heyhey :) | black | 24 | nonbinary | infp-t | i just reblog stuff -- block #reposting nsfw from me if u dont wanna see it ! ~ you are loved and lovable <33
do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets
her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.
remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.
so thinking of sitting nude in your own apartment, you've got air coolers on but it feels like it's barely doing anything, you feel like you're melting.
You've had your portal pussy on still but it seems the heatwave is affecting almost everyone since you've not had a single client today.
So as you lay on your couch, completely nude and sucking on an ice pop to try and cool down you feel a sudden chill between your legs.
It sends a pleasant cold shiver up your spine as you look down between your legs, wondering if you were just imagining something.
And then you feel the ice cool tip of something slowly pushing into your pussy, it felt as if it were simply testing, wondering how your body would react.
And your body welcomed the sudden cooling feeling, pressing your head back into the pillow wondering if someone was shoving an ice pop or something up there.
Once it felt you squeeze around it slightly it began to push further in, you could feel the full length of it.
It felt ridged and bumped and practically freezing, the coldness spreading through your legs and up your belly and you couldn't help but let out a small pleased moan at the pleasant feeling.
It seemed to just sit in you for awhile, cooling your body down and you felt some of your energy coming back to you as you began to squeeze around the length wanting to feel more of it.
You feel it twitch slightly inside of you, ah so it wasn't just an ice pop... You began to wonder just what this creature is...
It starts to move slowly in and out of you before you begin to moan louder and it's as if the creature could hear you from it's end as the pace began to pick up with more intensity.
You arched your back, almost screaming as you orgasmed around its cock, squirting around the shaft and that was enough to send whatever it was over the edge as it pushed deep into you.
A thick cool liquid began to fill you, making you coo as you felt the chill over your body and almost whining as you feel the creature pull out.
You could feel its cum seeping down your legs, panting heavily as you heard a ping on your phone, reaching over to grab it you looked at the profile picture of what seemed like some kind of ice demon.
"Not many people like the cold, this one I will be returning back to again and again. 5 stars" and look... He even left a tip.
You realized you might need a few hot water bottles for when winter comes around but you want this guy coming again and again through this heatwave.
i think we should be ridiculing them more for this. you don't get to try and go all "queer website" when your staff likes to go on nuking sprees targeting the trans fem users
would be remiss not to mention that the rainbow notably straight up just removed the trans flag colors from it. like they’re gone. it’s the progress flag minus the trans flag colors.
the thing about my submissive pathetic service top side is sometimes it comes out without me even realizing. it starts slowly, my thrusts stuttering slightly as she moans how good it feels, a whine escaping as her nails dig into my back. she notices it before i do, her eyes opening just enough to look up at me, watching the subtle expression on my face as i resist giving in to it. there's a certain look she gives me, dark and searching, one that tells me my control is slipping. and fast.
i don’t even realize how far gone i am until i hear myself begging. head pressed into her shoulder, eyes scrunched shut, begging her to please please please let me keep going.
time is passing but my head is empty, every fiber of me dedicated to how good it feels to have her like this, fucking into her like it's the only thing i know. she's cum more times than i can count but i can't stop mumbling please over and over against her skin, barely able to get the words out. baby please it feels so fucking good. i'll go slow i promise- icantstop pleasepleasepleasedon'tmakemestop.
she doesn't make me stop. she brings one hand up to the back of my head, nails scratching against my scalp soothingly as she coos at me. she tells me to just breathe, baby. tells me she’s got me. tells me i don't have to stop, i just need to go easy. i nod brainlessly, trying to slow my pace, clinging onto her voice like it’s the only thing holding me together.
i’m speeding up again before i stop myself, words tumbling over each other, slurred and needy. telling her it feels too good, that i can't go slow, that i’ll do anything, god please. please let me- please i’msoclose i’ll be good babypleasecanicum.
and she laughs. smug and teasing as she watches me fall apart. condescendingly pointing out that it's always just so easy to get me like this. it's fucking pathetic. she knows talking like that makes it even worse. that's why she does it. i can feel you shaking sweet girl, you must really need it huh? then be good and cum for me.
the permission is barely out of her mouth before my body tenses up, teeth sinking into her shoulder to try and muffle my whining. if she's still talking, i can't hear it, any semblance of thought completely gone as i collapse onto her, breathless and brainless. she wraps her arms around me and holds me against her, like she knows it'll be a while before i'm able to form a coherent thought. like she understands how badly i've been needing this. like she was waiting the entire time for me to unravel the way i only do for her.
zayne ⋮ he's too overwhelmed seeing you in white .ᐟ caleb ⋮ you just cannot get your hair right .ᐟ xavier ⋮ your wedding is in 5 hours and you haven't slept a wink .ᐟ rafayel ⋮ he finally gets to fuck his bride .ᐟ sylus ⋮ he's not allowed to see you .ᐟ
CW :☆: MDNI! unprotected sex (p in v), semi-public sex, blindfolding, spit play, overstimulation, edging, dirty talk, thigh-fucking, creampie, rafayel nearly ebbing, LIs being mushy
ZAYNE LI ☆
It’s a modest wedding—just close friends and family gathered to bless the two of you. Still, you’re getting married. So here you are, dressing together, and Zayne—god, zayne, is overwhelmed at the sight of you in white. Ready to marry him.
And he doesn’t know what to do with it than to—
“y-yes, use me.” His hand comes up to your chin, grip trembling as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss, your lipstick smearing across his mouth. Your wedding dress is bunched at your waist, layers swallowing your husband-to-be as he pistons his hefty dick into you from below. You grind down into him, fingers tangled in his slicked-back hair, holding him there.
“hah—! how are you deeper than before?” you mewl, face in his neck, sucking marks into his heated skin. “can feel you s’deep…”
“you can, can’t you?” he bites back a sound only for it to rip through as a whimper. Your hot, gummy walls spasm around the whole of his length and his hand spreads across your back, holding you flush to him as his hips falter.
His cock twitches inside you before stilling. “on second thought, stay still.” he pulls away. “Let me move. We can’t have you getting too hot.”
He’s moving before you can nod. And all you can do is clutch him tight while his cock grinds into your cervix at each long stroke of his. Your knees dig into the strong muscles of his thighs.
“mmfuuck—!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut.
“spread your legs. We’ll ruin your dress.” His legs part, guiding you wider for him. and somehow, it gives him enough leverage to pull out of you alllll the way out and then bury himself to the hilt, dragging his thick cock over every sensitive inch of your walls in lewd schlick schlick schlicks despite the layers.
His hand disappears in your dress, fingers brushing over the lace garter around your thigh and then higher to part your soaked folds.
“w-wait I’m gonna cum.” You tell him. his pace grows desperate.
“mngh… don’t worry,” he pants, losing whatever composure he had left. “I am too.”
His thumb finds your clit, moving through your slick—down to your hole—where your puffy pussy lips are stretched around him to the limit—and back up to the throbbing bud.
waves of heat roll over your body as you cum with a silent cry. You feel him jump in you, balls tightening against your ass. “finish in me,” you tell him.
He lets out a strangled moan—unable to muster up the composure to protest—spurting jets of warmth in you, pumping you full of his load. Your spasming cunt wriiings out every last drop of release.
He pulls your face close to his, nose bumping with yours as you come down together. He places a small, shy kiss on the bridge of your nose.
“shall we go get married now?”
CALEB XIA ☆
It was supposed to be right. And it was—on paper. It was a wedding ripped right out of the cheesy dramas you binge. except. Your hair didn’t get the memo. Your bridesmaids sat helpless while you handled it in tears—only to toss the curling wand away.
“heyy, what’s wrong?” caleb invites himself in the room. The women step out immediately. Screw the not-seeing-the-bride-before-the-wedding bad luck. This was bad enough.
You sniffle, pressing your face into his chest. “caleb it’s all falling apart…” you look up at him with teary eyes and before you can even stop yourself, your lips crash against his.
“fuck baby—you’re extra soft today, mm?” his long cock pummels into you. his hand reaches down, peeling away a layer of your dress. “hold it up f’me, pips.”
You’ve clutching the thick layers against your chest like your life depends on it while your fiancé absolutely obliterates your leaky cunt one thrust at a time. “s-slow down ‘leb…” you whimper, back arched like a bow for him.
“slow down? how do you plan on making it on time to our wedding?” he chuckles, leaning down to spread your swollen, slick coated pussy lips to reveal your pulsing little bud for him. he drools at the sight. And doesn’t let it go to waste. His warm spit lands on your aching bud, trickling down to mix with the juices you ooze out.
He watches the way your poor, overstretched cunny still manages to swallow him—and god he knows he’s too big for you but look at you. tears prickling at your eyes, whimpering under him dressed in white to be married to him. how on earth did he get so lucky?
“m’so clooose—!” you whine, thighs attempting to press together.
“good god, pips. Y’look so pretty round my cock…” he groans. His hand curls around your thighs hiking it up, letting his fat cockhead drill its way into your sinfully soft channel. His thumb brushes against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, making you yelp beneath him.
it doesn’t take long for you to finish, clamping around him in wet pulses that his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. Still, he keeps moving. He keeps pounding you through that vision blanking orgasm, until you’re practically sobbing under him.
“mmf—please… s’too much—hic!” and still, you make no attempt to escape. You’re exactly where you want to be—your overstimmed pussy being bullied into another orgasm.
“jus’ like that, keep clamping baby. I’m right there…” he pants, leaning down to kiss a tear away. “you’ll let me cum in you, right? Let caleb stuff you full?”
“y-yes! yes please—oh?!” His dirty talk alone tips you over the edge again, milking him for his release. And he does. Ropes after ropes after ropes of hot, creamy cum pumping into your pussy.
And when you finally calm, he gathers your hair, fixing it into an elegant low bun—murmuring quiet “thank you”s through sniffles for marrying him.
XAVIER SHEN ☆
“I couldn’t sleep either.” You jolt at your fiancé’s voice behind you. You’re ecstatic. And in that excitement, you were dressed and ready before time. In 5 hours, the wedding you dreamed of begins. an early morning ceremony, walking the aisle under stars, sealing it with a kiss as sunlight finally breaks.
