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Celebrating season 2 release🎐

“THE COLONEL AND THE NURSE”

Military Archive Record No. 2734A — Circa Final Offensive, WWVI Colonel Caleb Xia — 5th Skyborne Division, Commander of the Farspace Fleet, DAA Fighter Pilot | KIA, Unrecovered Field Nurse Y/N L/N — Combat Medic, 3rd Allied Medical Corps | Survivor, Honorably Discharged Stationed: Underground Military Base, Zone A-9 Classification: Public Display Approved / Declassified Archive

from the colonel series.

suo lets you scream and rage at him as he watches, patiently, one ankle resting atop his knee. when you’re done, he spreads his legs, wide, and beckons you forward.

he’s always hard as steel, the bulge in his slacks jumping.

you’re never allowed to use your hands, or even your teeth. he makes you nose at his clothed cock like a dog, sucking on the fabric of his pants until his crotch is a lewd mixture of pre-cum and spit.

you never know when suo is satisfied, not until you feel his firm grip on your chin and his command to give him the panties you’ve soaked through.

with careful deliberation, he folds your ruined underwear. his long fingers cup your face; his thumb pries your mouth apart.

“open wide, sweetheart.” and then he stuffs your panties between your lips, eyes gleaming in triumph when he hears the ruined groan trapped in your throat. “i think we’ve heard enough from your pretty mouth tonight, don’t you?”

he thumbs away the drool already gathering at the corner of your lips, eyes skating down your body. you jump when he palms your pussy, thighs clamping around his wrist to hold him in place. suo just laughs.

“i think I’ll talk to her for a while while you remember how to behave.”

Okay sir relax, omg.

I'm very normal about Sylus's exposed chest/abs why do you ask

roommate!sukuna who is having a really hard time with you his new roommate. he thinks he should be offended at this rate. did you think he was gay? what other reasoning could there be for the way you act and dress infront of him. he knew for a fact that when you left the house this morning you had on a cardigan buttoned right to the top. and yet you walked into his room on your way in to show him your new nails and all that covered you was a tiny pair of shorts and a thin tank top with the lace of your bra peeking through.

“kuna looooook i got polka dots and a new shape, do you like them?”

how was he supposed to focus on your nails when your tits were practically in his face, pushed together due to the way you were positioned.

‘yeah brat they’re nice, and it’s cold put some clothes on.’

‘i’m not colddd’ you sing songed on your way out.

and this may not sound so bad, but there was also the time you had gotten your shirt mixed up with his in the wash. and when he had asked you if that was his shirt you were wearing you simply said Oops! and proceeded to take it off then and there infront of him. and only when he saw the bottom of your breasts did he realize you weren’t wearing a bra. he had managed to turn around in time and was perplexed at why you would strip infront of him with the biggest smile on your face. you weren’t even trying to be seductive you were just you. and he was beginning to be offended. why weren’t you attracted to him. he was insanely attracted to you. everytime you plopped down next to him on the couch for your movie nights in your tiny shorts or just plain underwear he’d have to cover his lap with a cushion at the immediate semi. everytime you mouthed off to him he had to convince himself not to put you over his knee. and when you napped in his bed instead of yours and sprawled your legs out as if you owned the place with one of your stupid plushies brought along with you and his pillow shoved between your thighs. that, he wasn’t so mad about however, sometimes it still smelt like you when he was touching himself at night with the thought of your soft body fresh in his mind.

you were frankly becoming a pain in the ass and he was ready to sort it out.

a/n: not proofread sorry. also starting my jjk men as roommates drabbles, feel free to send in suggestions! :) PART TWO OUT HERE

Your husband Sukuna would never admit that if he died at this very moment, he'd die an extremely happy and fulfilled man.

Because the sight of you wearing nothing but his large black haori was probably the only taste of heaven he will ever experience in his wretched existence.

You sat near the parted shoji screen leading to his (and now yours too) personal garden, humming softly while you ran a comb through your hair. Your eyes were closed in content as you basked in the soft morning glow which did nothing but accentuate your beauty in his eyes.

You opened your eyes and noticed he was awake, gazing at you from his spot on the large futon you both shared. You smiled warmly.

"Good morning, love."

"Hm."

He, albeit reluctantly, tore his gaze away from you because he felt that if he stared at you any longer, you'll see a side of him he's too reluctant to show even you.

You smiled knowingly at him. Your attention went over to the garden then.

"I think the garden needs tending and a new set of flowers. Shall I call Aiko the gardener? I believe she has arrived back to the temple this morning after taking care of her sister during her pregnancy—"

Pregnancy

And then Sukuna had an image flash before his eyes.

Of you on the exact spot, dressed the same way in his black haori, smiling the same way and gazing at him the same way.

Except your stomach was round and swollen with his child. Of you tenderly and lovingly resting your hand against it.

Of you being completely and utterly his.

"—Also I think we should—"

"Get over here, wife."

You blinked. "What—"

"I said get over here now."

He had absolutely no intentions of letting you leave the bedroom today.

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

BUCKET LIST ౨ৎ K.SAIKI X READER

in which the teacher pairs you up with saiki to complete your bucket lists together for a project . what he doesn't know is that you're sick due to an illness and dying (literally) to complete everything on your list.

01. first and last day [REWRITING]

02. first and last day pt.2 [REWRITING]

03. rocky start [REWRITING]

04. why'd you have to be so complicated? [REWRITING]

05. cookie dough gone [REWRITING]

06. light it up [REWRITING]

07. jelly jelly [REWRITING]

08. sour & sweet [REWRITING]

09. do you think it makes sense ? [REWRITING]

10. i guess this could be worse

11. "kusuo"

12. lies

young, tall, slender, and stupid-in-love simon riley, who’s first mission was to bring you back to the base like a fucking package. the task force had never negotiated with captives on the line, but there’s a first time for everything.

with a sack over your head and your hands tied behind your back, a gruff man yelled out in the rain pouring down above you.

“you’ve got such a perky set for someone so fucking whiny”

“fuck you” you spat, the man wasted no time to grab the sack by his closed fist and yank it clean off your head.

the masked man stared directly into your eyes, his were dark, lit by lust and pure fire. the rain pouring around you did nothing to put a stop to his stare, but as you stared back, his demeanor changed by a singular degree.

“you better watch your fucking mouth,” he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed, causing a raspy squeal to escape your lips, “or i might just have to leave your pretty ass here”

you squirmed underneath the weight of his hand, “be better then going with you.”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” simon dragged you by the throat to the ajar car door like a kitten, “just get in the fucking car” he followed behind you, managed to sneak a squeeze from your ass as he hauled in.

simon riley, who makes himself comfortable with you perched on his lap for the duration of the long car ride. your rain-soaked shirt was torn off hours ago, and simon’s lips haven’t managed to get enough of your pretty nipples.

“mmph, such a pretty pup for letting me - fuckk - letting me taste you”

his hands grabbed and squeezed everywhere - your hips, your ass, that pretty belly of yours.

“too bad you’re such a brat”

you grind your hot cunt on his length in retaliation and moaned, “you like it”

simon’s lips crashed onto yours out in an instant, swallowing your breath and any further remarks. you fisted his mask and tore it off completely before threading your fingers through his dirty blonde hair and tugging.

“ungh, fuck you, takin’ off my mask like you own me.”

you snickered into the kiss as his hand snuck under the waistband of your pants.

“want you to own me, pretty.”

Simon tests his new tongue piercing out on you, his sweet roommate

With too much free time on his hands— literally. Simon was going stir-crazy. Breaking his arm on a mission three weeks ago had landed him a two-month break, and he still had a long way to go.

But you, his sweet roommate, made it bearable. Even signed his cast in pretty cursive, dotting a little heart next to your name. To which that night, he jerked off to the sight. Your name staring back at him while he imagined you beneath him. Though it was frustratingly unsatisfying, given that he’d broken his dominant hand. Writing, eating, taking care of himself— everything was a struggle now. But he couldn’t complain too much, not when you were there to help without a word, making sure he ate, doing the little things he refused to ask for. Your cooking alone was enough to make him consider breaking a leg next time— maybe throw in a collarbone and a broken rib, just to have you fuss over him a little longer.

But boredom was a hell of a thing. And eventually, it led to impulse decisions. Like getting a tongue piercing.

He wasn’t exactly sure why, just knew it’d be easy enough to hide when he got back to work. So it didn’t exactly matter.

And when you noticed it, curious little thing, eyes locked on him while he grabbed a soda from the fridge. He’d almost forgot about it. Until you asked, and he smirked, told you about it, and before you knew it, you were naked on the couch, legs spread, moaning his name as his tongue lapped at your pussy. the cool metal against your clit making you shudder.

He pocketed your pink panties when you weren’t paying attention. Something to look forward to for when the cast finally came off. When he could wrap a fist around his cock and jerk off properly to the thought of you.

Though, as it turned out, he didn’t need to wait that long.

Because the next day, you came to him, all innocent eyed with quiet need, wanting more than just his tongue. And that? That he’d gladly give you.

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

Simon Riley who never gets mad at his wife. No matter how angry he is. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon was practically fuming. First he'd been ordered by Price to train a group of new recruits, then, the young recruits decided to be a colossal pain in the ass, and to top it off, he'd missed his lunch break where he would normally have some respite by calling you.

So now, he was shouting at the recruits. More than usual. The recruits all looked dead on their feet. But Simon didn't care, they decided to be annoying little pricks. They needed discipline or they'd never make it in the military.

"For fucks sake, you mongrel! Run ten laps!" Simon roared at a recruit, the others looking nervous. Not wanting to be the next one to face Simon.

"Uh, sir?" One of the recruits squeak.

"What?!" Simon roared, the recruit pointing behind Simon.

Simon turned with a low growl, clearly not in the mood for anymore antics, only for him to look down and see you. His wife, in a pretty little sundress and holding a Tupperware container full of something. It didn't matter what was inside, his stomach was growling at the thought of your cooking.

"Swee'heart" Simon sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing and his arms wrapping around your waist. He relished in the squeak that came from you as he lifted you up and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"You alright, big guy?" you giggle. Simon grumbling in agreement. Making you laugh again.

Simon set you down, barking at the recruits to find Price and that he'll be taking over the training, before walking behind you with his hands on your waist to guide you to his office.

"Si, if you're busy I can go" you offer, and Simon can barely handle how fucking sweet you are to him.

Simon shook his head, taking off his balaclava and sitting in his office chair. Pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Made you some cottage pie" you grin, opening the container in your hands and handing it to Simon. God it was still warm. "I thought you were gonna yell at me with how mad you were at the recruits"

"Would never yell at you, princess" Simon said, rubbing your hips as you fed him a forkful of the cottage pie. He groaned at the taste, making you giggle.

"good?"

"so fucking good, lovie. Needed your cooking after how shit today has been" Simon smiled, bringing your left hand to his lips and kissing your wedding ring gently.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

btw guys I pulled white lily cookie and dark cacao cookie while writing this :p

Please please please 🥺🥺🥺..uour rafayel links were so good! It was just perfectly him! The aesthteics the vibe.. omgh.. *faints*

Pls can we have more when you're free👉👈

~ Love&Deepspace

pls don’t read this if you don’t like porn links please know that the characters are up to age meaning they are either adults or teen ages 18-19

~ Caleb

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~ 𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧

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~ 𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚

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~ 𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡

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~ 𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨

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𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑁𝑎𝑔𝑎

Warning: sexual content, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, eggs, kidnapped, biting (twice), possessive, dirty talk, two cocks, big cocks, calls you "human" and "little human".

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Yandere Naga who used to live in the forest like a king (no. not really) until he was captured and brought to a nature reserve.

Yandere Naga who doesn't like humans at all, always lets out threatening hisses and tries to attack the caretakers who enter his territory to leave him food or clean up his messes.

Yandere Naga who had already planned creative ways to get rid of his new caretaker (just like he did with the last ones) but what he doesn't expect is that it would be such a cute and delicious thing.

Yandere Naga who stares at you when you enter his territory to clean the place and leave him food, he narrows his yellow eyes, his pupils contract into thin slits and sticks out his forked tongue to taste the air —your smell... you smell delicioussss... like a mate...

Yandere Naga who from that day on stares at you every time you enter his territory lying on his rock, his eyes follow all your movements, he acts docile around you without hissing at you or trying to attack you, which causes the other caretakers to congratulate you for achieving the impossible, for making him adapt to you so quickly...

Yandere Naga who manages to identify at what moment you have your fertile cycles and creates a plan to make you his partner and mother of his offspring, he only needs to catch you off guard when you enter his cage for your daily chores, he must act when the other caretakers are not around.

Yandere Naga who can execute his plan with relative ease thanks to the fact that he became more "tame" that made everyone around lower their guard including you, one day when you enter his cage to clean he slides towards you quickly and wraps his tail around you tightly sliding quickly into the interior of his cave.

He drops you onto a nest made of branches, leaves and what look like old blankets, a clear attempt to make the place more comfortable, without giving you time to analyze what's happening he slides towards you, getting between your legs, his scales brushing the fabric of your pants and he sticks out his forked tongue sniffing the air before speaking.

"Your delicious rubber... like ripe fruit, I want to take a good bite out of you..."

"Wait! Wait! You can't do this! The other caretakers will notice that I'm not there, they'll come looking for me and when they find me they'll take me outside, they'll punish you if you do anything to me!"

Your voice tries to be firm but it's clearly shaky, he looks at you with his yellow eyes that narrow a little at your words, he hisses leaning over you until his face is right in front of yours, your breaths mix and he stares into your eyes without blinking, his words make your blood run cold.

"I will kill anyone who dares to come here to try to take you away from me. I will crush them until their bones break and their eyes pop out of their sockets, you are mine human~"

He hisses softly when your warm hands rest on his cold chest trying to push him away from you in a panic, he smiles at your fighting attitude and although I wish I could see more of that attitude unfortunately you are right that the other caretakers will start looking for you when they notice your absence so he must be fast, he grabs your head firmly tilting your neck to the side he opens his mouth and leans down sinking his sharp fangs into your soft neck making you let out a moan, he uses the aphrodisiac in his venom to make me more submissive and to make your body go crazy.

"What did you do..? Are you going to kill me..?"

"What?! Kill you?! Of course not! It's an aphrodisiac, it won't kill you, it will just make your body loosen up so it can receive my cocks, silly human~"

He smiles playfully as his venom quickly takes effect, he can feel your body heat skyrocketing, he sticks out his forked tongue which writhes as he smells your excitement permeating the air in the cave, he sees you writhing beneath him clearly uncomfortable and in pain from the effect of the aphrodisiac, he coos at you as he proceeds to quickly remove that ugly and rough uniform you're wearing and does the same with your underwear, his eyes studying your flushed naked body.

"Such a pretty human~ you smell so fertile I can't wait to lay my eggs inside you~"

"It hurts... please–"

He smiles as you can only whimper shakily, he rubs your dripping cunt his slender fingers tracing circles on your wet bud delighting in the way you shudder and your breathing becomes more labored, willing to not waste any more valuable time his scales seem to part and two terrifyingly large cocks reveal themselves making you shudder despite your daze but he chuckles as he takes one of his cocks in his hand bringing it closer to your swollen cunt.

"Don't be afraid human, your body was made to receive my cocks, you will enjoy it~"

He lets out a deep hiss as he slides his fat cock into your pussy, fascinated by the warmth of your insides that embraces him deliciously. You, on the other hand, are left breathless as you feel his cock stretching your poor walls as far as it will go, making its way into your channel, and the sensation is a confusing mix of pain and pleasure that makes you want to cry. He hits bottom and you feel his cock deep inside your uterus while his other cock rests on your stomach, staining it with precum.

"You feel so warm human~ I've never felt anything like this with any woman of my kind, I knew you and I were destined~"

He hisses and without giving you time to think he starts to thrust into you over and over again he pulls out his cock leaving just the tip inside before thrusting into your pussy again with a hard thrust, the sound of his thrusts and your moans fill the cave echoing off the walls, your pussy squirts on his cock and you feel dizzy at the delicious sensation his cock gives you, his scales scrape your thighs but that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock hits your cervix over and over again without slowing down or showing mercy, you're reaching the top when suddenly he stops making you let out a pitiful moan but he silences you with a playful hiss.

"Don't worry human you'll reach your climax~ but first I have to fit both of my cocks inside you~"

He laughs as you just let out a pathetic "uh..?" too fucked out to think, he pulls his cock out of your tight pussy leaving just the tip before guiding his other cock inside, both of his members slowly entering your pussy making you arch your back and let out a high pitched cry, you feel as if an arm is being shoved into your battered pussy, he senses your discomfort so he begins to rub tight circles on your mound trying to relax you, when he bottoms out your eyes roll back in your head, he takes a moment before he begins to slowly move as your walls squeeze him so hard.

"You're too tight on me— I'll give you some more of my venom to relax you human, that'll help us out a lot"

He wastes no time in leaning down to your neck biting just above the mark of his other bite, he injects you with a larger amount of aphrodisiac poison than before which causes the effect to be instantaneous, he feels your walls loosen little by little and your juices begin to drip making a mess and then you can't help but smile as he begins to move again, his cocks ram into you mercilessly he grabs your hips to hold you better while he listens to the high pitched moans that escape from your open mouth the erotic sight makes him move faster.

"That's it~ you take me so well little human~ keep it up~"

He praises you even though he's not sure you're listening to anything he's saying, he still keeps moving non-stop admiring the bulge that forms in your stomach every time he thrusts into you, his heads hitting your bruised cervix over and over again feeling himself getting closer to the limit he can feel you getting closer too by the way your pussy tightens on his cocks, he can feel your walls throbbing and a few seconds later you cum your juices dripping down wetting his cocks and scales, your pussy tightens him like a vice which takes him to the limit he gives you a few erratic thrusts until he cums inside you deep inside your pussy.

"Yessss~ very good little human~ take my eggs!~ keep my offspring inside this womb and give me beautiful children~"

Your nails dig into his arms when you feel something round the size of a tennis ball slide from one of his cocks into your uterus that stretches painfully to receive it, eggs. You sob when another egg follows the same path and another, another, another. You lose count of how many eggs he lays inside you, you can't do anything but receive them, when he finishes laying eggs his other cock fills you with sperm, you stay like that for a while when he pulls out you are sore, tired and uncomfortably full, your belly is so big it seems like you are nine months pregnant, he wipes the tears from your cheeks and kisses your lips looking into your eyes.

"Don't cry little human, you did very well I'm very proud of you. I put all my eggs in your womb and fertilized them I'm sure all of them will gestate without any problem... in a few months you'll be a mother, but for now sleep little human, I'll be here when you wake up~"

Exhausted and unable to do anything else you obey, you close your eyes and let Morpheus' arms wrap around you, he watches with adoration as your chest rises and falls gently, he decides to lie down next to you, he pulls you to his firm chest and wraps his tail around you protectively enjoying your body heat, the tip of his tail caresses your swollen belly and he murmurs in a dark voice.

"I will protect you and our young with my life, I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me or tries to hurt any of you, it's a promise my little human~♡."

Dress-up challenge with Sukuna that I did on Twitter

ꪆৎ Caleb, who fucks you in a mean headlock in the middle of your little date — now ruined because of your bratty attitude.

# tws: n/sfw, rough s.ex, degradation, mean!caleb, headlock (duh), he calls himself gege like once, im horrible at writing accents forgive me pls + etc. ik this is very short and self indulgent .. i just needed to get it out of my head.

“I take s-some time off of work t-to— fuck! s’tight baby— take my girl on a cute lil’ date and she fuckin’ r-ruins it by runnin’ her little m-mouth off at me?” Caleb growled into your ear, hips smacking against your ass as his abs pressed against your sweaty back.

“O-oh, Caleb!” You whined before your eyes widened as you felt his arm warp around your throat— effectively trapping you in a headlock. Your gummy walls clenched down on his cock at the pressure of his arm pressing against your throat — not enough to hurt, but to make you lightheaded.

