shadows pressing against hands desperately keeping monsters at bay.
Kieran curses as he hears wood splintering under his touch, “Just please, miniboss, come here soon.”
“Boys.”
A squeak and the line peters off to silence.
You stare at your phone, blinking owlishly at the fading caller ID. A shaft of sunlight hits the edge of the screen, refracting its brilliance to an object laying innocently on your dining table. Soft, feathery, reminiscent of a time when Sylus glowered at his misfortune and made his displeasure keenly known. A displeasure that quickly transformed into your shared pleasure. A pleasure you wouldn’t mind repeating if only he obliged once more...
The memory of slitted eyes darting unwillingly towards a toy, then you, then grousing about blasted feline instincts sends you into another fit of joy. And before you can stop yourself, you’re already donning your heels, the clack of your stilettos signaling your pending arrival.
You shoot a quick text, hoping to assuage the punishment you know Sylus has in store.
Go easy on them, bossman.
Where are you?
Patience, child.
You’re scheming again, aren’t you.
A kitten never tells 🤪
Of course, you don’t answer his calls.
Sylus grumbles into his coffee mug, frowning at the remnants of espresso staining the rim as if it can summon you. Luke hovers like an overbearing mother, quickly replacing the empty cup with a new one. Kieran sports a new crack in his mask, the result of an impromptu boxing match. It seems someone’s been slacking off on their training. Training he said, as he knocked the twins down over and over again like wet rag dolls ping-ponging through a dryer cycle.
Never have Luke and Kieran been so relieved to see you. They scuttle away from Sylus’s office like ants fleeing from a spill, your giggle drawing a sterner frown on his face.
Sylus doesn’t like that grin one bit.
It’s the same one you had when you pulled the atrocity called a cat toy from behind your back and teased him during the chase. It’s the same one you had when you reached to scratch his ears and called him cute. It’s the same one that reminds him of the stupid idiot who dared to taunt death with “there isn’t a cure” and your jab to all of his previous misgivings, “Wouldn’t it be funny if sex were the cure all along?”
You edge the divide of whimsy and disaster with each step you take, tracing the lines of his jaw with a manicured fingernail. “A little birdie told me you missed me.” He hates how your words bloom into song. Already his composure is slipping, already his hand is lacing through yours, already his cheek is chasing your warmth.
He’s a man unmoored through your touch. An ember catching flame as your fingers dip under his collar, quickly losing focus, drowning in the sea of you, you, you—until he feels it.
Something you quickly slot behind his ears, pinching his hair uncomfortably.
Something that suspiciously does not belong to him.
Something that definitely is not a reminder of his hindered state.
He growls, stalling your wrist from escape.
And he swears he’s going to need to imbue another type of training soon, one that demands respect instead of whatever this ridiculousness is. He tears off the headband, a well-made replica of his caracal ears. It’s almost impressive how accurate the details are, with its pointed tips and….why are they moving?
You snicker as his lips curl back in disgust.
“So, I was thinking—”
“No.”
But with a little prodding, you know he’s soon to cave, “Then I suppose I’ll head back to Lux, not like there’s a lack of other things to do—”
You smile as his chin finds its home on your shoulder, “Don’t you dare.”
Victory.
He grumbles the rest of the night, twitchy ears and all, glued to your bosom like a stubborn leech. Let me have my sedative, he purrs underneath the covers.
Good kitty, you croon under moonlight.
Neither of you notices the sighs exhaling in relief outside Sylus’s bedroom door.
Nor the text that pings your phone much later, a notification for an inbound package.
Maybe you could interest him in adding a tail next time.
ft. Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb.
summary: pretty self-explanatory.
rating: n$fw-ish
a/n: reposting some of my content here from twitter, as i have a backlog of stuff needed to upload on tumblr since... april lol. also if you'd like to be added to a tag list for these threads or any of my other writing, please leave a comment!
Sylus: The property in Linkon City was supposed to be impressive. A top-floor flat with floor-to-ceiling windows and skyline views, the kind of place you pretended not to be excited about just to tease him, mostly. But for the past twenty minutes, the only thing Sylus noticed was the way that moron of a broker kept drifting closer to you, always finding some excuse to brush against your arm or lean in to point out features you could see perfectly well from across the room. It was obvious, even if you were trying to ignore it.