The venue lies hushed as you stand together on the balcony, gazing down at the flowered arch where you’ll soon be married.
“xav—ngh!” you grip the railing harder. Your pussy moulds so perfectly around your fiance’s cock, stretched obscenely wide.
His hand reaches around your throat to tip your chin up to have you watch the place you’d soon say vows at. “a-are you sure this will help you sleep?” his voice sounds too normal for his actions.
He’s nearly jackhammering into your velvety hole, causing it to squelch and ooze more of your love juices down your thighs. His foot nudges your legs farther apart, the need to drill deeper into you consuming him enough to bury his face in your hair and groan low.
“mmhm, mhm ye—ah!” you nod, hips pushing back to meet his deep pounding. “don’t want eye bags.”
By the pace at which he’s ramming into your pussy heat, you can already imagine it—imagine yourself walking toward him with shaky legs, his cum still leaking down your thighs. Fuck. There’s no way you were going to clean up after your session. Your legs are quivering at this point, held apart only by his knee.
“alright,” he murmurs, halting entirely. You bite back a whine. “keep them pressed if you want it that way.” He pulls out. His fingers find your gaping hole, two plunging in to coax out translucent strings of your arousal and his pre cum, smearing it between your thighs. And that’s when you feel the fat head of his cock again—pushing its way where your plush thighs press the tightest, and yet, making sure that your swollen clit isn’t left out.
“you keep looking at the arch,” he leans in, one of his hands guiding his cock between your syrupy slit. Your thighs press harder. You’re so close but there’s no way you’re cumming empty like this. He lets out a chuckle, soft enough to be mistaken as innocent. “are you going to cum to the thought of our wedding?”
He breaches your puffy lips again, sliding in with ease with the lewd amount of slick gathered there. “filthy girl… I’m right.” His hand presses down on your lower back, arching you for him as he buries himself balls-deep.
“oh! Hic—just… just let me cum, already!” you clamp around him, all the obscene ideas making your pussy walls stir.
Xavier’s fingers spread your ass cheeks for him and he sinks deeper than ever. You let out a choked sob—very close to rutting your needy clit against the glass if he keeps you on edge any longer. “it’s okay. I’m thinking of that too,”
He pinches your clit once and that has you creaming around his pulsing length. Your pussy clamping around him like heartbeat has him finishing too, keeping you plugged like that for a moment until you come down from the high.
“there’s no way I can sleep after this,” you pout. Xavior huffs out a fond laugh behind you.
“pfft okay, we’ll take a long nap together after the wedding,”
RAFAYEL QI ☆
You wanted to give him something unforgettable for your wedding—something truly special, because he’s been certain about marrying you for as long as you can remember. No exaggeration. And you knew simple nudes wouldn’t cut it.
Until an evil idea pops in your mind. You were no stranger to his “bride kink”. So why don’t you just play with that?
“fuckfuckfuck cutiieee,” he whines pathetically.
his eyes are snapped shut. All he can do is push his stuttering hips flush against yours, feeding your leaking cunt more of his stout inches—all while holding your dress as far away as he can from the mess. Your hole pulses, dribbling out a mixture of your cream and his pre cum that his angry red head can’t stop spilling.
“mngh you’re suuuch an angel—hah!” he grips your thighs, holding them apart as he destroys your overstimulated cunt. “such an angel for letting me fuck this pretty pussy in your wedding dress babymmff—”
He’s made you cum several times—on the pink muscle in his filthy mouth, his slender fingers and even on his pretty cock. And yet, he hasn’t finished once—holding back for lord knows what.
“ra-raf s’enough already!” you whine. It only spurs him more—he buries himself to the hilt, nudging your spongy spot, now swollen from his cruel overstimulation. “we’re gonna be late. Just cum!” your hips chase his as he pulls back and then with a lewd schliiick, slides back home.
“I know I know,” he rasps out too quickly. He’s flushed, dazed. Delirious. And god help you, it’s pushing you closer to that delicious edge. “wanna hold it out. Wanna tattoo the patterns of your pussy walls onto my dick,”
You let out a groan at that, walls fluttering around him in response. He starts moving once again. long brutal strokes, massaging you perfectly, warming you for yet another orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum…” you tell him, your hand coming down to rub your clit. He frowns before swatting your hand away with a pout, replacing it with his.
“me too,” he says fucking finally. “m’gonna fill my pretty little bride up.” he angles his cock to your sweet spot, making you cum so hard that you see stars.
“ohhh baby fuck—!” he groans deep, hips faltering as he spills into you. “take my cum, my pretty bride. Love feeding your womb…” he pumps his load into you, as deep as your body can take it. Until he begins to melt—
you nearly kick him away before he can start again.
“ow! What was that for?” he looks down, momentarily admiring the trail of white dribbling from your hole before he jumps to his feet.
“uh-oh uh-oh!” he grabs a rag and cleans you up in time.
And later, as you walk down the aisle toward him, you both can’t stop breaking into ugly, snotty laughter at the memory.
SYLUS QIN ☆
“boss lady!”
“boss-man’s back!”
The only downside to marrying the leader of Onychinus was the interruptions—even on your wedding day. You believed Sylus when he said you wouldn’t have to dirty your dress over “pests,” that he’d handle it himself. Still, that didn’t stop you from pacing, restless as you waited for him to return.
“how scandalous,” he lets out a rumble of laugh as you fuck yourself on his impossibly fat dick. “my fiancé ravaging her husband-to-be while our guests outside wait for us to be wed,”
“consummating our marriage before we’re even ma—"
“mmffuck! B-be quiet, sylus.” His cockhead brushes against your sweet spot and you keep him there, grinding.
His fingers hook under the blindfold to see that fucked out expression on your face that only his dick manages to poke out of you. “do-don’t! keep it on.” You swat his hand away. He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender.
“I can’t see you before the ceremony but you can fuck me? you’re only following rules that are conveni—” you silence him with a kiss, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip. He hisses, before kissing you fervently, holding you still as he pistons his cock into you, just where you want it. You sob into his mouth—all which he happily swallows.
He flips the two of you. “sylus don’t take it—”
“mm im hurt, kitten. do you truly think i need to see you to fuck you proper?” with that, he’s dragging you to his hips, sheathing himself back into you.
“sy o-oh!” your voice cracks as you let out a scream—too far gone to care about the people murmuring outside. “m’gonna cum,”
Sylus leans down, his hot breath fanning over your temple. “I know you were worried. But we are getting married.” He promises, his pace slowing to deep, long thrusts—still managing to knock the air out of your lungs. You sob out, nodding in agreement. “right after I make you cream,”
His hips slam into yours, each thrust punching out choked sounds out of you. his fingers find your clit, gathering all that syrup you’ve dribbled for him. and ohhh the way he touches you down there is nothing short of obscene. A stark contrast to your perfect, innocent white wedding dress you’re getting fucked in.
He massages your pussy lips, fingers moving from your wide-stretched hole, to your clit and back down. he parts your slit only to close your puffy pink lips back around his length as he spears into you with reckless abandon.
Your back feels like it snapped in two as you finish, chanting his name. one more thrust into your juicy, quivering hole has him pumping his thick load into you.
“am I to marry you in this?” he plays with the edge of the cloth over his eyes, still huffing.
ʚ♡ɞฺ main m.list ྀིᨯ — cw. nsfw & 18+ content ahead, cockwarming, i don't specify gender so take it as you will; characters included: albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette, kinich, xiao, dainsleif, wanderer - nsfw utc!
albedo lets out the prettiest little moans, and whimpers when you're just sitting so sweetly on him. he feels his own eyes roll back when he sees how you lean back onto his chest.
leaving a hand on your waist, and the other trembling on the vial he's struggling to hold up.
"god, my... hah- love. please, stop s- squirming..." placing small kisses on your nape made you shiver from how smooth yet cold his lips were.
"you're amazing," leaning his head against you, oh the things you did to him.
alhaitham squeezes your thighs to tease while he prefers you facing him while he finishes up his paperwork as a scribe. he is and has always been a brat tamer, so please, when you begged to keep him hard so he could fuck you on the desk he worked on?
"hmm? no, i'm not done yet. you do realize i prefer having all my files arranged alphabetically. we're only on 'r', yes? then wait."
loved to occasionally slap your ass to watch it ripple and feel you hold him closer. yes he makes you squirm and says you're a brat for doing so.
capitano worships your body and forgets about his work. he can do that later or assign someone else to do it for him anyway, but if you really insisted, he wouldn't mind an attempt on doing both. he'll have one hand on your body while the other signs his signature.
"taking me so well, mmmh... you look amazing like this." has you facing the paperwork he does while his hand covers your thigh.
likes to spike the temperature in his palms to surprise, yes he gets a little kick out of seeing you jolt in surprise because you clench <3
childe can't concentrate on his paperwork for anything more than five minutes. not when you look so adorable being a little display for him when he has work to get done. definitely the kind to tell you to face him so he 'concentrates better' when in actuality he can't.
"god, i can't do this anymore, spread your legs f'me. yeah, right now. lay down on the desk- fuck the paperwork."
has his hands all over you by the time he thinks you two have made out enough :)
wriothesley is also apart of the vision play squad, he agrees just to touch you with cold hands. loves to see your eyes go wide with both shock and pleasure at the same time. its condescending with how frigid his fingers feel compared to the warmth that lays itself on his lips.
"you're so fucking adorable- keep moving and i might just fuck you right here and now. i don't care if the windows are opened,"
someone has spotted you guys at least once with how often this happens honestly.
diluc is the other side of the coin because he uses his vision to make you relax. a warm arm that wraps around your waist to keep you patient while he finishes the paperwork for the winery. he doesn't promise he'll speed it up though, likes to see you suffer a little.
"patience, doll. i'll fuck you when i want to, okay? okay. now stay still, unless you want punishment."
honestly? bites in the most visible places ever if you keep squirming.
neuvillette is a bit desperate for both work and you at the same time. that's why you both don't mix well, especially when you thought it was a good idea to do so when he's already in the mood to fuck.
