digitalcreaturelurking

[digitalcreaturelurking]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆? ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

ʚ prompt—they asked you to text them when you got home, but you forgot (early relationship)

ʚ incl—gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, ijichi, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont—fluff, crack

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Just thinking about Soft!Sylus and how he expresses his love…

Hear me out…he’s at his most vulnerable after moments of intimacy. And I don’t mean just after sex, I mean any kind of intimacy.

Walk with me here:

…You’re laying on the couch and Sylus is on top of you, his full body weight resting on yours. One hand rests between his shoulder blades while the other cards through his hair.

He hums in contentment and says, “I’m safe in your arms. You’ll protect me, right kitten?”

…You’re nestled together in bed, the sun peeking through the slit in Sylus’s blackout curtains. You’d convinced him once again to ruin his sleep schedule for you, wanting to spend the night warm in his embrace.

His lips trace over your brow as he whispers, “Having you here makes the sunrise more bearable. I could get used to this.”

…Your heavy breaths mix as you both come down from your highs, Sylus still buried deep inside you.

You share a slow, passionate kiss.

Against your lips, he murmurs, “There’s nothing I enjoy more than worshipping every inch of you, my beloved.”

…It’s your honeymoon and you’re on the beach, finally having gotten a moment to yourselves after what felt like days of chaos. But not once did Sylus complain, no he took everything in stride as long as it meant being by your side.

And he says to you, the weight of his devotion clear in his red eyes, “I love what you love.”

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Jumping into a pair of jeans in front of the LADS Men: [suggestive/ fluff] 👖

❄️Zayne:

He’d taken notice to your changing figure, lately. Thighs fuller, hips plush and your posterior—filling out everything a bit more snug. Zayne isn’t one to be distracted, but when you asked for his opinion on a new pair of jeans, he sat attentively at the edge of the bed and waited. You strolled out of the bathroom casually in plain panties and a tee shirt, he swallowed at the subtle jiggle of your thighs. “Okay, don’t hold back, I want to know if I need to return these,” you said, stepping into both legs. Zayne’s eyes travelled from your feet to your face, nodding politely, “I’m sure they’ll look fine, love.” You hum and begin to tug the jeans up. At first they slide with ease over your calves, but once you reach your hips, you began to wiggle.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture, sitting stiff as a soldier. Then you started jumping, grunting with annoyance when the pants were caught under the shelf of your ass. Zayne’s heart rate spiked, a cool sweat started to bloom on the back of his neck. Finally you ripped the zipper up and clasped the button, sighing with relief. You spun around, meeting a very flustered, blushing Zayne. “Are you okay?,” you giggled closing the distance, standing between his knees. He trailed his hands slowly over your curves, lingering around your hips and bum. For a moment, his hold rested on your waist before he could manage to speak, “yes—I just think we should leave before I lose anymore composure.”

🐦‍⬛Sylus:

You were both getting ready for a date at a wildlife park, so casual dress made the most sense. Sylus went with a matching linen set with a tank underneath the button down shirt and sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes. Rummaging through a few options, you finally decided on jeans and a crop top. Standing in front of the floor length mirror, you slid the shirt over your head, “what do you think, Sy?” He looked up from where he sat in the corner of the walk-in closet, “cute, simple. I like it.” His words were short, but not cold, the silver haired man was simply trying to stay focused. Sylus always admired your body, and it was evident the new training protocols from the Hunter’s Association made some changes to your physique. You were growing in some areas, had a few new stretch marks too—but he only wanted to sink his teeth in or trace his tongue over every inch of flesh.

His stare became more intense when you attempted to pull the jeans up your thighs. There were parts of your body jiggling and bouncing that weren’t just a few weeks ago. “Ugh, this training has made me so—,” “you look stunning, Sweetie,” he interrupted, suddenly behind you. His lips grazed your ear and fingers curled into the waistline, giving the jeans a final tug over your ass. “If I hear you complain about this beautiful body again,” he popped your butt with a sharp spank, “there will be consequences.”

🍎Caleb:

Caleb had a rare weekend off from the Fleet, so you decided on a visit to the model plane museum. You also wanted to coordinate outfits. He wore wide cut jeans and a cut off tank, showcasing his perfect biceps. Your clothes were laid out on the bed, as you knelt over to grab them–only wearing a bra and panties, Caleb walked in. “Oh–! S-sorry,” he stuttered, cheeks already a deep pink. A mixture of a scoff and laugh broke from your lips, “Caleb, it’s fine. You’re my boyfriend y’know.” His throat bobbed with a dry swallow, “right.”The two of you started working out together recently, focusing on weight training. After a few months, he took notice of not only your muscles, but the fullness of your thighs and ass.

“How many leg days are you hitting, Pips?,” he asked, eyes dipping to low, lip caught in his teeth. You began pulling an old pair of jeans over your calves, “only 3 days, like you told me. Why?” Caleb fisted the sheets so hard his knuckles whitened. You could just barely stretch the fabric over your curves, one wrong move and he swore the seams would tear. You paid him no mind, bouncing and wiggling them into place. “Okay, I’m good to go—Caleb?!,” you let out a startled gasp, running to the bedside where he sat. A thin trickle of blood ran from under his nose. He hadn’t even noticed, but your frantic voice brought him out of his trance. “What? What’s wrong?,” “your nose! It’s bleeding!” He let out a breathy chuckle, “oh that—must be allergies.” Then his hands settled on your waist, “or maybe it’s this figure of yours, drivin’ me insane.” Your cheeks flushed, standing immediately to change. Caleb caught your wrist, “Honey, this isn’t the first time you’ve given me a nosebleed, trust me I’d tell you.” You weren’t sure how to respond, he snickered again and ruffled your hair. “Let’s get going before I rip these off, though.”

🐚Rafayel:

Today, you were assisting Rafayel at the studio, organizing several paintings for his next art exhibition. Since you would be moving a lot of large pieces, you wanted to wear something you wouldn’t mind getting a bit dingy. It was also getting close to your cycle, meaning your body was a little puffier than usual. After one of Rafayel’s lengthy baths, he walked into the bedroom, waist loosely wrapped with a towel. “Thomas is already blowing up my phone,” he whined, tossing his cell on the bed. You pulled a light camisole over your shoulders, then reached for a pair of jeans off the dresser. Rafayel watched the simple ritual of you getting dressed like it was his own private show. His sunset eyes traced over every curve, dimple and crease of your body.