✧ — Sylus didn’t say a word at first. He stood at your back, letting you take the lead, hands clasped in front of him like he had all the time in the world. But his carmine eyes never left the broker, tracking every smile and every too-friendly glance. The man was charming in that overeager Linkon City way, and it grated on the leader of Onychinus more than he cared to admit. “If you have any questions, feel free to reach out directly,” the broker said, handing you his card with a little wink. Sylus watched you tuck it into your pocket, expression unreadable.
✧ — “We’ll be in touch,” he cut in, his tone polite but final, stepping in just close enough that his shadow cut across both of you. The broker faltered, stammered something about scheduling, but Sylus had already turned, guiding you out with a hand at your lower back. The touch looked casual but felt more like a warning to the man left behind. “That was unnecessary,” you whispered once the door shut, though you didn’t shrug off his hand. “I can handle someone being polite.”
✧ — The elevator doors slid shut behind you. Sylus waited a moment before he spoke, letting the silence draw tight between you like the line of a snare. “Didn’t realize house-hunting came with free entertainment,” he said, voice low and measured, but there was an edge to it that told you he was more than just a little pissed. “Is that what they call customer service these days?” You exhaled a small laugh, more out of nerves than humor, the sound coming out more like a scoff. “I thought he was just trying too hard to make a sale. That’s what brokers do.” You replied.
✧ — He didn’t smile, wasn’t impressed. Instead, he stepped closer, pressing you gently against the mirrored wall. His large palm slid down your arm, slow and possessive, thumb brushing your wrist where the broker’s fingers had lingered a second too long for his liking. “You like the place?” he asked, ruby gaze fixed on your glossy mouth, though you could tell he was thinking about anything but real estate right now. “Because I’d rather buy the whole damn building than see someone else try to sell you on anything this aggressively, especially himself.”
✧ — The sharp, serious look he gave you then was equal parts challenge and promise, the kind that made your pulse quicken even when you knew he was just being petty. “Sylus,” you murmured, trying for a warning, though it softened into something closer to invitation. And he took it as one, because hell, he kissed you once, slow and deep, like he was reminding you exactly who you belonged to. “Next time, kitten,” he breathed against your lips, “let me handle the negotiations. I’m much better at closing deals, especially when the prize is already mine.” The elevator door opened as you both stepped out.
Xavier: He had never minded sharing a workspace with you. In truth, he preferred it, because proximity meant control, and control meant safety. You were easier to guard when you were close, easier to read, easier to account for. But lately, there had been an intruder in that rhythm. A new agent, careless in his youth, circling your desk with the kind of confidence only inexperience allowed. He lingered with cups of coffee he claimed were coincidental, remembered your blend as though that entitled him to your attention, laughed too loudly at his own remarks about the way you moved in the field. You dismissed most of it with polite half-smiles, but Xavier did not dismiss anything.
✧ — It was not the gestures themselves that unsettled him but the small unconscious shifts you made in return. Leaning a fraction to the left when the man stood too close. Tilting the tablet to shorten the space between your hands and his. They were defensive moves, not encouragement, but they left Xavier restless all the same. When the man finally walked away, the silver-haired man moved into the vacant space with the same inevitability as a tide reclaiming the shore. He placed a file down on your desk, voice deliberately mild. “Persistent,” he observed, as if it were a flaw in an enemy’s formation. You looked up, amused, and said what he refused to acknowledge aloud. “You’re jealous.” His silence was its own admission.
✧ — Hours later, in the low light of the vault, he found you again. You were bent over the scanner panel, intent on the flicker of faulty readings, and did not notice the quiet sound of his boots against the floor until his soft voice reached you. “He is not worth your time,” he said, calm and certain, the way he might announce a verdict. “And he will not try again.” You turned toward him at that, brows lifted, a faint note of curiosity in your expression. “You talked to him?” “No.” The word was simple, but his azure gaze was not. It trailed slowly down your throat, lingered at the quickening pulse there. “I do not need to. I am not subtle when I mean to keep something.” The last words came lower, darker, meant only for you. “And tonight, I will have you forgetting his name while my fingers are making you cry.” The air seemed to thicken as you drew a shallow breath, but Xavier was already walking past, as if nothing at all had been spoken.