“Dumb f-fuckin’— shitshitshit s’good!— would’ve spoiled ya i-if you didn’t act like a d-damn brat,” he hissed, hips speeding their up their pace, clapping against the plump flesh of your ass with each thrust. Caleb bit down on the curve of your neck, arm still wrapped around your throat as he whined into your ear, “w-would’ve ate your cute pussy out ‘n everythin’..” you gasped as he slipped his free hand down to rub at your clit, the cold metal making your pussy gush around his fat cock. Fuck, your cunt was practically milking him dry.

Caleb’s grip tightened around you, another growl escaping his chest, “but no, you wanted to act like a fuckin’ bratty little princess instead. Now your poor pussy is paying the price, yeah?” He flicked his mechanical thumb at your clit— making you pant and claw at the arm around your throat.

He grinned, a mischievous expression lacing his handsome features as he whispered in your ear— “but I know you like it… like being fucked like a slut by your gege’s big cock, hmm?”

note.. hi 😇 been a while

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི His⋆♱⋆Affliction ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

snyopsis: The vampire Alucard finds an injured traveler at his doorsteps, and nurses her back to health. Though what happens during your recovery is woefully unexpected, but intrinsically welcomed.

tags: porn w/plot (rare for me lmao), he fell first but you fall harder type trope, yearning, pining, slow burn (i tried), passionate, penetration, cunnalingus, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, marking, biting, bloodletting, creampie, praise, usuage of “darling”, “dear”, “da draga mea” (“yes my dear” in romanian). L bomb gets dropped bc yk what, hell yeah?, pathetic alucard bc absolutely yes

word count: 11.5k wowza

a/n: a true passion project i love you alucard THANK YOU @cosmicporos for helping me with ideas for this fic mwah and also @eridanusco for informally requesting LMAO. Also sorry i dont know how to end fics pls let me live guys pls i tried :(

(click the title for a playlist! I listened to it a billion times when writing this)

Sounds of a distance neigh grew closer and closer to the ear of the blonde dhampir- who sat desolate inside cold walls. Your loyal steed, galloped you to the tall castle doors, pacing back and forth, whining for attention until The Alucard finally came down and took your lumbering body inside, and your horse to the stable of course, he’s not a monster…as much as he beleive so.

After what seemed to feel like a coma, you open your eyes to the stinging rays of sunlight that pass your eyelids; Waking up to a room unfamiliar and a man even moreso.

Alucard sat in a wooden chair that smelled of the same cedar he tended the fire with.

As the scent and the sight hit your senses, you rustled up and back into the corner of the walls in a hurried panic.

Alucard's eyes widened a bit, surprised by your wake. He gently placed his occupying book down and slowly got up from the chair, holding his hands up as if to show you he meant no harm.

"Easy, easy now...calm down. You're safe."

“Who the hell are you-“ you question in fright at his fanged teeth.

He gave a slight frown, eyes shifting a bit as he studied you.

“This is my home, your wounds…you’ve been here just short of a day.”

He explained, keeping his distance to not further frighten you- pointing to your abdomen.

“You're- a vampire?!!”

He chuckled slightly, not amused by the fear in your eyes but understanding your reaction”

"Half vampire, actually” He went on, “But I mean you no harm, you have my word."

“You could be lying”.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation in his voice at the accusation

"You'll have to trust me on that, won't you? If I wanted to hurt you, I could've done so long ago. You were passed out and bleeding on your horse's back."

Realization hit you, his arms crossing over his chest as you stay silent in protest.

"You were quite injured, I patched you up the best I could and kept you in this room to rest. Please allow me to heal you back to health completely.”

You stay in the corner of the bed with your hands clutched onto the thick fur blanket. You give him a nod, accepting his proposal, although reluctantly.

He nods back, sensing the fear and uncertainty radiating off of you but appreciative that you aren’t too stubborn.

"It would've been wrong to leave you to bleed out in the woods." He said, slowing returning to the fire and book.

“I didn’t know vampires had morality.” You retort, slipping out of your mouth without much thought.

He but only chuckles, you can almost hear his smile as he speaks, low and soft.

“I’ve had my share of…distasteful humans. But your horse made a good case for you, you know.”

You have to almost stop a smile- becoming more comfortable by the second with his seeming civility.

Not too comfortable, though, feeling the bandages around your waist.

He looks back and sees you touching them through your shirt.

“Can I see them?” He asks, walking closer to you now with a voice of concern.

You nod.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch you unnecessarily, reaching out and gently unwrapping the bandages, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed the wounds beneath.

You wince slightly at the cool air hitting your broken skin, your stomach flexing inwards and your lungs expanding.

He pauses for a moment as you flinch, his eyes flicking up to your face.

"I'm sorry, I'll be gentle," he says softly before continuing to unwrap the bandages, revealing the cuts and gashes on your body. His expression hardened again as he took in the extent of your injuries, his fingers tracing lightly over the wounds, gentle and steady.

“How do they feel?” He asks, taking all the bandages off and reaching to the nightstand for more.

“Fine” You reply.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I can sense your emotions, you know. And you're not very good at hiding them."

You feel your brows contort into irritation, you dont even know what for- maybe your innate distrust.

"What, you're mad that I can read you so easily?" He replied with a smile, enjoying your annoyed expression a little more than he thought.

“It's a bit annoying…” You say, raising your brows, with a sprinkle of sass.

He smirked again, his lips playful.

"Well, I'm sorry if it's annoying. But you're quite expressive. It's hard not to notice when you look like that.”

“Like what-?” You retort.

“That.” He replies quickly, making you swallow your words.

You watch as he redresses your wounds, taking his time to wrap the bandages around your waist and stomach.

You take that time to look at his face more carefully than before- being this close to a vampire wasn’t something you think you’d live long enough to be able to observe like this.

You noticed his light amber hair, his yellow eyes and long lashes that gave him an epicene charm. You couldn’t keep your curious eyes from wandering over his features, he smelled like oud and iron.

When he was done, you looked out toward the open window, the sill swaying back and forth as the wind dance.

“How long will they take to heal?” You ask as you look back down at his hands.

"It depends. The wounds were quite severe, so it may take a while for them to fully close. The medicine should accelerate the healing process, but it's not instantaneous.”

“Okay- well, if it's fine i'll return to my town then by tomorrow.”

His expression shifted to surprise at your statement.

"You want to leave already? You're not fully healed yet, it's not safe for you to go back out there. They could open, get infection, you could get-“

“I don't wish to bother you any longer- you've already helped me enough.” You state. You’ve been quite wary about vampires- raised to practically believe they were spawns of hell itself.

He raised an eyebrow, his surprise quickly replaced by a hint of irritation

"Bother me? Nonsense. You're a guest in my home, and I don't intend to just let you wander off into danger when you're just as injured as when I found you.”

“It's still an inconvenience…”

He lets out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're insufferable, you know that?” It's not an inconvenience. You're my responsibility now, whether you like it or not.”

You let out an equally annoyed huff, but you don’t bother to object anymore, clearly stuck and indefensible.

“Fine”. You breathe out.

He gave you a firm nod, satisfied that you had agreed to stay.

"Good. You'll stay here until you're fully healed. I won't have you running off and getting yourself killed out there."

He watched you as you settled back into bed, his expression softening slightly

"I'll be back to check on you later. Try not to do anything reckless while I'm gone." He says, walking out the door.

“Wait!” You shout.

He pauses in the doorway, turning to look at you.

"Yes?"

“What’s your name?”

“Alucard”, is what you hear before the shut of the door.

You hear his descending footsteps on the floor of the castle, plopping your head back into the goosefeather pillows as you stared at the brick ceiling, trying to get comfortable again, as much as you could considering your circumstance.

Hours had passed, and sleep didn’t miss you on its way.

Alucard had come back to your room, opening it after not hearing any confirmation at his soft knocks.

He saw your sleeping state and moved quietly as to make sure sure not to disturb you, scanning over your form, taking note of your condition and whether you were in any pain or discomfort even if your unconsciousness.

He leaned over and placed a hand on your forehead, checking for a fever or sweats.

After making his observations, his eyes lingered on your hair, fingers carefully brushing against a few strands as he withdraws his hand.

He found himself captivated by the color and texture, a hint of curiosity flickering within as the sunlight filtered through the window and casted a warm glow over your skin, the smooth contours of your face and neck.

He looked at your physiognomy in almost jealously, envious of your humanness. The feeling of your warm skin coursing with blood that hadn’t yet gone through the process of death. He brushed his knuckle softly against your cheekbone but quickly removed it once he felt you slowly stir away.

You crack your eyes open and flutter your flashes as the setting sun pokes at your lids again.

“Is it evening already?”

He nods, his voice low and quiet, walking around the corners of the room to light the candles scattered around to offer some light before the moons arrival.

"Yes, it's getting late. You've been asleep for quite a while."

You let out a long drawn yawn and attempt to sit up near the headboard.

He watches, eyes tracking your every move. He can see the pain and stiffness in your movements, a pang of guilt tugging at him for not being able to do anything for you in that moment.

"Careful," he murmurs, voice taint with concern. "You're still injured, remember? You shouldn't be sitting up yet. Let your body heal."

“I can't just sleep all day.”

"Yes, you can”…He continues, trying to push through without the conversation. “You're still recovering. You need to take it easy and let your body heal itself. Sleeping is the best way to do that." He crosses his arms over his chest, a hint of frustration in his voice over your seemingly unmovable persistence.

You frown at his scolding, crossing your arms back.

"What's with the pout? You look like a petulant child."

You scoff, leaning your head back and mouth slightly agape.

“That's rude...”

He chuckles, a smirk growing at your response.

"Is it? I was merely stating the truth.

You're acting like a spoiled brat who doesn't want to listen to their caretaker."

“I'm just tired of sleeping so much...”

“Well I can’t just let you run around and frolick can I?”

You pout again, knowing he’s right but not wanting to agree out of…pettiness.

He shakes his head and sighs, “Stay here, I’ll bring you some food”.

“Yeah sure i’ll stay! No problem Doctor!” You say with fringed enthusiasm. “Can’t really go run and frolick can I…?” You mumble after.

“I heard that.” He says as he walks out, making you chuckle a bit.

As you wait, your stomach growls even more, wondering what kind of food you’ll be given. With all the wealth and luxury displayed in just the small portion of the castle you’ve been limited to witness- you had set your expectations high….unfortunately.

He comes back not more than an hour or so later- hair tied up in a low messy bun and what seems to be flour on his pants.

You see Alucard bring in a tray of a small loaf of bread and a bowl of what smelled like plain chicken stock, small floating pieces of carrot.

He sits down next to the bed, putting the tray on the edge of the bed before helping you sit up just a bit so you could eat.

You look at him and then the food- the silence and your inactive made him scoff.

“Are you hands broken all of a sudden? Do you need me to feed you?” He says bluntly, raising his brows in disbelief of your shamelessness.

You gave him a shrug and innocent expression smile- but he lets himself fall to your poorly executed manipulation.

He tears a piece of the what you can only imagine is some kind of buckwheat bun, as he dips it into the plain soup.

“Fattening me up so you can eat me?” You say as the soup soaked bread moves closer to your mouth.

He rolls his eyes and holds it closer to you to take a bite.

Before you open your mouth to accept the bread, you catch a wiff of the smell and…your head tilts away swiftly.

“Oh gods- you don’t even need to fatten me that’s gonna kill me first!” You say as you shake your head.

“What? Stop being dramatic. It’s just bread, here” He says, tilting your head back toward his face and the bread.

“Where did you get that? Did my horse produce it?!”

Alucard furrows his brows and scoffs.

“I made this…it took a while by the way.”

Your eyes widen- not knowing if you should be surprised and touched that he attempted to make you food or if you should be alarmed at how horribly it went.

“Oh…”

He sighs, “Is it really that bad..? What do you humans even eat besides bread and beer?”

You scoot back a bit, creating a good distance away from the bread.

“Is this- just chicken stock?” You ask, trying to find any kind of compliment to give him.

He looks at you deadpanned, and you have to stifle a smile.

“I should have gave that carrot to the damn horse…” He mumbled before getting up to leave with the tray.

“Wait wait!” You laugh as you protested, waving your arms back up to urge him to stay.

“I’ll try it…since you went out of your way.”

He sighs, giving you another chance and placing the tray back on your lap.

You have to gather more courage than you might have ever before- taking the same piece of bread he tore and counting your blessing before putting it into your mouth.

Truthfully- the chicken stock made it somewhat bearable, masking the stale like gummy texture of the bread…and swallowing it before it could bother you too much.

Alucard watched at the bedpost, arms crossed as he observed your expression.

You look up at him after the first bite, tilting your head back and forth and twisting your arm to try and say it wasn’t too aweful.

He lets outs a chuckle and sits back down on the chair; occupying his earlier read as he waits for you to finish your meal.

As soon as you’re finished, he glances at the empty bowl and plate, a hint of relief in his eyes

"You ate everything, good. It's important to keep your strength up while you're recovering."

You simply nod, not wishing you further frustrate him over his cooking inability.

"Get some rest now. You need it."

He takes the tray and turns to leave, but once again hesitates at the door, as if his body screams at him to stay longer than needed.

Looking back at you; his eyes roaming over your face as if committing it to memory.

“I never got your name, now that I think about it. I think I’d like to know what to address you as.”

You hesitate for a moment- but it’s the least you could offer, formality wise.

“Y/n.” You respond.

He replies in almost a whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He smiles.

He won’t be going to bed anytime soon but he hopes your rest is committed.

“Goodnight, Alucard.”

Again is the shut of the door, and you know you won’t see him again til the next morning.

After he leaves the room, he stand in the hallway for a moment, lost in thought- he feels a heaviness in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. It’s been a long time since anyone has said his name at all- nor with as much tenderness and void of disdain as the way in which you spoke it.

The next day comes, much like the last in its configuration, just as the next few would likely follow.

Alucard comes in and moves quietly around, tending to the small fire in the hearth and tidying up a bit around your room; keeping his movements soft and silent, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere while you sleep.

He notices the moment you start to stir, his eyes flickering towards your sleeping figure on the bed. He watches you wake, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as he watches you blink sleepily.

“Goodmorning”, you hear from the vampire, chuckling as he sees you stretch. “Sleep well?”.

You reply with a nod, yawning greatly before giving him a “Mhm”.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him, glad that you were able to get some restful sleep. Moving closer to the bed, his eyes scan over you for any signs of discomfort.

"That's good to hear. How are you feeling? Any pain?"

You shake my head, truthfully feeling much lighter than the previous day. You sit up so you can present your wounds to him.

He nods in approval, satisfied assurance while he steps closer to the bed until he sits on the edge, gently reaching out to examine your wounds, his fingers lightly brushing over the bandages that cover your injuries and unwrapping you.

"They're healing well. You're lucky you didn't sustain any serious damage."

He relays, his palms trailing down your sides as he tries to feel for any swelling, and you seem to find your throat a bit dry.

He can hear you gulp, and he reluctantly pulls his hands away and starts to wrap you with new bandages, rolling your shirt back down.

“Thank you”, you reply, trying to fill the empty space between you two, even if it’s just verbal.

He pauses for a moment, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to thank him, and the sincerity in your voice catches him off guard.

He clears his throat again, trying to maintain his demeanor.

"You don't need to thank me. I'm just doing what I can to ensure your recovery."

You smile and nod, impressed by his humbleness.

“Do you think, I can go outside now?

Maybe for a walk.” You ask.

He hesitates, considering your request. Youve been confined to the room for almost a week now, and the thought of you getting some sun wasn’t the worst.

"Hm...I suppose it would be good for you to get some fresh air. But only for a little while. You're still recovering, so you shouldn't push yourself too much."

You smile even wider, glad that he wasn’t cruel or unreasonable.

“Thank you, will you join me?” You offer.

He feels his brows contort with confusion, but he can't help the small smile that follows.

"Me? You want me to go with you?"

“Well i've never been to this part of the country- i’m not so used to it.

He chuckles softly, finding your naiveté endearing

"I see. Very well, I'll accompany you on your walk." He replies, coming back to the edge of the bed and helping you up, putting out his forearm for you to hold yourself up with- making sure you don't stumble or fall.

"Take it slow. You might be a bit unsteady at first."

You hold on tight, feeling your limbs finally stretch out after hours of laying down with not much breaks.

He watches you carefully, his eyes following your every move. He notices the warmth of your hands on his arm, gripping and clinging to him so tight, and the closeness of your body sends a current through his body- and he finds himself putting a bit more effort into trying to push down the strange feelings that are bubbling up inside him, because of you.

"Easy there. Don't push yourself too hard."

Once he makes note of your posture, he slowly releases your arm, though keeping a hand hovering nearby, just in case you need support.

“Do you happen to have any clothes?” You ask, wanting to get into something more fresh compared to your tattered and messy clothing.

"Yes, I think I do. Stay here.” He says, quickly moving out of the room to retrieve them and arriving again only minutes later with a neatly folded stack of garments in his arms.

He hands them to you, his eyes flickering over your figure as he does so.

"These should fit you. Let me know if they don't."

You take the small pile with both hands and go to the washroom of your familiar room to change.

Alucard waited patiently outside the door, his mind racing as he imaged you changing inside- hearing the rustling of fabric and wanting to ask if you needed help but he didn’t want to overstep- didn’t want to make you suspect anything more of it all.

Desperately he tried to push the thoughts down into the back of his head, but they keep creeping up, making his heart race and his palms sweat a bit.

When you emerged back out in the clothes he gave you, his eyes almost widened, a faint melancholy in his gaze.

“What…you look like you want to say something.” You ask.

He looks back into your eyes as he’s snapped out of his thoughts.

“Sorry- sorry…no you look fine. It’s just that” He rambled on, “The clothes belonged to my mother, they suite you.”

Your brows rise at the information and your stomach drops a bit- feeling sorrow for him in his dark undertones. But you stay silent.

“Alright”, he continues, draping a red scarf around your neck.

“Keep this on, it’s cold in the mornings.” He says as he pulls your hair up from the scarf and lays it behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your ears slightly as he stands much closer now.

You only nod, allowing him to open the door and lead you out of the room for the first time.

When you step out of your enclosure of a room, you feel the smooth velvet carpet rolling out into the deep hallways of the ancient castle, soothing the soles of your bare feet as you walk alongside Alucard, looking around at the ceilings and the fixtures that adorn the home.

He watches as you take in the grandeur of the castle, a hint of pride in his eyes. He’s lived here for so long, but he sometimes forgets how impressive it must look to outsiders

"It's a bit much, I know. But it's been in my family for generations."

“No, it’s beautiful. Really.” You assure, taking everything in as you finally get to explore the place you’ve been locked up in.

He smiles again at your words, feeling a small swell of warmth in his chest. Expecting you like most people to be intimidated or scared by the castle's size and antiquity, but he can tell you seem genuinely impressed by it.

"Thank you. My father, Dracula, had it built many years ago. He desired opulence." He says with cadence.

As he explains more of the building’s interior, you both finally reach a exit. You can hear the chirping of birds and the wind on the other side as if a portal to an unexplored grove were near.

Alucard pushes the heavy doors open, revealing the sprawling gardens outside. The morning sun is casting a warm golden glow over the landscape.

The gardens- a riot of color, with blooming flowers and lush greenery filling every inch of space.

He watched as you step out into the grass. He can't help but find the sight of you barefoot in the garden endearing, your toes sinking into the soft earth as you breathe in the sweet spring air.

You open your eyes and look up, appreciating the sky from below opposed to the window from a distance as to which you were forced to do for the past few days.

Alucard, though, doesn’t follow your gaze. He instead can't help but admire the way the sun catches in your hair, and on your skin, making you look like you're glowing. A second, much more beautiful sun.

He finds himself staring for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty.