A quiet huff blew from your lips as you prepared to muscle the pants up. They squeezed around your thighs, barely sliding over the swell of your ass. A few small jumps and wiggles and they finally sat in place. Just as you reached for the zipper, a pair of hands overlapped your own. “Cutie…allow me,” Rafayel purred, pulling you flush against his waist. His slender fingers fastened the zipper and button with ease, but he kept his hands on your hips, digging into the plush beneath denim. Your breath hitched, meeting his hungry gaze over your shoulder, “we should really get going…” “Pft, Thomas can wait, I want to stare at this work of art a little longer.”

⭐️Xavier:

Tara had been hounding you and Xavier for an overdue hang out at her place. When your busy schedules finally aligned, you set a date, looking forward to an evening with them both. The weekend rolled around and you were glad the theme was comfy and casual. You opted for one of his hoodies and a pair of jeans. He was reclined in one of his beanbag chairs, watching you pace through the bedroom, hoodie just touching the tops of your knees. Since dating Xavier, you gained a bit of “happy” or “boyfriend” weight. You didn’t mind, though; if anything, your new curves made you more confident. Xavier was just as pleased, the king of naps always looked forward to lying on your thighs, tummy or bum.

When you began bunny hopping around the room to get your pants on, however, he was wide awake. The oversized hoodie did no justice, every jump and wiggle made the fabric ride up, exposing your soft curves. No matter how much you shimmied, the jeans remained stuck—leaving you spilling over the waistline. Still determined, you weren’t about to give up, you just needed a little more strength. “Ugh, Xavie—help,” you whined. The man was no use, brain short circuiting, pupils blown wide. “Xavier?,” he blinked rapidly, finally standing to assist you. His greyish blue eyes, lingered for a while, entranced with the way the denim fabric stretched across your hips. Curling his fingers into the belt loops, he gave them a firm tug. “Are you sure it’s just going to be us there?,” he asked, lips brushing your neck, hands lowering to your ass. “Yes, Xavie, I swear.” He hummed quietly, leaving a chaste kiss behind your ear, “good, because after that I really want to keep you to myself.”

*~*~*~*

Writer’s note: hope you enjoyed reading! Please reblog if you liked it. More LADS Fics on my profile. :)

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Hi, so I've read and am a fan of your omegaverse series. Can't wait to see whose next! Anyway... I'm still coming off the high from Raf's last card. It had me wanting to see how feral would the guys be with a breeding kink if they weren't in an omegaverse. Because, I'm sure they'd still have it if they weren't in the omegaverse. But how would you write it?

Drip, Drip, Drip: LADS Breeding

Synopsis: The LADS have a Breeding Quink. That’s it, that’s the Drabble.

Warning; Breeding, convincing you to get off birth control, convincing you for ‘just the tip’, Persuasion, use of ‘Gege’, sweat.

Ი︵𐑼 Xavier

You smell so sweet. So delectable. His face is pressed in the crook of your neck where it has been for the past hour.

Just like his erection which had been lazily humping your thigh.

“Please…I know I don’t have any protection but just the tip-“

You snort and turn your face into his tuffs of blonde hair.

“My love, I don’t think you’ve ever done ONLY the tip.”

And it’s true, he hasn’t. And he wouldn’t start today.

Your sloppy hole was calling to him, especially when he’s got you bent in half like a lawn chair. “I-inside, please Starlight I’ll be s’good to you.”

He’s panting right next to your ear going a mile a minute.

Your walls strangle his length like you never want him to let go.

“G-gonna fill up this sweet hole. Over n’ over again.” He babbles into your ear.

“X-Xav m’ out of birth control!”

Those words should’ve stopped Xavier in his tracks, but it absolutely didn’t.

He grips your hips and wails into you so hard it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Not stoppin’, not stoppin’ until I feel you leaking around me. Gonna have my little prince, yeah?”

Ი︵𐑼 Rafayel

It must have been in his Lemurian bloodline somewhere. The urge to breed whenever he caught the faintest sign of your ovulation. How you smelled, the change in your mood, he’ll even the way you clung to him more.

He manages to trap you during a late night dip in his pool, the smell of chlorine and sex so pungent in the air.

You grasp the grainy landing on the edge, trying desperately to keep ahold of your sanity.

Rafayel nips at your earlobe, “Oh Cutie, I think you were born for this~!” His praise is so sweet in your ear but his curved cock tells a different story.

He gathers your hair in his hands and pulls just enough for your neck to be on full display.

The splashes from his thrust are the last thing on your mind when he’s whispering absolute filth into your ear.

“In Lemuria when our mates are in Heat, we keep them in place until our seed takes. Maybe I should do the same with you, Cutie.”

Ი︵𐑼 Zayne

Zayne is a freak and don’t let anybody tell you differently.

The man does his extensive research whenever you tell him you are thinking about having a baby.

He feeds you all the high protein foods, massages your body to help accept his seed better and of course, tries every position that will deposit his cum into your womb.

“Zayne feels s’good!” You cry out when your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders. Zayne’s glasses have slipped down his nose, his face and ears tinged pink.

“I can feel my cock hitting your cervix now, with this position I am guaranteed a-ngh-bullseye.”

The pillow stuffed under your hips just makes him go impossibly deeper.

By the time his 5th spurt of cum paints your inner walls you don’t think your mind works anymore.

“No, no rest. You can rest later when you are swollen with my child.”

Ი︵𐑼 Caleb

Oh, Caleb is on you like a Bitch in heat! He’s been tracking your ovulation ever since you gave him permission to remove the dreaded condom.

You’d barely made it back from the gym, still covered with sweat when he has your shorts and panties around your ankles, fucking into you like you may disappear.

“C-Caleb I’m so sweaty! Lemme- a-ah fuck…”

His tongue is flicking relentlessly against your clit, his face buried in between your thighs that stick together from the sweat and juices brewing between them.

“Don’t care-don’t care you’re gonna have my babies Pips! Gotta prepare ya…”

After torturing with that gorgeous tongue, he’s got you on all fours like he’s some wild beast trying to lay claim to your cunt.

“That’s right Pips, nonono-“ he spears you back on his cock when you try desperately to escape the overstimulating feeling. “Gege’s got ya. Gonna take such good care of you and our kids.”

Ი︵𐑼 Sylus

When the timer for your birth control control rings out inside of his car for the third time, Sylus’ knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

You’d told him you stopped taking that dreaded pill months ago!

So when he whips his luxury car in a shady alleyway of the N109 Zone, he’s on you like the fucking plague.

You are bouncing on his lap, every window in his car is already tinted, the added fog of your body heat obscures curious eyes.

Your palm presses against the window as he drills up into you. Sylus rarely shows his distaste to you, he lets his cock do the talking.

“Are you going to take your birth control anymore, Kitten?”

“N-No Sy! M’ sorry, w-won’t do it again!” You plead with him, so desperate to cream over his cock.