"haah... must you- really make me wait? yes? i- if you say so, then i'll allow it."
he can resist as long as you have him on a tight leash, but otherwise? you might as well be called bunnies.
kinich agrees on the pure intention of getting to tease you even while he was inside you. even goes as far as to bounce you up and down a few times before he signs off on a few other commissions. if you prefer light teasing, he'll keep you spread very wide to let cool air on your body.
"no. keep them spread sweetheart. i wanna see you crumble, yeah? too big? too bad."
surprisingly he's gravely into praise-degrading you. i won't expound.
dainsleif doesn't even know why he's still trying to deal with the bills he has to manage when he could do that later and take you right now. nonetheless, it's up to you when you guys get to fuck. doesn't stop him from stopping every now and then to kiss up on your nape.
"fuck, i can't wait anymore. my love- please just let me serve you. just once."
places sloppy kisses all over your body before actually fucking you like you two were just married.
wanderer is similar. he has pure intentions only to tease until it actually is happening and now he's crumbling under you. and i can't even lie? using the right words and actions,
you could totally just end up dominating him without him noticing. surprisingly, he's desperate, and is willing to slide all the papers off to serve you.
again. surprisingly.
"ugh. n- no way you can actually handle this any longer than you should."
xiao is obsessed with the idea secretly. unironic freak in the sheets and hides it very well until you take it off him. freaks out when you clench around him to tease, pinches your skin to tell you to stop but secretly wants more.
zaynexgn!reader, tw: racial abuse. zayne comforts you after you’re discriminated against
When Zayne picks you up, he’s not surprised to see you’re tired. You’ve been out on patrol all day, tending to civilian needs and bringing in the wounded. You go above and beyond as a Hunter - there’s a reason why you’re spoken of so highly by your colleagues.
He is concerned, however, when you don’t say anything. He’s not used to the quiet now, with you in his life. You bring joy and radiance into every corner, but when he looks at you now all he sees are dark circles and a stern jaw.
When he quietly says your name, you can’t help but crack. You don’t break, not yet, because you’re used to this. It’s happened before, and it will happen again, but for some reason you can’t shake this instance off like usual.
The anger doesn’t settle in, instead only shock and useless hurt takes its place.
With trembling lips, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m— It’s just been a really long day.” And when you sigh, you try your best to use it as a way of concealing the sob that threatens to spill. It doesn’t work, though.
Perhaps on another day Zayne would leave it there, and wait till you’re home to speak about it. Today he can’t though. You tremble beside him, and he sees the glistening of tears building on your lash line reflected in the car window. Your voice is thick and lacks the softness usually there.
He reaches over the console and brushes his hand over yours. It’s a cool sensation that relieves your sweating palms, and you grip onto them. It’s only when you realise that you’re being a nuisance, prolonging the journey home like this, that tears fall down your face. You try to stay quiet, but the sounds of hiccups and sobs resonates in the car and Zayne’s heart freezes.
He gets out of the car and strides to your side of it. The car door’s opened, and soon you’re being lifted into his arms. It’s a quick manoeuvre of him sitting on the passenger seat with you in his lap, and you realise he’s been careful not to disrupt your position too much.
When Zayne closes the door, another sob rattles through you as the final breaths of winter leave the cramped space. He soothes you, rubbing circles on your back and gently rocking you.
It’s takes a while, you let yourself fully fall apart in his lap, but the pain dulls ever so slightly. When Zayne tentatively asks if you want to talk about it, you confide in him.
Your workday had started like any other. Check in at the association, read over case files, patrol your designated area of Linkon and fight the wanderers. With wanderers come injured civilians, and naturally you’re there to help the wounded. Helping the general public is part of your job, and you would do it even if it wasn’t.
Today, though, a civilian lashed out at you. Had spewed something about “people like you” being the reason why wanderers attacked in the first place. They’d shouted names you’d heard before, the ones you’d been exposed to as a child whilst the rest of the world learnt them as adults. The civilian tried to reject your help, and whilst a part of you thought they’d be best fending for themselves, you decided to step up. You wanted to be the better person.
So, you dealt with it. The names, the visceral reaction to your presence, the condescending attitude that only focused on your appearance. They spoke of your skin tone, cried of revolting smells and claimed you were the lowest of the low. You just dealt with it. You listened to it all as you did your job and brought the civilian to paramedics nearby.
Your colleagues had finished dealing with other civilians at the same time, and a higher up sent you back to the Association. They never said it, but you know they all saw. When your superior made the decision, there was a gentleness to their eyes and a soft touch to your shoulder.
You’re used to that too. The condolences. Perhaps you should be grateful for it, but today you’re tired.
You’re exhausted, because you know that today won’t be the last time you’ll hear those things.
It’s happened before, and it will happen again.
When you finish reciting the story to Zayne, he holds you tighter. He doesn’t say “I’m sorry” or tell you it’s not your fault because he knows you know that. You exist as you are - there’s nothing to be apologetic about and there’s nothing you need to change.
Instead, he lets you cry, and speaks of times he’d attended conferences overseas and faced backlash against his features, his voice, and the way his demeanour had somehow been related to his roots.
Even when saving lives, when providing research he had done to enhance the lives of others, he’d been discriminated against.
You can’t help but cry for him, because even though he doesn’t say it, you know it hurts anyway. His unspoken words of ‘I know. I understand’ tug your heart and carve a hollow ache in your chest. You sob harder, and he sighs into your hair.
Beyond the shock and anger, there’s always going to be pain. You can’t change their reason for anger, and you don’t want to. You want to exist as you are, you want to provide the help you do - you shouldn’t have to be redirected whilst the rest of your colleagues continue on simply because someone else has decided to treat you differently.
The frustration of is unbearable. For a moment, you wonder if things will ever change.
You’re fast asleep by the time you get home. When Zayne places you in bed with a gentle kiss, he’s off into the living space and finding who the paramedics on scene were. He digs through his networks and it doesn’t take him long to find the civilian - a worthless creature taking up a bed at Akso.
He’s annoyed. As a doctor, there’s nothing he can do here. There are codes and laws to abide by that he’s sworn to follow.
He reflects, though, that using his connections as an established figure at Akso Hospital isn’t exactly the most ethical. It’s a misuse of his power. However, Zayne concludes that it’s already become a bit of a grey area with this particular patient - and so, he assigns the civilian to his most personal care.
It’s not like it’s the first time he’s done this, and he’s sure it won’t be the last.
a/n:
i wrote this because someone decided to be racist towards me yesterday, and decided to defend it rather than apologise. im still upset and it’s annoying me.
to any non-poc readers here, stick up for us when you see this happen. our voices really, really, are not enough to change peoples minds the way yours can. it’s horrible, but that’s how it is. help us change that.
and to my poc readers, like i said before, we deserve to exist as we are. we shouldn’t have to accept this, but we do. you are some of the strongest people i know. i see you.
he’s been watching you play the whole time - whilst zayne may seem like he’s entirely focused on one of the many files opened on his laptop, he’s been sneaking peaks at your switch and quickly reading whatever subtiles he can pick up (you’d been so sweet as to put your earphones in and not disturb him).
the screen is littered in pink; from petals to bubbles, his - arguably silly-looking - mii confesses he believes he’s fallen for you. it’s not the first time, nor the second, of course not. it’s the third time zayne’s witnessed his doppelgänger go through this.
he adjusts his glasses, trying to sound indifferent as he says, “is there really no way for you to make mii’s break up?”
he knows the answer, because he’s been scouring the internet for any indication that it’s possible. his search history shows a previous visit of just 1 hour ago.
there are only so many rejections even he can take.
you smirk and press yourself into his side. pinching his cheeks, you reply, “so you are jealous. my poor zaynie, are you feeling neglected?”
and zayne feels his ears burn at your attention. he doesn’t say anything, instead deciding quietly steaming away is the best case scenario. he refuses to be bait here!
“well, you don’t have to worry. the real ‘mii’—“ he smiles and you feel pride instantly— “would only ever choose you.”
“is that so?”
you hum, resting your head on his shoulder now. zayne relaxes against you, nestling his head atop yours. he feels his chest ache when you say:
“i’m pretty sure this is, at the very least anyway, the fourth lifetime in which i’ve chosen only you. i just know it.”
also following my last rb (which should be that dumbass ai account) i went thru n blocked a tonnn of users who i noticed liking the art or reblogging which is. dumb.
specifically the one where she used a different artists art and put it thru ai. very very very obvious ai. and i don’t feel comfortable having people like that interact with me (bc some of these were people whose users i recognise from interacting with me).
anyway. ai sucks and is the shittiest invention ever. read up on environmental racism, read up on how ai is directly causing that issue - bc people have said again and again earth itself is dying from it but u don’t care… so read up on the actual humans right now who are suffering. since you need proof or whatever.
read up on every shitty thing it’s doing. it is doing so so so much more harm than good, and that’s all it can ever do.
be human. or do you need ai to do that for you too?
your first makeout session with him
mdni. suggestive+nsfw content. wc: max 1.5k each <3
content: afab!reader/mc. xavier - almost getting caught+dry humping potential if you squint, rafayel - semi-public kissing+mc using raf’s thigh, zayne - mc taking the lead+pathetic, scared (in an erotic way) zayne who’s eager to follow, sylus - pollenated kissing+references to dirty dreams, caleb - mc being angry=hate-kissing+swearing+basically dry humping
a/n: this took too long to complete. and i wrote too much for each li despite this being my first multihc so what did i expect!! anyway, i hope you all enjoy, pls lmk what u think! this may just be the first and last time i do this LMAO. did my best to stay in character but yk. tell me. like should i never write another li again NJNSJNS (pls..i have a snowapplemc fic in the works. pls)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ xavier
You’re not meant to be doing this right now, not here at least. People are still around - and not just any people, but your own coworkers and higher ups. This is so incredibly wrong, you know you shouldn’t be doing this, but falling into Xavier is something you’ve never been able to resist.
This time is even more precious though. There’s more of him you’re discovering. Of course, there’s the usual: his warmth, his softness but now there’s hints of roughness. Roughness that you should be discovering anywhere but here.
