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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Simon Riley / female reader Secret baby trope / 18+ Inspo musing

It’s your eyes.

He notices them first.

They glance over from across the room, incredibly brief. You touch on everyone seated along the worn wood, cataloguing, categorizing, before turning your attention back to your friend, who seems to be in the middle of a story.

Like Johnny is.

“LT, ye even listenin’ to me?” Simon nods, but he’s still watching you. Tracing your spine, staring at the exposed skin on your neck. He imagines you smell like lavender, or citrus. Something spritely and soft. He conjures up the image of his thumb pressing into your bottom lip, and he wonders how plush it is.

You look like a perfect little treat.

And he’s in need of one.

“She’s bonnie.” Johnny sips his beer, eyebrow raised. “Like what ye see?” He shrugs. He hasn’t taken a woman to bed in years. It always ends up feeling wrong somehow, stale. Unease twists in his gut when clothes start to come off, anxiety trembles in the swell of his blood, and his scars begin to feel fresh. Torn open.

Sex makes him feel torn apart. Ripped to shreds.

But he’s not opposed to having another go at it. Not if you're the one taking his cock like a good girl.

There's something about you. You’re bright, like a little jewel, sparkling in the sun. A piece of something precious. Too golden to be tarnished, too sunny to be sullied by darkness.

He nearly swallows his tongue when you appear at the end of the bar, opposite of Johnny. You’re waiting to order another beer, he assumes, but you look over at him for too long, a second or two, and it tells him all he needs to know.

It’s in your eyes.

“Hi.” Your lips curve upwards at each side, a secretive smile, imparted only on him. His heart flutters like a school boy, young and naive all over again. His skin is hot, prickled under his clothes, hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

Fuck, you're so pretty. You're perfect.

He's staring at your lips, memorizing the pert Cupid's bow, the soft color that shines when your tongue darts out to lick them.

Johnny clears his throat. Simon's brain catches up to his body. "Hey-"

An oversized brute jostles you, his shoulder nearly pushing you into Johnny. You blink, doe eyed, and then step back from the bar, allowing him to take up the space where you just occupied.

Simon grits his teeth, vision tunneling red.

Kitten doesn't have any claws.

That's okay, he thinks. You wouldn't need them, if you had him.

He wonders if violence scares you. If he beats this ogre to a bloody pulp, would you run from him? He takes in the confused crinkle in your brow, wide, shy eyes, and decides on a different tactic.

"C'mere love." He husks, extending his hand, pushing Johnny's stool over with the heel of his foot, carving out a space for you to sidle in between them.

You press against his thigh as you take your spot, leaning forward to talk to the bartender, and when you look over your shoulder at him, small smile tugging at your lips, he presses his palm to the small of your back.

"And... two shots of whiskey, please."

You're... everything.

Naked, laid out on your bed with your legs spread, eyes still wide and sweet, and he can barely get his mouth to work as he looks at you.

"Simon," you whimper in the dark, hands reaching, searching, and he kisses each finger like they're a decadent treat, one he'll never have enough of, "please."

Moonlight illuminates your face, shines across the curves of your body, and he has to blink multiple times to steady himself, to keep himself grounded.

Your fingers don't feel like razors. Your mouth isn't torture. Every soft word you give him is like a balm. You're everything.

And he's going to show you, he's going to make sure you know- you're everything.

He's going to fuck you face to face.

But first, he needs-

Your hand wraps around his wrist. "I'm on the pill." you whisper, desperate. "I want to feel you... I'm clean, if you-" The trust you're implying is a foreign concept, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries. You're going to let him fuck you raw? You're going to let him feel the clutch of your pussy, without any protection?

You're out of your mind.

But so is he.

"I haven't been with anyone in years." His accent is a rasp, heavy with desire. "And 've got a clean bill of heath."

It's a mutual agreement. And it doesn't take any convincing.

"You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy raw, sweet girl? Is that it?" His mouth covers yours, and then trails down to your neck, nips across the tops of your breasts. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yeah," his fingers slide through your folds, teasing from top to bottom, swirling around your clit, "fuck, yeah, I want-"

"I've got a lot of cum for you, honey. You sure you can take it?" You clench around the finger he's slipped inside, and moan.

"Oh my god," Your spine arches, and he holds your hips, aligning himself before pushing into your body, melding the two of together almost perfectly.

Almost, because you're so bloody tight, it's like you're strangling him. He's not going to last.

"Relax," He murmurs, kissing your jaw, rubbing a slow circle around your clit. "There you go, that's my girl." It slips out, but you don't seem to care. Neither does he. Tonight, you're his. You and your body and your heart and your soul, belong to him. He'll mark you like you’re his. A fantasy, a wish, a far cry from reality.

In another life, maybe he'd have you forever. For real.