✧ — The day stretched long after that. He did not come back to your desk, did not offer another word, and yet his presence pressed against you from across every room you walked into. By the time you checked your locker at the end of the shift, your nerves were wound tight enough to snap. The drink waiting inside was cold, the condensation already slick against your fingers. The fancy cafe label was half peeled, edges damp from the heat of his hand. There was no note or any other sort of explanation. Just the quiet certainty that he had been there, close enough to touch, and had chosen restraint instead.
✧ — You almost managed to breathe easy when you reached the exit. Almost being the keyword. The corridor was quiet, emptied of the rush of hunters, when Xavier passed behind you. He did not pause, did not speak, only let his long fingers trace the small of your back, a touch so brief it might have been imagined. You stopped in place, pulse stuttering, but did not look after him. You did not need to. “We are going home, I intend to make good on that promise I made earlier.” He murmured, breath ghosting by the shell of your ear from behind.
Zayne: Jealousy was inefficient. That was the line he repeated in his head, though it did little to quiet the static in his chest as he stood at your side during the symposium reception. The chandeliered hall was crowded with the murmur of voices and the clink of expensive crystal, but all he heard was the cadence of Dr. Ilmar’s compliments. A surgeon of some renown, polished, confident, lingering too close as though the entire room had narrowed to you. He spoke of your research, of your “rare combination of insight and charm,” a phrase delivered with an admiring smile that lingered one second too long. When he passed you a drink you had not asked for, fingers brushing yours, Zayne’s own hands remained steady on his glass. Outwardly, nothing changed. Inwardly, the calculation had already begun.
✧ — The silence beside you was impossible to ignore. It pressed at your shoulder like a second presence, cold and unwavering just like his evol, and though you tried to steer the conversation toward polite conclusions, Dr. Ilmar circled back each time, his tone edging toward invitation. A visiting program, a mentorship, perhaps even relocation for a season. The offer came too smoothly, too prepared. That was when Zayne spoke. “She is under contract,” he said, voice even, pitched so low it almost folded into the ambient noise. He did not look at the man, nor at you, simply brought the glass to his lips as if reciting a clinical fact. “And she already works under someone with considerably higher standards.” The words cut without emphasis, precise as an incision, and it took a beat before the weight of them registered.
✧ — You excused yourself then, fingers tugging at his sleeve until you found quiet in one of the side corridors. “Really?” you asked, still holding onto his arm. “That was the passive-aggressive thing you always deny doing?” He met your gaze with the same calm he had shown in the hall, though his sage eyes were sharp and dark. “It was neither passive nor aggressive. It was factual. I will not stand there while a man twice your age dresses a proposition in the language of mentorship.” You frowned, folding your arms. “That was never implied.” He tilted his head, the faintest tightening at the edge of his jaw. “It was about to be. I recognize when someone is circling. I am not impulsive, but I am not blind.”
✧ — The ride back to his apartment was long and quiet, the city lights blurring across the glass like distant stars. He kept his hands folded, gaze forward, his silence the kind that filled the air instead of emptying it. It was only when you stepped inside and shut the door behind you that he finally moved. His jacket was folded across a chair, his cuffs methodically undone, each button slipped free with deliberate care. “If you intend to expand your network,” he said evenly, “I will write your recommendations myself. I will arrange your access to every lab, every archive you require. But I will not tolerate discussions of guest flats or quarters away from me, not with a man who watched your mouth when you spoke and let his hand rest on you as if he had the right.” He spoke with the detachment of a physician dictating notes, but you saw the tremor at the corner of his mouth, the contained fury in the way his shoulders stayed rigid.
✧ — You stepped closer, tilting your chin until his eyes finally met yours. “That’s jealousy,” you said softly, though you knew he would never concede the word. He stilled, cuff still half-undone between his fingers. “It is control,” he answered, low and certain. “You belong to me. And I do not appreciate when anyone forgets that.” His narrowed gaze swept over you then, and for the first time all night, the restraint cracked. The silence deepened, stretched taut like a wire about to snap. When he finally spoke again, it was quieter, harsher, each syllable cut into the air. “And I will not allow you to forget either.” He leaned in to kiss you, with passion that burned away at the ice in his tone.
Rafayel: He arrived without announcement, as he often did, his presence carrying the ease of someone who assumed every room would eventually tilt toward him. The gallery smelled faintly of varnish and fresh canvas, the kind of scent that clung to the back of the throat, and when he stepped inside, his eyes moved first to your hands. You were holding a small painting, colors still rich from drying oil, your likeness captured in soft strokes that softened the curve of your jaw and brightened the light in your eyes. It was romantic in a way only youth could dare, unguarded and idealized, and the young man who had painted it stood before you as though he had just laid something bare. Pride glimmered in his expression while surprise flickered in yours. Rafayel took in all of it, tilted his head, and let his lips curve faintly. “If I had known we were trading portraits,” he drawled, “I would have brought you something worth framing.”
