\o/ Enthusiastic hellos to you. I am but a humble stranger with a love for pixel men (Love and Deepspace). Enjoy your visit. :')
Name's Eri! she/her. 28.
Sylus is the favorite, but Rafayel and Zayne also squeeze my heart. uwu
I am unsure how often I'll actually be writing, but I'm makin' this pinned post just for a little place to come back to if need be. o7 We'll see. For now, I'm sitting on a LOT of half-baked wips. xD But anyway, henlo ♥
cw jealousy, exhibitionism, sloppy makeouts, handjob 🍋🟩 disclaimer this is a tweaked repost from my old account :-)
"You're staring, kitten."
Sylus drags out the pet name, hands settling on the supple flesh of your exposed hip as he chuckles. You're currently glaring daggers at the group of bidders a few tables away who are blatantly eye-fucking your husband. They whisper in low tones to one another, bedroom eyes making you see red, and you clench your fists.
"Don't care," you mutter, finally tearing your scrutinizing look away to see a much more welcome shade of crimson in the form of Sylus' mirthful gaze. "They were staring first."
He chuckles, the sound deep from his chest sending little rumbles of heat through you. "And pray, do tell, why should my wife be so concerned with such flies on the wall?"
You bare your teeth in a scowl as one of them gnaws on her bottom lip, practically undressing Sylus with her hooded ogle. What infuriates you isn't the fact that there are women having wet dreams about your husband; no, what makes you livid is their shameless attitude towards you.
You, who purposefully is keeping the hand with your glittering crystal ring directed towards them. You, who has Sylus' undivided attention and satin lips against the shell of your ear. You, who makes eye contact that they ardently ignore.
Sylus lets his searing, calloused hands roam the expanse of your hips, exploring lower and lower until both palms cup the flush of your ass. He doesn't take his eyes off of you—not once. The deliberate action takes some fire burning in the clench of your fists and moves it to the pit of your stomach.
"Sweetie," he murmurs. "If their prying eyes bother you so much, why don't you just give them something else to look at?"
Swiveling your head, the glint of your fangs turn into something dangerous, something reverent. Your glossy lips arch in a smile as you languidly throw your arms around his neck, watching the heavy gold chain he sports glitter in the auction room's candlelight.
"You'd do that for me?" Comes your candied ask, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.
He gropes your cheeks through the velvet dress you chose for tonight, massaging them with the utmost care. When Sylus leans down, mouth skimming yours, it takes a great deal of control for you to not capture his lips in a bite right then and there.
"Kitten, I'd do anything for you. All you have to do is ask."
Humming in fake thought, your hand travels to rest at the side of his neck, thumb digging just slightly into his pulse point.
"Kiss me, then?" You grin.
It begins as a peace treaty; your lips press chastely to his, tasting the red wine he had been sipping just minutes before. Soon, though, he reveals his true intentions, nipping at the plump of your lip and smirking when you give a tiny mewl.
That's when the real battle starts.
The world around you disappears—all you know now is the greed of Sylus' tongue, swapping messy spit while your teeth clash every so often in a war of dominance. His hands find a steady rhythm of rocking you against his thigh, the glorious friction doing numbers on your puffy clit, occasionally giving your hips a grounding squeeze.
"Is this what you wanted, sweetie?" He purrs through a particularly sloppy kiss, reveling in the gasp you let out. "To stake your claim in such a way?"
He allows you to take the lead as an answer to his question, crowding his space until he's left pinned against the edge of the table you're standing at. You only break when you hear an offending gasp.
The group of buyers are slack-jawed, eyes boring holes into you and your husband's fused bodies. To this, you merely smear the red lip product that's now marked the edges of Sylus' mouth, your own lips feigning a sullen, woeful pout.
"Oh, dear," you sigh dramatically. "Sylus, love, your face is all ruined. Perhaps we should go get you… cleaned up."
"Perhaps we should," he rumbles, offering his arm and making no move to wipe the glistening stains off his skin.
You flash a chesire smile at the group of ladies when you walk past, eyes simmering with heat, and they all avert their gazes with troubled stares. Too bad for them, you suppose.
The car door barely has a chance to slam shut before your husband pounces, lurching your body against the leather with a wrecked, ravenous laugh. His broad shoulders span the hollow space between the cushioned driver's seat and the backseat car cushions, swarming your personal space and leaving no room for any other thoughts but him.
"That was a nasty trick you played back there, kitten," Sylus teases, his body lingering over yours but scorching you with his heat all the same. "Those poor, poor women. They must be so embarrassed, hm?"
Your hands find the chain hanging around his neck, giving a light tug—Sylus, though, responds as if you had just yanked it, face brushing near yours within mere nanoseconds. One of his hands splays along the skin under your now hiked-up dress, the other bracing himself against the interior car door.