But in this life, he'll take what he can get, and you let him. You let him take and take and take all night long, on your back, face bared to him like he's the brightest star and not the darkness haunting dreams. You kiss him like it's real, and when he comes inside you once, and then twice, you let him stay there, locked tight, staring down into your eyes. He rubs your cheek with his thumb, and you smile. He presses his forehead against yours, and your cup the back of his head, gingerly kissing him, carefully, like you know. Like you can see him.

You say his name. You moan it. You scream it. It's never sounded so good, and he wonders if this is what it's like- to have and to hold.

In the morning, before the sun rises, he stands at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. He wishes you'd wake, wants you to open your eyes and ask him to stay, hopes you'll roll over and realize he's not there and call his name-

It's all a fantasy. Something that could never be more than what it was in that moment, in the moonlight, a secret held between two strangers, the first breath in the dawn.

He brushes his lips across your forehead one last time, and then disappears down the hall.

Out the door.

Out of your life.

#this Simon is very similar to Light On Simon #but there are key differences #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #phone writing #peaches writes #simon riley #so mind the mistakes

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honeyhotteoks · 26 days

Text

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus.

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it.

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space.

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair.

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten?

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest.

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour.

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted.

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner.

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation.

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his.

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you.

Sleep.

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed.

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip.

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,”

Your muscles soften.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes.

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this.

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,”

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands.

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,”

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase.

“That’s a good girl,”

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips.

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again.

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?”

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen.

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking.

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath.

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure.

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale.

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?”

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.”

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest.

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?”

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,”

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours.

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties.

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly.

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

“My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?”

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,”

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,”

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been.

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

“Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,”

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it.

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,”

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly.

“Don’t you?”

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit.

“Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

“That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place.

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job.

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?”

“Yes,” You manage.

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?”

“Please,”

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,”

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?”��

“Touch you where?”

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?”

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,”

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling.

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it.

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do.

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him.

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,”

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest.

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan.

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars.

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh.

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest.

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside.

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.”

You shiver, your core pulsing again.

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,”

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder.

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.”

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now.

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,”

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you.

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,”

Just like before, the world falls away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his.

Needy girl.

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt.

Rutting yourself on my thigh.

Were you?

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly.

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now.

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch.

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,”

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light.

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,”

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed.

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips.

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,”

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again.

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,”

Your breath quickens.

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,”

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.

A whimper passes through your slack lips.

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,”

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters.

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,”

Your breath hitches.

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,”

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you.

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud.

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands.

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,”

You feel your stomach clench at the thought.

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,”

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?”

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside.

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours.

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him.

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,”

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control.

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,”

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

“You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap.

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,”

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,”

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you.

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat.

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure.

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,”

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure.

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans.

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,”

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions.

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,”

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down.

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you.

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again.

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,”

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,”

Your head snaps back up.

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest.

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,”

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck.

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?”

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal.

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more.

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?”

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,”

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,”

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,”

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him.

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him.

“If I was I’d never admit it,”

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh.

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,”

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion.

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his.

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue.

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,”

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly.

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered.

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat.

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat.

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,”

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,”

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…”

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,”

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release.

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,”

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,”

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more.

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,”

He shudders, groaning.

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,”

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms.

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,”

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,”

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment.

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you.

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,”

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips.

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.”

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks.

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently.

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious.

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin.

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to.

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time.

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,”

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck.

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,”

“I think that’s a perfect idea,”

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,”

You nod, relaxing into his care.

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?”

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?”

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips.

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?”

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,”

“I’m simply curious,” You tease.

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?”

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?”

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again.

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,”

#love and deepspace #lnds #love and deepspace fic #lnds ff #lnds fic #lnds smut #sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus qin #sylus ff #sylus smut #sylus fic #honeyhotteoks fic

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lexluthorswigcap · 2 years

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#not sure how these are my faves #but okay #I thought Jewel who will save your soul would be my top #but these are fine too #yes I am mentally ill #rainbow kitten surprise

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555bunnies · 1 year

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Hello Pk3000 fans :D

#my art 🎀!#art #ocs #Pixie Kitten 3000 #Jewel #Pixie #Cheesecake #Tuesday

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blueberrycig · 2 months

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sugardaddy!art taking you lingerie shopping... leaned back in a plush chair, legs spread, just watching you fawn over delicate lace and silk. you pick out a few pieces to try and he swears his cock has never been harder than when he sees you step out of the changing room in a little white lace number-- the cups are sheer so he can see your perked nipples through the fabric and the underwear barely covers anything. you bound over to him, the biggest grin on your face.

"what d'ya think daddy? do i look like your little angel?"

it's no surprise that when he takes you out to dinner that night, you're in that same set with a new accessory: his cum dripping from your pussy.

