The series of chimes echoes throughout the airport amongst light chatter of those who approach their boarding gates.
You’re more focused on the nails slightly digging into the skin of your hips. The fat cock being slammed into your pussy from behind repeatedly.
“Did you catch tha- that announcement?” You try to ask between thrusts but he seems to just pick up the pace.
“Nah. No flights are leavin’ without their pilot, are they?” Caleb raises an eyebrow. He suddenly pulls out causing you to whine, loudly.
“Caleeebbbb, why’d you pull out?”
You try and wiggle your hips to have him resume fucking you. The hot mushroom head of his cock drags between your folds and coats everything in his pre-cum.
“I like seeing you squirm,” he says with a grin.
“Not fair, I have a job to get to…”
“Should I send you off like this?” Caleb muses, grabbing a handful of your ass before giving it a smack. You try to shuffle yourself back despite the restraints of your work uniform pooled around your ankles.
“I’ll never hook up with you again,” you straighten, turning to face him.
Caleb leans his arm right next to your head, closing the gap between your faces until your noses are touching.
“Alright, alright. Lesson learned,” Caleb murmurs. He captures your lips with his, his hands making home back onto your hips and he slightly lifts you to rest your back against the wall.
You ever-so gently scratch the nape of his neck as he drags his length against your clit. He groans before fully setting you down on his dick again. It’s so relieving to be full again you could almost cry.
“That good?” Caleb rasps. His pilot cap tilts down from his head, obstructing his view of you. He’s quick to swipe it away from blocking his eyes and he drops it on your head instead.
“Good… good, yeah…” You practically babble, cock-drunk from the pilot’s fierce pace. He guides you up and down on his cock, balls slapping against your ass with sharp sounds.
Every blunt kiss to your g-spot by his cock elicited sounds from you that are way too inappropriate for a public setting. His eyes are fixed on the way your pussy lips hug his length, welcoming every inch inside.
“Don-… My uniform…” You try to say a coherent sentence but it doesn’t come out that way. His cap on your head jumps with each thrust.
“I’ll try not to,” Caleb grunts, still understanding what you were trying to say. With a last, more sloppy thrust, he finally gives up his load. His way to not dirty your uniform was to keep his dick inside you as you both finished. Your pussy clenches around him, not wanting to let go.
You both take a moment to catch your breath, just looking at each other.
Caleb handles you gently as he sets you down and cleans you with some toilet paper in the stall. He pulls your skirt up, fixes your handkerchief and wipes away the smeared lipstick on your face.
“You have a little something…” You try to point out the lipstick on his skin but it’s far from just a little bit. It’s all over his face and neck. Every smudge of red blended into his tanned skin.
“I’ll take care of it later,” he says, taking his cap back and fixing it back on his head. He pauses before pecking your lips.
“I’ll see you later then.”
Caleb leaves the stall, a dishevelled version of the confidently esteemed pilot that entered the airport this morning.
You’ll both have to fix yourselves after that encounter. You couldn’t wait until the next time you could reunite with your favourite pilot.
He doesn’t plan to stay. That’s what he tells himself when he steps into your apartment just to drop something off, just to talk for a bit, just until it gets late.
It gets late... You’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked under you, explaining something with animated hands while he watches in quiet fascination. He’s not even sure what the story is about anymore. He’s too focused on the way your face shifts when you laugh.
It’s almost midnight when you yawn. He checks the time. “I should head home,” he murmurs, but he makes no effort to stand.
Instead, you blink up at him and say it softly, like it’s nothing. “You can stay. If you want.”
There’s a small pause. Sylus doesn’t do sleepovers, he doesn’t do overnight vulnerability. He likes his own space, his own routine. But you’re looking at him like it’s the most natural suggestion in the world.
“…Are you sure?” he asks.
You nod. “Yeah.”
He hesitates only for a second before setting his phone down. “Okay.”
He’s careful about everything. He brushes his teeth with the spare one you hand him. Folds his clothes neatly over a chair and then lies down stiffly at first, like he’s unsure where to put his arms.