✧ — The man laughed lightly, missing the edge, but you didn’t. You began to speak, some hurried explanation, and Rafayel silenced it with a hum, leaning back against the edge of a worktable as though the room were already his stage. “No, no, I understand. He sees you here every day, caught in the dust and the light, so he translates that devotion into brushstrokes. Poetic, really.” He let his gaze rest on the painter, eyes glinting with something unreadable, before adding, “Good eye.” The words landed as a compliment, and the boy seemed to glow beneath it. Yet the weight of Rafayel’s attention was not on him at all. It was fixed squarely on you, lazy and heavy, like a tide that could at any moment pull you under.
✧ — When the space emptied at last, silence pressing down with the scent of turpentine and canvas, you turned to him. “That was cruel,” you said. His brows lifted in mock offense, a smile curling sharp at the edges. “Cruel? I encouraged him. I told him he had taste. I didn’t tell him he will never see you in that dress again.” You let out a disbelieving laugh, though the sound was thin. “So you admit it. God, Raf, you’re jealous.” He stepped closer, shadows stretching with him, until the words hung between you like bait. “Jealous?” he repeated. His hand came up, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your chin just enough that you could not look away. “No, cutie. I am territorial. That is very much different.”
✧ — He took the painting from your hands with careful fingers, studied it for the briefest of moments, then set it down face-first on the table. His voice lowered, losing its velvet humor. “He saw the surface,” Rafayel murmured. “A face, serene and untouchable. The version of you anyone could imagine. But I have seen what no brush will ever capture. How your breath stutters when you beg. How your eyes glaze when you are undone. Those are the portraits I keep.” His hand had slipped to your waist by then, heat steady against you, and when you whispered, “You’re impossible,” the laugh that followed from him was softer, but his words were not. “And you,” he said, eyes glittering, “are mine exactly because you put up with the impossible.”
✧ — The painting remained where he placed it, face-down, the next morning. He neither discarded it nor displayed it, as if to leave the boy his harmless fantasy. But through the night, it had not been the only thing turned over. You had been pressed face-down across the sheets, hips lifted, his hands locked on your waist while he drove into you until your voice broke and your tears bled into the pillow. Every thrust erased another brushstroke, every slap of skin a reminder that no soft canvas could capture the way you clenched around him when he kept you there, begging, undone. Let the boy paint his borrowed light. Rafayel had already bent the original under his body, ruined you in ways no gallery wall would dare to display.
Caleb: It began with a look, the kind he rarely gave in public. Arms crossed, wide shoulders set, his sharp jaw tense enough that the muscles shifted visibly when he swallowed back his words. You were on the mats with the new recruits, running them through drills, and Caleb had been content to stand aside, observing in silence. Until the boy offered you a water bottle mid-session, grin cocky, voice pitched just loud enough for others to hear. As if that had ever been protocol. You waved it away, a polite shake of your head, but Caleb’s violet eyes did not leave the scene. He had seen that kind of grin before, the type that tested limits simply to see where they bent. In his experience, it usually ended with a broken nose.
✧ — He gave it time. He always gave you space first, trusting that you could handle what the world placed in front of you, because you always did. But after dismissal, when most of the recruits had filed out, the boy lingered behind. “You should let me show you that reversal again,” he said, casual as if you owed him the chance, “just you and me.” Caleb was already moving before you could reply. “She has a partner,” he said evenly, voice pitched low, and the room shifted on the strength of it. The recruit turned, startled, but Caleb’s gaze was steady, unblinking. “And she does not need help from someone who drops his guard every thirty seconds. Hit the showers.” It was not a suggestion. The boy faltered, his bravado slipping, and slunk away. Caleb stood in silence a moment longer, hands loose now at his sides, before turning and walking out.