He also notices the way you hold the shawl closer to your body, and he wonders if you're cold or if there's something else you're trying to hide. He tries to resist the urge to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair out of your face again, wanting to feel just an atom of your being, as if to merge them with his.

He step closer, concern etched on his face

"Are you cold?"

You look back at him, your brows contorted and a soft look of vulnerability on your face.

“A little”, you admit.

He sees the goosebumps emerged on your soft and sunkissed skin, and he frowns slightly.

He takes the coat off his back, and drapes it over your shoulders

"Here, this should help." He says as he pulls you closer to him, your shoulders rubbing up as he keeps the draped jacket close around you, a bit too big but enough to warm you.

You give him an appreciative smile, and he returns one right back.

He watches you return your eyes back on the scenery, his gaze softening as he sees the way you admire the beauty of the world around you.

He’s seen this view countless times before, smelled the same air and felt the same breeze pass him by. But somehow, it seems more vibrant with you here with him now.

“Would you like to go back inside now?” You ask.

He shakes his head, not wanting the moment to end just yet.

"Not yet. Let's stay out here a little longer. Is that okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, happy that he’s willing to indulge you in just a bit more time outside.

You can’t help but feel his eyes glancing to you every now and then- and you try to ignore the urge to get closer to him.

Not for warmth, or because of the cold, or anything other than the flickering need to be closer to him.

Something entirely separate, something entirely unfamiliar.

After another few minutes, you two decide to come back inside to prevent any possibility of you catching a cold.

Alucard shows you a few more hallways and rooms along the way, pointing them onto and providing a little history lesson every now and then, not wanting to bombard you with his entire lifetimes worth of stories. When you arrive back at your room, he watches you settle back into the bed. A strange mix of emotions swirling within him. he wants to stay with you, but he knows he should give you some space.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment before speaking up again.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be around."

You smile and nod, “Thank you”. You whisper.

“Of course. I'll be in the library if you need me." He hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, but then he turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the room, leaving the door open this time- as if inviting you to join him.

Maybe you’re just thinking too much into it.

As he sits down on the wooden library chairs, trying to concentrate on the book in his hand and the ink that sticks to his quill, his thoughts keep drifting back to you, wondering what you're doing in your room and if you're comfortable.

He can't shake the feeling that he's being drawn to you like a moth to a flame- in an inseparable trap he set himself. His affliction.

Lost in his own mind, he snaps out of it as he hears a knock at the library door. He looks up, setting his book down to calls out.

"Come in."

You hear his command, opening the tall doors and peaking your head in to find him.

He looks up as you enter the space, his eyes widening slightly as you approach closer and walk down the sparse steps- secretly trying to hide the fact that he was thinking about you just seconds ago.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting you so soon.

Is everything alright?" He asks, feeling his heart suddenly accelerate.

“Yeah, sorry” You reply, handing him back his jacket, “you just forgot this”.

As he takes the jacket from you, his finger brushing against yours for a brief moment that he curses himself for not keeping it a second longer.

He looks at it for a moment before looking back at you.

"Ah, thank you. I didn't realize I had left it behind." He says in a more hoarse tone than usual.

You chuckle and nod, “I also didn't realize.” You say in a lighthearted tone.

He chuckles softly in return, his eyes locked on yours- Acutely aware of the way your scent fills the air around him, intoxicating him with its sweetness.

"I suppose I was too distracted this morning to notice."

He finds it harder and harder to resist the urge to reach out to you, to pull you closer to him with each growing second.

You break the short lapse of silence, your eyes trailing down to the desk full of books and sheets of freshly inked script.

“Reading?”

He also glances at the books on the table, trying to compose himself.

"Ah, yes. I was just doing some light reading. and annotation. Trying to take my mind off things." He says before looking back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. H can feel the tension between you growing, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions

“What, uhm- kind of things?” You ask, immediately feeling as if you overstepped.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should be honest with you. but he can't bring himself to lie.

"You." He speaks.

You nod, understanding as you touch your wound on your side- Assuming he’s referring to your injuries, knowing how much he cares to treat you. Pushing away the initial thoughts of affection, not wanting to get your hopes up.

He nods, a small sigh escaping his lips. He conflicts with himself- wanting to tell you every preoccupied thought he’s had of you since the moment he found you on the back of his horse.

"Yes, that. And other things." He slips in quietly.

“You should rest, you’re not well enough to be up for so long.” He says a bit more sternly.

You furrow your brows a bit in unease, wishing he elaborated.

“Right.” You respond plainly.

He sees the disappointment in your eyes and immediately regrets his words. He didn't mean to push you away, but he's afraid of letting his guard down, of getting too close to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated with himself

"I just... I don't want you to overexert yourself."

“It’s fine-“ You reply quickly, not wanting to invest more emotional energy into the exchange, exiting the library and walking back to your room, each step heavy and unrelenting as if your body rejects being away from him.

He watches your back as you leave, his heart sinking at the sound of your steps descending in volume. He wants to call out to you, to tell you to stay, but the words stick in his throat like a lozenge.

He sits there for a moment, frozen in place, before cursing himself under his breath. He knows he's messed up, but he's not sure how to fix it just yet.

Alucard remains in the library, pacing back and forth restlessly, still. He can't focus on anything, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

He curses himself for being so awkward and aloof, for not being able to express his feelings properly even if they aren’t all fleshed out and appropriate.

He wants to follow you, to make things right, but he's afraid of what might happen if he does. So he stays in the library, brooding and frustrated, feeling more alone than ever.

You on the other hand, stay cooped up in your room. Equally frustrated- pacing around the bed unaware of how similar you both seem to cope.

You stay until the sun sets, wondering if he’ll show anytime soon to check up on you like he has been- angrily ruffled into the bedsheets as you almost wish you never went to the library, wishing you just left it at the peaceful garden walk from this morning.

“Fuck it?” You think to yourself, just go. “Just get up…walk over to him and figure it out? Right?” What even is there to figure, maybe, you were just overthinking.

You put your hand on the doorknob, resting before you swing it open.

As you prepare to take the first step out your eyes widen at the sight of him right infront of you with his hand raised.

He freezes in his tracks, surprised to see you standing in the doorway. He hadn't expected you to open the door just as he was about to knock, and his face looking more pale than before, somehow.

He looks at you, heart racing as he takes in the sight- feeling a mix of relief and nervousness, unsure of what to say or do next.

“…Hi.” You break the silence.

He swallows hard, his palms feeling clammy. He forces himself to speak, his voice sounding hoarse and awkward

"Hey. I was just coming to check on you." He drew on.

“I was also going to find you.” You confess.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to be looking for him as well, his hopes rocking up.”

"Were you?"

“Yeah well- it's evening so I figured you'd want to check up on me again.” You sidetrack, dancing around the idea of anything else.

He nods, feeling a pang of guilt.

He had been avoiding you all day, and yet here you were, still thinking about him and his routine. Sure, he was too, but he hated the idea of burdening you with such heavy feelings in his care.

"Right, of course. I should've been more on top of it."

You nod, letting him into the room as you go to sit down on the bed as he follows you, his heart pounding in his chest. Why?

He can feel a tension between you two, one that’s been bubbling and thickening like a witches brew.

He tries to focus on the task at hand, but his mind keeps drifting to other things as he approaches you, his hand trying not to linger too long- prudent in his action.

He keeps his gaze clinical as he examines the wounds, rolling your shirt up and unwrapping the bandaged, but it's hard not to notice the softness of your skin beneath his fingers.

He gently touches the edges of the scars, his touch cautious as he checks for any signs of infection or irritation.

He’s aware of how close he is to you, how intimate the situation is, how for the past few days that he’s tried to ignore- scared of pushing himself onto you in any way.

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and it's making it difficult for him to concentrate as he can see you watching him.

He glances up at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment.

“You look worried....”

He looks up at you again, his expression serious.

"It's just... the scars are still a bit red. I'm worried about infection."

You nod, your expression also turning more stone.

He frowns, his fingers tracing the edges of the scars lightly.

"I'll have to keep a closer eye on them. Make sure they don't get worse."

You nod, wincing slightly as he touches them.

He immediately stops touching the scars, his expression softening.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He whispers.

“It's okay- it just stings a little”. You assure.

But he still feels a pang of guilt at the thought of causing you pain, even if it was accidental.

"I'll try to be more careful. I just want to make sure they're healing properly." He goes on, feeling himself open up more- wanting to tell you just how much he cares.

He wraps you back up in new dressing, rolling your shirt down again and leaning down toward you.

“Hold onto me, I’ll help you up.” He says softly, putting his arms around your back as you wrap yours around the back of his neck, holding into him for support as he helps you up onto your feet without too much trouble.

For just a moment your chests press up- but soon letting go.

Alucard steps back, not wanting to cross any lines- but gods is his mind absolute chaos right now.

The feeling of your body closer than it’s ever been- the feeling of almost embracing you was too much for him to handle.

You clear your throat, leaning back against the bedpost, “Earlier today...in the library...”, you go on.

He perks back up, “Yes? What about it?”

“I'm sorry if i seemed too insistent, you probably wanted to be alone”…

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't apologize. You didn't seem insistent at all. If anything, I found your curiosity endearing."

He sends you a smile, a softer look.

"And I must admit, it was nice to have some company in the library for once. I've been alone for so long that l've almost forgotten what it's like to talk to someone…”

You smile back, “Me too.”

He returns your easygoingness, “You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

“I'm not, it's making me feel better too.”

He chuckles, a bit deeper this time.

"I see. So you're not just a beautiful woman with a sharp mind, you're also honest."

“I hope to be”, you reply wittingly.

“Honesty is a rare quality, you know.

Most people will say anything to get what they want, or to avoid hurting your feelings. But you... you seem to speak your mind without a second thought…Especially about my bread.”

You roll your eyes place and scoff, “I’ll never hear the end of it from you.”

“I’m still hurt.” He says, feigning offense.

The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries, both reveling in the fact that your issues from earlier have been mended and quickly forgotten. Thankfully.

Alucard glances out the window, seeing the darkness of the night outside and hearing your yawn.

"It's late. You should probably get some rest, as much as I wish to keep talking.” He adds on quickly.

You nod, opening the door as he walks out into the doorway.

“Goodnight, dear.” He says politely.

You respond with a kiss on his cheek, quick and gentle.

“Goodnight.” You say with a soft smile, and and shut the door on his dumbfounded face.

He stands there for a moment, stunned by your unexpected kiss.

His hand comes up to touch the spot where your lips had been, a look of surprise and... something else on his face. He shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he turns and walks away, heading to his own room and recalling the experience with every step. He tries to tell himself that it was just a polite gesture, nothing more, but he can't help the way his heart flutters at the thought of your lips on his skin. He knows any semblance of sleep won’t be easy- not after your stunt.

You sleep deeply through the night and into first light, unable to hear Alucard knocking at your door.

He knocks a second time, a tray of breakfast food in his hands.

Upon your lack of response, he enters the room quietly, his eyes immediately going to your bed to check on your condition- smiling softly as he sees you still asleep, setting the tray of food on a nearby table.

He walks over to the bed, his footsteps light and quiet so as not to wake you. It’s almost noon, and he wants to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of extreme exhaustion- considering the irregular surplus of sleep.

He continues to watch your face- finding himself getting used to the peaceful sight of your sleeping form.

But he notices a look of distress on your face, becoming concerned. He sits down on the edge of the bed, observing intently, his eyes narrowing as he realizes you're having a nightmare of some sort.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should wake you up, but the conviction on your face convinces him to act.

"Hey...wake up." He gently shakes your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your terrors.

He watches as you rise up in a jerked motion- breathe quick and heavy, pupils dilated and expression that of terror.

He places a comforting hand on your back.

"Shh... it's okay. You're safe now. It was just a dream." He says as he rubs your back in soothing circles, his touch gentle and reassuring. He looks at you with concern, his eyes filled with worry

"You were having a nightmare... do you want to talk about it?"

“I don’t really remember it-“ You say in a defeated tone, more annoyed than anything.

"Okay. But if you do, I'm here to listen."

“Thank you”, you say with a faint smile, his hand now on your shoulder.

"Of course.“ He glances over at the tray of food he brought in.

"I brought you some breakfast. You should eat something. It’ll take your mind off it perhaps?”

You take the tray appreciatively, nodding but still disoriented.

He notices the slight change in your expression. He tilts his head slightly, studying your face.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit... dazed."

“Sorry- i'm just- still waking up”

He chuckles softly, amused by your sleepy state “It's alright. I understand."

He sits on the edge of the bed again, watching you pick up the food, satisfied that you're finally eating something.

He leans back against the headboard of the bed, content to just sit with you for a while.

"How are your wounds feeling today? Are they healing well?"

“Oh- yes I think so”, you say, putting the tray next to you and turning to face him, lifting your shirt up to let him examine them.

He runs his fingers gently over the healing cuts under your bandages, making sure they're not infected or still bleeding

"Good. They look like they're healing nicely. You'll probably be fully healed in a few more days."

“A few more days...alright”. You start to think to yourself, wondering what'll happen then- considering that you’ll have no need to stay here once you’re healthy.

He notices the look on your face, the slight furrow in your brow as you think to yourself. He lowers your shirt, his gaze fixed on you

"Is something wrong?”, he asks, getting closer to you as he tries to coax it out of you.

You simply shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow, not quite believing you. At all actually.

"You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?"

“I know…” You say, unconvincingly once again.

He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, his touch gentle and comforting

"You can trust me, you know. I won't judge you. I swear it.” He says with a gentle expression.

“Yeah- yeah I know.” You say quickly, your face developing a rouge at his sudden act of affection. Or maybe it was just- care, a polite gesture of friendship.

You go back to eating your breakfast, slipping your hand out of his.

Even while enjoying your morning meal, your stomach is heavy with the residual feelings of your nightmare- frustration that you can’t seem to remember what made you feel so ill.

“Do you ever get nightmares?” You ask Alucard.

He looks to face you- a bit unprepared for your question but honest.

“At times, they seem more like recollections than fantasies of my mind.”

You furrow your brows, looking done at your food and playing around with it.

“I can’t remember what I was even dreaming about- but it’s a strange feeling.”

You go on, opening up about the discomfort of your body.

He frowns, feeling a mix of sympathy and concern for you. He pulls you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could take it away from you."

You let out a surprised sound- hands hesitating to wrap around him.

He can feel your surprise, unrelenting. He holds you tightly against his chest, one hand gently stroking your hair

"It's okay," he murmurs softly.

"You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. Alright?”

You feel your brows scrunch up and your body lighten- as if he’s shared some room in his body for you to lay your afflictions bare. To take some of the pain from you and lock it away in himself.

With contemplation- you hug him back.

He holds you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head

"That's it," he murmurs. "Just relax. Let me hold you."

His words soothe you like a balm, mending together pensive feelings of melancholy you weren’t even aware of before.

You feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, sniffling before he gently rocking you back and forth as he tries to soothe you

"Shhh, it's okay. Let it all out," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness and compassion.

"I've got you," he continues.

You use every second to try and pull yourself up together- but he wraps around you close, holding you together as you fall apart in his arms.

He continues to whisper words of comfort, his voice low and soothing

"You're doing so well. Just keep breathing. In and out, that's it."

After a few minutes of much needed exhalations, you recover well in the vampires arms.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him as you relax against him. He gently tilts your chin up.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks gently, his hand still stroking your hair.

You let out a cathartic sigh, nodding.

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your face

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. You had me worried for a moment there."

“Sorry...I guess I just haven't had someone hug me a long time.”

He shakes his head, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"You have nothing to apologize for.

And don't ever apologize for needing comfort. Everyone needs a hug sometimes."

As you calm yourself more, Alucard decides to give you some space to recollect yourself, clearly needing it.

“I’ll give you some space. I’ll be in the library, if you need anything.” He reminds, before bidding you a goodbye after making sure you ate.

You take deep inhales and deeper exhales, your mind ringing with his voice guiding you through breathes.

The room becomes quiet and dark, you're left alone with your thoughts. The memory of Alucard's touch and his warm smile are all you can think about, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now- deciding it’s better to find out for yourself than wonder.

Alucard looks up as you enter the library.

He sets down the book he was reading and smiles softly.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

You smile and nod, walking closer.

"Come here," he says, patting the chair next to him. "You can keep me company."

You gladly take a seat, eyes roaming over the various books and sheets covering the desk- similar to yesterday’s spreads.

He notices how close your face is to his work. He closes the book, gently tapping your forehead with it.

"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep reading like that," he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You pout and rub your forehead.

“Rude…” You say in a whisper.

You scoot closer to get a better look at the writing, your elbows folding on top of the table.

As you observe the scripts, Alucard is more concerned with how beautiful you look- even when you’re concentrated, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest- quickly pushes those feelings aside, not wanting to ruin the moment with his own desires.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, noticing the pause of his writing and his gaze.

He blinks, realizing he's been caught staring. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, nothing," he says, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just lost in thought for a moment."

You nod, going back to watching him work, putting your head on his shoulder with the close proximity.

He freezes for a moment, completely caught off guard by your sudden closeness. He can feel the warmth of your body against his, and the scent of your hair filling his senses.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

He can feel your laughter vibrating through him, and it's a pleasant sensation.

"What's so funny, human?" he asks, playfully.

“Nothing, you've just….been on that page for a while. You can’t read can you? Tell me the truth.” You play around sarcastically.

He glances back down at the book, realizing that he's been staring at the same page for several minutes now, obviously at that.

He lets out a soft chuckle, embarrassed that he got so distracted by your presence once again, finding it to a troublesome, reoccurring issue.

"Ah, I guess I am a bit distracted," he admits, his gaze flickering back to you.

“No no it’s okay, lots of people can’t read you know. Don’t be embarrassed”, you continue with your nonsense joke.

You pretend to look around, your eyes going around left and right as he shakes his head.

He shuts the book, setting it aside and turning his full attention to you as he pushes it away.

He turns his body towards you.

"You're a distraction," he teases, poking your side gently.

“Hey!” You exclaim, “you invited me to sit here”, you digress, poking him back.

He chuckles and dips his finger in a small pool of ink, swiping it on your nose, making you backup a bit and give him more room for defense.

You gasp at the sudden cool touch of pigment- and run after him as he walks over quickly to the books nearby.

“This is not fair at all!” You exclaim, watching him dodge your attacks with ease.

“That seems like a personal issue, yes?” He says as he walks deeper into what seems like a maze of shelves.

As you get more and more competitive- you finally land a hit on him: a decently sized dab of ink landing on his cheek.

As it lands you run off- not wanting another hit of solvent somewhere on your face.

But of course…to your disadvantage, you can’t necessarily outrun a vampire.

Easily, he catches up to you- pinning you against the bookshelf. He stands over you, his body caging you in, as he holds up his finger- ready to mark you with another proof of failure.

"No escape now," he teases, his hand slowly and tauntingly smearing ink around your chin.

You roll your eyes and chuckle- the both of you breathless from the chase.

He can feel your small breathes mingle with his- noticing your chest pressed up against his.

He looks down at you, his eyes locking onto yours, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

He rubs your bottom lip- except you don’t feel anymore ink rubbing into you, just the touch of his skin, his eyes glued to your supple lips as you look at his gaze.

“Alucard…?” You whisper softly.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes still glued to your flushed cheeks and the staggered breathe that escapes from your mouth.

“Hm?” He responds, finally flickering his eyes up to look at you.

“Yes dear?”

As your eyes lock, you feel a force that only pushes you to an immeasurable distance into him- and he responds immediately.

As if endless moments of pining finally meet its destiny- the kiss is tentative at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths.

He takes his time, wanting to savor every moment of this, wanting to make sure that you're comfortable and enjoying it too.

Your arms wrap around each there- Alucards large frame pressing you into the bookcases behind you as his hands hold your sides- your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

He groans softly at your hands on him, your tongue meeting his in a heated dance. He's surprised by how easily you fall into rhythm with him, how well your bodies seem to fit together.

