#reader insert with plot

[treatmelikeasmut]

For Your Pleasure

This is going to be part of a series! Find the Master List HERE!

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader x Jayce

CW: P in V, oral (fem receiving), creampie, cuckolding, threesome (sort of?), pet names, praise, masturbation, hair pulling, fingering, smut, angst, Viktor being a sad boi, Jayce being voyeuristic, competitive, and a little jealous.

Synopsis: Viktor is concerned about his performance in the bedroom. He’s worried he isn’t leaving you satisfied enough. So he calls in a favor from Jayce.

Word Count: 12k

Author’s Note: This was written on a whim. I have also never written for Viktor or Jayce before. But I tried my best.

Edit 4/2/25 - I was not pleased with the quality of my work. So I wrote a second draft. I think the landing stuck better. It's a bit more angsty, and little more smutty. It went from 7k to 12k words, if that says anything.

Remember to like and reblog your favorite fics , and follow your favorite authors❤️

~*~*~

There was something wrong with Viktor. 

All week he’d been acting distant, almost agitated. Mumbling to himself when he thought you couldn’t hear. Giving you the saddest eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. Flinching away from your touch like it burned him. He insisted he was fine when you asked him about it. He picked at his food, laid rolled away from you - even sleeping in the lab twice. Which he hadn’t done in a long time. When he was home, he’d pace back and forth across your small apartment. Each clink of his crutch went right through your head. Before he left in the mornings, he’d press a chaste kiss to your mouth - if there hastily given contact could even be considered that. You couldn’t figure out just what had changed.

Viktor had even begun to talk in his sleep. The first night he muttered too low to understand. He restlessly tossed and turned, wincing sometimes. A hand going to paw at his bad leg. The second night was more fervent, his body shaking. In the faint light from the window, you caught tears rolling down his face. You could only wonder what happened when he slept away from you. One thing was certain - his voice whining out your name like a prayer over and over was never going to leave your head. 

You didn’t ask Viktor about his dreams. A hard lump forming every time you thought of his desperate cries. You just wished he would talk to you. Even when you went to see him in the lab, he would act strange - distracted. You had started going early in your relationship to ensure he actually took time for himself. Jayce had poked fun at him for a while, but you could tell he was just glad someone was finally looking out for him.

Where before Viktor would turn in his chair at the mere movement of the door, eyes eagerly seeking you out - now he wouldn’t look at you. His left foot tapped impatiently against the floor. He probably could’ve stared a hole right through his papers. He wouldn’t come on a small stroll with you like he would before. You were only met with murmurs that there was work to be done and that he couldn’t be taken from it.

Jayce was acting oddly too. Almost as avoidant as Viktor. There was no cheery greeting. No poke about how Viktor was just talking about you. Hell, they were hardly looking at each other. You wondered if they’d gotten into a fight again and were avoiding each other like an old married couple. But then that had nothing to do with you. So it wouldn’t explain why it was so tense and quiet from the moment you set foot through the threshold.

You decided you’d give it until the end of the week. As the days wore on, a heaviness crept into your mind, into your belly, squeezing your lungs until you could hardly breathe. There just wasn’t enough room for it. You’d chewed the inside of your lip nearly bloody worrying at it so much. Your paintings had gone largely ignored. You wondered if Viktor had noticed, he usually did. But it was difficult to tell in this altered state.

The final day of your self-appointed deadline, Viktor came home well after the sun had taken its leave. You waited up for him, though a nagging edge in your mind had said he’d spent another night at the lab. He looked exhausted as he stumbled in. Somehow the bags under his eyes were more pronounced. Usually he’d give you a light scolding about being up so late. Teasing that you forced him to care for himself, so you needed to not be a hypocrite and do the same. Now he only glanced at you silently in his beeline for your bedroom. The sadness in those amber eyes was heavier tonight.

A hot sting settled into your guts as you trailed after him. Carpet absorbing the sound of your footsteps, the hallway almost seemed to tilt in your peripheral. Viktor was going to leave you, wasn’t he? Despite his pleading in his sleep. That had to be why he was being so distant. He was pulling away, mentally prepping to be alone, and preparing to break your heart. Jayce knew, it would make sense why he was also dancing around your presence. 

You’d always held a doubt in the back of your mind. A fear that one day he’d grow tired of you. You were so sure that eventually he’d seek out a life partner on the same intellectual level as him. That he’d grow tired of coming home to the smell of oil paint, solvent, and thinning oil. It wasn’t your fault that your brain wasn’t wired for science. It was barely wired for color theory.

You found Viktor perched on the edge of the bed, gripping his crutch as he stared blankly at the wall. His features were still pinched in the same dower expression he’d worn all week. He hadn’t bother to try changing into the clothes you’d laid out for him. You wondered if he’d let you help him. He looked so bone tired. Quietly, you stood in the doorway shifting foot to foot.

“It is late,” Viktor uttered flatly.

You nodded. “It is.”

He readjusted his grip on his crutch. His skin stretched milky white over the bone of his knuckles. “You should rest. You look tired.”

“I could say the same about you, love.” You paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Vik -”

Viktor’s eyes flashed to yours, his brows sinking deeper over them. The warm topaz still sent butterflies through your stomach. Just how long had it been since you called him by his name? It was always my love or honey or handsome - whatever pet name came to mind. You hadn’t called him Vik or Viktor in a very long time.

You heard the slightest shake in his voice as he asked, “Yes?”

“I -” How to even approach the subject? How did you start a conversation you really didn’t want to have? You weren’t ready to let him go. You also didn’t want to be alone again. You licked your dry lips and tried again. “Viktor, my love…Will you tell me - are you going to leave me?”

Viktor jerked up right at your words. Then flinched and ran a hand over his back. Finally, that expression he was wearing cracked. There was your golden eyed boy again. The life came back to him. He shifted his body to face you, leaning forward. Like he was ready to launch himself.

“What are you talking about?” Viktor couldn’t seem to get the words out quick enough.

“I’m not stupid,” you insisted.

Viktor frowned. “I have never thought you were.”

You tried not to let that comment make your heart flutter, but you couldn’t help it. You started to pace. “I may not be breaking the limits of science as we know it - but I have eyes.”

“Yes. And they’re very lovely.”

“I saw the signs all week, Vik, and I can’t take it anymore. Just tell me if you’re finally tired of me.”

A heavy silence stretched between you. Viktor’s eyes wide , almost childlike, and following as you trailed back and forth. Finally he covered his face with his hands and sighed.

“This is ridiculous,” he scoffed. The words spoken so softly you didn’t think they were for you. Finally, he rubbed his eyes then looked up at you. He patted the bed beside him, muttering, “Sit.”

You did as he asked, lowering yourself to the soft mattress beside him. Viktor scooched so that your legs were touching. Connected from hip to knee. This close, you noticed the tips of his ears beginning to tinge pink. The same color creeped up from the collar of his shirt. He loosened his tie with one hand.

“Viktor,” you started.

“Please.” Viktor shook his head. “Don’t call me by my name.”

“Honey?”

“I like that much better.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth and then it was gone. He took a deep breath. “It’s time I finally told you…I’ve had a thought. It’s plagued me for longer than I would care to tell. It was fleeting at first. Just a seed. However, I find it’s been…present more than not of late.”

A heavy chill crept through your belly, lungs constricted painfully. You tried to keep a straight face, but your hands balled up tightly where they rested on your legs. Viktor noticed, scooping one into his and gripping it as firmly as possible. For once, his hands were warmer than yours.

“I’m not leaving you. - In fact…” Here, Viktor paused to draw in a breath. When he spoke, his voice was hardly above a whisper. Like the words were too painful to speak into being. “It’s been me who’s afraid you will tire of me and leave.”

His voice pleading for you to stay flickered through your mind.

“Please,” Viktor cried softly. 

He had slept in the lab the night before and came home looking absolutely haggard. You hadn’t slept much either. Now that you’d had a taste of domestic bliss you hated sleeping by yourself, being able to wake up to him in the morning was the best part of the day. Viktor was facing you now, eyes shut but you could see them moving rapidly beneath the thin lids. The corners of his mouth were pulled into a grimace, a crease folded between his brows. He laid only a few inches from you, even when he’d started off on the other side of the bed. His body curled in on itself. Shoulders quaking so much it shook the bed. 

“Please,” he whined again. “Don’t go…it’s dark here. And cold. It hurts. - My crutch, I can’t, I can’t find it. - Wait, please - I don’t want to be alone again.”

A knot tied in your throat, listening to his pleas. Tears blurred your vision. You put a hand on his cheek, it was soaked. Gently, you wiped away the tears there and leaned over to kiss his forehead, muttering softly that you weren’t going anywhere and that you loved him. He quieted, his own hand coming up to cover yours and press it harder against his flesh. 

He sighed out your name one last time. “Please leave me.”

“Why are you crying, my love?” he asked softly.

You sniffled, a tear rolling down your cheek. Every time you thought of that night you teared up. Viktor wiped it away with his thumb, leaning his forehead against yours.

“You’ve been talking in your sleep, and the things you say…what do you dream about?”

He hesitated. “Have I said something that made you upset?”

“You…” You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. “You cry a lot. Ask me not to leave. And I…you’re just so sad. It makes me sad.”

“They aren’t dreams - they’re nightmares. Terrible, awful things…” Viktor squeezed your hand while squeezing his eyes shut. “Where I’m back in the Undercity, and you walk with me in the dark alleys. Then I fall and cannot pull myself back up. My body hurts, the ground is colder than ice, my cane is gone, and you keep walking. I try to follow, to crawl until my hands and knees are bloody. But you’re so much faster, and I can no longer see you. I’m left behind…again.”

“I, I would never…” you told him, voice watery. “Why would you think…?”

“They are just bad dreams. But I know they spawn from that fear.” The bashfulness took over Viktor’s face again, skin flushing crimson. “Because I can’t - that is, I’m unable to -” he cleared his throat “- I fear I will bore you. My leg, it keeps me from, eh…performing as I want.”

Performing? Viktor avoided your eyes now. You caught his free hand pulling at his pant seam. His leg…? The realization hit you swiftly. Oh! Ooohh… Several emotions swept through you at once. Part of you wanted to laugh, it’d all been a misunderstanding in the end. All this over sex. It hadn’t even been something that crossed your mind. Other emotions you couldn’t name washed over you. Just mashing together is a muddled mass that made your head swim.

“I would never - that’s not even -” There were too many things you wanted to say, so you settled for, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Viktor smiled gently, bringing his hand to caress your face as he kissed your forehead. But it quickly dropped away, his eyes downcast. “That’s why it is a fear that lives with me. Recently, when we tried something new and I couldn’t…This fear built shame inside of me, and it made me push you away. For that, I’m deeply sorry.”

Now that you thought about it, there was one thing that had happened before all this. A little thing in your mind. Obviously not in his. 

You and Viktor were having some sexy time. Mouths clashing in hot need, clothes thrown around the apartment, hands roaming, and bodies melding together. One of the rare times he really let himself go, showing you a rougher, more aggressive side. It only peeked its head out on rare occasions. If Viktor was really pent up from stressful days in the lab, or if you two were having make-up sex after a fight. But it was there. A fire burning brightly behind his calm, playful exterior.