✧ — You found him later on the back steps, the coast stretching wide and pale in the distance. He sat with his elbows braced against his knees, staring at the water as though it held an answer. You lowered yourself beside him, the wood warm beneath your palms, and said quietly, “You didn’t have to do that. I had it under control.” His exhale was rough, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “I know. But watching him talk to you like that made my skin crawl.” You bumped your shoulder against his arm, trying to lighten the weight in his tone. “You jealous, Colonel?” That made him look at you at last, eyes shadowed but unflinching. “Yes,” he said plainly. “Jealous, territorial, protective—pick the word. I have lost too many people already. I am not about to sit back and watch someone else try to take one.”
✧ — You leaned against him, shoulder properly pressed to his side, and the sharpness in him seemed to soften. “You have me,” you said, and though the words were simple, they landed with the force of a promise. His hand found yours, fingers curling in, grounding himself through the contact, and he lowered his mouth to press a kiss to your temple. “Good,” he murmured. “Because if he tries again, I’ll put him through the mat and call it training.” The edge in his voice was softened by the warmth of his breath against your skin, but you knew he meant every word.
✧ — Later, in the privacy of his quarters, the restraint snapped. He kissed you like he had been holding back all night, a low growl catching in his throat as he pressed you against the wall. His hand slid hard around your hip, guiding you until your body arched into his, and when he spoke it was rough, barely controlled. “You’re mine. Say it.” The words broke against your mouth, swallowed by the way he kissed you again, deeper, until your lungs burned. Clothes fell away with little ceremony, his jealousy no longer buried beneath calm but turned into heat and possession. On the edge of the bed, with your legs hooked around his waist and his hand tangled in your hair, you gave him the only answer he needed. He made good on every promise, relentless in reminding you exactly who you belonged to, until your voice was gone and your body was marked with him. Only then did his grip ease, only then did he hold you close, breath steadying as though he had finally reclaimed what was his.
Pulling a “I didn’t finish last night“ prank on L&DS men
ft. Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb.
summary: pretty self-explanatory.
rating: n$fw-ish
a/n: reposting some of my content here from twitter, as i have a backlog of stuff needed to upload on tumblr since... april lol. also if you'd like to be added to a tag list for these threads or any of my other writing, please leave a comment!
Sylus: You said it casually as you stretched beside him in bed, voice sweet and unbothered, like you hadn’t just dropped a live grenade into the middle of his morning. “I didn’t finish last night,” you mumbled, rubbing at your neck like it was a passing thought. You didn’t even look at him when you said it, which made it worse.
✧ — He went still mid-sip, coffee pausing at his lips before he set the cup of americano down without a sound. His carmine eyes stayed on you, sharp and unreadable, until that slow, dangerous smile started to curl at the corners of his mouth. “Is that so?” he asked, voice low and patient, like he was already walking himself through the punishment you were clearly about to receive.
✧ — A flick of his crimson gaze toward the mirrored wall told you he was already replaying the footage, rewinding every second of last night’s symphony of overstimulation. “Interesting,” he said under his breath, almost to himself, slightly mocking. “Because I remember you crying, trembling, clawing at my shoulders like your body had completely shut down.”
✧ — His large hand reached out, slow and certain, long fingers closing around your ankle as he dragged you across the bed with little effort, pulling you back toward him until his breath was warm against your skin. “If you’re lying, I’ll make sure you’re too fucked out to speak by the time I’m done. If you’re not,” he murmured, tilting his head with mock thoughtfulness, “Well then… I suppose I’ll just have to spend the rest of the day correcting my performance by overstimulating you.”
✧ — You tried to laugh it off, but that sharp look in his eyes told you he wasn’t in a teasing mood anymore. His tone dropped, damp breath grazing your neck as he leaned in close. “Say that again. Go on, one more time, kitten. Let’s see if you’re still capable of unfinished business once I’m through with you.”
Xavier: You said it while slipping his shirt off the floor, still bare underneath, letting the hem ride up just enough to make sure he noticed. “I didn’t finish last night,” you muttered, soft and offhand, like it wasn’t meant to hit him square in the chest.
✧ — The silver-haired man went still, sitting at the edge of the bed with his hands braced on his beefy thighs, breath halting for a second before he turned to look at you properly. His azure gaze sharpened, then darkened. “You didn’t?” he repeated slowly, as if testing you, trying to understand how something like that was even possible given the marks littering your body.
✧ — “That’s not acceptable,” he murmured a moment later, standing with quiet purpose. “You should have said something, princess.” He stepped in close, one warm hand cupping your jaw while the other gripped your waist like it belonged there, voice barely restrained. “I gave you everything. Every drop of focus, every pulse of my power. If you’re telling me you didn’t finish, then I didn’t do my job.”