He revels in the sounds you're making, the way your body trembles against his. He descends his kisses to your cheek and then neck- feeling your pulse racing under his lips. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck, his fangs scraping gently against your skin as he moves down to your collarbone- the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin absolutely electric.

Your fingers grip slightly at his hair, running through them as he lavishes your shoulder with his sweet kisses.

Your body starts to arch into his touch. His hands on your sides tighten, holding you in place- his breath heavy as he starts to speak between kisses.

“Stop me…please, please stop me if you don’t want this…Stop me, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pleads, kissing up to your ear as his other hand snakes up to hold the side of your neck, pulling his face to look at you again, his aureate eyes piercing into yours.

You let out deep breathes from your nose, swallowing the lumps in your throat as your half lidded eyes meet his, nodding just enough to assure him before diving back into his lips.

He groans again at the feeling of your lips, his grip on your thighs tightening. He presses his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jawline and to your neck once more. He can't resist the urge to mark you, his teeth meeting kisses and sucks at the sensitive flesh.

“Alucard-“ You interrupt.

He growls against your neck, his teeth almost sinking into your skin just enough to leave a mark

"Yes, my dear?" he murmurs, his voice low and yearnful.

“You….can drink, if you want to.” You go on softly, seeing his eyes flicker with an immediate importance.

He lets out a shaky breath, his control hanging by a thread. He can feel his fangs lengthening, his body practically vibrating with need as he gulps.

"You shouldn’t say such things to a dhampir," he growls, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your pulse point once more.

He can feel your heart racing, the scent of your blood is enough for him to go mad- the sound of your blood that pumps through your veins sounding like the perfect symphony.

"Last chance to change your mind, y/n.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, holding his chin and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I want to feel it…feel you.”

Your words cause his self-control to shatter. He can't hold back any longer, the need to taste your blood overpowering everything else, any sense of responsibility or moral compass gone- your declaration of want is all it takes.

He sinks his fangs into your neck, a deep moan rumbling in his chest as the taste of your blood hits his tongue. You feel the two long needles puncture your skin smoothly- the pain quickly subsiding as you feel his lips plant themselves on your skin and his breathe blows kisses over your skin over and over- his chest puffing out as he gets closer and more greedy.

You felt his hands clutching at your waist as if his fingerprints could weld onto your skin like iron.

The pain and pleasure mingled, creating a heady cocktail that clouded your senses.

The room spun around you, the world narrowing to the sensations of his fangs in your skin and the blood leaving you and nourishing him, his heart pounding in sync with your own.

You felt his hardened length, insistent, pressing against your thigh, a silent testament to the desire coursing through him while the taste of your blood intoxicates him- the taste like ambrosia, all while he can feel your body trembling against his, can hear the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.

He can smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild with desire. He drinks deeply, his tongue lapping at the puncture wounds on your neck to encourage the flow of blood.

His grip on you almost bruising as he grinds against you-feeling himself losing control, his body acting on pure instinct as he takes what he needs from you, as if you were providing him with life force.

He finally pulls back, his fangs leaving your neck as he looks at you- your blood on his lips staining them as if he devoured a mound of cherries.

You smear the droplet across the corner of his lip- the red hue replacing what was once ink, pressing your lips onto his.

He moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with

He carries you over to the nearest surface, which just so happens to be the desk you were just at. He sets you down on it, his body pressing against yours as he continues to kiss you hungrily and messily.

He chuckles against your lips, enjoying the way you groan as he pushes the books off the desk to make space for you. He lifts your hips slightly, grinding his hardness against you through the layers of fabric between you- growling in approval as you open your legs for him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses himself against you even more.

He nips at your collarbone, his lips trailing down to your chest as he begins to unbutton your shirt with deft fingers.

“May I?” He asks before completing removing it at your confirmation.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you exposed to him

"Gods, you're perfect," he murmurs, his hands moving to cup your breasts as he leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, your head tilting back as moans spills from your mouth- his tongue swirling around it before he gently nips at it with his teeth, the small remnants of your blood on his lips painting your chest in blotches.

His other hand moves to your other breast, his large hand almost completely covering it as he squeezes and kneads the soft flesh.

“Fuck-“ You groan, feeling his fingers tweaking at your sensitive buds while you feel him grinding even harder onto you his fingers trace patterns on your skin as he continues to worship your body.

Your fingers deftly unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open - his head perks back up to capture your lips once more.

Your hands trail down to his belt buckle.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your ear as he whispers

"Eager, are we?"

“Can you blame me…?”

"No," he murmurs. "Because I want you to be. I want you desperate and needy for me…burn for me, like I burn for you.” He groans against your ear, his hands trailing up the sides of your thighs and gripping your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt.

“Stay still”, he whispers, his voice much more playful now. “Let me check the rest of these wounds? Yes?” He mentions, slowly letting the tie of your skirt undo itself as he slides it down, humming in approval as you lift your hips for him.

His cold hands touch your bare skin and you almost flinch, but you welcome them.

“Draga mea…you’re stunning.” He groans, looking down to appreciate your skin under the moonlight seeping from the overhand windows of the library.

You feel the light seeping into your skin and more noticeably his hands becoming more

bold, more desperate, and daring. So are his kisses, descending down your neck to the valley of your breast, worshipping your skin as he kneels down to get on both knees while his face is met with your core- your cunt throbbing loud enough that his ears are sure to pick up on it.

He parts your thighs further, his hands gripping them tightly as he continues to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He's close enough now that you can feel his hot breath on your aching core, but he's deliberately avoiding touching you where you need it most.

“Alucard…please-“

He looks back up at you, cutting you off before you can beg.

“Adrian. I need you to call me that now.” He says, placing a kiss on your core through the fabric.

“Okay?” He adds, waiting for you to nod before he slips the fabric off and finally darts his tongue out to tease the sensitive skin just above your clit, smirking into your folds when he heard your breathe hitch.

He moves his tongue down slightly, tracing around your clit.

He can see how wet you are, your arousal dripping down, tasting it.

He starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around it in tight circles before dipping down to tease your entrance as your moans spill out, hand tangles in the his hair, gripping his golden strands and making him groan into you, eyes darting up to meet yours- lost in the taste and scent of you, completely consumed by the desire to make you feel good.

You feel your hands gripping tighter, the heavy cinch in your abdomen ready to snap.

Minutes that felt like hours of him reverently pleasing you- you tremble and gasp.

He doubles down his efforts, his tongue and lips working even harder to push you over the edge. He can tell you're close, your body trembling and your breath coming in short gasps

“Adrian- I’m-!” You whine, your legs loosening their clasps around his face as you cum on his tongue.

He groans loudly as you cum, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop of your release. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive flesh even as you ride out your orgasm.

He finally pulls back, his face wet with your juices as he looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful when you cum. I want to make you do it over, and over.” He said, rising up to his feet- resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, lips brushing on your ear.

“What do I do to you?” You reply, pulling your head back to look up at him.

He gazes back down at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your innocent eyes. His hand cups your face, fingers tracing your supple face.

“You make me want things I never thought I could have. Things I don’t deserve." He admits, almost like confessing a sin to you, leaning in to kiss you again, pressing his lips against yours in a tender caress.

“I almost want to keep you here. Just for myself- look at how selfish you’ve made me, draga mea”. He speaks, a smooth accent painting his last words as he pecks kisses to your jaw, chuckling deeply as he feels your hands unbuckling his belt and letting it fall.

Both of your hands frantically pull at eachother- the innocent chuckles and soft kisses between the seconds it takes for him to undress and spread you apart- ready to give you the attention you need.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. He looks into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and possessiveness

"Are you ready for me, love?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Are you ready to feel me inside you?"

“Yes- please, need more Adrian.” You plead.

He slowly pushes in, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate thrust.

He looks down at you, his eyes locked on your face as he watches your expression

"Relax for me, love," he murmurs, his hands stroking your thighs gently. "Let me in."

You nod, breathing in and out softly as he helps you and reassures you with soft words and gentle caresses.

“You’re doing so well, keep going for me. Breathe…Fuck- just like that.”

He can feel your body relaxing around him, allowing him to slide in further with each slow glide of his hips.

When he finally bottoms out, he feels your walls clenching down on him- making him bite down on his one lil til it bleeds.

The same blood hits your lips over and over on an tangle of kisses, his pace getting faster and more intense as he starts to lose himself inside you- his heart beating in sync with yours as he fucks you on the desk that starts to creak now.

“Fuck- it's so...” You groan, your stomach pooling with the same feeling just moments ago.

"So what, love?" he asks, his voice rough. "Tell me. Tell me how it feels. Tell me everything.”

You whine softly- felling each thrust hammer into you even deeper as he urges you to speak.

“So...fucking good...” You admit, wholeheartedly.

He shudders at your words, his cock twitching inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath hot against your skin

"My perfect little human," he groans, his hands roaming over your body- your walls tightening hearing him whisper to you.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he whispers again, his voice low and seductive. "Being told how perfect you are? Hm?”

You can’t reply even if you wanted to- and you most urgently did. Only whines and moans escape your lips.

He chuckles, his smirk widening as he sees the effect his words have on you

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "So beautiful, so sweet. I wonder how many times I can make you cum tonight."

“So close- Adrian!”

He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your breathing ragged and uneven

“Come for me, darling” he whispers, his voice smooth and sickly sweetened. "I've got you. I'll take care of you."

You look up at him once more- your big pleading eyes grasping for a piece of his soul to gaze into.

Looking down at you again, his eyes meet yours. He's momentarily struck by the vulnerability and trust in your gaze, and it almost brings him to his knees completely.

"God, I love you," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion- almost as if he had no time to think before he spoke, as if it would change anything.

Your heart thumps, unable to tear your gaze away.

“A-Adrian-“ You moan out- his cock still pumping in and out of you and hitting every spot to make you cry out- ultimately making you spill all over him as you cum.

He lets out a shaky breathe feeling you release.

He’s never said those words out to anyone before, never dared to hope that he would ever feel this way at all.

He buries his face in your neck, his movements becoming more desperate as he clings to you, still going even as you’ve finished.

"Say it," he begs, his voice rough. "Please, say it. I need to hear it."

Your thighs twitch around his waist- overstimulated and sweaty, “love you…Adrian-! I love you…” You reply, clawing your nails at his back.

He groans into your neck, his own orgasm washing over him in a powerful wave.

"Oh, gods-" he gasps, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. He holds you tightly, his body shaking, licking at the wounds he planted on your neck from earlier, wanting to taste the crimson of your being, just a little more.

As the blood draws, each drop hitting his senses, he knows he is binded tightly to a world he cannot live in without your presence. His Affliction.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

jason todd x reader

[jason had one rule, and you couldn’t listen ]

MDNI !!! (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) .ᐟ ⊹₊ ⋆ 18+ [5k word count ]

lowercase intended!!

JASON’s RULE — you've talked about it before, you've both agreed. no toys. a few here and there to make it interesting and to test eachothers limits, and to have fun, but the main agreement was no dilldo.

you’d tease the idea just to get a reaction out of him of course. laying down on his chest and casually bringing it up. “so id been thinking of a new toy to try.” you slowly and quietly say to him. his blue - toned irises gave you an unsure look, but proceeded to let you ask with a simple response “shoot!”

“what if we tried a dil—“ “no.” “I didn’t even fini—“ “exactly because I already know what you’re going to say. and the answer is fucckkk no, but please doll i dare you to get one. i would love for you to face the consequences,” and u went silent, he took that as a sign you understood him, not to push him or test him, but deep down he dared you, and it was tempting.

jason did not appreciate the idea of anything other than his cock shape ingrained inside you. he believes your pussy was made for him. the first time he pushed inside you, he almost came. you were so tight, your delicate vaginal walls squeezing him and sucking him in all the right ways. he was melting at the feeling of everything all at once and couldn't help but whimper at the sight of you. “fu..fuck mmnn..(y/n)”

his eyes trained on you're smooth plump thighs wrapped around his waist pushing him in deeper, locking him in. while your latest nail set sacredly rooting into his bulky biceps while his wide hands slowly trace your curves. the way you didn't have to say anything, it was the way your eyes said everything. how desperate, yet secure you felt with him. he couldn’t help but worship you in a corrupted way. he needed to bruise you. having you laid out in front of him like a blank canvas. he had creative freedom to color your neck and chest shades of reds and purples, leaving these beautiful marks all around you to show his art off to the world.

he loved sucking on your sizable tits too, the way he would gingerly bite on your nipple just hard enough to make you slightly gasp. his hand would be carelessly tugging and twisting your other nipple making sure it wasn’t neglected. squeezing as much of the fat of your chest as he could even when they’d start bouncing at the content movement of him thrusting into you. when twisting your nipple with his teeth, he looked up and saw you covering your mouth. and this irritated him. ‘thwack’ smacking your already sensitive breast making you gasp. “don’t piss me off doll, cover your mouth again and i’ll stop everything” nodding your head in agreement “verbal response sweetheart,” he said moving his hand towards your forearm and pinning the part of your arm to the bed.

“mnnhn y..yes.. fuck.. i.. nuhhg just dont want to be to loud..” you said running your other hand through his scalp making him shiver in delight, slowly pushing harder into you. “i need you loud baby, need gotham to hear you, i want a goddamn noise complaints tomorrow morning, i.. jesus.. nhhg.. dont care how loud you are..” he sighed into your neck, bucking upwards deeper to a distant warm spongy corner inside you. “nnnmghfuck.. jason.. mnm” tightening and releasing around him. “so.. fuckkin..warm.. god..damnit”he groaned, moderately twitching inside you.

jason couldnt get enough of you’re praise, hiccuping how quintessential his cock was to you, he appreciated how well you listened and babbled on about his efforts to please you. “j-jason..jay baby.. please.. please.. so good, your so gorgeous.. god..fuck, solucky.. i- auhggh-,” you’d whine. “shit.. a dildo wouldn’t compare to you.. a pathetic peice of silicone w..wouldn’t compare to your cock b..baby, such a..a pretty cock”

“i know, doll” he chuckled lowly watching you writhe against his lower abdomen while he roughy played and massaged your clit, feeling the slick and creamy texture of both of your pre cum making a ivory ring around your pussy. “jay… baby.. f..faster please.. pleaseplease i need it.. I’ve been good!!” you begged, pushing your hip harder against him feeling him slow down, sensing him watch your every single move while he just played in pre cum. “.. jason..fuck…mnuggh mnm”

“would a didlo make you this sticky, so disgustingly wet i can feel u dripping down to my balls right now, huh sweetheart?” he said showing you his thick goopy fingers, then sucking them dry. it was starting to become a struggle to talk, trying to form a sentence would ultimately end up with you moaning and mumbling. and when he notices how limp you were starting to come, he decided to finally make you fully cum on his cock. he has been edging himself for a while, only slowing down certain times because of how quickly he was about to cum. you were his weakness, everything about you make him want to cum.

speeding up, pounding into you relentlessly you’d felt a  familiar yet unusual sensation in your lower abdomen. a warm feeling that you felt your raw clit puff to even more. “cum for me. fuck, please.. p..please.. doll cum on me… mmn cum on my cock, you need to… i need you to.” jason whimpered next to your ear. the squelching sound driving jason crazy he needed more of it. he lifted both of your legs and threw them over his shoulder, never slipping out of you. you were forever grateful for this position. because the new angle it let jason kiss your cervix wall. beautifully designed for jason, his cock missed it. but as much as he loved it, he enjoyed pushing deeper and mistreating, boundaries just to go through you’re cervix even more.

“jay.. im gonna.. fuckfuckfuckplease…mmmghh” with the movement of his dick, fingers and his desperate mouth whimpering that he needed you, you squirted on his chest and lower abdomen, dripping down his balls to the completely ruined bed sheets, not stopping and causing you to jolt from the overwhelming sensation, tighten around him harder almost pushing him out. “holy.. holy f..fuck..mnnh shiit (y/n).. good girl..fuuck,” jason panted. while he gripped your hips leaving indents of his finger nails into you, keeping you in place. Inhaling the warm scent of your juice while your pussy made a heavenly squelching noise. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head and his previously steady pace, now turned into a sloppy rhythm ‘plap, plap, plap, plap’ with the feeling of you still slightly squirting on him. jason finally came. hard. he couldn’t stop rutting Into you, overstimulating you, causing you to forcible convulse and tremble your whole body. each demanding thrust he unforgivably pushed Into your tried body, he couldn’t stop cumming . pumping into you large ropes of thick cum until he collapsed, losing vision. stuck inside of you trapping you inbetween his huge biceps, panting heavily.

*.ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

but unfortunately, that kind of passion was a couple months ago.

as confident as jason was about you never needing a dildo, he forgot how difficult and tight his schedule was. of course you’d see him maybe two times a week, but it wasnt like it use to be. the passion creeped into small excuses of ‘im to tired’ or ‘maybe tomorrow?’ which you’d overthought about plenty of times. was he uninterested with you now? what changed? you were started to feel neglected. always picking the vigilante life instead of his girl. you knew what was to come with his lifestyle, it was hard enough to spend time together, let alone any intimate time together.

"im sorry doll, patrol is probably going to take longer tonight! ill talk to u soon <3" he texts. texts. he didnt even have the nerve to call. plus it's been tough communicating. when it's spotty conversations and repetitive "how was ur day" then him taking hours to respond, you started getting frustrated. needy. so you decide to spoil yourself . because you have needs, and they must be fulfilled. even if it’s not the same, you were getting impatient with your own fingers not being able to reach far enough or cramping up.

so a few days later you see a couple notifications on your phone.

[3 messages] jay🫀

jay🫀: hey doll

jay🫀: i can call tonight, it’s been slow

jay🫀: just call whenever you got time

[ mail notifications]

[ your order has been delivered 💌 ]

one notification you were more interested in than the others. you hopped off the couch, put your phone in a back pocket and made your way to your apartment lobby towards the mailboxes. reasonable size mail boxes for living in gotham, usually they are confined and only fit paper mail, but your apartment was a little bit nicer. the only thing was the front building doors were broke, letting in anyone which was concerning. while grabbing your key, you feel your phone buzz some more, but you knew you’d get to it later.

and there you saw it, a cute, big pink box. you smiled and closed the mailbox, locking it and racing upstairs. the rush of excitement and anxiety washed over you. of course you, felt like you deserved this, but the thought of jason finding out scared you a little, but slightly turned you on too.

you opened the box with a switchblade jason had purchased you a while ago. and inside there it was, a realistic natural light skinned toned silicone dildo, you tried to get one to match jason’s size, but.. you couldnt find anything as girthy..

you place the box rear the trash and grabbed the dildo and are impressed with how realistic it looked. it had veins and this mushroom tip was pinker than jason’s. “wow, this.. is crazy,” you say to yourself. it’s not like you havent see a dildo, it was just the fact of how much time probably went into this.

walking into your room you start undressing, taking youre phone out of your pocket you see jason tried to call you five minutes ago. youre stomach dropped a bit and just tried to psychic yourself out and forget about it, you’d call him in a couple minutes. you laid down on the plush bed with your phone next to you that you lazily threw close to your thighs and then slowly started opening your legs, your nervous hands making their way to your clit. circling sweet motions to the damp bundles of nerves. slowly breathing and closing your eyes imagining it was jason’s thick fingers.