When he sighs into your mouth, you forget about your worries.
It was meant to be a late night at the Association for you. You’d planned to finish your report and hand it in today, even if it meant being the last one out of the office. You were almost there, there was just a few more pages left to fill in, but then another chair rolled up next to you and soon you were coaxed into taking a well-needed break.
Somehow, this break meant sitting in your boyfriend’s lap and kissing him like you’d never have the chance to again. At your workplace. His one too. The one where you share the same colleagues and report to similar higher ups and have to look at one another with a straight face after this.
It’s quiet in the office, it’s far too dark and there’s only the glow of a few hologram displays nearby that illuminate your knitted figures. Beyond the doors there’s voices, there’s meetings, and here you both are.
Shivers run down your spine when his fingers skim over it, and heat plummets in you when you consider how close he is to you. This is all too much for your first time kissing him like this, but your hands thread through his soft locks anyway and his other hand grips onto your thigh for support when you tug.
And he’s— God, you can feel how much he loves this. It makes your head spin when you realise how far you’ve gone now, but Xavier’s there to keep you grounded. His fingers press into your back, his palm brushes up your thigh, finds the curve of your silhouette, and you whimper when his tongue meets yours.
It takes your absolute full strength to pull yourself away, your body begs to stay in his embrace, but you know you’re pushing it now. You clear your throat, eyes adjusting to the dark when you whisper, “Xavier, we— I’m not sure if—”
But the words are stuck in your throat when you gaze down at him. Serene blue eyes pierce through despite how heavy-lidded they are, you see the way his lips are coated in a mixture of you and him and his heartbeat can be heard over the cars and civilians bustling just outside.
It’s fast, it’s so unbelievably fast, and that’s all because of you.
Xavier’s chest is heaving, and alongside his heartbeat comes the sound of hushed pants pushing past slicked lips. You've got one arm braced on his shoulder, and he leans into your forearm, seeking your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, just to catch his breath, and finally his voice comes into focus.
“We can stop. I’ll follow your lead.” It comes out in a broken whisper, struggles to find its footing between a steady tone and sweet quietness, and that also sends heat pooling between your thighs.
You see the eager shine in his eyes, the silent plea that restrains him, and God he’s too pretty. You don’t want to stop— you can’t. You lean back in, and he’s there. His hand stays firm on your back, your thighs keep him in place beneath you and only the sounds of strained whimpers, reverent sighs and chair squeaking float from your cubicle.
You’d started it, really. Xavier had simply stopped by to check in on you, give your mind a rest from battle jargon. He’d slipped you a small kiss, a promise of seeing you soon, but something took over you. You kissed back, a little harder, and he’d been more than keen to reciprocate.
Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the atmosphere and the thrill of being caught.
No one could blame you though. Xavier had been so sweet and gentle with you thus far, but you knew you were approaching your breaking point. His presence was always too close for you to be able to ignore him - he was on your mind more often than not. Being left alone with thoughts of Xavier meant wondering about the sides of him you hadn’t seen yet.
When he bites on the plush of your lip, you’re grateful that today’s the day you finally get to learn so much more. When you whimper from the delirious sting, his palm kneads into the softness of your ass and coaxes another whimper out of you.
You’re about to whine, to ask him for more - you’re not even quite sure what that may be yet - but the sound of footsteps draw close and soon the door to the office is being opened.
Light breaks through and tears apart the harmonious blacks and blues previously streaked across the room. Heat dissipates from you, your head spins, but you’re alone in your chair now. Xavier’s neatly arranged you back onto your chair, spun you round the right way and hidden himself somewhere.
You make eye contact with the colleague who’s just walked in and give a quaint smile, trying to appear as though your heart rate was completely normal.
You think Xavier’s teleported, but when you roll your chair closer to your desk a hand places itself on your thigh. You jolt at the feeling, and thank the stars above that your colleague is busy at their own desk.
His touch kicks in some sort of survival instinct; you try to subtly re-arrange yourself. You pat down your clothes, glance at the reflection in the monitor and tame stray hairs. It’s probably too late for that, but anything is better than thinking about Xavier’s hand that is… far too close for you to be normal about.
A quick peer under your desk shows you a sight you’re not prepared for.
He’s not even looking at you. He’s not trying to. His eyes are fixated on his hand, the one that rests higher up than it has before. His cheeks are flushed, his ears burn red, and his chest rises and falls in quick succession. He’s beautifully dishevelled and the definition of bliss.
It takes him a moment to realise you’re watching him, and Xavier slowly glances up. There’s a flicker of surprise, like you’d stumbled across a private moment, but it morphs into the sweetest of smiles. One that speaks of innocence and carries a hint of guilt.
When you shut your legs in realisation, he flops his forehead against your knee. Your body jolts, and he places a small kiss in apology.
ଳ⋆˚࿔ rafayel
“You know, I really think it’s unnecessary for you to buy a new outfit everytime you get paint on your clothes.”
“What do you have in mind then, cutie?”
“I don’t know… Maybe try a washing machine, or hand washing them. Or having a set only for when you paint so it doesn’t matter if it gets a bit messy. Maybe even—“
There’s a zipping sound just past the curtain, accompanied by a flurry of movements. “In order to paint, I need to be just like my canvas. Completely clear, brand new, ready to be washed in colours. Besides, I think a certain someone enjoys these little shopping trips, wouldn’t you agree?”
You scoff and cross your arms, scrutinising the figure behind the curtain. Like always, Rafayel had dirtied another pristine white set of his and begged you to accompany him shopping. He should have been perfectly aware you’d be against the trip - it’s not like you bought a new uniform every time you fought a wanderer - but he’d only taunted you and said he’d happily buy you one each time if you asked.
You’d gone round and round in circles, never learning to not make eye contact with a pretty shirt or tailored pants hung on display. He’d always somehow catch on and immediately be adding the piece onto the forever growing pile of clothes in your arms.
“Why is it that when we go shopping for you, I’m the one who has to carry stuff?” you’d asked.
“I’m too weak to carry them. I’m tired. Isn’t my bodyguard supposed to do this?” He’d replied, not without a flick to his forehead.
He’s lucky he’s cute.
You have to press your lips into a thin line when you think about his infuriatingly teasing expression - you can’t reinforce this behaviour. It’s not been very long since you started dating, but you think Rafayel already knows his charms work too easily on you.
“Prepared to be blown away, cutie?”
“Show me what you got.”
In all honesty, you’re not really prepared. He’s styled in a silky white blouse and crisp black trousers, and whilst it’s a colour scheme you’ve seen him in before you’re still getting used to how pretty he can be. The lavender hues of his hair are striking in contrast, the blues and pinks in his eyes beam at you - only ever for you - and blush lips spread into a stupid smirk.
He’s going to be the death of you, and he knows it.
Your eyes drift and catch onto the detailed embroidery neatly displayed on the blouse. A motif of seashells and foam trail over his shoulder, down his chest and wrap around his waist. You don’t remember picking this one, and you’re intrigued.
“That’s… actually really nice on you.”
Rafayel shakes his head, and pouts at you. “Are you surprised?”
You can’t think clearly, too focused on the intricacies, so you step forward and your hands begin to trace over the embroidery. You skim over the bold print, and learn the neat stitches story. From top to bottom, you admire the little details in it. There’s tiny crabs that scuttle over, specks of fish that waft through and coral that dance beneath your fingertips.
A hand catches your wrist. When you look up from the embroidery, a blushing Rafayel fills your view. He’s looking away, another pout pressing into his lips, and your breath catches. You’re about to apologise, you didn’t realise just how in his space you were. It dawns on you then that you’d been touching him too, the thinness of the blouse hadn’t concerned you in the slightest, oh—
It happens quickly, and you’re disorientated for a second. He’s pulled you into the changing room with him, a small space made for one really. The curtain is drawn behind you, and Rafayel moves from gripping your wrist to lacing his fingers through yours.
His voice is hushed when he says, “If you wanted a feel, cutie, you could’ve just asked.”
You’re floundering through apologies, and he’s quick to shush you. There’s not much room for you here, and he knows it. He takes one—two steps towards you, and you naturally scuffle backwards. Soon your back is pressed against the wall, and Rafayel has you where he wants. His eyes flit between your eyes to your lips.
For the first time since you got here, it’s silent. There’s the bumbling of customers just outside the cubicle, and you can’t help but gulp at the intensity of his eyes. He’s watching you keenly, and you feel hot under his gaze. You’re about to open your mouth, another apology ready to be said, but he disrupts you.
It’s eerily gentle, the way in which he finally speaks. A soft whisper of “Please, can I?” is all it takes for you to abandon any concerns about his feelings. He’s more than fine, you realise.
His pink cheeks speak of want, his eyes sparkle with desire and you’re more than happy to apologise for invading his space with a soft kiss.
It’s wouldn’t be the first time, of course. You’ve kissed him plenty of times before, but something has you questioning if gentleness is all he wants today. You think it’s the lack of room, the way he’s hazily watching you, his open clavicle you’re suddenly too aware of.
The sound of conversation nearby reminds you that you’re in public - what if a worker walked in and questioned the two pairs of shoes peaking from under the curtain?
Still. You can’t deny him because you don’t want to. He’s asked so nicely too; it was rare for him to be polite. That’s the kind of behaviour you should be rewarding.
You respond with a chaste kiss, delicate and sweet as always. It dawns on you, though, that this was the wrong move. Your earlier intuition was right, because soon Rafayel’s hand is pinning your wrist low against the wall. His other hand latches onto your cheek, softly pressed into your skin, and you’re drowning in him.
It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, but when you’re finally there it’s a quiet match filled with pleasurable sighs and hushed whimpers. He takes the lead and flourishes you in harsh kisses, and your hand struggles to not scrunch into his pretty blouse.
When his tongue slides into yours, your brain short-circuits and you’re tugging him closer, harder, into you. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, and it sends a wave of lightheadedness floating through.
With each kiss, each pang of dizziness, comes the steady collection of slick between your legs, you gasp. It’s too soon to be feeling like this, yes this was a lot more of a passionate kiss than usual, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. You just hope he hasn’t caught on, because you’re more than aware that you’ll be endlessly teased by him.