Viktor had you bent over the couch. Fingers pulsing deftly in and out of your swollen, sensitive folds. His thumb pressing on your clit, rubbing maddening circles around it. He’d already gone down on you three times. He said he was going for a personal record - four and he’d finally give you what you really wanted. Not that he hadn’t been denying himself. His cock thick and heavy, twitching, aching to be touched, and already dripping with precum. But he wouldn’t let you touch him. He wouldn’t even touch himself.

Your mind was a hot, foggy mess anyway. You couldn’t form words any more. Every nerve ending was a pinprick of ecstasy. Everytime Viktor brushed a hand over your skin, you shivered and moaned. Nothing felt real anymore. This was a feeling you loved. Getting fucked absolutely stupid. There was nothing else in the world but you, Viktor, and the sinful squelching noises of your arousal. 

“Hon,” your voice shook. It sounded so very far from you. “I can’t - I don’t think I -”

“Just one more for me, my dove,” he cooed, he pressed his length to the back of your thigh. “Please.”

He pressed his thumb just a little bit harder to your clit and that was it. You were pretty sure the sound that came out of you only dogs could hear. Your spent walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers. You were actually tearing up from just how good you felt.

Then there was a thud from behind you. You pushed yourself from the back of the couch and onto your shaking legs. Viktor was on the floor, glaring down at his bad leg. He’d taken his brace off when he took his pants off and never put it back on in his haste. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, crouching to his level.

He muttered something unintelligible. Then louder said, “I think I was standing for too long without the extra support.”

You started to stand, “I can go grab your brace -”

“No!” He stretched out an arm, reaching for you. “This is, I’ll be fine, please - help me to the couch.”

You supported his weight as you pulled him up, one arm slung over your shoulder with your hand around his waist. You lowered him to the cushion, double checking he was fine. Viktor assured you, rather snippily, that he was.

“As long as you're sure,” you muttered. 

“Come. Let us finish what we started, dove.” Viktor grabbed for your hips and pulled you to straddle him. You finished out your fun with you on top. You thought that been it. Just a small hiccup that was swiftly forgotten. It happened the day before he started acting weird.

“Love, that was really no big deal -” you insisted.

Despair soaked his voice. “It was to me.”

You put a finger under his chin, lifting his face to yours. But he still couldn’t bring his eyes to meet yours.

“I really don’t mind -” you started.

“I do. That’s why I decided to think of a way to please you. For you to be treated as you should, where you don’t have to do all the work.” Viktor turned his full attention to you as he announced, “I want you to have sex with Jayce.”

There was a rush of white noise that filled your ears. Followed by a high pitched ringing, like a bomb had exploded right next to you. Those words simply did not make sense to your mind. Viktor did not just say what you thought he did. You laughed and Viktor flinched, searching your face.

“Excuse me?” you chuckled. “Sure I didn’t hear you right.”

“I want you to have sex with Jayce,” Viktor repeated more firmly.

The laughter died in your throat. “That’s what I thought you said. You really must be sleep deprived -”

Viktor grasped both of your hands tightly between his, staring deep and sincerely into your eyes. “I cannot do for you all I wish. I want you to enjoy yourself. To be served and sated.”

You tried to put on a reassuring smile, but it felt wrong. “But I do, I am. I don’t mind that we have to do things differently.”

“It is more than ‘differently.’” Viktor spit the word out, voice dripping with frustration. “There are so many things I cannot do for you. Ways that I wish to pleasure you that I simply cannot. – That is why I have asked Jayce if he would help me fulfill these. He said he would, if that was something you would like.”

You sighed deeply. “Love -”

“Please tell me you will consider, it would mean a great deal.” Viktor brushed the knuckles of one of your hands against his lips. His eyes were large and sad and glossy. “Sleep on it, at the least?”

Your mouth pressed into a flat line. Those puppy dog eyes of his were so hard to resist. “Sure, yeah. I’ll sleep on it.”

But not with Jayce.

With the tension aired between the two of you, Viktor slept glued to your side. His body curled around yours, his nose in your hair. In the morning, he sat pressed against you on the couch. Then just about had you shoved into the entryway wall as you saw him off. Making up for the lost time, you supposed. He asked you to come visit the lab that afternoon, to see all the progress they’d made in their research. As if you didn’t visit nearly everyday anyway. This time, you had a feeling it was just a pretense and that Viktor had another agenda up his sleeve.

Once he was out the door, you slid down the wall. Sitting with your hands covering your face. What were you going to do? The morning ticked by slowly as you went back to working on your paintings. Your mind was still distracted, chewing over the proposition. Over and over again, you landed on one thing - you were not fucking Jayce. The very thought of someone’s else hands on your skin, exposing yourself to anyone new - you cringed away from it. It had taken long enough with Viktor. You didn’t want to have sex with anyone else, at his request or not.

Despite the warmth in the air, you dressed in long pants, tall boots, and a high collared sleeveless shirt when you went to the lab. It felt necessary to hide your skin away from prying eyes. Like a barrier. A way to show your vehement stance on the matter. 

This time when you made your entrance, Viktor immediately pushed out of his chair. Meeting you halfway across the room. A hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush to his side as he leaned his forehead against yours. He gave you a real kiss. A deep one. Like the mere hours of separation had been a lifetime.

“Come,” Viktor said breathlessly. “Observe what we have done.”

Viktor explained their progress with rampant enthusiasm. Most of it went over your head. So you ooh’d and aah’d along. You could physically see the progress in the machine they were making. So you assumed it was decent progress.

Jayce hadn’t been there when you arrived. But when he finally strode through the doors, he kept his distance. You could feel his eyes though. The way they watched you as Viktor led you in a slow circle around the room. It was as though you were an ant under a magnifying glass. You wondered what he’d thought of Viktor’s proposal. With the barely contained hunger in his face, you had to guess he was just as enthusiastic. There was an itch in the back of your mind, a voice planting a seed that made anger boil in your belly. What if it had all been Jayce’s idea in the first place?

You and Viktor were just about to walk to a nearby restaurant for lunch when someone poked their head in and asked for him. He excused himself and kissed your forehead with the promise of a quick return. Then you were alone with Jayce. Now he was pointedly turned away from you. Hunched over whatever device he was tinkering with. Picking up his screwdriver, but not seeming to actually use it before putting it back down. Then making a show of skimming over blueprints again.

“I know you know, Jayce,” you said, leaning against the far end of his work table. “Did you put him up to it?”

Jayce flinched and dropped the thing in hand, wide eyes shooting to you. He held up his hands in defense. “No! Why the hell would I do that?”

All traces of whatever beast laid hidden beneath the surface was gone now. You were left with regular ole Jayce. You narrowed your eyes at him, scrutinizing his face.

“I don’t know…”

He shook his head slightly. “I swear, I had nothing to do with it. It was all his idea.”

You hummed, staring at him for a long moment before you decided he was being genuine. “Then why the hell didn’t you tell him ‘no’? Or convince him that it was a bad idea?”

Jayce pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, then grunted before meeting your gaze. “I tried, I did - I swear. By the end of it, though, I just couldn’t say ‘no’ anymore! He gave me a full presentation on the chalkboard. - I’ve known Viktor for a while. Believe me, he’s just scared you’ll leave him. A hell of a lot more than he probably told you.”

Finally, you relented, rolling your eyes. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s not going to happen.”

“See, you and I both know that. But he just wants to make sure of it, so he’s giving you another option. Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are.” Jayce paused, turning his full body to you. “I think we should do it.”

Your head jerked towards him. “What?!”

He shrugged desperately. “Viktor never asks for anything!”

“I’m. Not. Fucking. You.” Each word was met with a sharp rap on the table with your nail.

“Ouch,” Jayce feigned, a hand to his chest. “You really know how to hurt a guy. - Look, just give it a thought. For him. Poor guy’s been beating himself up. He just wants to make it up to you. And it wouldn’t have to be a repeat experience. Just one time to make him happy and then we never have to speak of it again.”

You sighed deeply, scowling at nothing in particular. That was when Viktor returned. Almost giddy to see that you were by Jayce’s workstation.

“Are you ready to eat, my dove?” he asked, coming to you.

He put a finger under your chin, guiding your face up to look at him. He smoothed away the furrow in your brow. With one last glance at Jayce, you nodded. You went for lunch, carefully avoiding that one particular avenue of conversation. Instead, asking him a question you knew would send him down some scientific tangent you couldn’t follow. It ate up the rest of your conversation and the walk back to the lab.

That evening, Viktor returned home early. He changed out of his academy uniform and found where you were making dinner. He put a hand on your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. He murmured something that you didn’t quite catch.

“Want to try some?” you asked, but he shook his head. 

He pressed you tighter against his chest. You smiled to yourself. It was the little things like this, the little warmths in your life that you loved the most. You stood in a warm, comfortable silence while you finished up cooking. Then made light conversation as you ate dinner. 

The heavy topics didn’t come until you laid side by side in bed.

“You were speaking with Jayce today,” Viktor started lightly. “Have you considered my proposal?”

You turned your head to look into his painfully hopeful eyes. He gave you a nervous smile. You sat up, throwing a leg over his hips. He gasped lightly. His hands found your hips of their own volition. You leaned forward, caging his head with your hands.

“What’s wrong with this?” you asked softly, rolling your hips against him. Viktor’s mouth fell open a bit, eyes fluttering. His hips weakly bucked back up at you. “With just doing what we can? I don’t mind that we have limits, or can’t do certain positions. All it means is that we have to get creative.”

Viktor’s hands tensed, then relaxed as his thumbs rubbed circles into the flesh of your hips. He looked away briefly, then found your eyes again. A hand came to your cheek, you leaned into it.

“I just want you to be happy,” Viktor replied weakly. “Satisfied. Even if it’s not with me.”

You leaned down to kiss him. “I am both of those things. You know if I had an issue I would say something.”

The puppy dog eyes returned. “Darling, please…”

Sitting back, you took care to support your weight on your heels. Always slightly afraid you’d hurt him. But it wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it out to be. You knew his limits. 

His hands slid up under your night shirt, finger tips grazing your bare breast under the fabric. A low groan roiled in the back of your throat, your lip catching between your teeth. Beneath you, you could already feel his hardness pressing into you.

“All I ask is for once,” he said, voice set deep in his throat now.

You frowned. “That’s what Jayce said.”

“Because that is all we discussed. I was…thoroughly disappointed that I was not as able as I thought.”

Burning chewed at the back of your mind, clawing in your gut. A tinge of guilt. Viktor’s hand squeezed between your bodies to tease at your clit through the fabric of your underwear. His other fully massaging one of your breasts. Your head lolled back, lips parting. His hips rolled up to meet yours, pressing his erection to your core. You could feel his eyes watching your every move. 

“You already know how to satisfy me,” you muttered. “You know exactly how to drive me nuts.”

“I am a scientist, at the end of the day,” he stated nonchalantly, fingers never ceasing their work. “The powers of observation and knowledge of experimentation come into use in many of life’s avenues.”

“See?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes. “It's me who should be worried.”

Viktor scoffed. “Oh please - your presence is all I require.”

Your hands gathered his shirt, pushing it up to expose his skin. You leaned down, kissing from sternum to waistband. Viktor’s breath fluttered beneath you. You shimmied to straddle his good leg, palming him through his pants. He groaned and arched into the touch.

“See? This is fine,” you whispered.