✧ — You started to smirk, but he kissed it off your mouth in a way that was deep and claiming, tongue slick, hands already sliding up your thighs like he was about to take you right there against the dresser. “You don’t get to walk around saying shit like that, baby,” he muttered between kisses, voice rougher now, the way it always got when his instincts took over. “Not unless you’re ready for me to keep you up for the next three days.”
✧ — When you finally told him it was a prank, he just stared at you, chest rising and falling, knuckles glowing faintly from restrained Evol. “Cute,” he said, voice low and dry, before guiding you onto the bed with frightening gentleness. “Now lie back and stay still. If you want to play games, I’ll show you what it feels like not to cum.”
Zayne: You’d waited until he was already pulling on his shirt, cool and composed like always, before casually dropping it while sipping from your glass of water. “By the way… I didn’t finish last night.” You didn’t look at him when you said it, just let the words hang between you, soft and casual, like it wasn’t a direct provocation.
✧ — Zayne paused mid-button, silent, his hands still as he processed the information. When he finally looked at you, his expression gave nothing away, not even a twitch nor a raised brow. Just that unreadable sage stare that usually meant he was running diagnostics on how best to dismantle a situation.
✧ — “Is that so?” he said finally, stepping closer with a calm that felt clinical. You didn’t get the usual flustered reaction, no shocked apology, not even a nervous overcorrection. Just his cool fingers trailing along your arm, his voice dropping into something low and flat. “Then I must have miscalculated, and you know how I hate being wrong.”
✧ — He pushed you gently back onto the bed, slow and methodical, spreading your plush thighs with a touch that was too deliberate to be soft. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured as he kissed the inside of your knee, his tone overly sweet, near mocking, “exactly where I failed you. I’ll correct it. Thoroughly.” His fingers were already teasing you open again, two knuckles deep before you could gasp out a proper answer. He was studying your face like a case file, like every noise you made was a data point.
✧ — When you finally confessed it was a prank, he just hummed and didn’t stop. He kissed up your stomach, slow and patient, lips brushing over bruises he left the night before. “You shouldn’t lie to your doctor,” he said softly, breath hot against your skin. “Now stay still. I won’t stop until you forget how to fake it.”
Rafayel: You tossed the line over your shoulder while brushing your damp hair in front of the mirror, casual and offhand like you were talking about the weather. “I didn’t finish last night.” You didn’t expect him to take it seriously, but hell, you should have known better.
✧ — From the bed, he stilled mid-stretch, one arm behind his head and the other lazily draped over his abdomen, muscles taut. His signature smirk faded slowly, replaced by something darker, quieter. “Come again, cutie?” he asked, sitting up, voice low enough to ripple straight through your spine. “You’re telling me you were in my mouth, shaking like a prayer, clawing at the sheets, and you didn’t finish?”
✧ — He stood without waiting for an answer, sauntering over with bare feet on cool tile, heat radiating off his body like his flame Evol was already stirring. “That’s interesting,” he muttered, reaching out to tug the brush from your hand and set it aside. “Because I remember you choking on my fingers, whimpering like the ocean owed you mercy, and then going limp when I told you not to cum without permission.”
✧ — His hand slid beneath your borrowed shirt, palm flat against your stomach, pushing you back against the vanity. “If you’re lying, you’re about to regret playing with me like that. And if you’re telling the truth,” he murmured against your throat, teeth grazing your skin, “then you’re not leaving this room until you come on my tongue and learn how to beg properly.”
✧ — You tried to laugh it off, yet he didn’t laugh, no, instead Rafayel just sank to his knees in front of you with a wicked grin, kissed the inside of your thigh, and said, “Let’s make sure, cutie. I’ll even help you keep count this time, yeah?”
Caleb: You said it as he was zipping up his jacket, smug in nothing but your panties and a blanket tossed around your shoulders. “By the way... I didn’t finish last night.” You didn’t look at him, just said it casually like it wouldn’t ruin his entire mental state before breakfast.
✧ — Caleb froze instantly, hands still at his zipper, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he turned to face you, violet eyes darkening. “What do you mean you didn’t?” The way he said it was quiet, but underneath that was a current of something volatile. “Are you serious, or are you trying to mess with my head right now, pips?”