He pulls away from you, and a string of saliva connects his lips to yours. He’s panting, and your knees buckle from the heavy look he gives you. You see how quickly Rafayel’s eyes flash with realisation, and he’s caught between a laugh and moan - a ragged sound that has you shuddering. You stare at him helplessly, borderline needy, and he’s nodding and catching you once more.
When he closes in on you again, he purrs into your ear, “I’ve got you, pretty baby.” Any sound you could make from the new name is muffled by his lips reaching yours again. His knee slots perfectly between your thighs, and a quiet moan manages to escape from you at the sudden pressure.
He kisses you again, and again, before pulling away once more.
“Is this okay?” Rafayel asks, and you want to laugh. Instead, you clumsily nod, and his thumb caresses your cheek. His voice is wrecked, his skin hot on yours, and the way he’s still watching you drives you crazy. You can’t help but buck against his knee, the undivided attention overwhelmingly delightful to you, and that…
Rafayel’s eyes flutter watching you. He can’t stay away anymore, and soon he’s back on you. He kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and commits each sound you make to his mind.
He’s definitely buying this shirt.
₊°｡❆ zayne
“Thanks for inviting me out, Zayne. Even if your taste in fusion cuisine is skewed, I had fun.”
“I feel like you’re teasing me. As I recall, someone was perfectly happy trying out my meal. I distinctly remember a few bites missing from my own plate each time I looked away.”
You squint your eyes at him. “Well. It sounds to me like someone doesn’t want a kiss goodbye.”
Zayne laughs, but you're stoic and refuse to break character. You look away and twist your body away from him too. There’s only so much space in the passenger seat though, so this is the most brutal move you can pull as he drives you home.
He calls your name a few times, and you still refuse to speak. It's only when his hand shifts from the gearstick to your thigh that you acknowledge him.
“I’m sorry. It seems I mistook you for a little mouse,” he says, mirthful eyes focused on your figure after pulling up to a traffic light.
You huff and nod earnestly. “That’s right. I would never take your food without asking. Especially not for something so… sweet.”
He smiles softly and moves his hand back onto the gearstick, driving off and closer to your home. It returns back to your thigh, and your hand clasps over it.
That is, until you hear a quiet, “And yet, everything on your plate was clear.”
When you pull his hand off your thigh and softly throw it elsewhere, he apologises endlessly as you refuse to engage.
It’s a quick drive, and you hate it. Even though he can be so mean, you want to spend every second with Zayne regardless. You miss him the moment you’re apart, and you’re not ready to feel that.
The universe clearly doesn’t care though, because the sight of your apartment building sends your heart dropping. You think he feels it too. The air chills ever so slightly, and there’s a lingering silence as the car finally stops. You turn to face him, heart panging when you catch his mournful expression.
“Thank you,” is all that comes from your mouth. If you say goodbye, then you have to leave, and you’re really not ready yet.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then Zayne’s leaning over the console towards you. His voice is full of quiet and wrapped in silk when he murmurs, “It doesn’t have to be a kiss-goodbye.”
“No? What should it be then.”
“…A kiss see-you-later.”
You laugh and he smiles with you, a little meek and pink. Your hands come up and cradle his cheeks, squishing them as your move his head side to side. He doesn’t resist, letting you coo and squeeze him as you please.
“You’re such a romantic. Fine, let’s have a ‘kiss see-you-later’ then.” Your eyes flutter shut as Zayne leans closer. His lips move against yours softly, and one hand come to rest at your nape.
The kiss is sweet, as it usually is. You’ve only ever known tenderness with him. It’s always been that way with Zayne though - his love is quiet but firm. His presence has always been soothing; he’s never been a problem in all the time you’ve known him, only a solution.
Perhaps that’s why tonight you want more.
You’re tentative at first, your hand rising and hesitating before finally settling on his tie. It wraps around the cloth as you feel Zayne about to move away. You know he’s about to ask what’s wrong, but courage takes over and you’re tugging him closer.
You hear surprise as he’s dragged into you. A sudden “mmph” breaks between the sound of slick lips moving together, and that… It’s a sound you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You’re not sure how you’ve ever been able to live without it before.
You want to hear so much more.
Your curiosity about the soft doctor wins, and encourages you to kiss harder, faster, rougher. And Zayne— he only struggles for a second. The change isn’t too much for him, not when he’s spent years fantasising about having you like this.
He’s beyond grateful that you’ve reached this point of comfort with him. After all, there’s nothing more that Zayne wants than to learn everything you like, and help you with whatever you need. Judging by the way your hand tightens against his tie, the quiet whimpers that escape when his tongue slips into your mouth, he understands that you’ve needed this for a while.
—At least he thinks he understands, because any sort of confidence Zayne had in taking the lead from you is banished when you suckle on his tongue, savouring honey and sage as you go. Your lungs burn for air, but you keep a steady pace at licking out any whimper or gasp you can from him.
You’re impressed with how he keeps up with you, he never once tries to pull away from your touch. Your hand comes up to cradle the back of his head and you giggle when you feel the hot tip of his ear sear against your palm as you move past. Zayne simply squeezes his eyes shut, humiliation rolling in waves.
When you disconnect for some air, you finally get to see his flushed pink ears, the slack jaw that shallowly takes in each breath. His shirt’s crumpled from each drag of his tie, pulled taut from your desperation to melt into him, and yet he’s never looked so much like himself. Like Zayne was made to be used as you please.
He slowly gulps, eyebrows twitching as he tries to compose himself. “I—“ He inhales deeply, eyes flitting from your hand that still clutches onto his tie and back to your face. “…That—“
You groan as you slump back onto your seat, and it’s a mixture of pent-up energy and laughter. Zayne eyes you curiously, heart still racing and on edge as he anticipates - hopes for - your next pounce.
Your hand stays fiddling with the end of his tie.
“You’re so cute Dr. Zayne, did you know that?” There’s no earnest teasing or wide-eyed compliment that follows. Instead you watch him carefully, letting each syllable hit hard as they lazily drag past your lips.
You can’t help feeling smug when you see how baffled he is, all twitchy and red in the face.
After a moment of silence, he finally sighs and shakes his head. “You’re… relentless.”
“You’re just realising that?”
You lurch towards him, lips immediately finding his, and It feels deliriously good to be close to him again. For a brief moment, you’re mourning leaving the car - you’re not prepared to return to a life where Zayne isn’t kissing you rough and fast, just like this, but he moans when another whimper leaves you, and your brain short-circuits entirely.
Holy shit.
It’s what makes you jolt forward, your hips fighting against the rigidness of leather beneath you and eager for Zayne to be there instead. Your hand frantically skims on the underside of his tie, reaching the knot. It takes a little fiddling, but your fingers are soon digging in and prying the knot loose.
Everything shifts; your mixed pants grow heavier, needier, and even Zayne’s hands begin to lift and seek a place to clutch. The car’s windows fog, condensed entirely from keen whines and aching groans. Finally, fuck finally , your hands smooth over his burning skin beneath and—
Honk!
You jump away from one another as the sound blares from the car. Your eyes jump from Zayne to the car horn, and when you see his elbow hovering near it you can’t help bursting out laughing.
And Zayne… He’s entirely mortified. He feels the way his skin flushes, the sensation of blood rushing and pooling into his cheeks and ears - but watching you laugh in front of him helps. Perhaps that’s why he laughs with you too.
It takes a while for you both to calm down, the nerves of harsh kisses and loud horns still coursing adrenaline through your beings. Soon, a comforting ambiance of softened pants takes over.
Between shallow breaths, Zayne tries to calmly say, “That was— one way of having a kiss see-you-later.”
There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that tries to reason with you, and perhaps coyness should have visited you then, but the sight of the usually collected man before you panting and blushing with his clothes roughed by your very hands was enough to keep it away.
Instead your shoulders shake with laughter, and you shake your head.
“You really are too cute, Dr. Zayne,” you hum, and his ears somehow redden further. “Should I be worried though? Does that mean you didn’t enjoy it?
“On the contrary, I loved it.”
And you’re not sure, but from the look in his eye you have more than enough reason to spend the rest of your night overthinking that statement.
.ִֶָ ♱ ་༘࿐ sylus
You feel a tap against the back of your hand, the one that was busy scrounging into the fabric of your jeans as you rambled, and you look up.
His voice is drips with sweetness, like it always does, when he says, “Take your time, sweetie. Try again.”
You turn your hands over, catching his fingers in your grasp and giving them a squeeze. You’re all too aware that your palm feels sweaty, but Sylus doesn’t pull away and you know he doesn’t care. He just wants to listen, like he always does.
“I—” One breath in, one breath out. “—kept dreaming of these, and you were always there in those dreams. I think it’s because I’ve seen a few of them when we’re out at night. It’s funny, the meaning of them isn’t exactly great but still, I thought you’d like them. I’ve actually been growing and tending them myself. For you.”
You lift his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth knuckles there before swapping your hand out for the bouquet of dark flowers. The veins of his hands pop against the pink silk bow tying the bunch together, and you squirm trying to gauge his reaction.
Sylus doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s focused on the flowers, and the adoration you’d seen him enter the room with is enhanced tenfold. There’s a sweet glow in the vermillion of his eyes, but the muscles beneath tense ever so slightly.
Perhaps they were too girlish? You cringe upon reflection, gaze fleeing towards the fireplace the two of you are sat before as you ponder. The big boss man who lords over the N109 Zone being gifted pretty flowers was maybe a little too ridiculous.
You rush to save the moment. “They’re called daturas. Apparently they symbolise power, caution and spiritual transformation. Obviously, the power and caution speak for themselves— I swear I didn’t just grow them because I thought they just looked nice. Mm, I guess the spiritual transformation doesn’t quite fit, but—“
His gruff laugh silences you, and the worries you had dissipate right before you. He’s smiling in his arrogant way once more, and you can’t find the stiffness previously etched in his muscles.
Perhaps you were simply in your head about it.