Viktor sat up, catching your wrist. He held your face in one hand, bringing you into a hard kiss. He nipped at your bottom lip, then ran his tongue across it as he guided your back into the mattress. He peppered kisses down your neck, where he found the one spot that sent shockwaves through your body. You whined and panted, winding your arms around him. Holding him close.

“I am just grateful to have you,” he whispered in your ear. “To kiss you, to come back here to you at the end of the day. - To fuck is you one of my few joys in life. I find home between your thighs. But you deserve more than my feeble abilities.”

You moaned at the words, pressing your body closer to his. They sunk deeper into you than they were probably meant to. Still, you couldn’t deny that they sent a thrill down your body as you replayed them in your head. You concentrated on the warmth coming from Viktor.

Moving from your neck, Viktor repeated your movements. Pushing your shirt up to expose you. A shiver snaking through your body. Nipples hardening in the cool air. Viktor took one into his mouth, fingers adeptly rolling the other one. As though this was the thing he’d spent his entire day working at. Warmth pooled in your core, your clit aching for friction already. He trailed soft kisses down your sternum and to your waistband.

“I want to give you so much more,” Viktor muttered, fingers slowly pulling down your underwear. 

“I’m happy with this,” you told him, though you weren’t sure if the words came out right.

Viktor chuckled, managing to work the panties off you. You weren’t sure where they went. But you had no doubt he’d manage to conjure them back into existence when you were done. He always did.

Two fingers found your entrance. Your back arching to the touch. You could feel your arousal already leaking out. Viktor lightly pressed his thumb against your clit. You groaned loudly, bottom lip quivering.

“If I was a religious man, you would be my goddess,” Viktor muttered, fingers working in tandem. His other hand rubbing circles deeply into the flesh of your thigh. “You are already my muse.”

His fingers pumped in and out at a maddening pace. The wet sound of your arousal filling the room. He curled his fingers to find a spot he knew sent you spiraling. A ripple of pleasure pulled a moan from your throat. You tried blubbering back a reply, but words wouldn’t form in your mind. It was a thick slurry of sin and hormones. 

Viktor smiled in that way he did only in times like this. Like this was his life’s purpose fulfilled. Like he’d been placed in this time and place just to bring you pleasure. And damn, was he good at it.

Finally, he lowered himself to the bed. Face hovering just above where his fingers were already working. You knew he’d make you cum with little effort. What he lacked in his physical ability, he made up for like this. Drinking you in and eating you out like a last meal to a dying man. 

His breath drifted across your sensitive skin. Eliciting another moan came from you, hips involuntarily bucking. Seeking the pleasure and the high you knew was coming. He kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh and chuckled.

“Come now, dove,” muttered Viktor. “Be patient.”

You groaned, throwing him a playful glare. Something about the way he was looking at you took your breath away. His cheeks pink and half-lidded eyes filled with life. He gazed at you like you were the world’s most gorgeous art piece. You felt like you were lit up from within, full with warmth and light.

A moan rumbled from deep in his chest as his tongue flicked out. Taking over where his thumb had been. His tongue swirled around your clit. A loud moan rolling from you. You sunk one hand into his curls, the other gripping the back of one thigh to keep your leg up. Offering more space for him to maneuver. 

Viktor obliged, pulling himself closer. Still working your wet pussy with his fingers. He slipped in another one. Which earned another groan and hip grind. He hummed, leaning into it. His hand gripped your other thigh like a lifeline, pressing it into his shoulder. The spring was already starting to compress in your stomach. The ripples of pleasure as he lapped at you pulling it tighter. 

“Hon - Vik -” You couldn’t form a full word. Focusing only on the overwhelming waves of pleasure that washed over you. They cleansed your mind of function. Your whole body was filled with heat. You couldn’t get your shirt the rest of the way off fast enough.

Each furious pulse of Viktor’s fingers, each curl of his tongue worked you tighter. The way he rocked back and forth as he worked. You clenched around his fingers, enjoying the extra sensation. It added to the heat in your body. You never knew how to describe it. But there was always one thing he did with his tongue, the way it wrapped around your clit as he sucked and nibbled, that sent you over. 

Every. Single. Time. 

The rubber band snapped as Viktor delivered one last little nip and applied pressure with his thumb again. Every nerve was on fire. Whiting out your mind. Arching your back as your mouth dropped open and your eyes rolling back into your skull. Zeroing in on the way his fingers felt inside you as you rode the pleasure out. The hand in his hair gripping, keeping him there, like your life depended on it.

As you released his locks, Viktor sat up. The satisfaction on his face was clear. He wiped at his chin, sucked the arousal off his fingers, and shook out his cramping hand. Another shiver shook you head to toe. Then again, you couldn’t even feel your toes. Your body and mind warm and numb in the afterglow.

Viktor slowly removed his night clothes, exposing himself as fully as you were. His erection throbbed, already weeping with precum. You remembered being taken aback by its size the first time, and still a little to this day. Viktor had a determined set to face, brows furrowed with concentration. He gripped your legs and positioned himself between your thighs.

“Honey, you don’t have to -” you started, cutting off when he thrust deeply into you. White hot pleasure shook your entire being. Your sensitive walls clenching around him as they stretched and the thought shot out of your brain. Eyes rolling once again back in your head, you gripped the mattress. “Fuck!”

Viktor propped himself on his hands. You could tell he was favoring his left leg as he tried to get momentum going. Though you knew he wouldn’t be able to do this long. Still, it was always such a treat when he tried. He dragged himself out of you, then plunged roughly back in. A gruff moan following. You could see the effort on his face as it mingled with a twinge of frustration.

Each slow pump brought a new wave of mind numbing pleasure. Your whole body was alight with ecstasy. It was, however, short lived. Viktor frowned, begrudgingly pulling himself out. He scowled down at his leg, rubbing at the muscle in his thigh. As though that would give him back some of his missing stamina.

“Damn this,” he muttered.

You sat up, muscles weak. A hand to his chest, you cooed, “Lay down, my love.”

Viktor sighed, doing as he was directed. Then you were on top, as you tended to be. Lowering yourself down on his length. Eliciting a shared moan.  The stretch every time was delicious. You ground your hips down into his in the way you knew he liked. Making sure he was all the way in, right down to the base. His hands went to your thigh, rocking you with every motion.

But the disappointment in his face didn’t fully leave. It was a continuous crease in his brow. Even as you rode him. Bucking and rolling your hips. You didn’t mind this, being on top. It was worth it to watch him. The way he’d get totally lost in it all, hair splayed across the pillow, eyes fluttering, mouth parted as he released small pants.

Gripping the headboard for more stability, you raised your hips higher and grinded down a little harder. Viktor’s hips rose to meet yours as a moan boiled from his chest. One hand released you, pulling you down so he could claim one of your nipples in his mouth. He grunted against your skin, his tongue swirling about the bud.

It wasn’t long until you worked him up to his tipping point. His entire body went rigid. He was panting and shuddering, trying to get any grip he could with his good leg. Trying to fuck up into you with messy thrusts.

“P-Please,” Viktor panted, pawing bonelessly at your leg. “I’m begging - I can’t - I need to -”

You chuckled to yourself. “Do you feel good, baby?”

“So, so - please…” Viktor hummed, giving weak, rapid nods. “So close, don’t tease me, dove - please…”

You clenched yourself around him and sunk down onto his cock one last time until he was moaning loudly and pressing your hips into his. You let him ride out his high. Chasing it with shallow, rapid thrusts. Until he finally blinked up at you with clear eyes, breath coming out in deep huffs. His hands remained on your hips, holding you in place. The aftershocks of his orgasm wracked his body, causing him to spasm inside you. 

You leaned down and kissed him hard. Viktor sighed as you pulled away. The expression was back, the frustration. He just looked so defeated gazing up at you.

“I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, lovey,” you muttered, reaching out to play with his hair. He caught your hand, holding your palm to his face.

“The things I wish I could do to you,” he muttered. “It simply isn’t fair.”

A rush of hot embarrassment flooded you. Despite that, you could tell nothing you said was going to make it better. It didn’t matter to him that he could so quickly work your orgasm into being. Or that it was earth shattering and mind numbing every time. It didn’t matter that you were willing to try everything until you found positions that work for both of you. He wanted to be able to fuck you like a man who didn’t need a leg or back brace. You could see the heaviness in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the crease of his forehead.

You sighed, sliding off him. A knot tied itself in your chest. You settled, laying on your side to face him. “If I…if I have sex with Jayce, will that make you happy?”

“It would mean more to me than I can say,” Viktor muttered. In the back of your mind, you worried that he would regret it if you said yes. As if he sensed your thoughts, he rolled to match your position. He met your gaze, continuing, “It would just be sex - simple pleasure. Satisfaction. Nothing more.”

You picked at the fray in your pillow case. “If it means that much to you…”

Viktor’s eyebrows raised, eyes lighting up with evident eagerness. Your mouth suddenly felt tacky. You swallowed trying to get some moisture back in your mouth. He nodded.

Glancing between him and the spot you were worrying at, you said, “Then I guess once would be fine.”

___

A week later, Jayce stood at your door. Hesitating. He’d brought flowers. Why had he brought flowers? This was a one time thing. Still - he had to wonder if it was considered rude to show up at your best friend’s apartment with an agreement to fuck his partner empty handed? He couldn’t exactly ask at the flower shop he’d gone to, though they’d probably heard worse. Still, he didn’t need that kind of news getting around.

Jayce had been thinking about this whole thing for two weeks - in two very different headspaces.

When Viktor had approached him at first, he didn’t know what to think. He’d never thought about how Viktor’s disability would affect that part of his life. He had to admit, he admired how hard Viktor tried. There were some…very detailed diagrams Viktor had drawn as examples for his presentation. Jayce was grateful you were patient with him. However, the hotter under the collar Viktor got as he described how and what exactly you two often got up to during sexy time. – The more Jayce’s mind began to wander.

He tried not to think about you that way. He’d been glad when Viktor had introduced you that first time. Happy that his friend had finally found someone. You two now considered each other friends. That was under threat of being tainted now that Jayce paid closer attention when you came into the lab. He always thought you were attractive. But he couldn’t stop how his mind was tilting to thoughts about what would happen if you said yes. He couldn’t keep from tracing your curves with his eyes, watching you walk, seeing the way Viktor allowed you in his space and how easily he touched you. It awakened something inside him.

He pushed the thoughts into a box, trying not to dwell on them too much. He had to be careful to conceal any part of them when you were around. So he kept his distance to keep from saying anything unseemly. And then Viktor told him you’d agreed and the dam in his mind broke.

Dark fantasies plagued him in the night. Jayce found himself wondering what you tasted like. How it would feel to do the things that Viktor described. He wanted you to sit on his face and moan his name like it was the only word you knew. He wanted to make you cum more in a day than Viktor ever had. 

The thought of being watched thrilled him. Being allowed to fuck someone else’s partner? It got him harder than he’d ever been. Getting to see the way he was able to bring you pleasure in ways Viktor couldn’t - a real boost to his ego. Jayce wanted to see the displeased look on Viktor’s face as he folded you over and fucked you deep.

In the end, he had to remind himself this was a one time thing. And he had to make the most of it. There was a small, misguided voice in the back of his mind that suggested that if this went well, it would happen again. He just had to not make a big deal out of it.