“hmm jay..mhmh” you sighed, feeling the clit slightly puff. picking up the pace, you rub and tug on the sensitive nerve until you feel your pussy start to drip ever so slightly. making you trail your dampened fingers towards your vaginal opening. “mnhphm..jason..” sliding your middle finger inside yourself, feeling the tight gummy wall suck on your finger. “fuck..hnm” your middle finger casually building a pace you found yourself enjoying. adding your ring finger to help break up the tight walls, scooping and pushing yourself further in causing pretty groans from you. “mmnholy..shit.. fu..fuck ja.jason”

imagining jason was what helped you the most. the way he touched you and loved finger fucking you. watching you cry while he barely moved his fingers. replaying memories of what he’d praise to you before “one more finger baby.. you can take it, youre doing so good for me… youre still so tight fuck baby…be a good girl and hold your legs open for me.. just like that uh huh… gotta put my index finger in okay doll, fuck,” — and that’s what you’d done. moved positions and fully on your back with your legs in the air, penetrating yourself with three fingers quickly rushing in and out of you. moaning jason’s name. becoming clingy for his cock, begging into the space of your room about how much you needed him.

with a ‘pop‘ you withdrew your finger and grabbed the dildo, with a feeling of liquid dripping down to the bed. lining the thick toy with your now moistened hole. you knew to carefully push it in, slowly inch by inch so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, which was funny considering jason’s cock was bigger.

fully inside, you paused while you caught your breath. having to be in control for the first time in a while with a dildo you were unsure and forgot how much work you had to do. you were starting to sweat a little, having it deep enough to the point the fake balls laid stiffly by your anus.

lazily pulling it out and back in with the somewhat familiar sting making you sigh. pushing it deep enough to make you sing. “uaaghh fuck! jason..hmph..” repeatedly fucking yourself with a toy you were never supposed to have. that jason dared you would be consequences. thinking about what jason would do, made you squeeze the dildo, how much trouble you’d be in.

and it was like you manifested him. as so on as you were thinking about all the trouble you’d be in. he was calling you. that ‘ill call him in a couple minutes’ turned into fifteen extra minutes. you panicked hitting the red ‘decline’ button with blurry eyes. and started to speed up the thrusting and ramming so you’d cum quickly and call him back like nothing happened.

or so thought you. turns out you accidentally answered him. your teary eyes deceived you when you frantically tried to end the call. and the first thing jason had the displeasure of hearing was the familiar ‘plah, plah, plah” and you whining “hurry..fuck.. fucking piece of rubber dick…” crying out, slowly regretting the purchase. you couldn’t seem to cum. as roughly and impatient you were with yourself including the sound of sex in the air, it just wasn’t the same.

but! how sweet of you, you know jason’s favorite color was red, so that’s what you made him see.. red. he had tried calling you letting you know it was so slow, tim and dick didn’t mind he left early to be with you. because he missed you.

but that feeling was immediately exchanged with enrage.his face dropping at the mention of a dildo. he kept you on the line and muted himself so you wouldn’t hear him hang up. sprinting to his motorcycle, not giving a fuck about his helmet. he shot off into the night. racing through streets and weaving through cars going 90 miles per hour. all while he knew you were on the other line, still sliding that amateur peice of silicone inside yourself. it genuinely pissed him off. — luckily for jason you didn’t live far. and with the mix of rage and his dangerous driving, he’d gotten to your apartment rapidly fast. what would’ve taken fifteen-ish minutes to get to you, only took him about five minutes.

jason climbed off his ride, stomping on the pavement with his phone to his ear with the most irritated and frustrated look. he knew your apartment front doors were broke, meaning he had easy access to enter. which he wouldn’t just broke them himself in all honesty. “nnuggh…jay..damnit..fuckfuck,” was the sad annoyed sigh you’d unintentionally been whining into jason’s ear. “ja..jasson..nhhunghg..please..”

his heavy footsteps echoing through the stairs of your apartment, which everyone could hear — it was weird he’d actually come in like a normal person for once instead of climbing through your window.

Intentionally, of course, so he’d be able to catch you in the act.

he’d finally made it to your apartment door. grabbing the key from the top of the door frame. and quietly entering, which was hard considering how badly he wanted to slam the door. slowly walking in and closing the door behind him, he locked it then processed to walk towards the kitchen— spotting an empty large pink box by the trash can.

“jesus christ,” jason said to himself, then perking up at the sound of your moans. when he said wanted a noise complaint a while ago— he’d meant he’d be the only one to make you scream like that to your neighbors. and it aggravated him even more that he could feel his bulge start to grow in his pants. cussing to himself, but your beautiful voice always made his dick twitch. just a simple ‘i love you’ would make him stretch his underwear, filling up the little amount room he already had left.

walking closer to your room, the faint sound of you fucking yourself could be heard. “so close..fuck..nggh..socloseplease” which jason’s dick twitched at, slowly fatten his pants enough to make him semi uncomfortable, but the moment he heard you were close he opened the bedroom door slightly to see you holding one of your thighs up while this mediocre looking dick was plunging into you. your eyes sealed shut, trying to focus on cumming. you’d usually been creaming on jason’s cock by now, and you were just now getting close to your first orgasm. and jason knew that too.

he opened the door and quietly walked to you, previously loud and aggressive steps, now quiet and calculated. “jason..jay..fuck..jay baby…” and pant his name three times, he shall appear…and under any other circumstances he wouldn’t be standing over you pissed off as he was. showing you his phone with it still on call. and that’s when it hits you, gasping because he scared you plus you could perfectly see how livid yet turned on he was, but also because at the same moment you hit the perfect spot so many times.. you came.

“nuhhhgghaa…jasonbaby.. s..sosorry.. plea—“ you lost your breath the moment jason unexpectedly and carelessly tore the toy out of you. hearing the suction of the dildo pop out of you mid orgasm, now jason holding onto the saturated silicone. watching your vagina breath open and close while liquid spilled out of you. “jason im s—“ “don’t. don’t say another goddamn word (y/n). i mean it.” his deep voice hissed at you. “this? this half-pint fucking fake dick made you cum? huh doll? you’re joking.. no you can’t be because i just witnessed it. fucking christ (y/n).. one rule, you couldn’t even listen to that…let’s compare huh” he rambled starting to unbuckle his belt one handed, combo shoving his pants and underwear down kicking them to random side of your room. all still while he was gripping the toy.

his dick hung heavily, beautifully. you’d missed the sight of just looking at it making your mouth tingle and water in delight. sitting up more you couldn’t keep your eyes off his cock. making jason twitch enough to make it move on its own. you started reaching out to touch him ‘whack’ “don’t test me right now doll.. now look” he trailed off, grabbing his dick slowly stroking it in front of your face. he lined the light colored dildo next to his own real and thick cock “and to think you were moaning my name with this wimpy piece of shit, now you’re pushing limits. fucking disgusting,” and he wasn’t even wrong. the sizes were very different. and it was completely noticeable, jason throwing it against a wall while it made a ‘thud’ sound. “one rule (y/n) that was it.”

. “jay can i say someth-“ “no” “you need to stop cutting me off jason.—let me talk, please baby.” and he went quiet. his anger slightly fading. and you took his silence as he was listening, willingly able to understand everything. all while he was watching from above you. “i know i shouldn’t have gotten it—“

“damn straight” “but! you have been extremely busy and distant these past couple weeks, you made it seem like you didn’t care about me anymore. your dry texts, not calling anymore, basically dick riding gothams idiots criminals then actually letting me dick ride you… i just miss you jay and im sorry i didn’t say something sooner,”

that’s when he grabbed your face and gently kissed your lips, humming soft ‘im sorry’s’ to you. and laying you down delicately on the bed. “im sorry too doll, i had been neglecting you.. fuck..i love you so fucking much it’s insane, i just blow at showing it and communicating properly doll, because honestly, you’re the only person i will work on things for, because you’re all i will ever need or want.” he said caressing your face then kissing your forehead. “but i still needed to punish you.” “what ?— jason!!..fuck!!”

without warning he slammed his cock into you, — making you groan loudly “you won’t be cumming anymore tonight, doll. im going to make sure of it, as much as i love you.. umnnh..shit.. im a man of my word..and actions have consequences” not hesitating at all to basically use you as he pleases. not caring if he hits your ‘g’ spot. he wants to cum inside you selfishly as much as he can all while denying you that pleasure of your own release.

jason was stretching you out even more than that toy ever could, his cock perfectly ingraining back into you. “you..can’t be serious..” you groaned

“dead serious, doll.” he chuckled “tonight, no clit playing, no pampering, and no holding back—enjoy it or don’t, you won’t be the one cumming” and like that he dives to your lips like a hungry animal, while you make delicious little sounds and respond with the same hunger, sparking a fire in his belly. making his face flush. while your hard nails were placed on his shoulder you leisurely started digging into him. dragging them down his back attempting to leave any indication how great he was fucking you. making jason whimper into your mouth causing you to squeeze around him at the hypnotic sound.

loving the feel of your plush skin pudge through his fingers. tightening his grip as the soft sound of you mumbling sweet nothings into his ear making him speed up his pace. recklessly grinding into you at a harsh pace enough to make you beg jason “jay.. please..please can i-”

“fuck off” his voice deep and laced with a warning tone, smacking your upper thigh with his palm, making you clench around him. “don’t think about it doll..i swear to god..”

his pace unbearable, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cling to him. praying he cums soon, before you do accidentally. his nails kneading into ur hips while grinding, finding the perfect spot that makes him tingle. his hands start to slowly gravitate towards your tits, he starts sucking on one side, harshly biting down on the nipple causing you to moan out in pain. “i know your close.. so goddamn tight.. jesus.. don’t fucking cum (y/n).” he said smacking your tit, casually going back to biting down on the sensitive nerve. while his unsympathetic grip on your other tit squeezing down and gripping at the nipple pulling at it and releasing it a couple times, making you even more sensitive. just to hear your voice call out into the night about how great he was making you feel. “fucking love your tits” mumbling into them while his heavy hips wouldn’t let up on slamming into your pelvis.

jason was actually never a selfish partner, he actually cared about always making you cum first, and it was like muscle memory to make you cum, but for the first time he was in ecstasy just fucking you stupid- beautifully abusing your vagina, and trying to punish you in the best way he knew. all while he got to painfully play with your podgy breast. smacking, sucking and squeezing them until he couldn’t get enough. “fuck..doll..nghh.. (y/n) fuck...”

his face covered messily in his own saliva from making out with your tit, cupping it with his bulky hand. sucking and releasing, while watching you groan that you want to cum, how nice it would be if you both came together. but jason’s eyes were dark and unamused. he let you rambling on for a minute or two, until he started to get annoyed. this was your punishment, and he would forgive you after it. and right now, jason didn’t want to hear it.

his free hand roamed up towards your throat, and he started to choke you. roughly squeezing and releasing his grip causing all your nonsense remarks into blissful whimpers. making you so tightly trap jason’s dick, making it difficult to thrust so deeply “squeeze me some more doll, mhm..mn im close..” jason said panting, a warm sensation in his stomach turning into a knot like feeling. “harder doll.. c’mon please.. fuckfuck..mhm..i know you can” he said his face now near your ear, and his hand still squeezing your throat. listening to you gasp and whimper to him, while squeezing his dick the best you could, wanting to cum so painfully. “mhm just like that..nnugg..mnm fuck..gonna cum inside..”

and after a few harsh thrust he moaned while warm ropes of cum were filling you to the brim, with each sensitive thrust he was cumming inside of you, never wanting to stop. his hand releasing from your neck, slowly moving towards your clit, ever so slightly circling the bundle of nerves making you so close to the edge. while his head was inbetween your neck biting down and sucking at the soft skin whimpering and softly rutting into you.

and after a few long seconds jason pulled out, watching as the base of his cock slip out you, painted a silky white and still semi hard. out of breath, he watched as your pussy was leaking cum and your clit still puffy and neglected. “so beautiful..”

putting his fingers up to your pussy, he started to fuck his cum back inside of you. watching as you look so defeated. “jay..” “mmn yes doll” he said making eye contact softly scooping his cum back inside you as much as he could. fingering it back in deeply, pressing down on ur puffy clit with his thumb. memorizing the layout of your pussy so carefully.

“can i please cum” you asked, giving your best pleading eyes, reaching out to hold his cheek and caress him. knowing how difficult it was for him to say no to you, know how badly he always wants you to feel satisfied, jason took his hand away from your pussy and showed you his three slick fingers.

“nope, but you can taste mine if you want” he said licking his index “not bad actually” he said with the most shit eating grin you’d ever seen.

and he finally his vision wasn’t red anymore, but he definitely would always live up to a man of that always kept his word.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

my first writing something like this! (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

was a little long! my apologies, but i hope you enjoyed!! :3

have a great day/night!! xx

Final chap of my Zayne angst. Lemme know if you want to get tagged.

Always, forever.

or: the one where you and Toji make your way home after getting stuck in the snow on Valentines Day.

cw: 1.5k words, pure fluff, curse words.

most recent toji core masterlist

“Good God, it’s cold as SHIIIIIT!”

“How many times are you gonna say that?”

“Until you get it into your thick ass skull.”

Valentine’s Day.

A time for romance. For love. Cute dates, chocolate, sweet kisses, proposals, and red hearts. For warmth with a loved one.

Well that didn’t happen this year, there was a blizzard.

The only people who were out and about were the people who had to work through the snow unfortunately and even then, businesses were closing early. With canceled Valentine’s Day plans and little to no food in the house, you and Toji made the treacherous journey through the falling snow to the grocery store. It was supposed to be a thirty minute trip, max.

But one thing about Murphy's law— it will always get worse.

You two had finished grocery shopping and headed to the car. Well what’s wrong with the car? The ten minutes you were in there, the car got stuck in the parking lot. So you and Toji were forced to walk in the snow. Streets we’re empty as ever, it’s fairly dark out, and you were cold as fuck.

“I told you wear a your scarf, but you don’t fuckin listen!” Toji griped, you two finally got to the main road that would lead you to the house. It looked miles away through the 7 inches of snow.

“I did listen! ‘it’ll be quick,’ you said. ‘yer over thinkin,’ you said! You know who didn’t listen? You! I told you we should just walk but you said the car would be able to make it, now look!” You raised your hands, gesturing to the current situation.

You looked over at Toji who was ignoring you. Sticking out his tongue to catch the snowflakes that fell from the sky.

“If my hands didn’t feel like they were gonna fall off, I’d sock you. I’m soooo serious.” You tried suppressing your chuckles but some still managed to get out. He looked so cute when he did childlike stuff like that. You could never stay fake mad for long.

The only sound being the crunch of snow from both of your feet. You were a shivering mess. You stopped in your tracks for a second, stuffing your hands in your turquoise coat pocket and shuffling them around to heat up.

“Why’re you stoppin?” Toji just six feet ahead of you. Tall ass.

“I’m inch resting to gettin hypothermia or somethin! My hands are freezing!”

“You don’t have gloves on ma?”

“What gloves?!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot over the packed snow.

Toji finally turned to look at you down to your hands. But he felt movement in his back pocket.

Oh, right!

The taller man marched his way over to you, taking his large hands in your and brought them to his mouth to breath on them.

“Better?”

“A little.”

He rubbed them a bit for more heat to circulate around them, then pulled out the black mittens that he accidentally put in his back pocket before you two went to the supermarket. Slipping them each on your hands.

“I- why do you have my mittens on?!” You frowned, glancing down to see your hands and there this big man was. With your like green flowered mittens on that you’d bought for yourself, being stretched out to greater capacity by Toji fucking Fushiguro.

“They’re warmer.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You run warm Toji!” You whined, and Toji playfully whacked your forehead with the back of his hand.

“So? This is reimbursement for all my lost hoodies.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

A devilish grin formed on his face, pecking your lips and turning to keep walking. “I will, when we get home baby.”

You groaned in annoyance, a silly smile on your face.

You two walked for another ten minutes, snow finally ceasing for the time being but still hard to get though. Somehow you’d managed to get farther away from Toji who was making his large strides like it was nothing. This couldn’t have been his first time tracking through the snow like this.

It wasn’t, but that’s another story for a different day.

You stopped again.

“Mama—“

“—I don’t think-“ you clasped your heart in fake agony, “-I don’t think I’m gonna make it!” You yelled out, setting the over filled grocery bag in the snow. You crouched down. You were sick of walking through the thick snow, even though you were warmer, the bag was heavy, your body was heavy. This was all exercise you didn’t sign up for.

“If you don’t make it, we’ll just die out here then. together.”

Your brown eyes whipped up at him, who was completely resolute with the statement. Your eyebrows furrowing, mouth slightly agape from shock.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” A cheeky grin on his face.

…

Oh this guy, seriously this guy was something else. Your lips formed into a pout, bringing your knees closer to your chest. Toji clicked his tongue, huffing and puffing as he marched to you again. Standing you up on your feet by your armpits like a child.

“Seriously though, we really gotta get home mama. Dogs ‘re waitin for us.”

“But ‘m tiiiired!” You whined out, “can’t we just take a break?” You looked up at the man. Big brown eyes, snowflakes danced on your lashes and a cute pout in the perfect combination. You looked too damn cute for your own good.

Toji flicked your head again, “this is your break Doll.”

Before you could object, the man had your grocery bag in your left hand and took your right hand in the other. Gently tugging you forward so he could grab his two grocery bags he’d sat on the snow.

“You just need a little motivation. You like music right? Sing something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything baby.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. Leading you two through the snow, making sure the very few cars that passed didn’t come near you. You quickly thought of whatever subject that came to mind. Snow.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful—”

“—Too close to our current situation.” The older man sighed, “Something else.”

“You said I could sing anything!”

“Anything but that!”

You squeezed his hand tighter, showing him how irky he was being but he didn’t react. You went through your mental catalog again, going through genre to genre like changing the radio station. And then you hit something good.

“I been on my worst behavior~ but, baby, I don’t need no savior—”

“—Love Ariana, but I don’t wanna hear that.”

You gasped, “How do you know that? You’re an Ari stan?”

Emerald green eyes rolled, “you’ve been playin it like your life depends on it all fuckin week!”

“And another thing, because Positions Deluxe is her best work to date—“

“—god damn, Doll. Just shut up and sing something.”

You grumbled, something about Toji being an ass. But complied none the less. Your eyes went down to your held hands, to the sky, the houses with chimneys puffing out smoking. You started humming an intro, a little joy entering you with each heavy foot step.

“There must’ve been an angel by my siiide~”

“Something heavenly lead me to yooouuu!”

“Look at the sky!” You made your way ahead of Toji, still hand in hand. Some kind of adrenaline hitting you.

“What color is it baby?” Toji hummed.

“It’s the color of loooove~” you belted out.

You weren’t a phenomenal singer, neither was Toji once he joined in. But the man loved seeing that giddy smile on your face, your skin heating up from how much you were smiling you were doing in the moment, breath forming in the harsh winter air, lyrics wrapped in giggles.

He swore he fell in love with you all over again at that moment.

Your voice filling the small Japan streets, as you lead the two of you home.

“Shit, we made it!” You yelped out. Jumping for joy as you two finally made it to the top of the hill where Toji’s fairly traditional home sat.

“Baby come on! it’s freezin!” Toji called out to you as you fooled around outside the gate of the home. You finished your mini rushed project, dusting your hands of snow and snagging the grocery bag to join your spouse and dogs in the awaiting home.

The night was cozy.

You two put a beef stew on before heading to the shower and bath (of course). Eating a much needed, soothing, and itis inducing dinner with a wine for you and a beer for Toji. Sitting comfortably in the large, stolen sweatshirt that once belonged to the older man. The dogs were right at the feet of your bed when the two of you called it a night.

Sade’s ‘Kiss of Life’ filling the both of your ears again, vanilla essential oil diffuser filling the air of your bedroom, putting you two in a much needed, deep slumber.

Snow gently trickled down on your quiet home.

Two small makeshift snowmen sitting comfortably inside of a heart under the stone nameplate of the house that read ‘Fushiguro.’

a/n: my v day post being pure fluff is crazy lol. But happy Valentine’s Day, much love to everyone. Genuinely think Toji isn’t one to do much for Valentine’s Day but he’d always set aside time for you.

Thinking about Butcher!Simon Riley with his sweet regular customer..

Simon Riley who doesn’t believe in starting over. Not really. Retired from the military, he’d traded one kind of blood for another. The butcher shop wasn’t much—small place tucked in the corner of Manchester, no fancy signage, no bright lights—but the regulars came. You came. Twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays like clockwork.