Sylus folds an arm back under his head against the seat, watching another load drip back down his cock from your overflowing hole.

“Convince me, maybe I’ll let you carry the heir to the Onychinus Fortune. Don’t stop now.”

And you don’t.

Not ever.

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Too tight to fit

Synopsis: Your pussy’s just too fuckin’ tight.

cw: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, overstimulation, very tight pussy, degradation, horny Toji, Nanami, Gojo & Geto

Toji Fushiguro 

He smirked the second you whimpered, the blunt head of his cock refusing to push in all the way. “Tch. Knew this tight little cunt couldn’t handle me,” he drawled, forcing another inch and watching your eyes roll back. You tried to close your thighs and he only pried them wider, spitting on his cock and grinding in deeper. “C’mon baby, you can take it.” His pace turned brutal, splitting you open until you were crying against his chest, stuffed full whether your pussy could take it or not. 

Kento Nanami

Ever the gentleman until you’re under him, Nanami’s jaw tightens as he struggles to push all the way in. “You’re too damn tight,” he growls against your ear, sweat dripping down his temple as he forces himself deeper, inch by inch. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll take every bit of me—don’t whine now, you started this.” His cock throbs, straining your walls, but he doesn’t stop until you’re full.

Satoru Gojo 

He’s all smug laughter, head tipped back while you writhe. “Fuck, baby—your pussy’s just too tight. What am I supposed to do, huh?” His grin widens when you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Gojo—too much, it won’t—” you gasped, squirming as he stretched you around him. “Baby, it’s not my fault you’re so fuckin’ tiny,” he teased before he slammed in the rest of the way, swallowing your scream with a sloppy kiss. “Don’t worry, princess,” he cooed, hips already snapping hard. “By the time I’m done, this cunt’ll fit me perfectly.”

Suguru Geto 

He kissed your temple sweetly even as your nails dug into his back. “Shh… you’re fine. Just a little too tight for me, hm?” he whispered, rocking his hips forward until you cried out. His smile was soft, patient—but his cock was ruthless, thick and heavy as it bullied deeper. “That’s it, let me in… you’re squeezing me so good already.” You sobbed his name, but he only chuckled, brushing his lips over your ear. “Sweet girl,” he coos, big hands pinning your knees to your chest as he tries to force his cock into your soaked cunt. “Keep it up and I’ll never pull out.”

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Spot the difference 🤭

[digitalcreaturelurking]

i know you never waste a drip

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Good Morning Starshine, The Earth Says Hello!

Synopsis: Xavier has blue balls and tries to fit in an early morning quickie. But being a father is hard, and so is his cock.

Warning: Somno-ish, eepy smex, blue balls, Xavier is a good dad.

Xavier is an amazing father. He loves his son more than words can say. But there is something he might love just as equal.

Your aching cunt, squeezing around him in the early morning hours. Being parents AND Hunters was a time consuming job. So early morning before work and caring for Xander was the perfect opportunity.

You are still very much in slumber when he peels your already sticky underwear to the side. You barely stir when he rubs the nearly purple head of his cock against your folds.

“Mm..?”

“Shh…just let me in-a-ah shit…” he murmurs against your neck in the same sleepy tone as you. The head of his cock finds your hole and eases in. Your sleepy moan grows louder and your walls tighten as each slow inch pushes in.

His thrust start off lazy, his hands and mouth more focused on worship. His hand trails up between your thighs, rubbing circles onto your pulsating clit with precise control.

“M’ leakin’…” you whine, your breast heavy and sore with milk. Xavier curses under his breath, mouth pressed under your ear.

“S’kay Starshine. I’ll be quick n’ then we can pump, ‘kay?” He’s so desperate for you. You’re leaking through the thin button up shirt of his, the liquid almost chafing your over sensitive nipples.

But he can finish fast.

He has to.

He’s almost-

The baby monitor on the side of the bed crackles to life. Xavier almost pierces it with a beam of light for interrupting. He tries to chase his release, but when Xander’s early morning gurgles turn to cries, he sighs.

Erection gone and mood ruined. He pulls out with a wet tug, quickly cleaning and tucking himself back in. He kisses the side of your head, noticing you already falling back into a slumber.

“My sweet girl, I’ll take care of him.”

But oh when he gets his hands on you, he’s pumping you full of another kid.

[digitalcreaturelurking]

Heyyy! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request a hurt/comfort fic w/ sylus? Like really angsty but w a happy ending. You can decide what type of scenario you want it to be!

Thankssss!

REQUEST RECEIVED...ENTERING THE PRINCESS'S COURT !

[♕]: thank you for requesting love!

ENOUGH ! — SYLUS QIN

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ : including — comfort fluff, established relationship, Sylus being an attentive lover, 'i love you's', cutesy shit <3 [♡₊˚ ♕]: her highness's decree: Remember my royals, you are always enough. You are always needed, do not ever think for a moment that if you were gone— if your presence wasn't around that people would not miss you. That your impact wouldn't be remembered. It would, because you are memorable. No matter who you are, that will never change my loves <3 [౨ৎ] synopsis: you haven't been having the best week per se, whether it was because of hormones, your workload as a hunter— or maybe something else entirely. You've been feeling off, and Sylus takes heavy notice and concern of that.

wrd count: 3.3k

Maybe it was your cycle, maybe it was your workload, or maybe it was something else entirely. But lately, you've been feeling more and more...useless? Or at least not as needed in a way.

Slaying wanders has always been a breeze but lately that's seemed like all your good for, just a machine with a sword. A hand to a weapon—which isn't inherently terrible. Maintaining safe environment's for the average person of Linkon is one of the perks of being a hunter.

However, lately the smiles and accolades haven't been enough to burn away the feeling of somewhat emptiness dwelling inside. And when you get home— god it's a whole new mental battle of self worth.

You love Sylus, that has always and will always be true, and you have no doubt in your mind that he loves you just as much if not even more!

And it comforts you— his love and affection keeps you grounded 90% of the time.

His touch on your skin, the tenderness and genuine care in his words when you're visibly worn out, the look in his eye when he sees you in the early mornings—it's damn near otherworldly how pure it is. How honest and devoted he is to you.

But despite it all. Despite his blatant love—lately, you've been questioning if you're deserving of that. Of him.

If what you are—who you are was enough for him. If he was truly happy with just you.

—

When you got home tonight, he was already there, waiting for you like always. The lights were dim, and Sylus sat in his designated reading spot like normal. You almost didn’t step inside right away—you actually almost turned back around just to avoid him seeing the obvious tired expression on your face.

But of course, Sylus noticed. He always notices.