✧ — You shrugged, playful. He wasn’t all about that, not even close. The jacket was dropped, his boots kicked off with unnecessary force, and within seconds he was across the room with that look in his eyes. The one that used to mean you were in trouble as kids, except now it meant you weren’t leaving the apartment until he erased any memory of disappointment from your body.
✧ — He grabbed your jaw with his warm hand, the other one flexing at his side. “I gave you everything,” he growled, voice low and rough. “My fingers, my mouth, my cock. I was holding you down while you were screaming for me to stop, and now you’re telling me it wasn’t enough, y/n?”
✧ — You tried to admit it was a prank, but it was already too late. He was hauling the blanket off you, dragging you underneath him onto the couch like it was a goddamn military operation. “Too late,” he muttered against your neck, biting hard. “You wanted to be ruined properly? You’ll get it. I’m not letting you walk out of here still unsatisfied, pipsqueak.”
How would L&DS men react to seeing you in their shirt?
ft. Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb.
summary: pretty self-explanatory.
rating: sfw
a/n: reposting some of my content here from twitter, as i have a backlog of stuff needed to upload on tumblr since... april lol.
Sylus: You had shuffled around his penthouse, wearing nothing but his crisp onyx dress shirt, expensive buttons haphazardly done, the hem brushing mid-thigh. You’d been hunting for coffee, praying the leader of the N109 zone was still asleep. Sylus, of course, had never missed a tell.
✧ — A quiet creak of the kitchen drawer had him materialising behind you. “Kitten, is my wardrobe feeding strays now?” he had murmured, voice velvet-rough from sleep, a smirk on his lips as his carmine eyes took in the sight.
✧ — He had circled once, assessing the way the fabric swallowed your frame. Crimson eye had glowed faintly, equal parts possessive and amused. “Buttoned wrong,” he’d tutted, undoing each clasp with languid precision, long fingers ghosting warm skin just to watch you shiver.
✧ — When you’d grumbled about needing caffeine, he had trapped the counter at your hips, leaning in enough to let his hot breath brush your cheek. “If you insist on stealing from me, at least finish the ensemble.” A flick of his wrist had produced a silk tie, and he’d looped it loosely around your neck like a brand as he tugged playfully just to hear you chuckle.
✧ — Coffee forgotten, he had lifted you onto the marble. Sylus’s lips had traced the shirt’s open edge, voice a low purr: “Seeing you wrapped in my clothes… what a dangerous image, sweetie.” He pulled you into a kiss, something hard already pressing against your thigh as you let out a whimper.
✧ — The moment you let your guard down enough, he’d swept you over his shoulder with effortless strength, using only one arm. “Meeting can wait. My attire is making demands I can’t ignore.” Your protest was swallowed as he walked down the hall; his laugh echoing rich.
Xavier: You had slipped into one of his shirts after a long night shift at work. It was soft ivory cotton, sleeves far too long, the collar slipping off one shoulder as you padded barefoot across the apartment. You hadn’t expected him to stir, but Xavier had never truly slept deeply when you were near.
✧ — He had appeared behind you, silver hair messy, voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re stealing again,” he had murmured, azure eyes tracing where the hem brushed your thighs. “Not very righteous of you, princess.”
✧ — He’d stepped closer, fingers brushing your waist through the fabric. “You have no idea what you look like in this,” he’d said, barely above a whisper.
✧ — When you’d turned to tease him, he’d caught your wrist gently, pulling you flush to him. “If you wanted me distracted all day, you could’ve just said so, y’know.” His voice had darkened, just enough to curl heat low in your stomach.
✧ — He had kissed you then, slow and deep, tongue licking at your bottom lip, until the edge of the kitchen counter pressed into your hips and the shirt had ridden up your plush thighs just enough to test his restraint as he bucked his hips into you, a bulge already brushing your panties.
✧ — And when you’d gasped his name into the fabric at your shoulder, he had smiled like you were the only thing in the galaxy worth worshipping. “Keep it,” he’d breathed, hands already sliding under the hem again. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Zayne: You had slipped into one of his dark shirts without asking. It was crisp, freshly pressed, clearly something he had intended for work, not your half-naked wandering through his apartment. The fabric clung to you in ways it wasn’t designed to, draping over your thighs like a silent invitation. You hadn’t expected him to still be awake when you padded back into the bedroom. But he was.