You switch the lights off and the room goes dim. You roll closer without thinking, your knee brushing his.
He goes very still, It’s not that he’s uncomfortable. It’s that he’s aware, of you, of the warmth and the fact that this is new.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
“…Goodnight.”
It takes him longer to fall asleep. He listens to your breathing even out. Counts the seconds between inhales, slowly memorises the rhythm.
At some point, exhaustion wins...
He wakes up before you. For a second, he doesn’t know where he is. The ceiling isn’t familiar, the air smells also different but then he feels it.
Your arm is slung loosely over his waist. Your face pressed into his chest. You’ve shifted closer in your sleep.
He freezes. Not because he wants to move. Because he doesn’t.
He looks down slowly. You’re completely asleep, relaxed and trusting.
Something in his chest tightens, no one’s ever slept on him like this and no one’s ever assumed they could.
He carefully adjusts his arm around you, testing the weight. When you don’t stir, he exhales quietly and lets his hand rest at your back.
Protective. Instinctive. You mumble something unintelligible and press closer.
His throat goes dry. He stays still after that. He doesn't check his phone, tries not to move and nor does he even think about getting up.
Just watches the light shift through your curtains and realises, somewhere between midnight and morning, that he’s in deeper than he expected.
And he doesn’t mind this at all...
-
a/n: i'm still away from home so all my posts will look chopped since im uploading them from my ipad & phone 😔... i shall fix them once im back 😛
ᓚᘏ𑄝 nanami hates when you push on his hips slightly cause of the overstimulation he’s fucking you into . . mdni!
nanami’s already so deep when it starts getting too much for you.
his cock’s thick and hot, stretching you open with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips, and you’re shaking underneath him, thighs trembling, breath hitching into little broken sobs. he’s been fucking you steady for what feels like forever, patient, controlled, whispering soft praises against your temple even while he’s splitting you apart.
but the second your hands slip down to his hips and push—just a tiny, desperate nudge to get a break from how intense it feels—he freezes.
his whole body locks up.
then that low, dangerous voice right against your ear.
“hah… fuck.” he exhales hard through his nose. “where do you think you’re going?”
before you can even stammer out an answer his weight drops.
full. heavy and pinning. chest crushing your tits flat to the mattress, thick arms caging your head, forearms bracketing your face so you can’t turn away. his hips snap forward harder than before, burying every last inch so deep your eyes roll and your mouth falls open on a silent scream.
“you don’t get to run from this,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, still soft in that awful, loving way that makes your cunt flutter around him. “you take it. all of it.”
one big hand slides up, covers your mouth completely. palm warm, fingers splayed wide so your muffled whimpers vibrate right into his skin. he doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt—just holds. keeps every needy little sound locked behind his hand while he starts fucking you in long, punishing strokes.
the wet slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room. loud. obscene. you can feel how soaked you are, how your slick’s dripping down your thighs, coating his balls every time he bottoms out.
his other hand snakes between your bodies.
two fingers find your clit immediately: swollen, oversensitive, throbbing and he doesn’t tease you, just rubs firm, tight circles.
your man is mean.
your whole body jerks under him, back arching uselessly because there’s nowhere to go. he’s too heavy, too deep, too everywhere. the overstimulation hits like a freight train and you’re crying into his palm, tears slipping down your temples, thighs trying to snap shut but his knees keep you spread wide.
“there she is,” he breathes against your cheek. “that’s it. let it happen.”
he grinds in deep, pubic bone crushing right against your clit while his fingers keep working merciless little circles. your cunt clamps down so hard he groans—low, wrecked—and his rhythm stutters for half a second before he fucks you even harder.
“gonna cum again for me?” his voice is velvet dragged over gravel. “even though it’s too much? even though you’re shaking?”
you can only sob into his hand. nod frantically. thighs quivering, toes curling, whole body wound so tight you think you might break.
he presses his forehead to yours. eyes dark, pupils blown. watching every twitch of your face while he ruins you.