The moment your boots hit the floor, his head lifted, and his gaze found you like it always does—like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. And it should have been comforting. It usually is. But lately, even that warmth has been brushing up against the hollow inside you.

Burning and partially killing you from the inside out.

"Sweetie? Is everything alright?" His voice alone pings your heart— shit well now he's concerned— putting on your best fake-'i'mtiredbutreallyhappytoseeyou' face you nod.

Sylus stayed quiet, crimson eyes trailing over you with that unnerving patience of his. As if he were cataloging every twitch, every shift in your posture, every false little smile you tried to hold up for him. The silence stretched, heavy enough to make your chest tighten.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice cut through the air again—soft, steady, but leaving no room for escape. “Come here. Sit with me.”

Your gut twisted instantly, knotted so tight it almost hurt. The last thing you wanted was to be under that gaze any longer, not when you weren’t sure if you could keep your mask from slipping. But you also knew there was no denying him. Not because he forced you, but because he asked like that—gentle, coaxing, as if the weight of the world could fall away if you just moved closer.

So you did what you always do: you tried to act normal. A shrug, a small hum, as if this were just another night, another simple request. You crossed the room, each step careful, measured, almost deliberate. By the time you lowered yourself beside him on the plush couch, your heart was racing like you’d just come back from a hunt.

You kept your smile, even let out a tiny laugh like you were fine. Shifting your body slightly towards him, you look up at your lover with what you hope passes for ease. But Sylus isn’t fooled. He never is.

Without a word, he reaches out and takes your hands into his, wrapping them gently but firmly, grounding you in that steady warmth only he's ever carried. His thumbs brush against your skin, deliberate and slow, like he’s trying to remind you he’s here.

“You know you can tell me anything,” he murmurs, voice steady but soft, like he’s afraid to push too hard and make you retreat. "I'd never judge your or cast you aside for anything you want to need speak on, sweetie."

Fuck.

Your vision blurs immediately, every syllable pressing against the fragile dam you’ve been building inside. Each word feels like a heavy waterfall, battering at the cracks, and your chest aches with the weight of it. You swallow, force yourself to keep your lips from trembling. “I’m fine,” you whisper, barely audible.

But your eyes betray you. Glassy, trembling, threatening to spill over.

Sylus’s expression shifts—pain flickers across his face, the kind that makes your heart lurch. He leans in just slightly, holding your hands tighter, his voice breaking with quiet plea. “I won't push you if you truly don't want to tell me, but if it's truly something that worries or bothers you—please tell me.”

A moment passes between you two, where a decision was to be made.

You could either stifle it down again, go to sleep in silk pajama's that he bought wondering if you're worthy of wearing them. Or tell the man you love— who's literally begging you to tell him what's wrong, to tell him what's been eating you up inside for almost a week now.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out, the look in Sylus's eyes the final push your heart needed for you to break.

And with that—the dam shatters.

Tears spill fast and heavy before you can stop them, breaking his gaze as you try to speak but nothing but unintelligible soft murmurs fall past your lips. Though Sylus doesn’t hesitate—not for a second. He draws you into his arms with a soft certainty that leaves no room for doubt. You tiredly collapse against his chest, clutching at his sweater as if you might unravel completely without something solid to hold onto.

Tears surely staining his expensive wool, but Sylus couldn't care less. He holds your shaking form with a soft stability, rubbing your back in circles and whispering sweet comforting words into your head.

Never rushing you, never demanding an explanation.

He just— holds you, steady and unyielding. The pass of his hands a wordless reassurance. The smell of his cologne and his natural scent slowly but surely calming your sobs into trembling breaths.

After giving you a few moments, Sylus's voice comes again, low against your hair. “Did anyone hurt you?” You shake your head quickly, pressing your face harder against his chest, desperate to make him believe it.

With a sigh, he leans back just enough to see your face, his eyes soft and brimming with concern. His thumb wipes at the streaks on your cheek, gentle as ever, though his expression carries the weight of worry he can’t disguise. “Okay, then what is it, sweetie?” he asks, gaze searching yours, heavy with love but aching to understand.

You take a shaky breath, trying to piece words together even as your throat feels tight. “I just…” your voice wavers, cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I’ve been feeling like I’m not… needed. Not really. At work, there are hunters so much better than me—stronger, faster. And me? It’s like I’m just…” You swallow hard, forcing the words out. “Just a hand to a sword. That’s all.”

Your gaze flickers down, afraid to meet his. “And then I have you. You always keep me grounded. You make me feel safe and loved and I—I do love that, I love you, but—”

The sentence fractures on your lips, breaking under the weight of your own doubt. Your eyes finally lift, meeting Sylus’s steady, unflinching gaze. The tears start building all over again, blurring him from view.

He squeezes your hands gently, that small gesture alone urging you on, telling you it’s safe to say the rest.

“Am I…” Your voice barely scrapes past your lips, thin and trembling, a tear slipping down your cheek as your eyes search his with desperate uncertainty. “Am I really enough for you? Do you actually like being with me—listening to me ramble, just… wasting time with me even when I’m being ridiculous?” A weak, broken laugh escapes you, sharp with nerves and heavy with ache. “When I’m not even being a hunter? When I'm just—me?”

The words fall heavy between you, tangled in tears that now roll freely down your face.

Sylus’s expression softens, though there’s a certain seriousness in his gaze that makes your breath hitch. His hands tighten gently around yours, grounding you before he speaks.

“Y/n,” his voice is quiet but steady, every word deliberate, “you’ve changed my life more than I think you realize. I could never see you as simply one thing—because doing so would be ignoring every other amazing factor about you. And I could never do that.” His thumb strokes lightly against your skin, his eyes locked onto yours with unwavering sincerity.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your heart melts, the softness of his words making you want to cry all over again. Your chest feels tight, like his love is too big to fit inside you, pressing against every hidden crack you’ve tried to seal away.

Blinking back tears, you silently gaze at him as he continues.

“Whether that's in the morning for you, when you're tired and soft, I see the sweetest part of you. When you’re bold and sharp, I can’t help but get enough of it,” he says sweetly, his voice warmer now, laced with something so genuine it makes your chest ache.

“You asked me if you’re enough? If I truly like being with you?” Sylus’s tone dips softer, almost fragile in how carefully he speaks. One of his hands lifts, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that makes your breath catch. His thumb traces the faintest line along your skin, lingering as if to anchor you in place. Your instinctively nuzzle into the warmth, the sudden affection making your shoulders drop as Sylus exhaled slowly. Taking a moment to admire your softness before leaning in, just close enough for his breath to mingle with yours.

“You’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough.”