✧ — He looked up from the edge of the bed, cufflinks set aside, sleeves rolled high on his forearms. His gaze dropped, slowly, first to the shirt, then to your bare legs. “Did you even try to wear something underneath that?” he asked, voice calm but flat in that way that always meant you were already in trouble.
✧ — You had shrugged, letting his name roll off your tongue like it might soften him enough to let you get away with it, but it didn’t.
✧ — The next moment, he had crossed the room and tugged you gently in by the front of the shirt. “You always do this,” he murmured against your lips. “Slip into my clothes, and pretend you don’t know what it does to me.” His hands slid down your hips and under the fabric, fingers cool and practiced as they skimmed bare skin.
✧ — “Tell me you planned to sleep like this, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quieter now, rougher. “So I can ruin the habit.” You had barely managed a sound before he lifted you onto the dresser, kissing you slow and deep until your legs trembled and the edge bit into your spine as you moaned into his mouth.
✧ — However, there was nothing rushed about him. Zayne touched you like he was memorizing vitals, mapping every breath, knowing exactly where to push, how deep, how long. You had gasped his name again, barely coherent, and he had just smiled and kissed the sound away.
✧ “You want to keep the shirt?” he asked once you were breathless, flushed, barely able to meet his sage green eyes. “Fine.” His mouth brushed your ear. “But only I get to see you in it.”
Rafayel: You had woken in his sheets, sore in all the right places, skin kissed raw with bites and marks. One of his fancy-ass shirts hung loose around your frame, smelling like salt and heat and him. You’d wandered out onto the sun-warmed balcony barefoot, hoping the sea breeze might help you recover; unfortunately, it didn’t.
✧ — “Now that,” he drawled from behind, “is the sort of view that makes even the ocean jealous.” His voice was still thick from sleep, but the grin in it was unmistakable. “Look at you. Marked up, stealing my shirt like it won’t get peeled off again, tsk.” Rafayel clicked his tongue.
✧ — He then crossed the threshold lazily, bare-chested, glint of scales catching the early light. “You trying to summon something again, cutie? Walking out here in my clothes, still dripping from last night, and think I won’t answer?”
✧ — His needy hands had found your waist, thumbs grazing the bruises blooming just beneath the hem. “You smell like me,” he murmured, hot tongue teasing the shell of your ear, “but not nearly enough.”
✧ — When you leaned back into him, breath catching, he chuckled darkly. “You want the sea god round two?” One hand was already sliding between your thighs, fingers teasing, shameless. “I thought you’d be too sore to handle it. But if you insist on offering yourself like this…”
✧ — He spun you to face him, mouth already trailing kisses down your throat, across your collarbone, stopping only where the shirt hung too low to tease. “Keep it,” he said, already backing you toward the railing. “But don’t expect to walk straight by noon.”
✧ — And when you tried to answer, he’d hushed you with a kiss that tasted like salt and flame, breath hot as his hands beneath the fabric. The tide crashed harder below, almost like it knew.
Caleb: You had woken up draped in one of his pilot shirts, sleeves rolled, collar loose, the fabric still warm from where it had hung on his frame the night before when he finally came back home. The soft cotton barely hit your thighs. You’d stretched, still aching in the best way, before wandering into the kitchen.
✧ — “You trying to kill me this early, pips?” His voice came from behind, low and rasping, just as you opened the fridge. “Because if you are, hmmm… mission accomplished.”
✧ — You turned to find him leaning against the doorway in nothing but low-slung sweats, beefy arm flexing as he pushed off to close the distance. His violet eyes were already on your legs. “Didn’t even bother with underwear, huh? Of course you didn’t.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.
✧ — He stepped in close, letting the chill of his metal hand brush your inner thigh. “You know what that does to me,” he said, the other hand coming up to fist the shirt at your lower back. “Wearing my uniform like you’re trying to be good. After how loud you were last night?”
✧ — You tried to speak. He kissed you instead, rough, desperate, pulling you against him so fast it knocked the fridge door shut. “Gravity's a bitch,” he muttered against your mouth, voice rough. “You pull me in like this, you better be ready for the consequences, pip-squeak.”
✧ — He had you up on the counter in seconds, tugging the shirt higher as his lips dragged down your throat. “This shirt’s ruined now. You know that, right?” Fingers pushed inside you before you could answer, and the smirk on his face was pure heat. “Guess I’ll keep it as a souvenir while I wear it to work later today.”