Viktor opened the door when Jayce finally knocked. Raising an eyebrow at the bouquet. Jayce shrugged. You were just coming out of the bedroom at the back. A robe hugged your form tightly, and he swore he could see a peek of lace beneath it.

“You brought flowers?” you asked, laughing.

Jayce rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Seemed rude not to, given the circumstances.”

Taking the bouquet from his hand, you held it to your face, and breathed in deeply. Your eyes fluttered closed softly at the pleasant smell. A light smile on your face. Jayce already felt himself growing stiff. If this was how you reacted to flowers, then how the hell was he going to last?

“They’re beautiful, Jayce. Thank you,” you said. Then turned to Viktor. Jayce knew it was wrong, but he felt a little put out by the shift in attention. “Honey, is the vase still in the cabinet?”

Viktor nodded and watch you wander into the other room. Then his amused eyes went back to Jayce. His glance flicked down to Jayce’s pants and back. A smile danced in Viktor’s voice as he said, “You certainly came prepared.”

 Jayce grunted. “Shut up.”

They listened to you moving around the kitchen. Jayce felt a little dizzy, standing there with his dick hard and his hands sweating. This was really happening. It wasn’t just some perverted vision in his mind anymore. A soft thud came from the kitchen followed by a muttered curse.

Viktor laughed softly. “She’s nervous.”

“Not the only one. Are you sure about this?” Jayce asked. A piece of him knew he’d be devastated if he was asked to leave. But Viktor nodded, eyes trailing back to the door you’d gone through. Jayce followed his gaze. There was a pregnant pause between them, then he finally asked, “Is she wearing -“

“Lingerie? Yes.”

Jayce cleared his throat. “And that was -“

“My idea.” Viktor sighed. “I thought it would make it less awkward that way.”

“You ever done anything like this before?”

“The number of people I’ve had sex with can be counted on one hand. - So no. Surely you must have -“

Jayce shook his head. “No.”

“Ah.” Viktor’s eyebrows rose momentarily, like he didn’t believe him. “Well, I suppose we may then use this as a learning experience.”

You finally emerged from the kitchen, your robe half hanging off. Which exposed the pale pink lace of the lingerie you wore. Nipples peeking through the thin fabric. The sight sent heat right down below Jayce’s waist band. He was getting painfully hard now.

You cleared your throat. “So - how should we…proceed, gentlemen?”

You fidgeted, nibbling on your lip. Viktor went to you first. Allowed to be so close to you. He put a hand on your waist, pulling you flush to his side. Gazing at you so lovingly it hurt to behold. Jayce found a touch of unfounded jealousy burning in him; he wanted to be allowed into your space so freely.

“I thought I would do what I can,” Viktor started. His voice was deeper, smoother - a tone Jayce had never heard. You chuckled in that flirtatious way he was familiar with, your thighs already clenching together. Jayce suddenly understood the tone. “And then Jayce will step in. Is that alright with you, my dove?”

Your eyes flickered to him like you’d forgotten he was there. You gave a little nod. Viktor leaned in and kissed you deeply, his hand slipping under the robe. You let out something between a gasp and moan, Viktor smiled a bit as his eyes went to Jayce. If Jayce didn’t know better, he’d almost think that he was trying to show off.

“Before I forget,” you started suddenly, breaking the kiss. Jayce watched Viktor’s tongue leave your mouth. “Safeword is ‘hextech.’”

Viktor chuckled. Jayce laughed at the ridiculousness but agreed. Viktor nodded towards the hall as he turned you towards it. Jayce followed the pair of you back to your shared room, he couldn’t take his eyes off the sway of your hips.  He found a chair had been placed by the bed.

“My dove has said it’s okay if you want to watch, Jayce,” Viktor said, not looking at him. Just absorbed in you, with caressing your cheek with his thumb. “But it is ultimately your decision.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jayce muttered, mouth suddenly dry. He wasn’t expecting to get a show. “I’ll stay.”

Viktor cast him a fleeting glance. “Do what you need to.”

Jayce removed all the clothes on his bottom half, finally freeing his aching cock. Then he lowered himself into the plush chair. You sat on the bed, Viktor following next to you. Jayce noted that all of Viktor’s nervous energy was gone now. All of his movements confident as he laid you down against the pillows and kissed you, whispering to you. His left knee shoved between your thighs. He untied your robe as he worked from your mouth to your neck and down your body. You responded indulgently to every touch. 

Jayce realized that pleasing you wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Not like he’d originally thought. Viktor had had over two years to learn the ways of your body. And if he hadn’t performed, at least somewhat, competently , then you probably wouldn’t have stayed so long. Competition burned in the back of Jayce’s mind, in his chest. It wasn’t a competition, of course. He had to keep reminding himself this was just a favor for a friend. 

Jayce was sure he’d never seen anyone come to such a fulfilling climax so quickly before. Viktor had pulled off your panties and comfortably settled between your thighs. So practiced. So sure in his abilities. The way he had spoken to Jayce about your sex life, he had made it seem like he had never made you cum before. But right now he worshipped your body like a devoted servant. Eager to please, eager to give. Even if he wasn’t receiving this time.

Jayce couldn’t help himself. He gripped his throbbing dick, and a rush of pleasure came. He groaned, leaning his head on the back of the chair as he started to stroke himself. Slowly at first, hips rocking as he fucked his hand.

You held your legs up with your hands, and Viktor eagerly ate up the extra space. He pushed himself closer to you, reaching to play with one of your nipples. Your back arched at the touch, a moan coming from your lips. That almost had Jayce undone right there.

Jayce got a good view as Viktor pushed one finger into your folds. Then two. Then three. You gasped as he slipped in a fourth. He suddenly wondered just how big Viktor’s dick was that you required that much stretching. He watched, entranced, as Viktor worked his fingers in and out of you. Each pump coating them in slick more than the last.

Gods, Jayce wanted to be doing that himself. His thicker fingers covered in your fluids, your walls clenching around them. He wanted to taste you. For now, all he could do was watch as Viktor coaxed out mewls. As you released one leg and gripped his hair. Arousal already wetting the bed sheet. Viktor hadn’t even had a chance to put his mouth to work yet. You must’ve been anticipating something. Maybe Viktor was the one who liked to be watched and had anticipated this. Jayce’s humiliation as he discovered just what Viktor could do for you.

Waves of pleasure shook through Jayce as he listened to your pants. They grew into moans as Viktor began to work your sensitive spots with his tongue. He came to the conclusion that little shit had lied about just how much pleasure you were getting in the bedroom. He subconsciously matched his pace with Viktor’s fingers. Imagining what it would feel for you to be wrapped around his cock instead.

 He couldn’t wait to find out.

Jayce had to focus so he didn’t go over the edge too fast. It wasn’t long until you did. Your hips bucking, legs shaking. Mouth pulled into an O as the filthiest moans Jayce had ever heard fell from your lips. He watched on, fascinated. Your entire body quaked.

Just how had Viktor done that to you?

When your hand left Viktor’s hair, he sat back. He was just as out of breath as you were. The heels of your hands pressed into your eyes. Your pussy glistened enticingly. If this is what Viktor had been treated to, it was no wonder he didn’t want to lose it.

Viktor looked at Jayce over his shoulder, sucking your juices off his fingers. Before he wiped at the wetness on his face. He seemed awfully self satisfied.

“Jayce,” Viktor said hoarsely. “I believe this is where you may step in.”

___

You watched as Viktor stood from the bed, pulling himself up with his crutch. The last waves of your orgasm were still quaking through you. You swore you saw stars. Your head still light and spinning with pleasure.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” Viktor muttered, turning to the door. 

You sat up, head clearing. “You’re not staying?”

Viktor half turned back to you. “I thought it would be strange if I did.”

“It would be weirder if you didn’t.” You frowned, reaching for his hand. He took a step forward and held it firmly. The contact was almost too warm. “Please stay - for me.”

Jayce stood and you tried to avoid looking at his thick cock. It was already dribbling precum, veins bulging. “You’ve already got the chair.”

“I -” Viktor started. “Are you sure? I was going to give you some privacy.”

“Privacy?” Jayce’s voice was almost a laugh. “I just watched you eat out your ‘little dove.’ I think we’re way past privacy.”

Viktor nodded, releasing your hand. He hesitated before settling in the chair Jayce had occupied. Awkwardly, Jayce kneeled on the bed in front of you. You both glanced at Viktor. He was red faced, shifting uncomfortably.

“Remember,” you started. “‘Hextech.’”

Viktor nodded. “I remember.”

It was weird to have someone else touching your body. Jayce had your back in the mattress, hands trailing up your thighs. His hands were bigger and warmer than Viktor’s. He was overall a larger person. Though you were sure Viktor had Jayce beat by an inch or two in terms of dick size. You weren’t used to being dwarfed like this. The way he hovered over you, trapping you with his arms, was almost intimidating.

“Are you sure you’re fine with this?” Jayce asked one final time.

You glanced at Viktor and then up at Jayce before nodding. “Yeah.”

He leaned forward, whispering in your ear, “Let’s give him a show.”

You moaned as he plunged two fingers into you. They were thicker than Viktor’s, filling you up in a different way. Your overly sensitive walls fluttered around them. Jayce chuckled, removed his fingers, and stuck them in his mouth.

“Fuck - Viktor does have good taste after all.”

You burned with embarrassment. Then looked past Jayce to see Viktor’s face, he was gripping hard onto his crutch. Watching as Jayce held your hips and pulled you into his lap. His hard cock nudged at your entrance, you both groaned at the contact. His thumb danced lightly over your swollen clit. A shudder ran from the crown of your head to your toes. Then he thrust deeply in you.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried, hands grasping at his thick arms. 

Jayce grunted, nose wrinkling. “Holy - Fuck - Viktor you were holding out on me.”

You caught Viktor sit up a little straighter in his chair. Like he was about to pull you off of Jayce. You weren’t used to so much force being put behind the thrusts. It caught you off guard.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Jayce told you, his voice settled deeper into his chest.

“Go easy on me, please,” was all you could manage.

Jayce pulled out then thrusted into you again. A sharp moan ripped from your throat. You didn’t have to fake or put on any kind of show. You were still so sensitive from your orgasm. You immediately clamped down tightly. 

Jayce’s fingers dug deeply into your flesh. “Oh, fuck…so tight..”

He picked up his pace, pulling you onto him over and over again. His lips pulled back over his teeth, grunting with each snap of his hips. You weren’t used to being fucked like this. It was entirely different, you’d forgotten how much so. Jayce lifted your legs over his shoulders. Where he found a spot that had your mind turning into goo. Each thrust pushed you farther up the bed. You caught him occasionally checking Viktor’s reactions.

“Oh - fuck - Jay - I, fuck -“ you sputtered out incoherently, over and over. Your voice jumping octaves.

One of his hands caught both your wrists, pinning them above your head. He shifted to press your hips into the mattress, pushing your knees closer to your chest. You couldn’t remember the last time you were bent like this. Jayce’s cock reached deep inside you, each thrust seemed to push deeper into your core until you were seeing stars.

There was the wild sound of his skin slapping against yours. The groan of the bedframe and tap of the headboard against the wall. Your legs shook, feebly trying to keep their purchase over Jayce’s shoulder. Each rough thrust was a new ripple of sensation. You wanted to pull your hands away, dig your nails into his skin. But he kept you right where he wanted.