Sylus's eyes search yours, unwavering, pulling you into the gravity of his sincerity. “Being with you—it’s not just something I merely enjoy or like. It’s what I look forward to. It’s the peace I never thought I’d have." He confesses, eyes low but filled with love as he spoke.

"You’re the part of my day that makes almost anything bearable.”

The weight of his words sinks into you slowly, blooming warm and overwhelming in your chest. Your lips tremble into a soft smile as you tilt your head, resting your cheek against your palm. Big, glassy eyes lock on his, wide and reverent. “You are too,” you murmur, the words fragile but certain.

Sylus leans forward without hesitation, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead. Your lashes flutter closed at the touch, your heart melting entirely at his quiet devotion. His breath brushes your skin as he whispers, “I’m honored to be your safe space.”

When he pulls back, you look up at him again—your tears no longer heavy with ache, but light, happy, shimmering. The words slip out of you before you can stop them, whispered through the crack in your smile. “I love you.”

Sylus’s lips curve into the softest smile, his velvety voice low and steady as he leans closer. “I love you too, more than you'll ever imagine.”

With that you shift from where you’d been sitting at his side, turning toward him fully. The need to be closer overwhelms you, and before you can second-guess it, you move into his lap, straddling him so you can hold him tighter. Your arms wrap fiercely around his neck, your body pressing flush to his as though the distance of even a breath would be too much.

Burying your face against his chest, the words spill out again, muffled but raw: “'luv you so much, Sy.”

Sylus exhales softly with a hum, his own arms enveloping you with the same steadiness he always gives, his voice low against your hair. “I love you more.” Arms arms locked securely around you, holding you close as the world outside fades into silence. And in that stillness, it’s just the two of you—hearts pressed together, breathing in sync, the quiet moment stretching into forever.

® princessxmin all rights reserved. please to not alter, copy or translate my work !

[digitalcreaturelurking]

your back arches off the bed as gojo sinks deeper into you with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every inch of your soaked pussy like it’s the first meal he’s had in days.

scratch that - like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to eat, as if he’s never learned moderation, never been taught restraint. and with the way he’s whining into your cunt, messy and open mouthed, there’s no mistaking the desperation in him.

“satoru - oh my god -” you choke out, fingers tangling in his hair, but all it does is make him moan, a low, trembling sound that vibrates straight through you.

he’s devouring you like a starved animal, like he needs you just to breathe. his tongue flicks, drags, circles your clit with wet, sloppy reverence - then sucks it into his mouth with a whimper, burying his face deeper into your pussy, as if this isn't close enough for him.

“i missed this,” he gasps, breaking away only to whisper it against your inner thigh, voice wrecked and panting. his breath is hot on your skin. “missed you, missed this pussy. i - i fuckin’ dream about this everyday.”

he’s grinding against the bed now, hips stuttering: he’s getting himself off just from the taste of you.

his hands - big, rough, trembling - tighten around your thighs to hold you open as he dives back in. he tongues into you, thirsty, nose pressed right up against your clit, groaning so loud it echoes off the walls.

saying "he’s messy" is an understatement: his chin is slick with spit and arousal, mouth wet and shining, his hair sticking to his forehead from how frantically he’s moving. every lap of his tongue is erratic, greedy, like he’s lost all rhythm and is just chasing need.

“don’t run, baby,” he slurs, breathless, eyes fluttering up to meet yours - and they’re wild, feverish. “let me - fuck - lemme stay here. i’ll be so good. just - just keep me here. right here.”

you try to pull away, hips jerking from the overstimulation, but he growls, locking you down with a force that has your head spinning. “no. no, don’t you fuckin’ run. you’re not going anywhere. not till i’m done. not till i’ve had my fill.”

then, he’s sobbing into your cunt - little gasps and whines breaking from his throat as he eats you like a man possessed. every noise he makes sends another wave of heat through you, every cry is another jolt to your core. he’s grinding himself down, humping the mattress, chasing friction like he can’t help it.

your thighs start to shake - your stomach coils. but he doesn’t let up - not even when your moans grow frantic, not even when your body bucks beneath him.

“please, please, please,” he babbles, almost incoherent, lost in it. “cum for me - baby, come on, give it to me - please, i need it - need to taste you, need to drink you - please, fuck -”

you shatter on his tongue, crying out as the orgasm tears through you, but he doesn’t stop. he whines, drinks it down, tongue flicking even faster as if he’s trying to milk it from you. you try to push him away, but he’s gripping your thighs like a lifeline, grinding his cock against the mattress like he’s about to lose his mind.

and through the haze of pleasure, you hear his voice - cracked, wrecked, worshipful:

“you’re gonna kill me, baby. gonna fuckin’ ruin me like this…”

div cafekitsune not proofread

[digitalcreaturelurking]

my baby 🥺

[digitalcreaturelurking]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, learning !

“you’ve never kissed anyone?” gojo asked, blinking from behind his sunglasses like the concept physically wounded him.

you shook your head, curling your fingers tighter around the pillow in your lap. “not like… for real. not, like, with tongue. or… um. all that.”

he whistled, long and low, like it shocked him even though it didn’t. he’d known. of course he had. he knew everything about you, down to the way you covered your mouth when you got shy, down to the exact way your thighs clenched together when someone on-screen moaned too loudly. knew you hadn’t had your first kiss, and certainly hadn’t sucked anything.

“i mean,” he drawled, flopping back onto your bed dramatically, long legs dangling off the side, “that’s kind of adorable. but also kinda dangerous.”

you narrowed your eyes. “how?”

gojo tilted his head, pulling down his shades just enough to peer at you over the edge—those bright, gleaming blues locked onto you like you were prey already halfway in his mouth.

“'cause someone could take advantage of that,” he said slowly. “you wouldn’t even know what’s good, what’s bad, what’s normal. you’d just… try your best, right? for some loser who doesn’t even deserve to look at you, let alone fuck your pretty little throat.”

your face flushed. “th-that’s not—”

“i could help,” he offered, sweetly, cutting you off.

you blinked. “what?”

gojo sat up, ruffling his hair. “i mean, it’s just practice, right? so your future boyfriend doesn’t think you’re, y’know, hopeless.”

you flushed hotter. “you’d… let me—?”

he smiled like a wolf.

“i’d teach you, sweetheart.”

you hesitated. but not for long.

his cock was already flushed pink at the tip, heavy and leaking against his thigh, and your mouth watered just looking at it. you were kneeling between his legs, heart pounding, tongue flicking nervously over your lips as your hand curled shyly around the base.

“you’re doing good,” gojo murmured, voice low and soft, like he didn’t have your hand wrapped around his cock while you looked up at him through your lashes. “just grip a little tighter. don’t be scared.”

you nodded, squeezing just a little more, and he hissed, hips jerking toward your hand.