“good girl,” he whispers. “cum on my cock. soak me. make a fucking mess.”
his fingers speed up. relentless, and you do.
you shatter so hard your vision whites out, back bowing, cunt spasming violently around his length while you scream into his palm. he doesn’t stop fucking you through it—keeps that same brutal pace, drawing it out until you’re limp and twitching and drooling against his hand.
only then does he finally slow.
still buried to the hilt.
still heavy on top of you.
he lifts his palm just enough to let you gasp wet, shaky breaths.
then he kisses the corner of your mouth, soft and almost tender.
“you’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “not until i say so.”
and he rolls his hips again—just once. slow and deep.
You were lying on your boyfriend’s bed, reading on your phone, when you hear the faint sounds of a motorcycle outside come near and stop.
The front door opens, his footsteps sounding heavy and slow. A few moments later, a tired Sylus opens the bedroom door and stops when he sees you looking back at him over the edge of your phone. “Still awake?”
“Hey,” still lying down, you set the phone aside and raise your arms straight up into the air, offering a hug.
Sylus gives a small smile. “Hold that thought,” he asks, as he shuffles to the bathroom to clean up and change.
“Hurry before my arms go numb!” You urge him with a laugh.
“I requested you to hold that thought, not to hold that pose.” Sylus called back with amusement. Still, his pace goes a bit faster. He comes close and kisses your head, your lips, over your heart. He sinks his body on top of yours, resting his head on your chest, then letting out a sigh as he gathers you close by the waist.
You thread your fingers through his hair a few times, admiring how soft they are and how it looks under the dim light. Sylus doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, allowing a calmness to settle around you and dissipate the chaos he’s come back from.
Your hands explore downwards, gliding down his neck, smoothing out his shoulders and biceps, before settling on the space between his shoulders. You form your hands into claws and started scratching his back, raking in unhurried big sweeps, down and up and down again and again in a loop, and—
Rrrrrrr
You stopped, the sound catching you off-guard, as it seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Sylus? Did you just… purr?”
Sylus slightly tilts his head up to peek one eye at you. “If I agree, would the scratching resume?”
“Pfft,” you giggle. “You totally did.” But you continue your ministration on his back.
Sylus scoffs playfully. “For the record, that was not a purr, sweetie. That was a rumble.”
You smile into his hair, your hands still raking around his back slowly. “Suuure, sure. If you say so.” You feel the vibrations on your ribs as he rumbles again to demonstrate.
You hum, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing. “Rest, my rumbling dragon.”
“Mnn.” Sylus holds you a little bit closer. Your hands don’t stop until his breathing has evened out and he’s drifted off to sleep.
———————
Don’t mind me I just wanted Sylus to be my weighted blanket but then he began to purr rumble. I need a purring contented Sylus on top of me pls. Preferably in that black compression shirt heehee or bare-chested will do. :3 Also, I will never ever get over this photo I used above, even though I don’t have this card… *cries in f2p*T_T
sometimes, you wished you could find something to complain about when it came to sylus.
was he aggravating and a borderline pain in the ass most of the time? sure, but he always made up for it.
especially now, with his bare chest pressed to yours, his heavy breaths brushing against your neck as he thrusted a steady rhythm into you.
you honestly didn't know how you both got there. one moment, you were complaining about breakfast.
the next?
you were pressed against the counter, your husband's large hands gripping your thighs like a vice as he grunted and groaned in your ear.
"s-sy-" you moaned, fingers grasping at the countertop, desperately trying to keep yourself steady. "sl-slow down!-"
"is that what you want, my wife?" he was filled with need, one where the greed that consumed him wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by you, deep inside of you. "i would slow down, but this-" he punctuated his words with another hard thrust, "beautiful little cunt seems to want something else."
"h-haah, you jerk-" you whined, fist banging at his back in a desperate attempt to get a break. "please!"
thankfully, your husband was always willing to follow your needs, and his hips slowed. but now you were faced with a bigger problem, the huge length within you keeping you stretched wide. he shifted slightly, wrapping your legs properly around his waist and locking your heels into his lower back.
then, he smiled at you, pressing gentle kisses all over your face. you knew you were the one who asked for a break, but the tension in your core was becoming too much, and you squirmed against him, hips rolling in a sorry attempt to regain friction.