Simon Riley—your butcher—moves with a kind of brutal grace behind the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms cut from marble and hard labor. You watch him work the cleaver like it’s an extension of his body. Focused. Calm. Every slice is deliberate, clean, respectful. There’s no waste in his motion, no hesitation in his hands.

You tell yourself it’s just the way he works—but your heart tells you otherwise. It stutters every time he glances up and catches you staring. You always look away too fast.

He’s seen things, you can tell. Something in the set of his shoulders, in the way he carries silence like a second skin. They say he was military once, but no one in the neighborhood asks. They just buy their lamb chops and brisket, nod respectfully, and leave him be.

But not you.

Sometimes you don’t even need anything. You come into his shop just to linger by the display case, pretend to think hard when he asks what you’re in the mood for, and always end up letting him choose. You like the way he speaks when he’s talking about cuts—like meat is an art form and he’s the only one who understands it. Like there’s a language in bone and fat and sinew, and he knows how to read it all.

He knows you’re into him.

You think he doesn’t notice—how your eyes linger on the flex of his forearms, how your breath catches when he tightens his grip on the knife. But he does. He knew from the first time you smiled at him over a pound of sirloin, all nervous and bright-eyed.

And he liked—more than he should’ve—how you smelled faintly of sugar and coffee when you leaned in to hand him cash.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not at first. Just a little dance. A tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers when he passed you the package. He told himself it was nothing.

But he starts saving the best cuts for you. Packs a little extra into your order. Keeps the shop open late on days when you run behind, just in case. It’s nothing. And it’s everything.

The day you tell him about your promotion, you’re practically vibrating. He can see it before you even speak. You ask—halting, hopeful—if he’d like to come over for dinner. Just dinner. Maybe.

He says yes.

Later, in your tiny kitchen, you cook with meat he cut for you himself. he watches you handle the meat. Sees the way your hands move, careful, precise, even if you’re nervous. You ask him how thin the slices should be. You ask him if he likes garlic. Ask if he likes bourbon. Fuck—darlin’, are you trying to get yourself a ring?

He’s still all knives and scars and quiet edges—but with you, he doesn’t have to be just that. So when you ask him if he wants to stay a little longer after dinner. With that soft, bright smile like you’re not afraid of what’s under his skin, something in him loosens. Maybe even heals, just a little. And he finds he doesn’t mind saying yes to that either.

═════════════════════════

In His Mind

Warning: panty sniffing, masturbation

AN: I just wanted to write about my favorite panty sniffer.

Caleb x Reader

Caleb plans his panty raids like he plans his fleet mission: get in, get out, avoid casualties.

When he finally manages to get his treasure, he quickly runs from your room and into his own.

He unfolds your panties with shaky hands. They’re so cute. The color, the pattern, the lace. He can so clearly picture your pussy pressed against them.

The slick patch of the panties gusset draws his eye immediately. He licks his lips.

He pressed the panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. They’d been at the top of the laundry pile. It was a risky pair to take. They were the freshest but they were also the most noticeable if they went missing.

He scrambles to get his pants off and closes his eyes as he falls onto the bed. He pictures you hovering over him, your panties on full display for him.

He tongues the gusset of your panties. The taste still lingers and he tries to imagine what you taste like. How he’d eat you. His tongue slipping inside you. All the pretty moans you’d make for him.

He’d hold your thighs down while your hips roll. His nose would bump against your clit and you’d whimper for more.

Caleb laps at the taste of you on your panties. His hand reaches into his pants and he fists his cock, desperate for some kind of friction.

In his mind he could picture how you’d twitch and whine. How your hips would roll on his face. Your thighs would clench around his head as you get closer and closer to cumming into his mouth.

He’d treat you so good. He’d make you cum over and over again if you let him. It’s all he ever wanted. It’s all he’d ever dreamed of. In his mind, you were already his. You just needed to realize how good the two of you could be together.

Caleb cums with your panties in his mouth. His cum dribbles over his chest and hands. He’d cum so hard, a little got onto his chin. He gives your panties one last suck before finally putting

He’ll volunteer to do laundry this week. It’s the easiest way to hide his little thievery. It’ll also be the easiest way to get another pair.

Requests are Open!

dreaming about caleb jerking off

a/n :: inspired by this lovely video :3

his hand is moving impossibly fast under the blanket he has draped over his lower half of his body . his hips have a mind of their own , jumping and thrusting into his hand and then back down into the mattress , the lack of restraint he has over his own body prominent . having no clue where to put his other hand , it'd be placed firmly over his eyes to cover how shameful his movements are . his mind would be plagued with the thought of your mouth on his cock instead of his hand , practically forcing the cum out of his body way faster than he intended . his moans are incredibly loud and accompanied by little whimpers once he cums , not knowing how else to get the pleasure out of his system . "ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck," said all in one breath as he orgasms so fucking hard he becomes lightheaded and sees stars .

Calm and Serenity (Final Part)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, non-mc reader,

taglist: @fknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams @babygirl-panda19 @picnicinthegarden @96jnie @xxfaithlynxx @wrimaira @reni502 @lazypostfandomer @augustdxjiminx @hey-airam @vevlvtcherie @marquitas-en-verano @ma-cherie-lovely @zeskyzed @imnikki @shiorihoshino @mentaltrouble2201 @sylustoru @imaginarytheatre @seris-the-amious @zoyadarling @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @young-adult-summer @iamawkwardandshy @r0ckb1n @openthenyoor01 @malleus-draconias-rose @syyyy4ever @yutterfly @xsammijoanneex @reni502 @animegamerfox @hao-ming-8 @angelicspaceprince @codedove @bxtchopolis @nommingonfood @esylwen @phisen @gojosbedwarmer @rubyninja1 @lemonn015 @cordidy @blueesmiski @yunhogrippers @sleepykittenenergy @thatsbunnysmind @lumi-s-garlic @splaterparty0-0 @soulaandshere @sillyfeeakfanparty

Masterlist

Day 1

Sylus didn't get any sleep these past 24 hours. He is pacing his room, waiting for your call. He is hoping that maybe you'll contact him just to say something … anything. Even though it was an unspoken rule that you will not be contacting each other, there's a silly hope in Sylus's heart for a miracle to happen.

He kept waiting but still no text from you.

Ah figures. She needs time.

He tried to get some sleep, but every time he closes his eyes your face haunts him. He wants to get you back but he knows that you need this. That this time he doesn't get to be selfish, that this is about you and what's best for you.

On your side, it's not any better. You cried all day sinking your body in your new bed. This new place feels unfamiliar. Too bright, too spacious, too quiet, too lonely.

You already miss the ruckus that the twins are making or Mephisto's cawing early in the morning. And him. You already miss him.

You remember the previous night. Sylus helped you pack your bags, never leaving your side. He never spoke a word just quietly helping you. You can see the remorse in him and it took a lot of willpower for you not to take back what you said.

When you got in the car and let him drive, you noticed how he was driving slowly. Making sure to use the farthest way possible just so he can borrow a little bit more time.

“Sylus," you called him.

“Let me have this, love. Just a little more time before you leave, please?" you didn't have it in you to argue further. He looked broken and one second away from letting those tears fall.

“I never get to give you a lot of my time these months, and I know I may be asking for too much, but just let me be with you for a while longer. I can't let you go. Not yet." He took your hand and brought it to his trembling lips.

You didn't speak after. You just let him. A part of you wanted to stay with him a little longer as well. He stayed like that during the drive. Telling you random things or reminding you to take care of yourself. Blabbering just to take his mind off from the fact that once you step out of the car, you're really leaving.

When you reached Linkon, you never looked back. Each step you took felt like you're stepping on shards of glass. You wanted to run back to him, but you know that this is the right thing to do.

You need to set him free. You want to make sure that he is sure with what he is feeling. You want to see what he'll do. If your absence will strengthen the love between you and him, or will he run back to her.

You're giving him a sort of a way out. If he decides to be with MC, then fine. If he waits for you to heal even if it took years, then maybe you can try again.

That same night, getting some sleep has been hard. You kept looking at the photos of you and him on your phone. You kept rereading your previous messages and replaying the videos you took of everyone in Onychinus.

Starting a new life here in Linkon means leaving your family in the N109 Zone. You didn't just break up with Sylus but you also left the people that treated you like family.

Day 7

“Boss, Miss Hunter is here." Luke said. Sylus just frowned.

“Let her in."

Once she's inside, Sylus doesn't know what to tell her. He is not in his right mind even if a week has passed. He is the one who summoned MC to his base. He needs to know if she's willing to help him. He needs to know ASAP.

“What do you want, Sylus?" She said. He knows they didn't end on good terms the last time they talked, but he needs to try.

“About breaking off the bond. I want to know when are you willing to cooperate with me?"

She scoffed, "I told you, I don't remember a thing! How can I undo something that I don't remember doing in the first place!? Sylus, we're going in circles here. I don't want to waste my time with this.”

"Waste of time? This isn't just a waste of time! This is my life on the line. If I don't break this bond with you, I'm going to lose her.”

He was angry and desperate. MC surely saw it and it made her heart ache. Looking at him right now, it's obvious that he isn't getting much sleep and he isn't eating right. Poor guy must've been so broken-hearted.

If it wasn't for the knowledge that he has a girlfriend, she might actually like him. He is nice despite the rough exterior, but despite that she stayed in her lane. She didn't want to be a mistress. Hell nah.

She finally took pity on him and gave out a sigh. It's not all the time that you see Sylus like this.

“Fine, fine! I wanted to help you, but I can't figure it out yet. I will contact Luke and Kieran when I have more information about this linkage.” She said.

Sylus is relieved to hear those words. They mean nothing for now, but at least there's hope.

"And if I were you, I would be taking care of myself. What would Y/N say when she sees you like that?”

Before she left, she saw how he slightly took a glance at the mirror and quickly stood up to take a bath.

Silly guy.

Day 31

You finally got a job as a barista in Destiny Cafe. You didn't really have to work because you have enough money to last at least a decade but you need to take your mind off of things. Being in your home just makes you lonely.

Having a job is fun. Finally you get to sleep after tiring yourself during the day and you meet a lot of people.

However, the way back home is not the most pleasant whenever you pass by that arcade that you wanted to go to with Sylus.

You let yourself get bitter repressing them won't do you good anyway. You just let yourself feel annoyed and hurt and even cry at the smallest things.

Crying heals you and little by little you learn to let go of the things that break your heart. Baby steps, just like what they said.

Year 1

“Boss, do you want to go with us? We're going to Linkon for a mission." Kieran inquired. Sylus is in his office with piles of research papers at hand.

“No. I will stay here." He replied.

Kieran nodded. He understands that his boss is busy and he is dedicating all his time doing everything he can just to break that bond with Miss Hunter but that doesn't mean that they don't worry.

Him and his twin can't help but be alarmed at how Sylus is wearing himself down so every now and then they try to make him get out of the house even just for an hour.

Sometimes they succeed, but they won't miss the look of longing in their boss's eyes when he looks at the border that separates Linkon and the N109 Zone.

He never, not once stepped foot in Linkon since the day that you left. Luke once asked why and tjis is how their conversation went: “I want her to heal in her own way. And her seeing me might harm her progress. I can wait. She will come back when she's ready, or I'll go to her once everything in my end is okay. But not right now. It's too early.

“But Boss Man, what if an asshole tried to take her away? Let me and Kieran go there. We will look at her from afar so no one can get close. Or send Mephisto! She won't notice.” Luke whined. Sylus just clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"It's up to her. Now shut up and do your job.”

Kieran can see that despite saying those, Sylus is still affected; he just got better at hiding it.

You looked at your calendar. It's been only a year since you last saw Sylus but it already felt like forever.

You took a leave from work today planning to rest and just rot in bed all day. These past months, you had felt better but there are still days when his memories still haunt you just like today.

You stalked his Moments account. He seldom posts since you left and whenever he does, you know that it's about you. Every photo and caption is a reference to you and your memories with him.

Absent-mindedly, you refreshed his profile and your heart stopped at the image he posted. It was a fox brooch with ruby and onyx stone. He didn't say anything. Just that photo.

A smile crept on your lips. Surprisingly, there's no hurt and skepticism in your heart. Sadness, yes. But it's mostly because you miss him and his warmth.

You've come a long way and knowing that he is still waiting made the feeling more sweeter than it should.

Year 1 and 6 months

Sylus watched wide eyed as the soul link in his wrists disappeared. He was taking a shower when he felt it break. He didn't know how or why. MC didn't tell him anything. She didn't even have a breakthrough all these months.

And yet …

Quickly, he dried himself, took his phone and called her. She picked up the call as soon as it rang. She is just as excited as he is.

“IT'S BROKEN, OH MY GOD!" she yelled. He had to distance himself from the phone just to save his ears.

“How? What happened?" he asked.

Then there's a long pause. Sylus even thought that she hang up.

“MC?"

“Hmm, I don't know. But thinking about it now, before it broke I'm with my boyfriend …” she trailed off. "And, uhm, hehe we're y'know … intimate and confessed feelings and all that.”

Sylus winced, "Oh, shut up. I don't want to hear the filthy details."

“You asked! But yeah, I guess that's it. It was not so magical but I felt so much peace and wished that I could live the rest of my life and my future lives with him. And I guess that did it.” She said quietly.

"Thank you, MC.”

Even though he cannot see it. Sylus is sure that she's smiling right now.

"You're free now, Mister Dragon.”

She hung up the call after.

Sylus let out a shaky breath.

Finally.

“MADAME! I PROMISE WE WEREN'T FOLLOWING YOU! BOSS DOESN'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE! WE JUST WANT COFFEE WE DIDN'T KNOW YOU'RE WORKING HERE!" Your eyes widen at how loud Luke is and Kieran is just there standing dumbfounded. If his mask is not blocking his face you're sure that his mouth is gaping.

“Luke! Shut your mouth. You're making a fuss!" you tried to shut his mouth under the mask as you escorted them away from prying eyes.

“We promise! He didn't send us here. If we know, we will avoid this place." Kieran vouched for his brother.

“I know, I know. And besides, I didn't even assume that he sent you here and yet you're screaming your lungs out explaining yourself." You chuckled remembering how silly they looked earlier.

“You believe us?" Luke asked.

“Yes." you answered.

The silence between you is comfortable. Something familiar.

“I missed you two," you suddenly said.

It was evident that they didn't expect you to say that but their shoulders relaxed and both their hands patted your head.

“We missed you as well. The base isn't the same without you in it. No one vouches for us against Boss Man's wrath.” Kieran said.

"How is he?” You asked. Your voice is low. If they weren't paying attention they might've missed you saying that.

“Doing okay. At first he's itching to look for you and call you he didn't eat or sleep. We figure it's normal. He was hurt. Slowly, he got up and accepted your terms." Luke's words were careful. Trying his best not to give you an impression that they are obliging you to come back.

“I'm glad he's doing okay."

The conversation after that was light and fun thanks to the twins. They diverted the topic to Mephisto's antics instead and as much as they could they didn't bring up Sylus again.

You're thankful that they don't push for you to get back with him. For now, it's enough to know that he's doing well.

You still love him, yes. But you need more time to be certain that you're ready.

Year 2 and 10 months

It's almost three years since you last saw him. Unlike last year where you wallow in despair, this year you're excited to go out. You put on your best dress and gave yourself light makeup.

Months had passed since you first saw Luke and Kieran and now they're regular weekly customers in Destiny Cafe during their special days off. It's fun seeing old faces and they make your day a lot better whenever they come to visit.

You remember one time they gave you a small shiny pebble.

“What's this?" You asked.

“Mephisto asked us to give you that."

You smiled from ear to ear after that. You know they can't bring Mephisto to you because Sylus will know exactly where you are and you didn't give them the permission to reveal your location yet.

Now at present ,you walk the familiar path you took everyday except you don't go straight to the cafe but to the arcade instead.

“Time to get that baby crow." you mumbled to yourself with your game face on.

=

Sylus is not used to the bustling and bright ambiance of Linkon but somehow, today his feet brought him here. He hasn't set foot in this city since you left but he cannot ignore the nagging feeling in his chest that he needs to go here today.

He walked around aimlessly. Lately, the twins frequent here and he has a hunch that it's because of you. He didn't ask. But by the looks of those two, you're doing okay. And that's enough for him.

For now at least.

He still plans on getting you back. He is just waiting for a sign. For a go signal from fate that it's time.

It's so silly, really. But he is a man in love and if your paths cross again and he is certain that you feel the same, then he will not let you go.

He went back to his senses when he saw the familiar arcade near the cafe. He remembered you telling him that you wanted that crow plushie. He still feels a pang on his chest whenever he remembers that but he long accepted that it will always remind him of what he did. He had forgiven himself for that, and swore that if you will give him a chance again, he will never let you feel forgotten again.

Once inside, he bought enough tokens to last him until afternoon. He is not the luckiest when it comes to this stupid claw machine, but he vows that today, he will go home with the complete collection.

It took him a good hour before finally getting one and wa shocked when a group of employees clapped their hands at him.

“Nice! Finally someone got one. The woman earlier spent a lot of time but she didn't get it and she left disappointed. I almost think that this claw is broken."

Sylus paid them no mind and once he got the hang of it one by one all the different colors of the crow plushies were on his hands.

The kids were in awe of him and the plushies inside his paper bag and it gave him a smug satisfaction successfully getting them all.

Once he stepped foot outside the arcade he decided to relax for a bit in Destiny Cafe. He ordered his coffee, sat on the farthest table in the corner and inspected the plushies he won.

“She will surely like these." He mumbled to himself before someone spoke behind his back.

“Oh I surely will."

Sylus held his breath. He is afraid to look back.

But he knows that voice.

He heard footsteps and then your face came into view.

“Hi, can I sit here?" You gave him a smile and he can see that there's no more uncertainty there. It's like seeing you again for the first time.

“O-of course," he stuttered. His mouth was gaping.

Then he felt your hand on his chin helping him close his mouth.

“Sylus, this is just me. Close that mouth or you'll drool."

Normally, he would retort with the same sass. But right now all he knows is that he missed you and you're here.

“I missed you," that was the first thing he said. He is hesitating to make your hands touch. You chuckled to yourself. Shy Sylus is adorable especially with that blush on his face.

Gently, you made your fingers intertwined. He squeezed your hand and held them tightly.

“I missed you too, Sylus. How have you been?"

"Finally Free.”

That's all he said and you knew what it meant.

note: this is really the end 🥹🥹🥹 i cant thank all of you enough for giving my first LADS fic a chance. im so grateful for all your loveee. i said to myself id be happy if at least 10-30 people give this a read but here y'all are 😭 so thank you thank you! ill see you on the next one i hope?

comments, reblogs and reacts are welcome 🫶🏻

sylus nation and crow family hold hands in prayer that infold hears what the people deserve during aprilus

side effects may include: marriage, blushing, and one shirtless husband. | zayne

synopsis : You never planned on getting married straight out of college—especially not to a broody, absurdly attractive cardiac surgeon with the emotional range of a paperweight. But one wine-infused chocolate, a half-unbuttoned shirt, and an accidental kiss later, you’re rethinking everything.

content : arranged marriage!au, pure fluff, comedy, writer on crack

writer’s note : yay! the arranged marriage au’s have come full circle.

The letter in your hand crumples with the weight of betrayal as you wave it in front of your mother’s face like a white flag soaked in passive-aggression. “What is this?”

She barely glances up from her tea. “Your marriage agreement,” she says, taking a sip as if she hadn’t just casually handed your freedom over like a lunchbox.

“Why didn’t I know about this?!” you exclaim, arms flailing like you’re directing traffic in a thunderstorm.

“Because you wouldn’t have agreed,” she replies smoothly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Which, apparently, to her, it is.