“sensitive?” you asked.

he smirked, eyes half-lidded. “only when it’s you.”

you ducked your head fast, embarrassed, then leaned forward slowly, licking a shy stripe up the side of him. his breath caught.

“that’s it,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your lips. “use your tongue. just get it nice and wet—guys like that. messier the better.”

you swallowed and licked again, coating him with spit before wrapping your lips around the tip, sucking gently. gojo let out a long, low groan, one hand tangling in your hair—loose, not pulling. not yet.

“god, you’re a natural,” he murmured, hips twitching. “like that, yeah. fuck, look at you—on your knees, sucking dick so sweetly.”

you whimpered at the praise, cheeks burning, lips sliding further down his shaft as your jaw stretched to take more. you gagged a little, but gojo just moaned, fingers stroking your hair.

“don’t push too fast,” he said gently. “you’ve got time. just wrap your tongue around it, go slow. yeah, like that—fuck—just like that.”

you moaned around him without meaning to, and his hips jerked again, cock pushing deeper into your throat. your eyes watered, but he didn’t thrust—just held you there, shuddering, breathing hard.

“bet he won’t even last a minute,” gojo muttered, almost to himself, voice tighter now. “whoever you end up with. bet he’ll cum the second your lips touch his cock, not even half as good as you’re doing right now.”

you pulled back to breathe, strings of spit clinging from your lips to his cock, and looked up at him with dazed, needy eyes. “is it… really good?”

gojo looked down at you like you were a gift.

“the best head i’ve ever had,” he said.

then leaned forward, cupped your jaw, and said low, right against your lips:

“but no one else is ever finding that out.”

[digitalcreaturelurking]

satoru being a whiny baby because you can’t look at him during his attempt at ‘romantic lovemaking’ (as if he didn’t ruin you for soft sex himself)

satoru swears he’s going to be good tonight. all tender touches and whispered sweet nothings, that whole “making love” thing he keeps insisting he can totally do without losing his absolute mind. his palms are stupidly warm cupping your face, thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones, forehead bumping yours like he’s trying to anchor you to this soft moment he’s orchestrated. except you keep melting under him—back arching, thighs trembling around his waist, slick heat dripping down where you’re stretched so tight around him—and your eyes keep rolling back every time he moves. not in the dreamy “oh this is so romantic” way he was picturing, but in the completely fucked-out “i can’t think straight” way that has his jaw clenching with the effort of staying gentle. he can feel the creamy mess you’re making every time he drags out slow, the fat head of his cock catching at your rim before sliding back in, and the wet, lazy squelch is absolutely not helping his self-control when this is supposed to be vanilla.

“hey. hey,” he breathes, keeping that torturous pace but angling just right to make you gasp, “look at me, angel. don’t—” his voice cracks when you flutter around him, hot and tight and milking him like you’re trying to pull him in deeper, “—don’t make me think you’re only here for the dick.” he’s trying to sound teasing but his bottom lip is definitely jutting out, eyebrows scrunched in that wounded puppy expression that would be adorable if he wasn’t currently buried balls-deep inside you. and you do try to look at him, blinking those pretty eyes open for maybe three seconds before another slow grind has you spilling warm down his cock, your mouth falling open on a moan that makes him shiver hard enough to stutter his rhythm. “seriously?” he whines, actually whines, voice pitched high with indignation, “i pour my heart out with my hips and this is what i get? you can’t even look at me?”

“you’re—ah—being ridiculous,” you manage to gasp out, but it sounds more like a moan when he rolls his hips again, and that just makes him more dramatic. “oh, so now i’m ridiculous?” he gasps, like you’ve personally offended his ancestors, still maintaining that syrupy rhythm that’s making you drip onto the sheets. “i plan this whole romantic evening—candles, playlist, the works—and my girlfriend thinks i’m ridiculous for wanting her to actually participate in our lovemaking!” his voice gets higher and more theatrical with each word, but the heat behind his eyes betrays him. “admit it,” he continues, sinking in to the hilt until your walls are stretched taut around him, “admit you’ve turned me into your personal boy toy. admit all those times you said you loved me, you really meant you loved my—fuck—” a deep, wet pop interrupts him as he pulls out slow and slides back in, and the sound rips a groan from his throat, “—loved my body.”

and yeah, it’s his fault. he’s the one who’s been fucking you filthy since day one, rewiring your brain until you can barely remember your own name when he’s inside you, so obviously your body’s going to react like this. but apparently that’s irrelevant when he’s trying to cosplay as a romance novel hero. “i’m literally giving you my most romantic strokes,” he huffs, tossing his head back with an oscar-worthy sigh, “and you’re squeezing me like you’re trying to commit murder. how am i supposed to keep this wholesome when you’re being so—shit—so fucking greedy? you hear how wet you are right now?”

the worst part is, his dramatic spiral is actually getting to you. those wounded blue eyes, the way his voice wavers between indignation and genuine hurt, the fact that he did plan this whole romantic evening just to make you feel loved—it’s making your chest ache even as your belly tightens with heat. “satoru,” you whisper, voice shaky, eyes glassy as you cup his face, “i’m sorry, i do love you, i love you—not just—oh god—” you can barely get the words out when he’s watching you like that, “i love all of you, your stupid heart, your laugh, the way you—mmph—the way you hog the blankets and steal my hoodies and—” and that’s when his pout finally melts, because his girl is rambling about loving his laugh while he’s knotted inside her, and suddenly he remembers exactly why he’s ruined for you. “shit,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss you soft and desperate, tasting sweat and your gloss, “no, baby, i’m sorry. i’m about to ruin you.” his control snaps like a rubber band.

this time, there’s no holding back. his hips start snapping into you with a pace that makes the headboard thump and your voice catch, each drag of his cock knocking another pulse of wet out of you to drip down his balls. the air smells like sex—hot skin, sweat, faint vanilla from the candles—and your thighs are slick where they stick to his, every slap of skin sending another shiver through him. “this what you wanted?” he pants, teeth scraping along your pulse, “wanted me to stop being nice? wanted to be split open on my cock?” but even in the rough rhythm, his hands are still everywhere—palming your ass, smoothing up your waist, cupping your breast to roll your nipple between his fingers like he’s trying to memorize the feel.