“My soul found yours and I finally felt peace. I’d say that’s rather fitting, wouldn’t you agree? In any case, I like cute things too. If I didn’t, there wouldn’t be a sweet kitten staying at the Onychinus base.”
You can only blink at him with parted lips as his words wash over you. Trust Sylus to take your romantic moment and make it his own.
“So you like them?”
“I do. It’d be rude of me to dislike this bunch when my balcony is already overflowing with all the flowers you’ve brought over.” He tilts his head just behind, but it’s an unnecessary movement. The trails of flowers and the petals that can’t help but detach have been flowing in and out of the room the entire time you’ve been here.
You certainly have left your mark here.
Sylus’s gaze sweeps from you to the daturas still in his hand. He gently whispers, “After all, these ones were specifically tended to just for me,” before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
When you look up, you’re shrouded in him. You’re not sure when the two of you had moved closer together, but the enamoured look on his face has you leaning in for a kiss. You feel shy asking like this, no words exchanged, but he’s always telling you to go for what you want.
You hear him gently lay the flowers beside him before he scoops you onto his lap.
You shriek at the sudden movement, eyes jolting open, but Sylus pays no mind. His hand trails the dip of your waist, and your eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly at the sudden confidence. You flit between either of his rouge eyes, noting the half-lidded expression, and your heart stutters.
The flames from his fireplace crinkle behind the two of you, and your knees dig into the plush of his rug as your body steadily settles on his lap.
His voiced is hushed, “Did you notice anything when you were caring for the daturas?” His breath fans over your skin, reaches past your neck and tickles the ends of your hairs. You’re on high alert, still adjusting to the sight of Sylus so close to you, and you jolt from the feeling.
His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly - a warning that falls on deaf ears, much like the futile question itself.
Each word was muffled in the haze of the warmth you now share, your mind too busy scrambling and desperately trying to find footing in this shift between the two of you.
Sylus watches you far too intensely the entire time.
Did anything happen? You knew they were toxic so you did your best to wear the necessary protection needed to tend to them. You were thorough in washing your hands after too. Sure, there were times you were somewhat dizzy and had to sit down, but that was all.
Honest.
When you still don’t respond, he continues, “They’re known to be hallucinogens.” His hand engulfs one of yours, dragging it to the curve of his cheek. Sylus presses his cheek into the soft of your palm, eyes fixated on you. “Even the smallest amount of pollen can have an effect. You mentioned dreams of them, and even said I was there.”
His head tilts, and the brush of his lips against sensitive skin tickles ever so slightly. There’s an edge of mirth in his voice when he whispers against your palm, “What were they like, sweetie?”
Ah.
It seems he may know a lot more about daturas than you did.
Residue from the petals you’d been caressing before his arrival sweep over his skin, melting between the point of contact between the two of you.
Your head spins.
On one hand, you’re glad that your keen eye meant you’d stumbled upon Sylus’s favourite flower. A part of you swells with pride at getting that right - they truly were a good gift then. On the other hand, you’re both stepping over a line that has only ever been treaded along. You know exactly what he’s asking, but the teasing tone in his voice tells you you can end this new game now if you’d like.
You’re… not sure if you want to.
A gust of wind billows from the balcony, and the once energetic fire is tamed. With the wind comes the scent of daturas that flutter around your figures. Your body reacts before your mind catches on, and you’re biting his lip between yours and drawing blood.
He groans into your mouth, and only then does a singular thought cut through - this is rougher than how you usually kiss him. You can’t quite remember what usually kissing Sylus means though, because roughly kissing him feels like it’s always been second nature.
Your mind fuzzes and swirls with notes of Sylus’ cologne and sour pollen. The heat of his lips never fades - he’s so warm and close and entirely yours if you’d like.
He meets your pace now, matches the brutality of your lips, and the room echoes of whimpers and groans. You pull on the softness of his hair, your other hand having snuck its way to the nape of his hair. He groans and grips tightly onto your waist, which only makes you gasp and jut forward.
You hear him grit his teeth, restraint oozes out of every fibre in his body, and that only makes you moan. Each brush of his lips and caress of his tongue drives you mad, like there’s a never-ending ache that can’t be satiated even with his touch. Not tonight, at least.
When you reluctantly pull away for air, Sylus huffs a laugh seeing the blooming crimson on your lips. It’s a scratchier sound than usual; his pupils are dilated beyond belief and the creeping realisation that you are the sole reason for his flushed skin sends your mind reeling.
You’re lost in the heat of your desire for him, you don’t think for a second, and suddenly you’re pushing him down. He admires you above him, memorises the way the light is consumed by your dark figure, and merely smirks.
Sat atop him, you snake one hand over his chest. You feel the thrum of his heart beneath your palm. When you slide your hand further up the curve of his neck, you feel the intense spike of his pulse. It dawns on you right then that his arrogance is all for show.
He’s just as lost in you.
Your plant your hands on either side of his head, the marble cool against your palms. You duck down and catch his bottom lip between your teeth once more, and Sylus works to keep up with you. You’re relentless, taking everything he can give you and more.
With each gasp and heavy breath comes the quick inhalation of daturas, and you fall into a never-ending cycle of consuming one another.
. ݁ ❦ ˖ caleb
You try not to sigh as Caleb keeps talking, it’s like he doesn’t even care about being somewhat alert tomorrow. For someone who loves to mention his position as Colonel, often as a meaningless scare-tactic to keep you from snooping where he thinks you shouldn’t, he really didn’t seem to care about actually maintaining the role.
“—And then there was that time you would not stop crying until your dear Caleb came back to you. You were so clingy, though I guess you still are, huh?”
You don’t bother tilting your chin up from the comfy spot you’ve found on his chest. There’s no point responding or making eye contact when he’ll just continue prattling about the old days - and trust, you liked reminiscing just as much as him! - but it’s 1am and you just want to sleep.
“Caleb.”
“Yeah, pips?”
“Go to sleep.”
He shuffles beneath you, jostling your leg that had been perfectly slung over his own thigh. You grumble as you mould yourself back into his side, trying to find the perfect angle in this cuddle pile you’d created.
Perhaps sleepovers in Skyhaven should be off the table until Caleb learns some etiquette.
You hear him tut, an offending sound that resonates in the crisp of his bedroom. You try not to roll your eyes, because you’re pretty sure you’ll hear a lecture about that if he so much as hears it.
If the tut wasn’t enough, he makes sure to heavily lay on the (fake) hurt when he mentions, “There was a time when you listened to my every word, you know. What happened to that?”
Your eyes roll anyway, and the dredge of sleep crawls back over you. “I genuinely have no idea where you’ve got that from.”
“Pips, I literally just told you about those times. Weren’t you listening?” Caleb says, and you can literally hear the pout in his voice. He shuffles again, and you grumble in response. “Okay, from the top! So, back then—“
Your head whips up and catches sight of an overly awake Caleb whose eyes dreamily stare at the ceiling. He’s happily chirping away, like the minutes on the alarm clock next to him mean fuck all.
You’re too grouchy for this.
There’s only a small bite to your words when you groan, “Oh my God, Caleb! Shut up!” Any hurt he could experience is immediately soothed over, because you’re dragging yourself upwards and planting your elbows on either side of him.
Your hands cradle his face as you press your lips against one cheek, then the other, his forehead, his nose and finally a sweet peck on his lips. You’re more than relieved when you pull back and see he’s been stunned into silence.
You put on your best stern expression, and squish his cheeks together. One pat, then another, and you think he’s finally gotten the hint, so you slither down to your cosy spot on his chest and rest your eyes.
…It’s a bit difficult to actually settle though when the person below you won’t shut the fuck up!
“Caleb.”
“Yeah, pips?”
And God, he’s actually smug— he’s not even trying to hide it. You grit your teeth when you realise he probably thinks he’s the smartest man in the world; annoy his girlfriend enough and she’ll kiss him quiet, that’ll do it.
You sigh deeply as the realisation strikes you.
Apparently the dog tag wasn’t enough to satisfy his overeager, puppy-like behaviour clearly. It’s become very obvious to you now that Caleb may need some actual training.
So you push yourself up, rubbing the sleep out your eyes. There’s a bleary smirk wiped across his features, the dumbest, dopiest look ever that you can so easily distinguish in the dark of his room, and something simmers within you.
You don’t say anything as you move closer, you’re gentle with your movements and Caleb waits patiently. You settle your entire weight on him, pressing your torso flush against his, and his hands hesitate before naturally come to rest on your back.
You don’t react despite how intimate the position is. You’re too tired to feel embarrassed.
Sure, you’ve cuddled with Caleb plenty before, but this version is entirely different. Your hips are spread, legs parted and pressing into his side. You’re practically folded on top of him like this, and you recognise one shift could change the entire trajectory of your night.
It’s comfortable though, the stretch is more than pleasant and you moan a little from the sensation. You feel Caleb tense beneath you, and you feel triumphant.
He relaxes once you’re settled, no doubt revelling in the intimacy of the cuddle. He has no reason to question your motives when you dig your chin into his collarbone, sweetly resting your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, he softly laughs.
“I’m not sure if you realise, but my voice is only gonna seem louder if you’re higher up like this,” he teases.
You merely shake your head, keeping your voice light as you murmur, “I know. That’s okay, because you aren’t gonna talk anymore.”
“Is that so?” He juts his chin away, trying to get a look at you. “Why’s that?”
You raise your head, fluidly connecting your lips with his. You feel him smile into the kiss, no doubt feeling beyond loved with how soft and warm this all felt. He was so clever, of course he’d somehow outsmarted you and gotten what he wanted.
Right?
It’s abrupt the way in which you lunge; you tug at the bottom of his lip and take advantage of the gasp that escapes. He’s barely found a second to place a hand on your face when you’re immediately licking into his mouth, savouring mint and hot wetness as you slide your tongue along his.
Finally, his hands tremble on the nape of your neck, and you press yourself infinitely closer. The feel of warm, slick muscle and hushed breaths has you both moaning into one another - your head spins as you realise there are prettier sounds that can come from Caleb.