“Mom, I literally just graduated,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

She raises a perfectly plucked brow. “I married your father before I even finished.”

You let out another groan, louder this time, before collapsing face-first onto the designer couch like a Victorian heroine with a Wi-Fi addiction.

It probably doesn’t help that your family owns one of the biggest tech companies in the country.

Wealthy, yes.

Emotionally prepared for an arranged marriage? Absolutely not.

“I don’t even know the guy!” you practically shout, sounding one emotional notch away from launching yourself into a soap opera.

“I do,” your mother says, flipping open her book like this conversation is just background noise. “He’s a very charming young man.”

You grab the nearest pillow and dramatically smother yourself with it. “I’m not doing it,” you declare, voice muffled and full of angst.

“It’s already been decided.”

You fling the pillow aside like it personally betrayed you. “No!”

Somewhere in the distance, a rich person’s violinist probably sighed in sympathy.

“You can’t make me do this!” you cry, pointing an accusatory finger at her like you’re about to cast a spell of teenage rebellion.

“You will move into the new house in a week. Pack your things,” she replies, turning the page of her book without even looking at you, as if she’s ordering takeout instead of destroying your life.

You gape at her. “I’m not going to prison, Mom. I’m just trying to live my mediocre post-grad life in peace!”

She sips her tea. “And now you’ll do it as a married woman. Congratulations.”

You consider packing alright—packing your bags and running to a country where arranged marriages are considered ancient history.

Except, here you were—one week, three tantrums, and a very dramatic attempt to fake your own death later—standing in front of your husband.

Tall. Towering. Probably sculpted by ancient gods who had nothing better to do.

In your new marital home.

You blink up at him, still hoping this was an elaborate prank and Ashton Kutcher was going to leap out from behind a curtain with a camera crew.

No such luck.

Your new husband just stood there, looking like he stepped out of a magazine and into your worst-case scenario.

“I’m Zayne,” he says calmly, like you’re meeting at a networking event and not at the start of your forced domestic partnership.

You stare. Tall, brooding, buttoned-up like he’s allergic to joy.

Of course his name is Zayne—the kind of name that comes with a tragic backstory and an impressive skincare routine.

A shudder runs through you.

You’re married to that?

Somewhere in the background, the universe probably gave you a thumbs-up and whispered, “Good luck, sweetheart.”

You gulp, trying to summon the dignity your pajama-clad soul clearly lacks. “I’m Y/N.”

He nods. Nods. No handshake, no smile, no “Nice to meet you, fellow victim of our parents’ power trip.”

And then—he just turns and walks away.

Walks. Away.

You’re left standing there, blinking like a Wi-Fi signal trying to reconnect.

Married. To a man who treats introductions like optional software updates.

—•

“This is what Mom called charming?” you grumble, side-eyeing the empty hallway like it personally offended you.

You replay the interaction in your head—“I’m Zayne”—and resist the urge to punch a pillow just to feel something.

Naturally, you do what any responsible adult in a forced marriage would do.

You begin a full-scale reconnaissance mission.

Operation? Figure Out Who the Heck I Married.

You start with the basics—tracking his schedule, observing his comings and goings like an underpaid spy in a bad rom-com.

The man has the consistency of a German train schedule, the emotional availability of a stone wall, and the mystery level of a locked diary in a teenager’s room.

You have no idea what he does for work. He leaves in crisp suits and comes home even more pressed. He talks to no one. He reads thick books with no covers. You’ve yet to catch him watching a single cat video.

So, naturally, you conclude he must be a rich heir. Or a prince. Or some exiled monarch trying to lay low until his kingdom is restored.

It helps that he’s unfairly attractive—black hair that falls just right, piercing eyes that could probably see through walls, and a jawline that could cut glass.

Yep. Definitely a prince.

A very emotionally constipated, tragically handsome prince.

“I know you’re there,” he says, voice smooth and unbothered—of course he does, because apparently your espionage skills rank somewhere between amateur squirrel and nosy neighbor.

He doesn’t even look up from his book at first. Just turns a page calmly, as if catching his new wife spying on him is an everyday occurrence.

Then, slowly, he tilts his head and meets your eyes.

Oh no.

That look is lethal—cool, unreadable, and annoyingly attractive. He sets the book down with a soft thud and takes off his glasses like he’s about to lecture you, interrogate you, or casually ruin your life with a single sentence.

“Come in,” he says, and somehow it sounds less like an invitation and more like a challenge.

You briefly consider fleeing the country.

But your legs move anyway.

You let out an awkward laugh, the kind that sounds more like a hiccup caught mid-lie. “I was just… trying to see what you do.”

Zayne arches a brow, amused. “And lurking behind walls was the most effective method?”

You shrug, stepping inside, the door clicking softly shut behind you. “I considered asking. But you don’t exactly give off ‘share your feelings over coffee’ vibes.”

He leans back slightly in his chair, arms folding as he studies you—like you’re a puzzle he didn’t ask for but now can’t resist solving. “And what have you learned from your mission?”

“That you read a lot of intimidating books and might secretly be a prince,” you mutter, eyeing the hardcover he’d set down. “Or an assassin with excellent taste in eyewear.”

That earns you the ghost of a smile. Barely there—but it softens something in his expression.

“You’re not entirely wrong,” he says, and somehow, that doesn’t help.

You step closer, cautiously. “So… what do you do?”

Zayne tilts his head slightly. “Why? Interested now?”

“Trying to decide if I should be impressed… or mildly concerned for my safety.”

He chuckles under his breath—quiet and low, like he’s not used to laughing, but might want to try. “Maybe both.”

And for a moment, just a flicker, the air between you shifts. Less awkward, more curious. Like two strangers on the edge of something not quite comfortable, but not cold either.

“Well,” you say, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve, “I figured if I’m going to be married to a mystery man, I should at least get to know the mystery.”

Zayne watches you for a beat longer, then gestures to the seat across from him.

“Then stay,” he says. “Ask your questions properly this time.”

And you do.

You sit down across from him, suddenly hyper-aware of how your knees almost brush beneath the table.

His gaze is steady—too steady—and you gulp like you’ve just asked for his hand in courtship instead of mild information.

“So… what do you do?” you ask, trying to sound casual. It comes out more like a nervous frog asking a favor.

Zayne doesn’t answer right away. He leans back slightly, arms still folded, one brow lifting like he’s debating how much to reveal—or maybe just how much fun he’ll have watching you squirm.

“I’m a cardiac surgeon,” he finally says, voice low and even.

You blink.

“I—what?”

“I operate on hearts,” he says, like he’s talking about changing a lightbulb.

You stare at him. This whole time you thought he was brooding over world domination or writing dark poetry about rain. Heart surgeon was not on your bingo card.

“Wait, seriously? Like… actual hearts? With… scalpels?”

He tilts his head, clearly amused. “Is there another kind?”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Wow. I was prepared for ‘billionaire with a tragic past,’ not Grey’s Anatomy.”

“I assure you, there’s still a tragic past,” he deadpans, and for a second you’re not sure if he’s joking.

He doesn’t elaborate—but something in his eyes flickers. Quiet. Guarded.

You lean back, blinking slowly. “Okay… that’s kind of hot.”

That gets him. His lips twitch, just a little. “Are you flirting with your husband?”

You pretend to examine the ceiling. “I’m just saying, it makes the whole mysterious-silent-guy thing slightly more tolerable.”

He lets out a soft laugh—barely audible, but it’s real.

And suddenly, sitting across from him doesn’t feel so heavy.

He stands up suddenly, the chair sliding back with a soft scrape against the floor. You jolt slightly, halfway through processing his laugh, and blink up at him.

His expression has shifted—still calm, but there’s something else now. A hint of gravity in the way he looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, catching you off guard. “For the suddenness of all this.”

You sit up straighter, unsure what to say. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged the whole arranged-marriage-against-your-will situation out loud.

Before you can respond, he steps closer, extending a hand—not forceful, just open. “Let me show you why.”

Your heart skips. “Why what?”

“Why our parents thought this could work,” he says, and for the first time, there’s no teasing in his tone—just sincerity. Gentle, but certain.

You stare at his hand. His fingers are long, precise. A surgeon’s hands. Hands that fix hearts.

And here he was, offering them to you.

So, slowly, hesitantly, you place your hand in his.

And just like that, something shifts again. Less awkward. A little warmer. A little more real.

He guides you out to his car—a sleek, polished thing that looks like it probably knows more about taxes than you do. He opens the passenger door for you, which is either chivalrous or unsettling, you’re not sure yet.

You slide in, still trying to wrap your head around this whole situation, when he leans in unexpectedly close—and reaches across you.

Your breath catches.

Then—click—he fastens your seatbelt.

You blink at him, flustered. Not because it was romantic. It wasn’t. It was clinical. Efficient. Like buckling you in was a task on his daily checklist.

Still, your brain short-circuits a little.

“Thanks,” you mumble, confused by how something so unromantic could still make your stomach flutter.

He simply shuts the door and rounds the front of the car, settling into the driver’s seat like he’s done it a hundred times.

You glance over. “So… where are we going?”

He shifts the gear with practiced ease, eyes on the road. “To see my parents.”

You freeze. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“As in—meeting the in-laws now?”

Zayne glances at you, completely calm. “You’re my wife. It’s only natural.”

You groan quietly into your palms. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

At your dramatic groan, Zayne gives the faintest hint of a smile—so subtle you almost miss it. Just the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips, like your misery is a quiet source of amusement to him.

You narrow your eyes. “Was that a smile?”

“I don’t recall,” he says, cool as ever.

You huff and turn your gaze out the window, resigned to what you assume will be an awkward, overly formal afternoon in a mansion filled with judgmental in-laws and porcelain teacups.

But twenty minutes later, when the car slows to a stop, your sarcasm dies in your throat.

Because this isn’t a mansion.

It’s a cemetery.

Your eyes flick to him, your voice suddenly small. “Zayne…?”

He cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, his expression unreadable again.

“You said you wanted to know why,” he says, gently. “So I’m showing you.”

And just like that, your earlier words—your groaning, your dramatics, your little internal jokes—feel like they belong to someone else entirely.

Zayne steps out of the car without another word, and you follow, suddenly quiet, your footsteps softer on the gravel. The wind tugs at your sleeves as he leads you up a small hill, the world around you hushed, respectful.

The trees part at the crest, revealing an open clearing.

Two gravestones stand side by side, worn but well-kept, the grass around them neatly trimmed. Fresh flowers rest at their bases—white lilies, carefully arranged.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Zayne slows as he approaches, his hands in his coat pockets. He doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at them for a long moment. When he does speak, his voice is low, quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“These are my parents.”

Your chest tightens.

You glance at him—his posture still straight, still composed, but there’s something softer now. Something heavy that doesn’t show in his face, but in the silence he carries around it.

“They passed away when I was in my first year of med school,” he says, eyes fixed on the stones. “I visit them every week. I always bring lilies—my mother liked them.”

You stand there beside him, uncertain at first, then quietly fold your arms, the weight of the moment settling on your shoulders.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, and for once, there’s no edge in his voice. Just truth.

And suddenly, you understand what he meant earlier. Why he said he wanted to show you. Why he apologized.

Because this marriage wasn’t just sudden—it was the first thing in a long time he hadn’t had to face alone.

“My parents made an agreement with yours,” Zayne says, his voice steady as he turns to face you.

There’s no accusation in his tone, no bitterness. Just quiet honesty.

“So in a way,” he continues, meeting your eyes, “we’re both stuck in this predicament. Not just you.”

The word predicament almost makes you laugh—because that’s exactly what it is. A polite, miserable mess you’ve both been handed like a family heirloom no one wanted.

But the way he says it… it’s not cold. It’s not detached.

It’s shared.

For the first time, you see the man behind the silence. Not just the polished stranger with perfect posture and unreadable expressions—but someone who lost his family, who carried grief with clinical grace, who walked into this marriage just as unprepared as you.

You lower your gaze, toeing the earth gently beneath your shoe. “Guess that makes us reluctant allies.”

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

Then, after a pause, he adds, “But I don’t intend to stay strangers with you forever. Not if we’re in this together.”

You feel something small and strange crack open in your chest.

Hope. Maybe. Or just the beginning of something real.

After the quiet moments of prayer—hands clasped, heads bowed, the wind weaving through the stillness—you and Zayne make your way back down the hill in silence. It’s not uncomfortable this time. Just… thoughtful. Like something unspoken has shifted between you.

The ride home is calm, the late afternoon sun casting soft light through the windshield. You glance over at him, watching the way his fingers rest lightly on the steering wheel, the way his profile is bathed in gold.

You hesitate, then ask, voice gentle, “How do you feel about this marriage?”

He doesn’t answer right away. The road stretches ahead, lined with trees and fading light, and you think maybe he won’t answer at all.

But then, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips—small, but unmistakable.

“I don’t mind it,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “Now that I’ve met you.”

You blink.

It’s not grand or poetic. It’s not a love confession or sweeping gesture. But something about the way he says it—so simple, so sure—makes your heart trip a little in your chest.

You turn back to the window, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

And for the first time, the silence between you feels like something full, not empty.

—•

When you reach home, Zayne unlocks the door with quiet efficiency and steps inside like he’s been doing it for years—even though technically, it’s your first week as reluctant roommates.

He shrugs off his coat and heads straight for the kitchen.

You trail behind him, curious. “What are you doing?”

“Making tea,” he says, already reaching for the kettle.

You arch a brow. “Seriously… did you go to husband-training-school or something?”

He glances at you over his shoulder, eyes just a touch amused. “Is that a thing?”

“It should be,” you say, hopping up onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “You open doors, buckle seatbelts, visit your parents’ graves with fresh flowers, and now you make tea? Either you’re weirdly good at this or you’ve been raised by a very intense etiquette instructor.”

Zayne smirks—an actual smirk this time, not the half-ghost of one. “My mother believed in manners. My father believed in precision.”

You nod sagely. “Ah, so you were raised by royalty.”

He sets two mugs on the counter, then adds, “And I believe in not poisoning my wife with bad tea on day seven of our arranged marriage.”

You lift your hands. “Low bar, but I appreciate it.”

He chuckles quietly as he pours the water, and you watch him, a strange sort of warmth settling in your chest.

Turns out, “reluctant husband” looks a lot like “softly competent tea-making mystery man” when no one’s looking.

You watch him as he carefully stirs the tea, trying to look casual, though there’s an edge to your curiosity. “So, have you got a girlfriend? Before all this…?”

The question hangs in the air, a little awkward, but you can’t help yourself. You’re still trying to figure out who he is outside of this whole marriage thing. You need to know what kind of life he led before it all changed.

Zayne doesn’t answer immediately, his movements slowing for just a moment as if he’s considering the question carefully. His eyes flick to you, then back to the steaming mugs.

“No,” he says after a beat, the word simple but loaded. “I didn’t. Too busy, I suppose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Too busy for dating? I find that hard to believe.”

He lets out a quiet breath, placing the spoon down with the kind of deliberation that makes you think there’s more behind it. “It’s not that I didn’t have time. I was just… focused on other things.”

“Like saving lives?” you tease, leaning on the counter.

He glances at you, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment before he gives a small nod. “Exactly. I never made time for anything else.”

You hum thoughtfully, but there’s something in his voice that makes you stop. Focused on other things. You wonder if that was his way of avoiding other things. Or maybe he just never let anyone close enough.

You catch his gaze again, and this time, there’s a flicker—an unspoken something in the way he holds it. You can’t quite place it, but it’s enough to make your stomach tighten, just slightly.

“Well, now you’ve got me,” you say, trying to keep the tone light. “I guess that makes two of us.”

Zayne’s lips curl into the faintest smile. “Indeed.”

That night, you change into something nice—half-expecting a stiff, high-end restaurant with white tablecloths, six forks, and judgmental lighting.

But when Zayne pulls the car up to a quiet little corner bistro tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore, you blink in surprise.

It’s not fancy. No valet, no sparkling chandeliers, no menus written in French.

It’s… cozy.

Warm lights glow from inside, casting golden puddles on the sidewalk. Through the windows, you spot mismatched chairs, little potted plants on the tables, and the soft flicker of candlelight.

Someone’s playing gentle jazz on a guitar in the corner, and the air smells like garlic and fresh bread.

“This isn’t what I expected,” you murmur as he opens the car door for you.

He raises a brow. “Disappointed?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. Actually… I like it.”

He doesn’t smile, not really—but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like that’s exactly the answer he was hoping for.

Inside, you’re seated at a small table by the window. The waiter greets Zayne like he’s been here before, which surprises you even more. You hadn’t pegged him as the “quiet Italian bistro” type. More like “emotionally distant, espresso-fueled loner.”

But here he is. Ordering your meal with quiet confidence, asking if you want sparkling or still water like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And somehow, it feels normal.

As you sip your wine and let the warmth of the room settle around you, you realize this whole evening—isn’t part of some obligation or checklist.

He brought you here because he wanted to.

And that realization sits quietly between you, more intimate than candlelight.

“What did you study?” Zayne asks, his tone casual but deliberate.

You pause, fingers tightening slightly around your water glass—not because the question itself is startling, but because he asked it. He, who rarely volunteers anything beyond necessity, is choosing to ask you something personal. Choosing to know you.

And that… that makes your chest feel oddly warm.

“Uhm,” you say, blinking out of your surprise. “I majored in Economics.”

He nods, his gaze steady. “I assume it’s to help your parents, then?”

You smile faintly, setting your glass down. “Yeah. I mean, I was never really pushed into it, but it felt like the logical thing to do. Legacy and all that.”

He hums, clearly understanding. “Pressure has a way of wearing itself like a choice.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “That was poetic.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s true.”

And you find yourself smiling—not the awkward, forced kind you used to wear around him, but a quiet, genuine one.

“Did you always want to be a surgeon?” you ask in return.

He considers for a moment, then says, “No. I wanted to be an architect when I was younger.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“I liked building things,” he says, eyes flicking to you with a faint glimmer of amusement. “But life had other plans.”

And just like that, you realize you’re not dining with a stranger anymore.

You’re slowly, carefully, getting to know your husband.

You narrow your eyes at him, lips twitching as you lean back in your chair. “You wouldn’t have made a good architect,” you say, your tone teasing.

Zayne glances up from his plate, one brow arching in mock offense. “Oh? And why’s that?”

You shrug, swirling your water like it’s a wine glass. “Too serious. You’d probably design buildings with no windows. Just perfectly symmetrical, intimidating concrete blocks where joy goes to die.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I happen to like symmetry.”

“Exactly,” you grin. “You’d build dystopian fortresses and call them modern masterpieces.”

He leans forward slightly, voice lower, a touch playful. “And what would you build? Something inefficient with fairy lights and personality?”

You gasp, hand to your chest. “Yes. And they’d be beloved.”

Zayne smiles, really smiles this time—and for a second, you forget the marriage was arranged. Because god damn, he looks good when he smiles.

—•

Zayne drives you home after dinner, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between you. The city lights blur softly past the windows, and you catch yourself smiling—again.

Not because of the food.

Not because of the warm, candlelit atmosphere.

But because he smiled at you.

Not a smirk, not a polite twitch of the lips—an actual, honest-to-goodness smile.

And it was for you.

You lean your head against the window, trying to play it cool, but your heart’s doing backflips like it’s auditioning for the Olympics.

Who knew one smile from a broody cardiac surgeon could make you feel like you were in a coming-of-age movie?

When he pulls up to the house and parks, he doesn’t rush out or unbuckle your seatbelt like earlier. He just sits for a moment, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

“Thank you,” you say softly, turning to him. “For dinner. And… for today.”

His eyes meet yours, steady. “You’re welcome.”

You linger a second longer than necessary, then reach for the door handle.

But before you can step out, he adds quietly, “I’m glad you came.”

Your breath catches, but you manage a soft smile.

“Me too.”

And as you walk up to the front door together, side by side, you realize something strange and terrifying and kind of wonderful:

You might actually be starting to like your husband.