his big hands grip your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulls out agonizingly slow, letting you feel every thick, pulsing ridge of his cock drag against your soaked, fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your arousal so loud it’s practically echoing in the candlelit room. your back arches off the bed, tits bouncing with every slow withdrawal, nipples tight and begging for his mouth, but he’s too busy watching where you’re joined—watching the creamy ring of slick coating his base, dripping down his balls, pooling on the sheets in a filthy, glistening mess. “fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice raw, barely holding onto that playful lilt as he slams back in, hard enough to make your breath hitch and your nails claw at his shoulders, leaving red, angry marks he’ll probably admire later. your cunt’s so greedy, clamping down like it’s trying to suck him back in, and every time he moves, you’re gushing more, the obscene schlick-schlick of his cock fucking into your heat driving him to the edge.

he leans down, teeth grazing your pulse, sucking hard enough to bruise, and you moan—high, desperate, completely undone—your hips bucking up to meet him, chasing that stretch, that fullness, like you’re starved for it. his fingers find your clit, not gentle but relentless, rubbing tight, messy circles that have you gasping, thighs shaking so hard the bed creaks beneath you. “c’mon, baby,” he pants, lips brushing your ear, hot and damp, “give it to me, let me feel you break.” your every nerve is on fire, and he’s relentless, dragging out slow only to snap his hips forward, each thrust punching that sweet spot deep inside until your vision blurs, your voice cracking on his name as you start to unravel, walls pulsing so tight he’s biting his lip bloody to keep from losing it right then.

you’re a mess now, babbling half-coherent pleas—satoru, please, more, harder—and it’s like flipping a switch in his brain. his control snaps, and he’s fucking you like he’s possessed, hips slamming into yours with a filthy rhythm that makes the headboard thump against the wall, the candles flickering wildly as the air grows thick with the smell of sweat and sex. your tits bounce with every thrust, one spilling free from his greedy hands as he pinches your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you’re whimpering, your body arching so high it’s like you’re offering yourself up to him.

“fuck, you’re milking me,” he groans, voice wrecked, his cock throbbing inside you as your cunt clamps down harder, desperate waves of your climax starting to hit, each pulse pulling a wetter, needier sound from your throat. you’re soaking him, slick running down your thighs, his balls, the sheets, and he’s lost in it, chasing your high with brutal, deep thrusts that make your whole body shake, your voice breaking into a sob as you shatter around him, walls fluttering wildly, gushing so much it’s dripping onto the sheets. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t dare, pounding through your climax, the wet slap-slap-slap of skin on skin deafening as he chases his own release. his teeth sink into your shoulder, a low, animalistic growl rumbling from his chest as he spills inside you, thick, hot pulses flooding your core, so much it feels like it’s spilling out even with him still buried deep.

he keeps moving, grinding into you, pushing it deeper as you tremble beneath him, both of you panting, wrecked, your sweaty skin sticking together as he collapses over you, breath ragged against your neck, lips brushing your damp skin with a shaky, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he presses messy kisses along your jaw, then the corner of your mouth, his breath still uneven. “there,” he mumbles against your damp skin after he’s caught his breath, pulling you impossibly closer, “romantic and thoroughly fucked. best of both worlds.” you’re too blissed out to argue, just humming contentedly as he reaches over to blow out the candles, then settles back down to wrap himself around you like a possessive octopus.

he pulls the covers up over both of you, tucking you against his chest where you immediately start drooling on his collarbone—which he pretends to complain about but secretly loves because it means you’re completely relaxed in his arms. your legs tangle with his under the sheets, one of your hands fisted in his hair, the other splayed across his heart. “mission accomplished,” he whispers into the dark, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head as you drift off. romance? check. mind-blowing sex? double check. his girl sleeping safe and sated in his arms, using him as a personal pillow while she drools on him? triple check. yeah, he thinks drowsily as sleep pulls him under, he’s definitely boyfriend of the year.

[digitalcreaturelurking]

sylus fucking you in the shower but when u start to get too loud he flips u around so your back is to his chest, covers your mouth with his hand, and goes harder, wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you standing because your legs start to give out on you

he’s groaning in ur ear, nibbling on your neck and shoulder, and occasionally turning ur head to the side so he can hold your watering eyes as he fucks you so deep and fast, low groans leaving his throat when your eyes start to roll back in your head from how good he’s giving it to you ^.^

[digitalcreaturelurking]

— mirror sex with sylus ༯

“c’mon, open your eyes.” sylus cooed, his hot breath tickled against your skin as you resisted to open your eyes.

the position was embarrassing enough, and you had no clue why you ended up here.

sylus’s grip on your thighs tightened as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, convincing you to even just take a tiny glance.

the worst part was, that the two of you were in front of his biggest mirror, and you honestly felt nothing but shame. as sylus continued to mercilessly pound himself harder in you, whispering nonsense you could barely comprehend, it only took a few more tries when you eventually winked opened your eyes and stared into the mirror.

you could hear a breathless laugh escape sylus’ lips, brushing against your skin as his crimson gaze glares at you through the mirror, making you shudder.

his cock was buried deep in your pussy, slowly slicking in and out of you. his hands were still wrapped around your thighs, effortlessly carrying you as his fingers were dug deep in your skin.

you stare at the scene, mouth agape in disbelief.

“ngh- sylus this feels weird..” you gasp, shifting in his grasp, holding onto his arms for dear life. but sylus only shook his head in response, twitching so slightly at every move you make.

“relax sweetie, j-just let me..” sylus didn’t finish his sentence, but only shifted you in front of him. which was already a problem, cause you could feel him pulsating harder and harder in you, and you knew he was close.

“let me take care of you.”

a/n: ngl i’m losing interest in the game but i love writing for sylus 🫩🫩 ignore if there’s mistakes it’s 6am spare me..

[digitalcreaturelurking]

you’re ovulating. like really ovulating. everything in your body is screaming nest, nurture, breed. and you’re sitting in this pristine glass office across from ceo!satoru, who for some reason is personally interviewing candidates for his secretary position. he has been stuck in back-to-back interviews all day, slowly rotting behind his desk as every single candidate feeds him the same stiff, obviously ai-generated answers about “career growth” and “company culture.”

he’s just bored out of his skull… until you sit down across from him. and you’re killing it. every answer is polished, articulate, exactly what he’s supposed to be hearing. you almost have him fooled—until he leans back, eyes half-lidded, voice all smooth temptation, and says, “so… what’s your biggest dream?” you had your safe, prepped answer ready, but ovulation brain seizes the wheel, and before you can stop yourself, you smile and say, “to be a mom. with a happy family.”

the silence that follows makes your stomach drop. not awkward, exactly—just thick enough that you’re already mentally opening up a blank CV doc and googling “other companies hiring.” his head tilts, that perfect composed ceo façade flickering for a beat, and his mouth curves like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “refreshingly honest,” he says finally, in the exact tone of someone who knows you’re going to replay this moment in the shower later out of sheer cringe. except there’s a glint there too—the kind that feels like he’s running very specific calculations you are not cleared to see.