Then Jayce pulled out suddenly, releasing your wrists. You whined at the sudden emptiness. You were taken aback to find just how sweaty you were. Along with just how wet you were. Your entire body shook.

Jayce gently but firmly guided a position change. At some point, he’d unhooked your bra and it fell to the floor. Now you were on all fours, facing Viktor this time. Jayce delivered a short, hard smack to one of your ass cheeks. You cried out with the pain and pleasure of it. Viktor was red faced and very obviously straining in his pants.

There was no warning as Jayce thrust into you again. You almost face planted at the force. Viktor moved like he was going to catch you. But Jayce quickly pulled you back by your hips. Laying another slap to your ass. It stung, it felt good, it hurt in the most delicious way possible.

Jayce held you firmly as he rammed into you roughly, over and over. Your head dropped, squeezing your eyes shut. You could hardly catch your breath. He gripped a handful of hair, yanking your head back. You yelped.

“I want Viktor to see your face as I fuck you,” he said.

You moaned and whined, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t read the expression on Viktor’s face. His eyes locked onto yours, sending new heat through your body. You were almost surprised that he still had his clothes on. That he hadn’t followed as Jayce had.

Jayce took his hands from your hair and forced your chest down to the mattress. Making your back arch, ass high in the air now. You clawed at the edge of the bed, crying and groaning into the mattress.

Suddenly, Jayce scooped his arms up under your body. One hand coming up to squeeze your throat. The other pressing your back to his chest. He grunted and cursed softly in your ear, fucking up into you desperately.

“What did I say?” he panted. “About wanting him to watch?”

Viktor’s eyes raked over your body. You were hot with embarrassment. Being held exposed like this. Boobs bouncing as Jayce pummeled into you. Viktor’s eyes were glued to them, fingers flexing against his knees.

“Why don’t you touch her, Viktor?” Jayce asked, voice slurred with his lust. “She’s been such a good girl.”

A whine curled in the back of your throat. You couldn’t help but shiver and clench at the nickname. Jayce chuckled. A warm, dark sound in your ear. 

“Oh? You like the praise?” Jayce inquired. “Vik, don’t you ever tell her how good she is to you? How good she feels? How warm and tight her little pussy is? I know I would. - I’ll praise you all you want, pretty girl, make up for Viktor.”

Viktor’s eyes were over your shoulder. You wondered what sort of look Jayce was giving him. Viktor was frowning a touch. Jayce began rutting into you, sending shivers down your spine. You rested your head back against his shoulder.

“Such. A.” Each word punctuated with a sharp snap of the hips. You sputtered out moans and mewls, the utter ecstasy flowing through your body getting too much to bare. “Good. Fucking. Girl. - Gods, I don’t know how you ever stop fucking her.”

“If I didn’t have this leg…nothing could stop me,” Viktor replied. It sent a new wave of heat and pleasure pulsing over you. 

“You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Jayce asked  you. You nodded weakly. “Good. - Do you like getting fucked like this? You’re taking my dick so fucking well. Do you like having Viktor watch when I fuck you?”

You blubbered out something incoherent. Jayce chuckled. It sent another shiver down your spine.

 “You don’t look like you do, Viktor. I’m honestly surprised you can keep it in your pants when you have such a perfect view. You are allowed to have a little fun.” Jayce’s lust-drunk tone held a challenge in it. “I thought you wanted me to fuck her for you? You said she likes getting fucked stupid. I doubt she even knows her name right now.”

“I told you, this was for her satisfaction,” Viktor challenged. “Not mine.”

“Then satisfy her, dumbass.”

Viktor got to his feet. Coming to stand before the two of you. He glared up at Jayce, but his expression softened as he turned to you. Seeing the pleasure evident on your features. He brought the hand not leaning on his cane up, fingers deftly finding your clit.

You yelped in surprise, flinching and pressing down into Jayce. He groaned, putting more weight into his movements. Viktor traced circles and figure-eights around your clit. Your walls clenched, satisfied to find themselves full. 

Your breath came in shallow pants. You felt amazingly. Like you were floating, surrounded by pure euphoria. Every nerve ending was tuned into Jayce’s quick, hard thrusts and the way Viktor’s fingers played with you. Warmth pooled in your abdomen. 

“I wan - cum…” you whined. Your voice higher than usual. “So bad.”

“You heard the lady, Viktor, she’s begging for it. What do you say?” asked Jayce. “Why don’t you show me how you made her cum so fast before? Gotta make sure it wasn’t just a fluke.”

“Unlike some people,” Viktor started. “I know how to serve pleasure to others before my own. I never said I couldn’t do that. Very egotistical of you to presume.”

Viktor pulled the chair to the edge of the bed. You were thankful the frame was fairly low to the ground. He was able to sit while Jayce shimmied you closer to the edge of the mattress. Viktor leaned forward, tongue darting out over your sensitive bud.

“Fuucckkkkk,” you whined. You weren’t sure where to put your hands. Your body was nothing but warm tingles.

Viktor worked himself free of his pants, one hand pumping himself furiously. Finally allowing himself the pleasure. The other braced him against the bed so he could lap at you. He lapped at your folds like he’d never tasted you a day in his life.

It all felt wrong but right at the same time. There was just something about seeing Viktor’s face pressed against you. Feeling his tongue do its sinful dance. Watching as he fucked his hand. Trying desperately to relieve the erection he’d kept contained. How had he managed such control?  Feeling as he grunted and panted against your skin.

Meanwhile Jayce kept up his pace with startling stamina. Arms still wrapped around you, clamping you to him and his blazing skin. He was now nibbling at your neck, planting hot, wet kisses to it. He found the same spot Viktor had that flooded your body and sucked at it.

There was sensation everywhere. It was all too much. The coil in the pit of your stomach twisted tighter and tighter. How Jayce’s grip on your throat tightened a touch. The hand holding you to him now fondling one of your nipples. The more you clamped down on his cock, the more boldly Viktor lapped at you like it was the first time. 

Your orgasm was like nothing you had ever felt. It ripped through you like lightning. You had never heard yourself make that kind noise before. A thousand suns exploded through your body. One hand threading through Viktor’s hair, the other reaching behind you for any grip you could get on Jayce.

“Holy shit,” Jayce exclaimed, then he was out of you. Pumping himself as he shot streams of hot cum on your ass. You rode your orgasm against Viktor’s furiously flicking tongue until your knees were weak and you were left breathless.

“Your turn,” you slurred as Viktor pulled away. 

You barely thought then you were in his lap. He hardly had time to catch you. You groaned at the extra girth to him as you sank down on his cock. The surprise on his face was quickly taken over as he cursed. You whined out moans as you rode him. Up and down, rocking back and forth with the chair groaning under you. With how sensitive you were, you just couldn’t get enough. He tried to move his hips to your pace, gripping your flesh.

“I - I can’t,” Viktor muttered, lips quivering. “You’re too -“ 

He hid his face in your neck, a moan ripping from his throat. He used his purchase on your hips to ride out his orgasm. Moving you to milk him until he came down. His breath came out in a stuttering rush, you could feel his heart racing in his chest. Finally he let you go, leaning his head back to reveal his absolutely pussydrunk face.

“My goddess,” Viktor muttered, running a finger from your temple to your chin. “My beauty.”

You kissed him, not caring that your fluids still coated his chin. Viktor wove his hands weakly into your hair, pulling you closer. Jayce cleared his throat. You turned to him. He leaned against your headboard, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“Thank you for this, Jayce,” Viktor said. He also had his eyes closed, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Jayce waved him off. “What’re friends for? - Besides, you didn’t need as much help as you made it seem, you dick.”

You lifted yourself off Viktor. Pulling one last groan from you both. All of the fluids began to drip out of you, so you excused yourself to the restroom. You took a change of clothes with you. The men were dressed again when you returned.

“So - not as bad as you thought?” Jayce teased, from his spot on your couch.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You rolled your eyes. 

Jayce smirked at you. “Oh, c’mon, admit it - you liked it.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Night had fallen over the city by then. You were starving. Viktor was still floating around. He didn’t seem to have a worry in the world. 

“Well,” Jayce started as he stood near the door. “Let me know you’ll be needing my…services again.”

“In your dreams,” you said.

Jayce shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

When he was gone, you made dinner. Viktor shadowed you. Just watching you now. You had just started dishing it up when he came to stand near you.

“Hextech,” he said suddenly.

You turned to him. “Hextech?”

“Our safe word.”

You nodded. “What about it?”

“I’m using it.”

“Why…? Exactly…?” You searched his face. 

Viktor came to you then, pushing your back against the counter. Leaning his full weight into your body. He pushed his good knee between your thighs. Somehow, your clit still ached for the friction. Viktor’s amber eyes were dark, boring into yours feverishly.

“I did not like Jayce’s hands on you.”

A sinking feeling hit your stomach. He was regretting it already, wasn’t he? “Then why didn’t you use it earlier?”

“Because you were enjoying yourself. And I…” Viktor cleared his throat, his fingers twisting a lock of your hair. The tips of his ears were pink again. “...liked watching you. But he wasn’t handling you with care. And I cannot abide that. - Look at that, he even marked you.” Vitkor clicked his tongue and ran a finger the skin on your neck. “However, that I believe is my own fault.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Eeh,” Viktor started, a smile forming. You could hear a guilty, playful edge to his voice. “I may have undersold my abilities to Jayce. That way I could put on a little show today. - That man needs to be humbled sometimes.”

You laughed. “Well, we don’t have to do that again. - One and done, like you said.”

Viktor paused. “That is - I just…I think I may enjoy a repeat of the day’s events.”

You met his gaze. Heat pooling in your belly again. You still hadn’t made up your mind about whether or not you wanted a repeat. “You liked…watching Jayce fuck me?”

“I enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself. The faces you make - I have never heard such sweet sounds.” Viktor pressed a kiss to your lips. His hand gently wrapped around your throat, squeezing it lightly. You whimpered softly at the touch. “But it’s your decision. Anything I can do for your pleasure. Anything to keep you here with me.”

“You’re never going to lose me. Not because of that or anything,” you insisted. “I’d rather throw myself off Piltover’s tallest building than live without you.”

“That’s awfully dramatic. I do not think it will ever come to that.” Viktor ran a thumb over your bottom lip. There was a long pause, but his mouth was opened like he had a thought that wouldn’t materialize. He avoided your eyes as he spoke. “Do you know what the hardest thing was, when we first were dating?”

You shook your head the slightest bit. He didn’t speak much of your first six months together. He rarely spoke of what drew him to you in the first place. Those first fragile months were so far away in your mind. They were full of a strange chaos between the two of you. Eventually, things settled into this warm place you found.

“I had many fears that I never spoke of. Firstly, that you would leave me once you discovered who I truly was. I worried a man of science would bore you compared to all of your artistic colleagues. I was often jealous.” Viktor sneered at the thought. 

“You were jealous?” you scoffed.

“It is not so far fetched a thought. I did not understand what you do, just as you do not understand what I do. The only difference is that you tried, and I…was not a very partner. - Here I was with this beautiful creature in my life, and an overwhelming fear that I would taint her. Drive her away. I suppose that put a barrier between us, for a time.”

You shrugged. “I’m still here, aren’t I?