STOP. like actually.

god yeah he loves it, you've never looked more heavenly decorated in white lace. flashes of calling you mrs. donaldson flick through his mind, the vision of prematurely sneaking out of your reception to go consummate the marriage in the presidential suite. it will be nothing more than a fantasy, of course, as he's already promised to someone else, a very public relationship at that. you'll only ever be lily's junior tennis coach to the world. you let him indulge in the fantasy, eyes burning a hole into every inch of your silky skin and the fabric that adorns it. the detailing grips your tight little body, contrasting against the glow of your complexion and barely concealing anything as you twirl on your feet for him. you have the remarkable changing room to yourselves, every inch lined with rose velvet and plush clouds. the nda-bound shopkeepers are pretending to keep busy as they shuffle around on the shop floor, trying as hard as possible to give you privacy. it doesn't matter if they're in the room or not, everyone ceases to exist when art's hands roam your body.

you tiptoe slotting in between his spread thighs, standing tall and proud before him. he cranes his neck up through the length of your body until he meets your eyes. you're the perfect piece of art, his piece of art. a piece of him and his riches existing all over you. your hair perfectly blown out, skin freshly lasered, nails meticulously manicured with an "A" and "D" on each ring finger. art's strong hands grip the back of your smooth thighs, right under where your asscheeks sit. he yanks you closer into him, his chin sitting at your jewelled navel as he stares up at you, "so," he presses his lips to your belly button. "so sexy."

your eyes twinkle into down into his as you fold your knees to straddle his hips, "do i look like your little angel?"

"better," he says. his thumbs squeeze into the cushion of your hips, forcing you down to feel how rock hard he is, "dirtier." "can i please get it?" your voice is small and candied. you gently rock yourself over him, just ever-so slightly and press your plump lips to the corner of his mouth.

you're sweet, gentle, slow with him. smooth like butter as you map his face and neck with delicate kisses, fluttering your eyelashes like a little butterfly.

you kitten lick the spot underneath his jaw, inviting a groan to leave his throat. you take it a step further, fingers trailing down his wide, strong chest until they find his thick, waiting cock. you're palming over his trousers so softly like you're touching him for the first time.

it makes him want to fucking cum in his pants how polite and well-mannered you are. the little pleases and thank yous, how grateful you are for the difference he's made to your life. how you return the favour every day by dripping like maple syrup around his gorgeous dick, squeezing him empty in everlasting gratitude. "do you like your new car?" he'll ask as he drills into you, your polished feet hooked around the back of his broad shoulders, the length of him pounding into your guts, "uh-huh, y-yes, thank you, thank you, th-"

you're unaware that prior to entering he's asked the shopkeepers to box up anything that catches your eye. so, when he confirms, voice low, rolling your soaking pussy on the fabric covering his throbbing cock,

"you can have whatever you want, honey."

you feel doves swarming your core, fluttering all the way down to your pretty clenching hole that is pleading for his dick to fill you. you're so so thankful. god, how well he treats you. how you've never heard a no from him. how he takes care of you like a man should.

your tender moans invite him to unzip his trousers and you take the work off his hands by pulling them down slightly till they sit beneath you. art's strong thighs tense at the sensation of your delicate hands stroking him.

his tennis-worn hands ease you up by the ass, using fingers to hook the lovely lace to the side, exposing your slick, desperate cunt. your hips start to circle his red, heavy tip and you sink slowly until he's nestled in your tight hole, drowning in hot molten caramel,

"mmmm, thank you mr. donaldson." fuck, fuck, fuck. he's going to explode. he sometimes can't believe it. a grown man at the height of his career, completely crumbling by you innocently and respectfully titling him mr. donaldson.

and you're so fucking tight and warm, his cock completely stuffing your divine syrupy walls as you ride him. you mumble sweet whispers of appreciation into his ear, tongue swirling his earlobe, "so good to me. treat me so well. luckiest girl in the world."

art is drunk off the smell of toasted marshmallows and warm vanilla from nuzzling into your neck and smothering you with his hot open mouth. he's kissing and sucking every exposed inch of you as your eyes glaze over with stars, being fucked so perfectly by one of the best tennis players the world has seen. your life couldn't be sweeter. girls your age dream of this.

"you're so fucking wet," he breathes as your pussy creates lewd, sloppy sounds. he then bucks his hips up into you with a muscled arm tucked around your waist. he doesn't want you to exert any energy or a strand of hair to go out of place, you look too pretty.

dizzy. fuzzy. hot lava. he presses his lips to yours with a tight grip to the back of your head to support your body as he completely pounds his weight up into you. the slaps against your ass are so fucking sinful, filling the changing room and mingling with your intermittent drawn-out, hazy whimpers. his tongue edges into your mouth, silencing your moans.

it's hard, fast, desperate. your tits bouncing and eyes glazing over with white hot pleasure as the coil within begins to unravel. his peak hits you both by surprise, the result of your cunt squeezing him for dear life as you tip over the edge. he groans from his chest into your mouth with hot, satin ropes of milky cum spurting up into you.

yeah, he'll be buying you the whole fucking shop.

BARK BARK I NEED HIM Y'ALL

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson blurb #challengers smut

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