"oh, what's this?" he gasped, tone almost mocking as he tilted his head at you. "i thought a certain kitten was too tired."
"sy.." you whined, mustering the best glare you could at him. but all he had to do was swivel his hips, and your pout dropped into a gasp. "pl-please, can i cum?-"
"of course, sweetie," he mused, lowering his head to bring you nose to nose, "but you know what you have to do."
his obsession with hearing his title would make you roll your eyes, but you were much too desperate. so, quietly, breathily, you whimpered a soft, "my husband.."
and it was over from there.
groaning, he buried his face in your neck, licking and biting at your skin to mark you, to claim you. you were his, you always had been, but the reminder on your neck, and the feeling between your thighs, always calmed that possessive instinct within him.
"my wife, my wife, my wife.." he repeated the term like a mantra, every movement bringing you both closer and closer to the edge. your nails dug into his back, marks that he would wear proudly, and you could only whine as he nuzzled you. "cum for me, my wife."
stars exploded behind your eyes, and you could only fall limp in his embrace as he found his climax as well, a low groan that turned into an almost purr escaping his broad chest. he held you close, fingers running up and down your back as he smiled at you, kissing your forehead.
"you are the best thing to ever happen to me." he mumbled, tucking you into his side with a smile. "thank you, my wife."
a/n: im obsessed with the idea of sylus with a bunch of piercings, the hot nerd in class with a loverboy personality.... UGH WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL IHFhfihfih i wrote this in like four hours so ignore any spelling mistakes or the concept of it, i'll edit it properly later... (i might turn this into a mini series)
Sylus is a problem. Not in the he skips lectures and parties too hard, no, Sylus is a problem in the way that makes professors pause mid-sentence and students forget what they were about to say. He’s tall, quiet, permanently unimpressed, and somehow manages to look devastatingly hot while arguing about econometric models and machine learning algorithms, which is deeply unfair.
He’s doing a double degree in Commerce and Computer Science, top of the cohort in both, and annoyingly infuriatingly your academic rival. Every subject you share turns into a silent war: highest marks, fastest code, sharpest critiques. He doesn’t gloat, he doesn’t taunt, he just looks at you with that infuriating smirk and calmly submits something slightly better.
And then there are the piercings… a small silver stud on the left side of his sharp nose, a subtle lip ring that catches the light when he’s thinking and an eyebrow piercing that somehow makes his perpetually serious face look even more dangerous. He dresses like a walking contradiction, with clean lines, oversized hoodies, rings on his fingers, and a laptop covered in neat red and black colour-coded stickers. Playboy aesthetic, but absolute nerd behaviour.
Everyone assumes Sylus dates around, well, everyone is wrong. In reality, Sylus has never been in a relationship. Never done casual, never hooked up after a party, never flirted just to flirt. He falls hard, and he knows it and that knowledge scares the hell out of him. Once he likes someone, that’s it. Tunnel vision and loyalty to a fault.
Which is why this is a problem, because somewhere between late-night group projects, heated tutorial debates, and accidentally walking home together after the library closes, Sylus starts noticing you. The way you argue just as fiercely as him, the way you roll your eyes, but secretly enjoy the challenge. The way you smell faintly like coffee and vanilla when you lean over his shoulder to point out a mistake in his code.
He hates it. You’re a distraction, a rival. Someone he absolutely should not be thinking about when he’s lying awake at night replaying conversations that meant nothing except they clearly meant something. You, meanwhile, think Sylus is arrogant and intimidating. Way too attractive for someone who corrects tutors for fun, so you’re convinced he looks down on you. Neither of you realises you’re circling the same truth. The slow-burning tension, stolen glances and accidental touches that linger too long. A boy who looks like trouble but loves like devotion and a girl who challenges him in every way that matters.
And Sylus? Once he falls, he’s done… forever yours.
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