Before you can balance yourself to launch your next attack, Caleb takes the lead and suckles gently on your tongue. He’s confident suddenly; his once shaky hand resting comfortably and pulling you closer to him, an act you didn’t even think was possible at this point.
You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling, unable to keep your whines at bay.
It’s filthy, the sounds of squelching and whimpering that resound has you scrambling to keep up. You refuse to let this become his moment - this was meant to be your punishment after all.
You clench onto the fabric of his shirt, a frantic move accompanied by your groans and his sighs. His hands stay infuriatingly polite, simply resting on the barest slither of skin available to him - but you know he wants more. You can practically feel his hands itching to at least press the pads of his fingers deeply into your skin.
To trace you, to breathe you in and consume you entirely is all Caleb wants. You’re more than aware of that - with memories of the old days comes the recognition of knowing you’d felt the same way too even back then. He’s always wanted you, and you him.
You hike your leg higher up in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your knee drags against his waist and you feel him jerk from the change.
It’s a singular move that causes a sudden spiral because your heat rests against him entirely and— oh God, he was so big, wait—
“Pips– I—“ One kiss, another, you grip his hair and he moans into your mouth. “We should— Hah, we should— stop.” And really, it comes out weakly, a slurred command that has no precedent over when you decide this ends.
Could he feel your clit throbbing against his cock? Was he desperately trying to stop himself from rutting into you?
You rock gently, just once and ever so subtly between every flick of your tongue against his, and try not to grin when you feel the air knocked out of his lungs.
Poor Caleb, he must be losing his mind trying to restrain himself.
For a moment you pity him, but then his voice hums between kisses and logic suddenly kicks in. You can practically hear all the excuses he’d use to explain getting this far - it’s always you being too innocent, or not understanding what you’re doing.
The thought enrages you, and it’s enough to remind you why you’d started this in the first place.
There’s an itch inside of you that begs to continue, to ignore your dignity and use him as you please - you could prove him wrong, show him just how pissed off you are and satisfy your needs at the same time.
You really do want to do that.
Hm.
Caleb whispers your name, a sound that sends you into a realm beyond here with him.
And yet, somehow, you crawl right back.
You chirp a quick goodnight and scramble under the covers, turning away as you nestle into your side of the bed. You’ve barely caught your breath, but feeling the tenseness of Caleb beside you has you giggling and catching it back all at once.
“Night Colonel! See you after work.”
a/n: i forgot to add this here but pls plssss tell me if any of this was ok!! i hope it wasn’t too ooc ><
note: someone is getting finger blasted. (AND IT’S NOT READER.) proceed accordingly.
technically a continuation of this barely SFW drabble, but can be read as a stand alone! thanks for reading <3
it didn’t matter that he was nearly a whole foot taller than you. or that he was exceptionally stronger.
that didn’t stop you from slamming him against your bedroom wall, one hand grasping the leather collar he donned while the other trailed dangerously along the waistline of his pants.
“stay.”
you kept your gaze locked on him after giving the command, backing away to peel off your clothes with no sense of urgency.
his eyelids fluttered subtly as he obeyed and watched, the growing hunger in his eyes becoming more apparent with each article of clothing you removed.
though your heart was pounding out of your chest, you basked in the feeling of control you had over him, lips curling into a coy smile as you approached him again.
“I’m surprised you’re so quiet…” you teased as one of your hands reached out and palmed him through his pants.
there was slightest intake of breath as he shook his head and chuckled breathlessly. but you knew him. so you glanced down, noting that his hands twitched in restraint against his obvious desire to touch you.
nevertheless, he stayed put.
“this is your territory, sweetie,” he managed with a voice that was rougher than usual, though his expression remained a picture of nonchalance.
smiling, you pulled his hands to rest on your bare waist.
“you usually have a lot more bark… and bite,” you raised your arms to drape sensually around his neck, body pressing fully against his.
“oh?” a sly smile crept on his lips, “… I’ll gladly bite.”
without wasting a second, he dipped his head and snagged your bottom lip between his teeth.
a startled sound slipped from you as he pulled you closer in a brazen fashion, large hands digging into soft curves as his mouth consumed yours. you couldn’t help the unbidden moan that left you or the heat that crept lower as his hands explored and molded your bodies together.
before your knees threatened to buckle, you threaded your fingers deep into his hair and yanked. heavy breathing filled the room as you blearily refocused on each other.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to do all that,” you yanked his head more forcefully this time, and he grimaced.
the hand that wasn’t threaded in his hair tugged his shirt up, sliding over the broad planes of his chest.
“you’re only allowed to do exactly what I tell you to do…”
your fingers traced delicately over one of his nipples.
then pinched. hard.
“understood?”
you’d never heard the sound that came from him in that moment- something between a moan and… was a man that possessed a voice that deep capable of a whimper?
you pinched harder, just to be sure.
it came through gritted teeth this time, but confirmed your suspicion. a glorious sound that immediately had you fantasizing about how to ring it from him in every possible way.
“yes… miss,” he finally answered through a staggered breath.
the honorific in the sultry baritone of his voice brought your attention back to your current task.
“good…” you released him, going up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. a small smile appeared on your face.
“… now get on your knees.”
he let out a low laugh- brief, but indulgent- before dropping to the ground, eyes fixed on you the entire time. you tried to stay focused when you felt his breath fanning across your stomach, the sensation making you shiver.
through thick lashes and heavy lids, he peered up, lips twitching into a smirk as his gaze flared with something heated.
“may I touch you?” he breathed, hands ghosting over your hips as he awaited your response.
“you may,” your answer came out shakier than you had hoped.
his fingers sunk instantly into your hips, grasping and kneading while he placed soft kisses along your abdomen. you allowed yourself to enjoy the tenderness of his touch for a moment… but only a moment, because your need for him was beginning to feel slick in a place he was already perfectly close to.
so you swung a leg over his broad shoulder, tangled your fingers into his silver hair, and shoved his head lower.
“more…” you gasped as his mouth started moving exactly where you needed him, a satisfied groan sounding from deep in his throat at the contact.
his tongue found a steady rhythm against you, his long nose working perfectly in tandem to provide friction wherever his tongue wasn’t.
you cursed under your breath, hips rolling with his tongue as your other hand flew forward to steady yourself against the wall.
“tell me…” he panted, tightening his grasp on you as he continued his ministrations, “… tell me how good I am.”
your nails dug into his scalp as you registered his plea.
“you’re so good- hnngh- doing so good for me,” you praised through your moans, tugging his head back slightly so your eyes could meet.
his right eye flickered brighter at the praise, the crimson set burning with renewed vigor.
“d-do you wanna taste how good you’re doing?” the words tumbled from your lips, partially slurred with pleasure.
he sighed deeply against you in response, his tongue curling deeper until you cried out. you came suddenly, warmth coating your thighs and dripping down his face.
you attempted to move, but he held fast, drinking what you offered like a man who was parched. there was an arrogant smirk on his face when he finally pulled away, a wild haze clouding his crimson eyes.
“I do get a reward… right, kitten?” he nuzzled his face against your thigh in an innocent manner that didn’t match the dark sensuality of his tone, his lips still glistening with your arousal.
slowly, you removed yourself from him, two hands wrapping around his collar in a possessive grip.
your head quirked to the side.
“that wasn’t enough for you?”
his head turned toward your wrist in response, teeth grazing over your pulse like he was about to bite. so you abruptly tugged him into a kiss. it was obscenely messy, open-mouthed and tongue heavy.
“take off your clothes,” you whispered against his lips, grinning smugly as he rose and started to strip with record speed.
just as he got to his belt, you seized his hand, causing him to quirk an eyebrow as he waited for instruction.
“let me,” you offered.
he obliged.
carefully, you undid the buckle and zipper. then your slim fingers slid beneath his boxers, eliciting a soft hiss from him when your cold hand wrapped around the hard, hot length of him and stroked.
“so worked up, and I haven’t even touched you until now…” you teased, your other hand grazing over his shirtless, sculpted torso.
“sweetie,” he warned in a strained voice, grabbing your wrist to halt your stroking.
you scoffed. then grabbed his face and maneuvered him toward the bed.
“trying to stop me?” you pushed him and watched indignantly as his back met the mattress, “that’s bad…” his remaining clothes were swiftly removed before you prowled over him.
you stopped at his chest.
“very bad,” a snarl curled your lips before you lowered your head and bit into firm muscle.
he twitched against your stomach, grunting softly as his hips surged to find friction. they rolled again when your tongue darted out to lap over the mark you left on him.
but you had other plans, your hand shoving his hip down to still his thrusts.
“I didn’t say you could move.”
“my apologies,” he groaned, his restraint clearly beginning to fray, “and here I was thinking I was doing so well…”
coming up to meet his gaze, you placed a tender, placating kiss on his lips. then one on his temple.
“do you trust me?” you inquired as you moved to place a soft kiss on his neck.
he raised an eyebrow at the mischief etched on your face when you leaned back to look at his, but then returned the kisses with an added, “of course.”
you reveled in the intrigued expression that appeared on his face when you sat back on your heels and dragged your tongue sloppily along a few of your fingers. watched his throat bob when you sucked those fingers into your mouth and then removed them with slick pop.
his focus turned laser, eyes widening when those fingers trailed over his abs, toward his straining erection… then lower.
“spread your legs for me,” your gaze dropped to his lips when he obeyed, watching as they parted slightly in anticipation.
leaning over him, you allowed your fingers to drift lower, circling and teasing his tight entrance.
his breath quickened, eyelids fluttering shut while a deep hum reverberated through his chest.
you moved closer, chest brushing his and free hand coming up to comb gently through his hair as you continued to edge him.
“you’ll be good and let me in, right, baby?” you breathed while moving back to trail your lips against his chest, one of your fingers beginning to prod and apply pressure.
his hips thrusted weakly as you pressed harder against the taut ring of muscle, his teeth sinking into his lip and eyes screwing shut as he struggled to hold himself back.
that’s when you stopped.
he looked like he was about to protest, but you pressed a finger to his lips, waiting for his breathing to steady.
large hands boldly found your waist and squeezed, a defiant gleam in his eyes as they raked over you with faltering patience.
you laughed.