“Amazing so,” Viktor chuckled. “When I finally put that worry to bed. Another then came to being that you were a dream. Just a cruel invention of my mind. Falling asleep at the lab began to be a gamble with fate. Were I to wake up one day and discover our life together had been a terrible lie of my subconscious - I would be a broken man. How could I live on knowing that I had dreamed of such a dear thing only for you then to not exist?

“Last week when I stayed in the lab, those fears came back. You cannot know how scared I was that if I slept, I would wake to find none of it real. That I would leave the lab and go back two years to the man I was. Or even farther. To a small, lonely dorm room grading papers for Heimerdinger. – I love you, and all the light you brought with you. I used to shy from that light, but now I can’t imagine returning to the dark. That’s why your presence in my life is enough for me. Why I asked Jayce for this. No matter what, I want to stay here with you, in this lovely dream of ours.”

“I’m here,” you swore, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tightly. “I’m real. I love you most of all.”

~

[teliphone]

Venomous

Jackie Taylor x Fem Reader x Shauna Shipman

Summary: Shauna watches you devote yourself to Jackie. She doesn't understand how you could do that. She loathes being in someone's shadow, but tragically, in one herself. To make herself feel better, her sick mind turns to you. You’re just too sweet and kind… Shauna knows what you want. 

Warning(s): Smut, slight angst, toxic relationships, oral, bullying, degrading, pain

Word count: 3k

-

Shauna crosses her arms, hiding her clenched fists. Her face expresses slight annoyance as she watches her best friend Jackie ignore you again. Shauna never understood why you decided to stay with Jackie, considering how poorly she treats you. She is starting to think it’s some sick kink you have, to be rejected and belittled. 

You stand in front of them, hands trembling, exposing your nervousness. It’s sad how anxious you are to ask your girlfriend on a simple date. It shouldn’t be like this. 

“H-hi Jackie… I was wondering if you're free this-“ 

“I’m not,” Jackie sighs. She doesn’t bother giving you a second glance. Her eyes lock onto her phone, quickly texting someone. Your cheeks turn red from the blunt rejection. You gulp down your sorrow as your eyes flicker to Shauna. She continues to remain silent, just watching your heart break. 

Most of the time, when Shauna sees you, it is you tagging along with Jackie like a puppy on a leash. She orders you around, which you, of course, fully heartedly listen. Bitterness would linger in Shauna’s mouth when she watches you scrambling to grab Jackie napkins at that one dinner. 

Your life evolves around Jackie and Shauna understands. She knows what it is like to live under someone else’s shadow… but why did it seem like you’re okay with it? It angers her how weak you are. She always felt like she had more to life than to live like this. To rule. Own something. To have power.

“Oh… that’s okay! Maybe next time. I’ll wait for you,” You try your best to smile, disregarding how tight your heart squeezes. Jackie smiles back and gently rubs your head like you’re her pet.  

“Thank you. You’ve always been so considerate,” She compliments. You lean into the touch lovingly. Shauna lets out a scoff. She can practically see you wagging your tail at the smallest praise. Jackie removes her hand and averts her attention to Shauna. 

“Come on, let’s go,” She chirps. Shauna watches Jackie strut down the halls before she turns to tower over you. You nervously gulp while silently glaring at her. You didn’t hate Shauna… you were just jealous of her. 

Shauna always gets to do everything with Jackie. Everywhere Jackie goes, there she is. You wish it could be you instead. You beg to spend a full day alone with Jackie. 

“You should stop being pathetic,” Shauna whispers loud enough just for you. Your face scrunches in anger. You ignore the way your heart rate starts to pick up; Shauna is just really good at making you upset. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from snapping. 

Shauna smirks at your inner struggle before walking away to catch up with Jackie. You stand in place, your hands shaking. 

-

It’s been a week since Shauna called you pathetic. The days leading up to now consist of her cornering you and making you feel small. You’re starting to get irritated. Her words consume you. Even when holding hands with Jackie, you can hear Shauna in the back of your mind. 

Shauna stands by her locker with a blank face. She looks around curiously, wondering where her best friend is. Suddenly, her phone vibrates. She reaches down into her pockets and quickly scans the text. She shoves her phone into her pocket and sighs. Jackie texted her to meet her “asap”.  As much as she hates being ordered around, she always listens to Jackie. 

Shauna starts making her way over, ignoring everyone who looks at her. She makes it to one of the classrooms and calmly opens the door. Sounds of soft moans and grunts reach her ears first, making her heart race. Her eyes widen and her breathing stops. 

Inside the classroom are Jackie and you. You’re sitting on top of Jackie’s lap, jerking your lower body against her. Your cheeks are red as you tilt your head back in pleasure. Whiny moans escape your lips while Jackie lazily jerks her fingers in your core. You feel her two digits filing, curling, and pressing against your gummy walls.

“You feel so good,” You moan. Jackie tilts her head up to look at your face. She smiles sweetly at your praises. She pulls her fingers out and teases you by pinching your clit. You gasp and reach down to grip her wrist. Jackie leans forward and licks your ear. You hum sweetly.  

“…Shauna’s here,” She whispers. You immediately tense up. The pleasure vanishes and is replaced with shame and embarrassment. You attempt to get off Jackie, but she tightens her grip on your waist. 

“Give her a show,” Jackie taunts. You shake your head no, words unable to come out. Jackie ignores you and pinches your clit again. You cry out in pain and pleasure. Your hands slide up to hold onto her shoulder, panting into her ear. Shauna bites her lower lip as she feels herself getting hotter. Her eyes never leave your figure. Soaking every reaction your body does. 

“Jackie, stop,” You moan, jerking your core away from her wet fingers. Jackie rolls her eyes. Your pussy is so wet and slippery she doesn’t want to. She wants to shove her fingers in, but decides to stop for your sake. You tiredly get off her lap and scatter to grab your pants. Jackie tilts her head and smirks at Shauna, who hasn’t moved or said anything yet. Jackie brings her hands up to her face and slowly moves them side to side. Examining how your wetness glistens against her fingers. She gets up from the seat and walks over to Shauna, who takes a nervous step back. 

“Shipman,” Jackie chirps. Shauna clenches her jaw at how her last name rolls off her tongue. 

“Why did you do that?” She questions. Jackie softly giggles, tilting her head cutely. 

“You think I haven’t noticed how you look at her,” Jackie reveals, her eyes glaring deep into Shauna’s. 

Jackie had noticed Shauna becoming too quiet whenever she mentions you… It made her suspicious. She started observing how Shauna stares a little too long at you. Or how she whispers to you, sharing secrets behind her back. So Jackie decided to start treating you badly. Just to prove to Shauna that you’re wrapped around her fingers, literally and figuratively. She drags Shauna along to make sure she sees how you still hang on like a piece of forgotten gum.  

Shauna averts her stare, feeling intimidated by Jackie. Jackie lightly chuckles. She bites her bottom lip in excitement. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not that mad… I honestly don’t even know if I love her,” Jackie shrugs. She lifts her fingers to Shauna’s lips. Her eyes dilate as a sick idea pops into her head. 

“She is mine… but it’s kinda funny if you want her too.” Jackie’s fingers, covered with silk, hover over Shauna’s lips. Jackie didn’t want to share, but she is controlling this situation. This is more pleasing to her. 

“Why don’t you get a taste?”

Shauna jerks her head to look over at you. You stand awkwardly by the seat with your head down. She can see your chest moving up and down fast. A red blush on your soft, wet cheeks. 

“Come on… my hands are tired,” Jackie giggles, wiggling her fingers. Shauna dryly swallows before clenching her jaw. She slaps Jackie’s hands away. 

“I won’t play into your game,” She spits before walking out. Jackie stands speechless, then lets out a laugh of disbelief. She couldn’t believe Shauna suddenly grew braver. She slowly turns around and looks at you. You shyly squeeze your legs together. 

“Come here and don’t you fucken dare tell me to stop,” Jackie grunts. 

-

Shauna feels her blood boiling as she walks away from the scene. She ignores how wet her panties have gotten, rubbing pleasurably against her core as she walks. She enters the bathroom and slams the stall door closed. She lowers the toilet seat covers and takes a seat.

“Fuck,” She cusses, fumbling to shove her hands in her pants. Once the tip of her finger touches her folds, she bites her lip. Wetness leaks out, coating her fingers. She starts rubbing her clit urgently. She curses Jackie and your name angrily. Who the fuck does Jackie think she is?! The image of you tilting your head back and moaning flashes in her mind. She rubs herself faster. 

“Fuck you,” She moans. She hates how your body feverishly chases after Jackie’s finger like you’re some type of slut. She hates how whiny and soft your moans are. She hates how you love to praise Jackie for how good she is.

Shauna knows she can be better. 

She imagines herself touching you, making you blush and nervous. Her eyes start to roll back as she gets closer to her high. She rubs herself aggressively a few more times til she comes, biting her lip hard to not make a sound. Her chest moves up and down as she pulls her hand out of her pants. Wetness rolls down her knuckles. She blushes in embarrassment. 

She's furious… you, out of everyone… made her come.

-

Shauna’s bullying became worse. When she finds you alone without Jackie, she would sinisterly smile. 

First, she loves to pull on your hair. She is addicted to hearing you wince in pain as she grips your hair. She forces you to lock eyes with her. 

“Jackie doesn’t even love you. You’re nothing without her,” She whispers harshly. Your eyes begin to water as you try to pull yourself away from her. She doesn’t let go until you're begging her like a sobbing mess. 

Second, she sickly loves to call you names. She would cuss at you for being stupid for no reason. Laughs and calls you a slut. Sometimes she would suddenly call you cute while she degrades you. It makes your mind jumble and glitch. 

It’s worse when she does both at the same time. 

Shauna’s hand aggressively tugs your head, making you fall to your knees. You claw at her hands with your fingers. She chuckles and only grips harder. 

“You’re so weak. Look at you,” She hums, towering over you. She tugs your head closer to her clothed core and lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes dilated from seeing you kneel before her. 

“I can’t wait to fucken ruin you. You’re just a perfect little bitch for me,” She chuckles. Your cheeks turn bright red, ignoring how your core throbs. She watches you clench your thighs together. She rolls her eyes and shoves her foot on top of your core. She presses her foot down, making you wince. 

“Are you getting wet? I can’t believe you’re getting turned on by being treated like shit,” She smiles. She removes her foot and pushes your head, causing you to stumble onto the ground. She then spits a clear glob right next to you. Missing your face by a few centimeters. Your breathing shakes as you lie still. Tears drip from your eyes, but it’s more embarrassing how your pussy aches. 

“Do what I say and maybe I’ll start treating you better,” Shauna says before walking away. 

-

Your relationship with Jackie seems to hit the biggest stumbling block. Your mind is crowded with Shauna. You dream about her touching you and wake up wet. You walk down the hallways with your eyes nervously checking to see if Shauna is heading to bully you again. She has successfully broken you down till you're suffocating and craving her.

Today is different. Just slightly. 

Shauna shoves you hard against the wall. You grunt in pain from the impact. She places her arm over your collarbone, pinning you to the wall. You try wiggling yourself out, but it is no use. She grins sinisterly with her teeth. Her brown eyes were blown out and dilated. She leans her face closer to yours, hovering her lips over yours. 