you force a polite smile, stumble through the rest of the interview, and leave convinced you’ve buried yourself alive in corporate embarrassment. meanwhile, behind his desk, satoru’s leaning back with his phone, telling hr to “hire the one with the family dream” and oh, by the way, make sure you works directly under him. in every sense.

not even two days in after you’re hired and he’s already got you bent over his desk, your palms sliding useless against polished wood, breath fogging up the glossy surface. the blinds aren’t all the way closed—his doing—sliver of the city skyline bleeding into the office, reminding you just how not private this is. his hips are merciless, driving into you with sharp, quick thrusts that punch little shocked gasps out of your throat, each one swallowed up by the warm press of his palm over your mouth.

your skirt’s shoved up around your waist, stockings ripped down the back in ragged runs where his fingers hooked and tore, panties hanging off one ankle because he didn’t have the patience to get them all the way off. your blouse is still buttoned at the top, but somewhere in the middle he’s undone just enough to drag one soft breast free—not just to see it, but so he can bully it, big hand curling over, thumb flicking until you shiver and arch against him.

“you’re too sweet for this job,” he grins into your ear, not even winded, voice that maddening mix of amused and rough. “but fuck if you don’t make me wanna keep you here… like this… all day.” his words spill between quick, punishing snaps of his hips, each one deeper than the last. you’re making a mess around him, heat and slick clinging to his cock, and it only makes him meaner, chasing the sound of your thighs slapping against his.

he doesn’t give you room to think. his thrusts stay quick, deliberate, just on the edge of too much, and every time your body flinches or jolts he chuckles low like he can feel how gone you are. the hand at your breast squeezes harder, dragging a needy, muffled sound out of you that has him laughing under his breath. “that’s it, sweetheart. keep letting me hear those little noises. s’not like anyone’s gonna see you, right?” a lie. you both know there’s enough of a gap in those blinds for someone to get curious.

when his hand drops between your thighs, it’s not gentle—two fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast and messy like he’s trying to break you down right there against the desk. “mm, you’re twitching,” he hums, forehead pressing to the back of your shoulder, voice gone low and pleased. “don’t tell me you’re already close. we’ve barely started.” he knows. he can feel it, the way you pulse around him, the helpless little push-back of your hips like you just can’t help yourself like the ovulating little thing you are.

you try to shake your head, try to say something into his palm, but it just comes out a pitiful whimper. he laughs, hips slowing for just a second before he slams all the way in, deep enough to make your knees give. “that’s it. take it. take all of it, baby,” he mutters, rocking in hard, the words dripping with both mockery and praise.

and then his hand’s at your hip again, dragging you back into every thrust like he’s chasing something. “gonna fill you up right here,” he says, almost too casual, like he’s not already losing the edge of his control. “wanna send you back to your desk dripping. let you think about how you got this job every time you move your legs.” the thought makes you clench so tight around him he groans, deep and raw, and suddenly he’s picking up the pace again—faster, rougher, desperate in a way he’s trying to hide but can’t.

he doesn’t stop when your thighs start shaking. doesn’t stop when your sounds get high and broken under his hand. if anything, it spurs him on, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin getting louder, filthier, his cock dragging over that sweet spot again and again until your vision fuzzes. “c’mon,” he urges, breath hot against your ear, “be a good girl for me. let me feel you. you’re not walking outta here till i’ve made sure you’re—” his sentence cuts off in a sharp hiss as your body gives in, clenching down like it’s trying to keep him there forever. and he likes it—likes it enough to keep going, even through your trembling, like the idea of wringing you out completely is just another part of his day’s agenda.

the first hot pulse of it has you whining into his palm, whole body jolting with the shock of him coming deep, deep inside you. his hips grind forward like he’s trying to push it further, thick and heavy spurts flooding you until you can feel it dripping, hot between your thighs. he doesn’t pull out—just drags his cock out slowly, so slowly you feel every ridge, every vein, the slick heat almost dripping out before he thrusts back in, hard and deep, shoving it all back inside. your body, still wired from ovulation, clamps down so tight he bites his lip, a sharp hiss escaping as your cunt grips him like it’s begging to keep every drop.

“mm, there you go… s’what you wanted, huh?” he drawls, but his voice is rougher now, breathier, betraying how good it feels to keep pushing into you while you’re still fluttering and soaked around him. “ovulating little thing like you… can’t waste a drop.” his hand leaves your mouth just to tenderly grip your jaw, tilting your face so you can see that teasing grin in the reflection of the dark window. “look at you,” he says, fucking into you harder now, “hired you two days ago and you’re already full for me. think hr’s gonna put that in your file?”

he waits—stills—buried deep, the sudden lack of movement making your pulse trip over itself. his grip stays firm at your hip, keeping you right where he wants you, like he’s seeing how far you’ll go without the push. in the glass, his grin freezes with him, and that’s when you notice your own reflection shift— the slack-mouthed haze twists into something hungrier, almost too raw to look at—brows drawing in, lips parting like you can’t decide whether to complain or beg. the kind of expression that says you’d take anything he gave you, right now, if he’d just move. it’s dizzying, seeing it reflected back at you, the mix of need and impatience written so plain across your face.

it’s almost humiliating how much you like the sight, and maybe that’s why you roll your hips back into him with a slow, desperate grind that drags a wet, obscene sound out of both of you. the reflection makes it worse—you see yourself do it, see the exact moment your lips curl into something shameless, and his low, appreciative whistle slides right into your ear like he’s tipping his hat at a showgirl. his hips answer before you can think, a sharp little shove that rocks you against the desk, making the glass rattle faintly under your palms.

his fingers flex at your hip, not to pull you back, but to pin you there, thumb pressing in just enough to bruise. “mm… there she is,” he murmurs, voice all pleased patience, like you’ve just given him the answer he wanted all along. his free hand drags slow up your stomach, grazing your ribs before palming your breast, squeezing until you flinch in the reflection. “my pretty little hire.” the words aren’t rushed—they’re rolled around his tongue, weighed, chosen, meant to stick in your head. he pushes deeper, grinds once, deliberate, until you can feel every hot drop he’s keeping inside you shift higher, higher, like he’s stacking them on purpose. his breath ghosts over your cheek in the glass. “now that’s a résumé worth keeping on file.”

a/n: i sat down to add like three spicy paragraphs and somehow ended up writing a full-blown, blinds-half-open, “this is definitely HR-inappropriate” scene. oopsies 😛

[digitalcreaturelurking]

which thigh is it resting on?

with: zayne, caleb, sylus, rafayel, xavier

content: crack, suggestive