“what’s the matter? can’t be patient?”
“you’re so cruel, kitten…” he drawled as his eyes narrowed at you.
then he tilted his head, biting the finger that was pressed to his lips.
you gasped, brows furrowing in annoyance before you seized his chin.
“spit,” you commanded, releasing your grip to hold your palm out.
his eyes remained locked on yours for what felt like an eternity, the war between pride and submission flashing in them momentarily.
then he looked down. and spit.
“good boy,” you praised while flicking his collar, a sardonic expression settling on your face at his concession. rubbing those fingers together, you brought them low and resumed your probing.
“breathe,” you whispered, feeling the deep inhale of his broad chest as he obeyed.
then you circled once, twice, before pushing knuckle deep into him.
his head flew back as he released a throaty, broken moan, hands dropping to his sides and fisting into the blankets. you took that as an opportunity to press deeper, slowly pumping and curling as you watched his chest heave.
“k-kitten… fuck,” he cursed through his teeth as you hit a spot that made his back arch.
your eyes widened with delight, a heady thrill traveling straight to your core at the sight of him so undone. so you angled your fingers to keep hitting that spot.
he gasped, breathing becoming labored, face flushing a deep shade of red as any remaining ounce of defiance seemed to melt from his body.
“hmm, you seem like you’re close…” you teased as you stroked your other hand carefully along his throbbing, leaking tip, “… it’s a shame I didn’t give you permission to come yet.”
he released a low, breathy whimpering sound- similar to the one you had coaxed from him earlier- and it was music to your ears.
“please,” he choked out, his eyes shifting desperately as you suddenly withdrew your hands from him.
“I don’t know… “ you taunted, crawling until your hips hovered over him, “you’ve been bold and misbehaved a few times tonight...” your hands trailed down his chest, “… and only good boys get to finish.”
your smile was absolutely wicked as you took in the sweat beading at his brow.
with the last thread of his restraint, his hands slid up up your thighs, planting firmly on your waist. the desperation in his eyes shifted to something darker, his right eye glowing as his voice dropped to a warning.
“I have been good.”
and then that thread snapped.
he slammed into you so hard that it knocked the breath from your lungs, his bruising grip holding you in place as he rode out his pent up frustration. the instant stretch had you mewling, the steady, deep pace he set allowing you to feel every subtle movement.
your need for dominance vanished as he sat up and encircled you in his embrace, driving deeper while you clawed and kissed and sunk your teeth into each other like it was the last time you’d ever get a taste.
suddenly, his hips stilled, thighs flexing, his panting filling your ears as he peppered your jaw with messy kisses.
“may I come?” his voice was utterly wrecked, the sound of it making you tighten around him.
“I might have to kill you if you don’t,” you gasped, equally wrecked, your body writhing as you waited for him to move again.
heavy breaths were traded for cries and a drawn out groan as he rocked his hips for a final time and filled you.
you swore neither of you had ever come so hard, an obscene amount of your shared arousal spilling down your legs and soaking the bedding beneath.
a soft thud sounded as you collapsed on the mattress together, fingers idly caressing one another as you regained breath.
your eyes were closed when you felt the mattress shift.
“what are you doing?” your brows furrowed when your eyes opened to find him sliding the collar from his neck.
but your questions dissipated, eyes widening as he fastened it around yours.
“fair is fair, kitten…” any sign of submission in his countenance was gone, instead replaced by a predatory gleam in his eye.
and then you were under him.
back pressed into the mattress, body crushed by the entire weight of him, both wrists pinned above you by one of his.
a shuddering breath escaped you as his lips lowered to your ear.
The first time you leaned in and kissed him, he felt like the entire world could burn down around him and he wouldn’t care. Since then, making out with you has become his favorite addiction. The way you melt into him, the little sounds you make when he licks into your mouth, how you grip his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear,he can’t get enough.
Tonight is no different.
You’re straddling his lap on the couch in his private lounge, hands tangled in his silver hair while he kisses you deep and slow. His hands slide up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. A low groan rumbles in his chest when you rock against him, unconsciously grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck, kitten…” he murmurs against your lips, voice already rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You whimper softly, kissing him harder, and for a moment it feels like you might finally be ready. His hands slip under your shirt, palms warm against your bare waist, thumbs stroking just beneath your ribs. He’s so hard it’s aching, straining painfully against his zipper, but he doesn’t rush you. He just keeps kissing you like he could do this forever.
Then you pull back suddenly, breathing heavily, eyes a little wide.
“Sylus… wait. I’m sorry, I-” You bite your lip, looking guilty.
He stills immediately.
His hands slide out from under your shirt and settle respectfully on your hips instead. Even though his cock is throbbing angrily between you, begging for friction, his expression softens.
“Hey,” he says gently, voice low and calm. “Don’t apologise. You never have to be sorry for that.”
You look down, cheeks flushed. “But you’re… I can feel how hard you are. I keep getting you worked up and then stopping-“
Sylus cuts you off by tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. That usual smugness is gone, replaced by something warmer and tender.
“I don’t care if I stay hard for the rest of the night,” he says simply. “Or all week. Or all month. We go at your pace. Always.”
He leans in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, much softer this time.
“You letting me kiss you like this already feels like winning the lottery, sweetie,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I can wait. As long as you need.”
Even as he says it, his cock twitches hard between your thighs, still painfully trapped and aching. He ignores it completely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest instead.
You bury your face in his neck, relaxing into him. “You’re too good to me.”
Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle, though it sounds a little strained.
“Trust me, I’m not a saint. Right now I’m thinking about a lot of very filthy things I want to do to you,” he admits, voice dropping into a purr. “But I’d rather have you comfortable and happy than rush anything. This-” He squeezes your waist gently. “-is more than enough.”
You stay like that for a long time, you curled up on his lap, his arms securely around you while he presses occasional kisses to your hair and temple.
Later, after you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, Sylus finally lets out a slow, controlled breath.
He’s painfully hard, balls aching, cock leaking into his boxers… but he just holds you tighter, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
Because even if it means blue balling himself every single time you make out, you’re worth every second of it.
His kitten is safe, comfortable, and slowly opening up to him
The first time you leaned in and kissed him, he felt like the entire world could burn down around him and he wouldn’t care. Since then, making out with you has become his favorite addiction. The way you melt into him, the little sounds you make when he licks into your mouth, how you grip his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear,he can’t get enough.
Tonight is no different.
You’re straddling his lap on the couch in his private lounge, hands tangled in his silver hair while he kisses you deep and slow. His hands slide up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. A low groan rumbles in his chest when you rock against him, unconsciously grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck, kitten…” he murmurs against your lips, voice already rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You whimper softly, kissing him harder, and for a moment it feels like you might finally be ready. His hands slip under your shirt, palms warm against your bare waist, thumbs stroking just beneath your ribs. He’s so hard it’s aching, straining painfully against his zipper, but he doesn’t rush you. He just keeps kissing you like he could do this forever.
Then you pull back suddenly, breathing heavily, eyes a little wide.
“Sylus… wait. I’m sorry, I-” You bite your lip, looking guilty.
He stills immediately.
His hands slide out from under your shirt and settle respectfully on your hips instead. Even though his cock is throbbing angrily between you, begging for friction, his expression softens.
“Hey,” he says gently, voice low and calm. “Don’t apologise. You never have to be sorry for that.”
You look down, cheeks flushed. “But you’re… I can feel how hard you are. I keep getting you worked up and then stopping-“
Sylus cuts you off by tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. That usual smugness is gone, replaced by something warmer and tender.
“I don’t care if I stay hard for the rest of the night,” he says simply. “Or all week. Or all month. We go at your pace. Always.”
He leans in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, much softer this time.
“You letting me kiss you like this already feels like winning the lottery, sweetie,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I can wait. As long as you need.”
Even as he says it, his cock twitches hard between your thighs, still painfully trapped and aching. He ignores it completely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest instead.
You bury your face in his neck, relaxing into him. “You’re too good to me.”
Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle, though it sounds a little strained.
“Trust me, I’m not a saint. Right now I’m thinking about a lot of very filthy things I want to do to you,” he admits, voice dropping into a purr. “But I’d rather have you comfortable and happy than rush anything. This-” He squeezes your waist gently. “-is more than enough.”
You stay like that for a long time, you curled up on his lap, his arms securely around you while he presses occasional kisses to your hair and temple.
Later, after you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, Sylus finally lets out a slow, controlled breath.
He’s painfully hard, balls aching, cock leaking into his boxers… but he just holds you tighter, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
Because even if it means blue balling himself every single time you make out, you’re worth every second of it.
His kitten is safe, comfortable, and slowly opening up to him
you coax his sleeve up slowly, like you’re afraid to startle the moment. zayne doesn’t stop you, but his jaw tightens the way it always does—habit, defense, the old instinct to hide before anyone can look too closely. The fabric pools at his elbow. The scars map themselves in front of you—pale ridges, rough patches, stories he never tells.
You cradle his arm like it’s something fragile, even though it’s zayne—built of discipline and storms. Your thumbs stroke over the uneven skin, and you feel the way he tries not to pull back. You lean in before he can, pressing your lips to the first mark, soft as breath.
zayne exhales sharply.
You kiss the next, slower. And the next. Your mouth drags from one scar to another, a trail of warmth against all those years of cold. He watches you—eyes darker, quieter, almost startled. Like zayne can’t understand why you treat him like something worthy of gentleness. “Why do you…” His voice breaks off. He swallows. “They’re not pretty.” You hush him with another kiss to a deeper ridge near his wrist. “They’re yours.”
zayne ’s shoulders sag, the tension unspooling. You feel it—the surrender, the trust he never gives lightly. His free hand rises, hesitant, brushing your cheek as if he’s the one trying to steady himself. You kiss a long line that runs down his forearm, letting your lips linger. “I’m not trying to erase them,” you murmur against his skin. “Just the parts of you that think you should hide.”
zayne’s breath shivers. He pulls you gently into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. His heartbeat is steady, loud, vulnerable. “Stay like this,” he whispers. And you do, your kisses still burning softly on his scars.
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