You seem to shrink under her gaze. You tilt your head down, looking at the closeness between her body. Her thighs are slotted between. Her core rests on top of yours. Every time she would move, her body would grind against yours.

“You’re sad to look at… It’s laughable,” She chuckles. You clench your jaw and glare at her. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of your eyes. It emotionally hurts. Shauna’s word stabs your heart because… It’s true. Everything she has been teasing you about is true… and God, do you feel pathetic. 

Jackie never did care about you. She “forgets” everything about you. She cuts your conversation short, claiming that she is busy. You’ve been pushed by her countless times… it’s truly sad how you still beg for a sprinkle of her attention. 

“Are you crying?” Shauna taunts, lowering her head to examine you closely. You shut your eyes and sniff as a weak attempt to stop crying. Your bottom lashes are wet while you glare at her. 

“Leave me alone. You’ve hurt me enough,” You beg. Tears start to run down your cheeks. A blush appears on your cheeks from embarrassment. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. 

Shauna’s breathing shakes as she watches a tear roll down your cheeks. She finds you so pitiful, it makes her feel butterflies. She lifts her thumb to wipe your wet cheeks. Your breathing hicks at her sudden sweet gesture. You nervously look up into her eyes. They’re soft and dilated. You swore you could feel like she does care in that moment. But Shauna is a wolf in disguise. You knew better than to warm up to her. 

“I didn’t hurt you… Jackie did,” She shushes you. Your lips start to tremble, and tears threaten to fall more. She lowers her face to yours. Her hands softly brush your hair. You sniff, taking in what she said. She watches your face scrunch in confusion. 

“I love Jackie,” You breathe out. You lift your head at the sudden boost of confidence.

“I love Jackie and I don’t fucken care how she treats me,” You snap. Shauna chuckles darkly. You’re so obedient… Jackie is so lucky.

“You like Jackie that much?” She mumbles. You quickly nod your head, hoping it is enough for her to move on. 

It’s funny you thought that was enough. 

“Close your fucking eyes,” She snaps. You flutter your eyes shut before you feel her press her plump lips against yours. You gasp, causing her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue slowly flicks against yours. You clench your fist to limit yourself from grunting. She pulls away, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide and lustful.

“Imagine I’m Jackie,” Shauna whispers before leaning back in to kiss you. Her hands lower to hold onto your waist. She rubs her core against yours slowly. 

“Kiss me like how you would kiss her,” She says between the kisses. Your heart skips a beat. Your mind and body fight against each other. But once her teeth nibble your bottom lip, all your morals disappear. You moan loudly and start kissing her back. Your hands reach up to grip her hair. 

You think of Jackie just like what Shauna said and it helps. Truthfully, Shauna has been making you sexually aroused for the past week. You can’t help it. 

Your tongue brushes against hers. Feeling her wet, warm tongue makes you turn on. Shauna pulls away and places her hands on top of your head. You attempt to open your eyes, but Shauna stops you. 

“Kneel and praise me like how you do it to Jackie,” She pants. You feel your body heating up as you kneel. You hear Shauna taking off her pants in a hurry. 

She comes back and places her hand back on top of your head. She tugs your head and guides you to her aching pussy. Her arousal scent numbs your mind. You obediently stick out your tongue. Her warm folds slide against your tongue. She cusses and jerks her core into your mouth. You reach up to hold onto her tense thighs. She grips your head harder. 

“Fuck… baby you’re so pretty like this. You like being used?” She grunts. You moan out a soft yes before wrapping your lips around her clit. She places two hands onto your head, digging her fingers into your skull. Your knees start to hurt from the hard floor. You shift a little to get more comfortable. She shoves you deeper into her pussy. 

“Keep sucking me stupid slut. Don’t think of anything else,” She hisses. You flick your tongue against her clit before sucking hard. Her thighs tense and shake. You try your best to ignore the constant leak from your pussy. There’s a high chance your panties have a small, dark, damp spot.

“I’m gonna… you're gonna make me come,” Shauna manages to moan out. She continues riding against your tongue, cursing, and moaning. 

“Open your eyes,” She grunts. You slowly open your eyes to see her red cheeks. Her stomach tenses at eye contact. You can no longer imagine it’s Jackie… instead, it’s Shauna that clouds you. She’s the one you taste. She’s the one who’s going to come in your mouth. 

Shauna lets out a loud moan as she releases her juice into your mouth. You flatten your tongue and lap her core like you didn’t want to miss a single drop. Her silk runs down your chin as you pull away from her pussy. A wet trail connects between her core and your lips. She lazily brushes your hair. Her eyelids are heavy as she smiles. 

“Tell me you love me,” She whispers. She is sick. She feels so much lust for fucking her best friends girlfriend. She can’t help it. She wanted to consume everything that Jackie had to make herself feel better. To make herself feel like she isn’t in Jackie's shadow. You stare up at her with teary eyes. 

“I love you,” You confess. You don't know if you love her or the way she treats you.

[ticifics]

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

── james potter x f!reader

warnings n tags: smut without plot, mdni, cockwarming, est. relationship, no use of y/n, p in v

The sound of the rain was occasionally drowned out by the rumble of thunder, the sky so thick with gray clouds that there was barely any light filtering through the windows. The room was still dark, plunged into shadow. Your body flinched as a flash of lightning illuminated the room, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” James murmured, pressing you more firmly against his chest, gentle hands sliding down your back, groaning as he felt your walls squeezing him. His fingers tightened on your hips as you threatened to writhe again, keeping you still. “Fuck, no. You can’t do this, doll.”

Frustration burned beneath your skin, every muscle in your body begging you to move your hips, desperate for any friction, any relief. “S-sorry.” You whimpered, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you felt your pussy clench again, as if it wanted to hold him there forever.

Eyes closed, you pressed your face against his chest, your breath coming in shaky gasps as you tried to fill your lungs with air. You knew you shouldn’t do this, that the more you begged, the more arrogant he would become, but you couldn’t swallow the words, not when your pussy was throbbing wildly around his cock.

“Jamie, p-please—”

His fingers tightened, pulling you tighter against him. The small movement caused a small friction that made you gasp. You tried, really tried to roll your hips, but his grip was steely, almost painful, sure to leave marks. You looked up, searching for some mercy, but all you found was an unyielding gaze. His jaw so tense it could cut through a diamond.

“Stop. It,” he hissed, eyes narrowing as he watched the desperation etched on your face. How you had become a little thing thirsting for his cock.

You bit your lip, the first tear rolling down your cheek like a pearl bead as you shook your head, your walls contracting even more, squeezing him as if your life depended on it. “I-I can’t.”

A growl scratched his throat. Fuck. You were squeezing him so, so much, it was delirious. His eyes trailed down your face, admiring the way your eyelashes were damp, your mouth swollen and parted, your face flushed. Desperate for him. He should make you suffer more, he knew you could take it, but there was something about seeing you like this, hungry, crying for his cock, that made him more merciful.

James lifted a hand, his thumb wiping away the salty trail the tear had left on your skin. “This is so pathetic, we’ve barely started and you’re already crying.”

You looked away as his words hit you, but James cupped your face, watching as your bottom lip trembled. More tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes. Something in him softened at seeing you like this.

He knew you were close, could feel your walls fluttering around him, trying to pull him deeper. But he was determined to make this last, to savor every second of your delicious desperation. You were so receptive, so hungry for his touch. It made him feel powerful, invincible.

James leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke in a low, raspy voice. “You’re being such a good girl, taking me so well. I know you want to move, love, want to fuck yourself on my cock until you scream. But you have to wait for me. Wait until I tell you to come.”

He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of his hips, burying himself even deeper inside you, the head hitting the spot that made you see stars. A low moan tore from his throat at the exquisite feel of your tight heat enveloping him. He was addicted to the way you made him feel, the way your body accepted him, embraced him, like you were made just for him.

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering again. Your body trembled in anticipation, but he didn’t move again, remaining buried to the hilt in your greedy cunt. “J-Jamie,” you began again, your voice frail, small, trying to get some friction, but he remained still, holding you tightly against him.

He shook his head, looking at you with a mix of sympathy and cruelty. “You need to learn to be patient, love.”

He tightened his grip on your hips, keeping you still as he slowly ground his pelvis against yours. The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each small movement, making you gasp and shiver. He was being deliberate, tormenting you with the slightest hint of stimulation.

“Such a greedy little thing, always so hungry for more,” James teased, his breath hot against your ear. "But you'll get your reward if you can be a good girl and wait until the rain stops."

[gojos-version]

Don’t run now..

Pairings- Husband! Satoru x Wife! Reader

Summary- Satoru was out on a mission and you sent him videos of you using a wondrous toy, teasing him and ignoring him afterward. He’s unexpectedly home earlier than he should’ve been! Whatever will you do?

Warnings- pure filthy smut, pet names used, dildo used (f receiving), overstim, crying, doggystyle, mating press (ofc..), spanking, anal hinted if you squint

Proof read- ✅

Word count- 2.1k :3

A/n- sorry for the super late updates lately! I got pretty sick and busy and that stopped me from writing much :( i really missed it but I’m getting better! I had to go to emergency a few days ago and have surgery hence why the really delayed post I’m super sorry I hope you can all understand! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it<3 please take care of yourselves lovelies and have an amazing day :) !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

“Babyyy, don’t run from it! You’re the one who brought it as my replacement in the first place..” Satoru pouts, shoving the dildo inside of your weeping cunt further, your slick dribbling down your thighs, coating Satoru’s hand and the dildo that was custom made to the size of his cock.

You brought it while Satoru was out for a mission for a week, sending him a video of you having fun with the toy which was a..bad idea.. It kissed your cervix perfectly. Your walls squelched and clenched around it like a vice, ass up all for Satoru’s mercy while you grip the pillow bellow you like a life line.

He was yet to even bring his blind fold down. Something he’s never done before, since he always has his eyes free during intimacy; always having his blue eyes bore into yours while he pounded into you felt different every time. In a good way.

“T-Toru-! Slow-dowwnnuh!! P-pleaseeeuh!” You whimpered out as he slams the toy in with such force you wouldn’t be suprised if it broke your womb. He laughs cruelly at you in response and angles the toy to hit your g-spot making you cry out and shake in response.

“Oh come on, wifey! You wanted this didn’t you?” He grins slamming it harder and harder, the fake balls slapping your clit as you felt each of the prosthetic veins grazing against your velvety walls.

Even when you used it by yourself it never felt this good, the way it slammed into you to the hilt with such force almost felt like it was Satoru’s cock fucking you and not a fake one.

You sobbed into the pillow pathetically and you try to look over your shoulder, your hand flying out to clasp against his wrist.

“W-wan’ your dick ‘Toru” His free hand pins your arm behind your back and pushing you deeper into the mattress with a breathy laugh.

“Oh please, you didn’t have this problem last night did you? You seemed satisfied you don’t even need my cock, baby.”

“I-it was a mistake! I-I’m sorryyyyyy!!” You scream out as he thrusts the toy again without warning, your walls clamping and twitching around it in surprise.

“Ohho! Now you’re sorry? Last night you weren’t, weren’t you? Said you’d never apologise, huh? Look how pathetic you are. Cock drunk off a toy! I know you’re close, come on wifey!”, he delivers a sharp spank to your ass making you gasp out a whimper. His smirk widening as your ass ripples under his hand, a large red handprint etching its way to mark your skin.