—•

You’re halfway through your bedtime routine—hair tied up, comfy shirt on, emotionally bracing yourself for your nightly existential crisis—when you hear his voice from the living room.

“Y/N. Come sit with me.”

You freeze in the hallway like a startled cat.

Your brain short-circuits.

Come sit with me.

On the couch.

In the living room.

You peek around the corner, and there he is—Zayne, in his neatly rolled-up sleeves, glasses off, looking painfully relaxed and devastatingly unfair with one arm resting along the back of the couch like this is some indie romance movie and not your actual, real-life arranged marriage.

You fight the very real urge to scream.

Because—hello?? Attractive, emotionally reserved doctor asking you to sit beside him in dim lighting?

No. Absolutely not. Husband or not, this is a threat to your mental health and emotional stability.

Still, your feet move traitorously toward him.

You sit at the very edge of the couch, posture stiff, like you’re preparing to be interviewed, not casually sitting with your husband.

He glances at you, amused. “You look tense.”

“I am tense,” you mutter, clutching a throw pillow like it’s a life raft. “This feels like a trap.”

Zayne chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying your slow descent into chaos. “You’re overthinking.”

“You’re underthinking. Have you seen yourself right now?”

He doesn’t answer—just reaches for the remote and switches on a movie.

And you sit there, slowly melting into the couch, wildly aware of how close he is, and wondering how on earth you’re supposed to survive a husband who smiles at you one moment and invites you to sit with him the next like it’s nothing.

It is very much something.

You shoot up from the couch like you’ve just remembered you left the stove on. “I’m gonna go… look for snacks,” you say, your voice a touch too high-pitched to be innocent.

Zayne turns his head slightly, probably about to say something—maybe to offer help or point out where the cookies are—but you don’t wait. You flee the room with the grace and urgency of someone definitely not running from their feelings.

Out of the corner of your eye, just before you disappear down the hallway, you swear you see it.

A smirk.

That little—

Nope. You’re not thinking about that. You are not spiraling over one stupid, stupid smirk.

You fling open the pantry door with more drama than necessary and scan the shelves like a raccoon on a mission. And then… there it is.

A not-so-suspicious box of chocolate. Sitting there. Unlabeled. Untouched. Almost like it was waiting for you.

Naturally, the logical thing to do is take it.

You snatch it like a gremlin, muttering to yourself, “If this is his secret stash, he shouldn’t have left it where I could find it.”

Because if you’re going to emotionally unravel over a handsome surgeon who asks you to sit with him, you might as well do it with sugar.

You shuffle back into the living room, trying not to look suspicious even though you’re literally holding the loot in both hands.

Zayne glances at the box, one brow lifting ever so slightly.

Without a word, you plop down next to him again—this time slightly closer, because apparently you’re a danger to yourself—and open the lid. You pick one out, hesitate, then hold it out to him.

He looks at it, then at you.

And takes it.

Just like that—without hesitation, without question—like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to offer him something sweet and for him to accept it.

He pops it in his mouth, casual, like he didn’t just cause your heart to skip a full beat.

You stare at him. “You didn’t even ask what it was.”

He shrugs. “I trust your judgment.”

Great. Now you’re emotionally compromised and flustered.

You quickly shove a chocolate into your own mouth before you say something like “Why are you so attractive when you chew?”

This marriage is going to ruin you.

As the chocolate melts on your tongue, rich and smooth, you frown slightly. There’s something… extra about the flavor. A little too warm. A little too bold.

You squint at the box, lifting it closer to inspect the label. The fancy script mocks you as your eyes land on the fine print.

“Hey, these are infused with—”

You stop mid-sentence, turning to Zayne.

He’s flushed.

Not dramatically—but enough. His ears are a little pink, the tips of his cheeks tinged with color, and he suddenly seems very interested in the pattern on the coffee table.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, holding up the box like a smoking gun. “They’re infused with wine.”

He clears his throat. “Just a little.”

“Zayne.”

“I forgot,” he mutters, and now he won’t meet your eyes.

You blink at him, then at the chocolate, then back at him.

And then you burst into laughter.

“Are you—are you buzzed from one piece of wine chocolate?”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no real heat. “I’m not buzzed.”

“You’re flushed.”

“I run warm.”

You clutch your stomach, giggling. “Oh, this is so going in the mental scrapbook.”

He shakes his head, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

And suddenly, the couch doesn’t feel so intimidating. The air between you is warm—not from the chocolate or the wine, but from the quiet, ridiculous comfort of two strangers slowly, awkwardly becoming something more.

But fate, in all its twisted sense of humor, decided to laugh directly in your face.

Because as it turns out, Zayne does not do well with alcohol.

At all.

One wine-infused chocolate later, and he’s leaning back into the couch, flushed like he’s been running laps, and visibly warmer—literally and metaphorically.

You glance over just in time to see him tug at the top button of his shirt.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Your brain short-circuits.

You grip the edge of the sofa like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Do not scream. Do not make a sound. You are strong. You are composed. You are—

He exhales, fingers working at the last button near his collarbone, exposing smooth skin and that maddeningly perfect line of his throat.

“I feel… warm,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You don’t respond. Because you can’t.

You’re too busy having an internal meltdown.

This is not a movie. This is real life.

Real life where your emotionally-reserved, wine-chocolate-flushed husband is currently undoing his shirt on your shared couch like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to your sanity.

You bite your tongue and stare straight ahead.

This marriage is a trap.

This couch is cursed.

And Zayne, evidently, is dangerous in more ways than one.

You try—truly try—to focus on the TV.

You fixate on the screen like it holds the meaning of life, repeating in your head. Not looking. Not thinking. Muscles aren’t real. Buttons are lies. Stay strong.

But then—

You feel it.

A hand around your wrist. Warm. Firm.

You barely have time to register it before you’re turned toward him—face-to-face with all of him.

Half-unbuttoned shirt. Lean muscles. Broad chest. Collarbone on full display like it paid rent to be there. His eyes, slightly glazed but locked onto yours with an intensity that could melt furniture.

Your breath hitches. “Z-Zayne!”

Your voice comes out embarrassingly high-pitched. Like a cartoon character caught in a romantic ambush.

His hand doesn’t let go.

Neither does his gaze.

“You’re really red,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly, as if you’re the one being strange in this situation.

“I’m red?!” you squeak, trying very hard not to look down. Or up. Or anywhere.

He leans just the tiniest bit closer, and his voice drops, slow and low. “Are you feeling warm too?”

You make a noise. Not a word. Just a sound. Because your brain has left the building and taken all coherent thought with it.

This couch is no longer a piece of furniture.

It’s a battlefield.

His grip on your wrist softens, but he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes lightly—absently—against your skin as he stares at you like he’s trying to memorize your entire existence.

And then, with absolutely no warning, he slurs softly, “You’re really… pretty… you know that?”

Your soul momentarily evacuates your body.

You blink at him. “I—what?”

“You are,” he says, a little slower, a little sleepier, his words curling lazily like they’re wrapped in velvet. “Your face is nice. Your eyes do this… sparkle thing. Like the stars. But not, cliché stars. Like… classy stars.”

You open your mouth to reply, but absolutely nothing intelligent comes out.

Because here is your emotionally closed-off husband—tipsy from a single chocolate, shirt halfway undone, staring at you like you hung the moon and casually comparing your eyes to classy stars.

This has officially become too much.

You grab the throw pillow beside you and bury your face in it with a muffled, “Zayne, you’re drunk.”

He hums, leaning back slightly, satisfied like he’s just confessed something profound.

“I’m married to a pretty girl,” he mumbles, like it’s the best realization he’s had all day.

And you? You are one slurred compliment away from combusting.

You reach out without thinking, hand aiming straight for his cheek—half to ground yourself, half because you want to see if he’s real and not just a hallucination brought on by wine chocolate and emotional confusion.

But before your fingers make contact, he catches your wrist again.

Gently. Firmly.

And then—he tugs.

You let out a surprised gasp as you stumble forward, barely catching yourself with your free hand against his chest. He’s solid. Warm. Way too warm.

Your heart skips, then trips, then sprints like it’s running late for something.

You barely have time to react before he looks up at you—eyes soft, dazed, and entirely sincere—and asks:

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s not breathy or desperate. Not bold or teasing.

He says it like a gentleman asking for a dance. Like he’s asking your permission to step into something delicate. Something real.

Your breath catches. The world stills. The TV hums in the background, forgotten.

You’re close enough to see the way his lashes rest against flushed skin, close enough to feel his breath brush against your lips.

And now, you have a choice to make.

Because despite the chaos, the circumstance, the wine-infused madness of it all—Zayne just asked you so politely to kiss you.

And god help you…

You kind of want him to.

You open your mouth to reply—maybe to say yes, maybe to question your sanity—but the words never make it out.

Because his lips are already on yours.

Gentle. Soft. Careful, like he’s still half-expecting you to pull away. Like he knows he’s toeing a fragile line and doesn’t want to break it.

Your eyes flutter shut as instinct takes over, and the world tilts slightly.

You can barely taste the chocolate on his lips, a hint of sweetness tangled with something warmer, something that makes your heart thrum unevenly in your chest.

Your mind goes fuzzy. Not from the kiss itself, but from the feeling that comes with it—the quiet kind. The kind that settles in your chest like a secret you hadn’t realized you were keeping.

He doesn’t rush it.

His hand stays on your wrist, thumb brushing softly along your skin, as if even now he’s asking—Is this okay? Are you sure?

And you are.

Somewhere between wine-infused chocolates, teasing banter, and the way he said Can I kiss you? like it meant everything—you became sure.

And so you kiss him back.

Somehow—somehow—you’re still suspended there, caught in that precarious space between balance and disaster, one hand on his chest, the other still held by his.

And then his hands slide to your waist.

Slow. Sure. Steady.

He holds you like he’s anchoring you—like if he let go, you might float away.

And that’s when the kiss deepens.

No more polite hesitation, no more softness at the edges. It’s still gentle, yes—but there’s more now. More pressure. More heat. More intention.

Your fingers curl against his shirt, and it takes every last ounce of self-control not to start undoing the buttons he didn’t already conquer earlier. Because God, you can feel the strength in him—lean muscle under your palm, warmth radiating like it was meant for you, and he’s kissing you like he’s waited a long time to do it.

You gasp softly against his mouth, and he swallows the sound like a secret.

Your mind is a whirlwind. Logic? Gone. Restraint? Dangling by a thread.

You are this close to losing all common sense and just undressing him right here on the couch like your sanity isn’t hanging on by a single, wine-infused thread.

But then he pulls back, just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath warm and uneven.

And he whispers, barely audible, “You taste sweet.”

You’re going to combust.

This man is going to ruin you.

The world blurs at the edges, warm and hazy like honeyed sunlight through half-closed curtains. His breath still ghosts against your lips, his hands still resting on your waist like they belong there, like you belong there.

You feel weightless. Drunk, not on wine or chocolate, but on him—the warmth of his skin, the way he kissed you like it was something sacred, the way he looked at you like you were something more than a stranger handed to him by fate.

Everything is soft. Glowing. Surreal.

Too perfect.

And then—

Blink.

The warmth fades. The light shifts.

You’re no longer on the couch.

You’re standing, stiff, in a room full of flowers and polished silence, your fingers cold at your sides.

Zayne stands across from you, buttoned-up, composed, unreadable. No wine in his system. No flushed cheeks. No trace of that kiss.

Just a man you’ve never met.

And the moment of your arranged introduction.

Your breath catches, and for a second, you don’t know what’s real.

But you do know one thing.

Whatever just happened—dream, vision, or cruel trick of the mind—it’s already begun.

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED...THIS ONE? ♡

summ. sabrina’s eiffel tower pose with a twist of course

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb, rafayel

cw. threesomes, oral, p in v, jealousy (xavier ofc), very sensitive men, creampie, virgin!rafayel, dirty talk, competition (Caleb and Xavier lol), pet names

a/n. im feeling so sick sorry if this is a little sloppy haha, sorry for double sylus

SYLUS & ZAYNE ⋆˚࿔

“can we try this?”

“No.” sylus and zayne said in unison.

But of course, they gave in.

'cause the next thing you knew, you were bent over between the two men. zayne was behind you while sylus was in the front. the space between the men was suffocating, and you practically had your face nuzzled on sylus' boner while your ass was mere inches away from touching zaynes.

a shaky sigh escaped zayne's lips and sylus let out a chuckle, his fingers glide through your hair before he pulls your head up to look at him.

"seems like you're asking for more than just 'trying' this pose?" sylus teased. you shrug and sylus peers his gaze to zayne.

"what d'ya think zayne? should we give her more?"

"if that's what she wants..." zayne mumbled, snaking his frail fingers around your waist to pull you closer. a whine escaped your lips and you quickly nod.

"alright." sylus whispered, unbuckling the belt of his pants, while zayne did the exact same thing. zayne slipped down your pants in a swift movement and pressed his warm creamy head against your soaking cunt while sylus only shoved half his tip inside your mouth.

your fingers immediately make contact with sylus’ thighs, gripping them in a respectful manner as your lips perfectly wrap around his large length. sylus let out a menacing groan as he pulled your head back and forth, back and foortthh–

just as you were getting used to the pleasure of sylus' cock buried deep in your mouth. zayne's length pushes himself deeper inside your puffy folds. his pace quickened and you felt like you were going to cum any second now.

"'m mma um!" you try to warn, but sylus' cock was making it difficult for you to speak. you close your eyes shut as you felt both cocks ramming inside you in an unsynchronized pattern.

"what was that–ngh sweetie?"

"'m close." zayne whimpered, his fingers digging deep in your already bruised hips as he lets out one final thrust before he mistakenly came right inside you.

a loud moan escaped your lips when you felt zayne continuing to ram his cock inside you, even after he came. his creamy tip slicked his cum in and out of your tight cunt and before you knew it, you also came at the impact.

zayne pulled out breathlessly and sylus pulled out moments later. you pant heavily as you try to catch your breath from the crazy fucking sex you had.

just when you thought you we're done, sylus pressed his soaking tip against your lips, mind you, again, and a stupid smirk rested against his lips.

"im not done yet, finish me off?"

XAVIER & CALEB

when you showed the two of them the pose you wanted to try, of course Caleb agreed.

but now that Caleb agreed, that meant Xavier had no other choice but to also agree. as much as he didn't want to do it, he didnt want you and Caleb to be the only one to do that stupid pose.

but one little problem was the two of them fighting over who would get to go in the back.

it had been nearly ten minutes and none of them chose a side yet. you were still standing in the middle of both of them, waiting for them to choose a side.

"just take turns, dont make this difficult than it already is." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Caleb nods and struts behind you. Xavier mumbles something incoherent under his breath and presses himself on your face. a chuckle was heard from behind you, and god, you could imagine the look on Calebs face.

a quiet scowl was heard from Xavier and he slid his fingers through your hair, "Caleb 's my turn now" Xavier asked in the nicest voice possible, but what did Caleb do?

"mm its barely been five minutes though? why not wait a bit longer?" Calebs voice was filled with mockery, which only made Xavier the slightest bit angrier, except he tried to not show it that much.

"buutt since I'm here now, and clearly my pipsqueak didnt just ask us to just try this pose, might as well make up for my time." Calebs sinister voice echoed through the room before his fingers slid under the waistband of your pants before pulling them down.

"so that's how you want to play, huh?" Xavier scoffed, his fingers resting against the waistband of his pants before also pulling them down. you look up and was met with Xaviers soaking boxers on display for you.

"uh-"

but you didn't even get a chance to finish your sentence before Xavier carefully shoved his length in your mouth. your eyes widened in shock and you swirl your tongue around his tip, while also pushing yourself back and forth.

"look at that..." Xavier mumbled, his bored sleepy eyes peered at Caleb who just let out a chuckle in response and lowered his fingers against your dripping cunt, slowly stretching out your folds before he slid a finger in, stroking you in a quick movement.

once he thought it was enough, Caleb slid his dripping fingers out of your cunt and aligned himself with you. his creamy tip made contact with your pussy and he slowly pushed himself inside you.

"mmh 's been a while since I had this" Caleb tilted his head back as he rammed himself into you, Xaviers gaze darkens and he quickens quicker in your mouth.

"mgh?!" a surprised moan slipped from your lips when you felt both cocks ram inside you like as if they were competing in a race to see which was better, and clearly you had no idea which to choose because both were making you feel too good.

"c'mon pipsqueak y-you like thisss?" Caleb asked.

and of course, out of instinct, you nodded.

which definitely caused a reaction from Xavier.

"oh you like that?" Xavier mocked, burying his cock deep in your throat, he was practically balls deep inside your mouth and you felt like both your lips were going to rip apart any second now.

"shit, close... 'm close!" Caleb whines, thrusting himself even deeper, despite the fact he felt like he was going to cum any second now. a desperate whine escaped your lips and you felt Xaviers grip tighten around your hair as he pushes your head back and forth even quicker, seeking for release before Caleb could.

and so the two men eventually reached climax, at the exact same time, no point in competing in that anyway.

SYLUS & RAFAYEL

"sy! raf! c'mere lets try this!"

well, sylus only knew about what you were attempting to try, which was to get rafayel to do something to you. so this was your little plan you and sylus thought of.

first, show the pose like it was some innocent little thing, then make rafayel a little stimulated and eventually he'll go wild and lose his virginity to you, tonight! easy right?

well, both sylus and rafayel examined the video and rafayel looked a little skeptical, but after sylus agreed, rafayel decided to eventually give in.

"I'll be in the fr–"

"no. you go to the back." sylus interrupted.

a shaky sigh left rafayel's lips and he hesitantly snaked behind you, lingering himself just mere inches away from your dolled up tiny skirt. all he had to do was just don't look, don't look, don't loo–

well, fuck.

'cause now his stupid bluey-red eyes lingered down your bare legs, his gaze lowering each second and before he could continue sylus let out a 'tsk' to awake him from his daze.

rafayel shook his head and looked back at sylus, quickly apologizing.

you got in position and bent yourself between the two men, your ass brushed against rafayels boner and he let out a gasp, "h-hey! watch it!" a hint of whimpering laced his voice and you just chuckle in response.

"relax raf, its part of the pose." you taunt but he just scoffed in response, now comes the fun part.

"raf, you can do more than just stare like that." sylus said.

"whaatt I wasn't even!" but rafayels fingers couldn't control themself, this was his first time anyway, and he has been wanting to do this with you for a while now, but why was he just so nervous?

he raised your skirt up your laced panties were on display for him, he licked his lips before slipping a finger under and pulling your panties down.

"you know what to do next?"

"I know. i'm not stupid."

and rafayel was definitely not stupid. he did the perfect prepping before he could put himself in you. and when that time came, he was a bit worried but after a bit of time he pressed his soaking tip against your cunt.

"like--ngh this?"

"mm, keep going. sweetie how're you feeling?"

"goo-ungh!"

rafayel pushed himself deeper in you, his cock was stretching you out inch by inch and you felt like you were going to rip apart any second now. instinctively, you arch your back further and spread your legs wider, giving more space for rafayel to pummel himself deeper in you.

"shiitt... 's suppose to feel this good?" rafayel murmured, ramming himself in you in a quicker movement, his tip reaching your cervix on every thrust and you felt pleasure spike through you every. single. time.

"if you go too quick, you're going to come quickly. why not savour the moment you have?"

"mm, t'good...cant." rafayel tilted his head back, his nails digging deep in your hips as he thrusted the last he thrust he could before spurs of white mixture sprawled out of him, coating your insides.

as he pulled away, you fell to your knees, feeling his cum drip down your pussy like a waterfall, you chuckle and look up at sylus who had a small smile plastered on his face before he looked at rafayel.

"how was that rafayel?"

"good...more would be soo nice right now" he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

tried to do diff dynamics LMAO

Formatting time! New fic incoming!