And you can feel him against your core: firm and promising, smudges of pre seeping into his black pants, dampening the insides of your thighs. Images of his red hot, swollen cock fill your brain, and you itch to see the real thing. Feel the real thing.
"S-sylus," you urge with a moan, fingers hurriedly working the buckle of his belt. "Wan' you. Now."
He gives a responsive hum, laving at your earlobe when he leans down close, dick twitching in your hands once you release him from the restraints of his boxers. It jumps when you wrap your fingers around his thick base, a guttural groan leaving the depths of his throat while he throbs, pretty and crimson at the tip as another glob of precum leaks from his slit.
"S'big." You pump his cock with vigorous strokes. "Want you so bad, Syl. So fucking bad."
This time, instead of a hum, he gives a ragged, trembling breath, catching your wrist with the hand that had been inching towards your lacy panties. "Patience, kitten."
He presses a lazy, unhurried kiss to the inside of your wrist, flashing you a devilishly handsome grin.
You'd been acting up all afternoon during his work conference.
Purposely wearing a short sundress, only bending over when you knew he'd catch sight of your underwear riding up your ass. Hand lying on his thigh during presentations, inching so painfully close to his groin and stopping just short of cupping his balls through his slacks.
To say you were getting on his nerves was an understatement.
It all built up on the elevator ride down to the next conference room, after a quick lunch in his office where he surprisingly kept his composure - much to your dismay. So, you took drastic measures.
His hand was slack by his side, not quite touching you though you could tell his fingers were aching to. Wrapping around his wrist, you dragged him carefully under your skirt, letting him feel how wet you were. Your panties now damp from hours of working yourself up.
Wordlessly, you let his wrist go, not surprised when his hand lingered for a moment before dropping back to his side. He didn't so much as glance at you, but you noticed the tick in his jaw as the elevator reached the destined floor. One after another, people filed out.
Just as you moved to slip past Zayne, his fingers caught the mid-section of your ponytail and yanked it hard. You barely swallow the yelp that crawls up your throat, eyes widening a fraction as Zayne doesn't let go. Instead, he steps forward, iron grip still on your hair.
Your scalp stings slightly from where he had tugged, the pain sending a new wave of arousal straight into your abdomen. The doors nearly shut on the two of you before his free hand shot out to stop them. Leaning down in the process, his breath warm as he presses his lips to your ear. Two words were all you needed to hear.
"Behave yourself."
Since we wanna act all crazy n shit mid-day @zaynezone
Sometimes you just have no idea what Zayne is thinking.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
His tone gives nothing away. It’s merely a statement of a fact, one that makes you blink in surprise.
“I…yeah. It’s comfier than all my clothes.” It’s not the only reason, and you’re sure Zayne knows that.
You slip into bed, but when you turn to look over at him he’s no longer reading him book. Instead, he’s staring at you.
In a way that you definitely know what he’s thinking.
“Are you tired?” He murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, softly at first, but then grows a little needy.
“Nope. But I have to ask…is it the shirt?” You smile a little into the kiss, the expression only growing when the curve of his ears begins to grow red.
“It looks good on you.” He admits, shifting so he can settle between your legs. His hands run over your body, slowly inching the shirt up.
“I wear it when I miss you. Your trip was so long this time.” You can’t stop the longing in your voice, and it makes Zayne pause his actions.
“I know. I’m sorry I was away. Perhaps I should take one of your shirts with me the next time I go.” His thumb rubs the skin of your thigh, leaving his true meaning unspoken.
“I can spray one of my plushies with my perfume? Then you can cuddle it and pretend it’s me.” You smile to lighten the mood, and it clearly works given the quiet huff of laughter. Zayne leans closer, suddenly squeezing you in a hug.
You barely waited for your apartment door to close fully before you tugged him toward you, grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his. Valko, momentarily caught off guard, kissed you back immediately, pinning you against the door. He gasped against your mouth as his hand reached up to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.
The room filled with the sound of breathless kisses. You grazed your teeth across his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his skin, only for him to impatiently pull your face back to his so he could continue tasting you.
A subtle whine left his throat when you pulled back from his hold.
“Wait, val– Do you have protection?”
The wolf boy’s ears instantly perked up, snapping on high alert, and his previously frantic tail went completely still.
“Protection?” He spun around to face the inside of your apartment, chest heaving. “Why what’s in here? I have a gun.” He scanned the room, looking around like he was trying to pinpoint where the danger was hiding.
Your jaw dropped, a small, amused huff escaping your lips. “Val- that’s not what I- wait, why do you have a gun?”