“Yeah.. You can do it..that’s it!” he mocks as your slushy cunt squelches and fills the room up with a lewd shwap! Your cunny was so loud it was taking Satoru everything in him to not slip his boxers down and slam his stiff cock deep inside of you till his pelvis kissed yours.

You could feel your high creeping through your body, like a floodgate about to break through. Your body felt hot. Too hot. Adrenaline coursing through your veins like wildfire, your tummy clenching and thighs shaking.

The pleasure building up from your abdomen slowly taking over your entire body with each slam of the toy, it felt like it was getting deeper if that was any possible. You shakily cry out his name, your sweet arousal covering his hands, dripping down to his wrist. If anything you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.

“Cmon..cum for me baby..you know you want to..” He coaxes out and that’s the last thing you hear before your velvety walls are clenching around the fake cock, eyes rolling back and seeing pure white.

Maybe you’ve just seen heaven? Or are you in heaven right now? Your body shakes and goosebumps erupt all over your skin as a white ring now forms around the dildos base, as Satoru keeps riding your orgasm out; white strings connect the whole bottom half of the dildo and connect it back to your soppy hole.

Satoru laughs at your pathetic hole clenching around the dildo needily. “Look at ya. Made the dildo white from how much you came, baby” he whistles out, slapping your ass a few times again watching as your cunt twitches in response to each spank.

Your breathing slowly starts to even out and your body relaxing, cunt still quivering and sensitive around the dildo still stuffing you full. Without warning satoru slams the toy in a fast and deep pace causing your back to arch and making you scream out in surprise.

“W-Waaiitt!! Satoru-! Give me more time! Too-sensitive-ah! Angh!” You desperately whine out and he laughs in response at your pleases, “Nah uh.” He thumbs your ass putting pressure against it causing you to gasp out a yelp.

“Hmm? Sensitive here?” He grins, his cock twitching in his boxers at the fact his thumb was bigger than your little hole. He tries to push his thoughts down..but the temptation to use the dildo in your hole and fuck your needy cunt with his leaky cock was itching through his veins.

He swallows thickly and circles the hole with his thumb while slamming the dildo at a brutual pace, your squeals and moans getting louder than before, the dildo going fully white now as your slick and release from before connects strings from your puffy hole to the toy.

Your body clenches up again, toes curling and abdomen tightening as your cum. Again. Your body hot and electricity running through your veins, you cum hard on the toy as you shiver and shake, Satoru chuckles darkly before not slowing the pace down; if anything angling it in different spots and elicting sounds you never thought was possible to come out of your mouth.

It doesn’t even feel like it’s been 30 seconds later before your cumming on the toy. Hard. For the third? Fourth? Fifth time now? You’ve lost count. You tiredly turn your head to look at Satoru and feel yourself freeze up. He looks so menacing.

Like he could just destroy the whole of Japan in a blink of an eye and not even care. The way his eyes are drinking you up and looking down at you with so much hunger made arousal pool in your stomach, your walls fluttering around the toy.

“I know you wanna fuck me Toru- cmon..give in.. stuff me full pleaaaasseee! Wan’ t’ be full of y’r cum..” You wiggle your ass to egg him on and fuck. You don’t even register when the dildos out of you. The next thing you feel is his warm, thick cock sinking deep into you. You blink and notice his blindfold hanging around his neck, his blue eyes shining; looking feral.

Fuck. You might’ve fucked up. “H-Hold-on-!” You gasp out but it’s too late, he’s shoving your head in the pillow and pinning your arms behind your back as he pounds into you roughly. Balls slapping against your clit and pelvis slapping against your ass making such lewd noises you’d only hear in porn.

The rooms filled with skin slapping against each other, the pure sound of his cock swishing around your insides and both of your desperate gasps and moans. The room felt hot. Too hot. “Yeah. Fuckin’ take it.” He babbles out, cheeks and ears flushing.

“That’s it. Yeah…fuckin’ hell look at ya squeezing the life out of my dick.” Your walls unconsciously squish around his cock at his words making your hips push back against his, meeting his thrusts with desperation.

“Fuck..you’re so needy..even after I made you cum more than thrice on your little toy. Not as good as the real thing, hm wifey?” He pouts at your lack of response and with his free hand and lifts your head up by your hair, “Speak up.”, You whine and gasp in response, any words you try to say are replaced with screams and moans.

He stills inside of you, “Speak, cmon.” “W-why-did you sttoooppp!!” You whine out, “Answer my question. ‘M not playing around, babe.” He gives a harsh thrust as a warning; making you jump in surprise, “N-noo! Your cock is shoo! much better! Alwaysss!- Angh-ah-oh!” You’re cut off by his sudden harsh thrusts, “Good girl..” He grunts out, angling his hips to hit riiighhttt on your g-spot making your legs jump with each thrust.

Shit. His mushroomed tip was kissing your womb perfectly with precised precision. Each angle was being thrusted in on purpose, you don’t even register him letting go of your arms till you feel his blindfold tie around your wrists.

“H-Huh-?!” You sound out and he grunts in response feeling his cock twitch against your gooey walls. Fuck. Seeing you helpless beneath him, shaking and screaming his name with his blindfold tied around your wrists. His. Blindfold.

The same one he wears everyday. Fuck he could just cum right now and fill you up so full. “G’na stuff you full..you’d like that wouldn’t you, huh wifey?” His veins felt like they were on fire, lightning coursing through his veins. Fuck. He could hollow purple the entire world besides the both of you right now. The thought of you carrying his child.. Letting the entire world know he’s the one who was deep in your guts and knocked you up..

“T-toru- inside!” That’s the last thing he hears before his cock is stuffing your velvety walls full of ropes and strings of his thick cum, his cum filling your needy pussy up till globs of it drip out to the sheets bellow the both of you.

You haven’t felt so full in a week. You don’t even register when you covered his cock in your messy release till you feel Satoru thrusting again, your walls clamped around him like a vice, “J-just- came- t-toru-! Please-!”, “F-fuck- you’re squeezing so tight, sweets, relax, I know you- ah!- want more-hnnghh!” Satoru whimpers out, his hand coming down to push the lewd bulge in your stomach.

You blearily turned over your shoulder to look at him and fuck. When did the lights go out and shatter? Fuck were all of japans lights out right now? How you might wonder?

When you make eye contact with Satoru his eyes are glowing in a feral manner, that gives you the answer to your question. He looks like he could wipe out the entire world in one blow from how animalistic he fucked you.

His hips keep pounding into yours without any sign of stopping, his cock trying to burst out of your stomach at this point.

“M-mercy-! Please- mercy-!” You stutter out and Satoru’s eyes narrow, “Now you want mercy? Yesterday you didn’t care what happened, huh? Shut up and be a good little wife for me and just take it, ‘kay?” With that he shoves your head back into the pillow and you shiver in response feeling his gooey tip nudge your insides, each motion making your cunt impossibly louder.

Each slam of his hips had your body reeling, sobbing his name, it felt like electricity coursing through your veins each time his cock bumped your g-spot effortlessly. You scream out whimpers and moans helplessly, just lying there and taking whatever Satoru gives you.

“F-fuck..g’na fill you up again, hah- you’d like that, huh?” Satoru whimpers out, too cockdrunk to respond you make a sound out sounding between a scream and a gasp. "Wanna knock you up baby…they’ve been demanding a heir you know.. plus-hah- want the world to know you’re m-mine and I-i was the one who fucked a kid into you-shiiit!” He babbles on, you felt like you were on the verge of losing your consciousness.

The orgasms Satoru’s pulled out of you tonight was astonishing. Before you could slip away into unconsciousness you felt your body lose its fatigue and…you felt perfectly awake..? Satorus hand clenches in your hair and lifts your head up to pull you into a messy kiss, teeth clashing against each other and tongue penetrating your throat.

“Heh- used reversed cursed technique on us-hah- we got allllll night, baby!” You couldn’t even respond before his lips are sealed back on yours, your heart thumping against your chest and a sudden rush of energy shooting through your body.

Fuck. You felt your muscles clench once again and moan into Satorus mouth feeling his release fill you up. That pulled the trigger for you. Before you could even process it, the coil in your stomach snaps and you didn’t cum, no, you squirted messily alllll over Satorus cock, thighs and pelvis.

You part from the kiss, body shaking and moans slipping past your lips. “Fuuccckk you squirted! All f’me, wifey?”, you hazily nod your head in response, flopping back onto the sheets bellow you.

You try to crawl away from Satoru and his merciless hips but unlucky for you he doesn’t stop dragging his cock against your walls, gripping at the sheets bellow you to propel yourself forward.

You freeze when you feel a laugh and yelp in surprise when you’re dragged back towards him, shoved onto your back and knees to your chest. When did he flip you over? Your heart thumps in realisation eyes boring into his glowing orbs. “W-wha-?!” You manage to stutter out, “Don't run from it now, wifey! We have an heir to make..”

You were completely and utterly screwed.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ

Masterlist<3

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Thank you so much for reading<3

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@my-own-au-my-way

[aisiedaisie]

Royal Flush

Authors Note: This is a continuation of an ask I did last month where reader is at a ball and catches the eyes of the boys. I loved the idea and many of you wanted a part two of the Royal AU so I hope this doesn’t disappoint 💖

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.1k

The morning’s soft light filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns across the stone floor. It was the day after the grand ball, and the palace was quieter now. Most of the attendees had already returned to their estates within Griffyn’s capital, while foreign guests remained as the royal family’s honored visitors.

Your morning had started in an unfamiliar way. Molly, one of the palace maids, had woken you—a cheerful woman with bright ginger hair and a warm, motherly tone. She knocked once before entering, her smile as much of a greeting as her words.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said, glancing around the room before turning her attention to you. “Did you sleep well?”

She offered to assist with anything— breakfast, dressing, even drawing a bath. It felt strange, having someone so eager to help. Back home, you’d always managed on your own. Though your family held the title of Baroness, your estate wasn’t large enough to support a full staff, especially for travel.

You hesitated before asking Molly for breakfast, not wanting to seem ungrateful. She brightened at the request, practically skipping out of the room with a promise to return quickly.

As you waited, you couldn’t help but compare her energy to Mary’s. Mary, Lily’s other Lady’s Maid, was usually always composed and efficient, keeping everything about the crown princess’s day running smoothly. With Mary around, there was rarely anything left for you to handle.

_____

When Molly returned, balancing a tray of breakfast that smelled more enticing than anything you’d eaten in weeks, Mary arrived not long after. She was dressed in a light pink day gown trimmed with elegant cream lace, the kind of attire that reminded you how deeply ingrained courtly refinement was in her every movement.

“Lily is in one of the meeting rooms with foreign dignitaries,” Mary informed you with a soft smile. “She’s likely to be occupied for most of the day.”

You nodded, though a pang of sympathy flickered within you. Lily had never been one for the formalities of court, least of all the endless debates that often unfolded in such meetings.

“Well, I suppose that leaves us fairly free for today,” you said, more to yourself than to Mary.

Mary’s expression softened briefly, though she didn’t linger. “I’d better fetch Marlene some snacks before she causes a scene,” she said, her tone laced with amused exasperation.

As she left, you considered how to spend the day. The palace grounds were sprawling, with gardens, libraries, and countless other places to explore. A rare opportunity to simply wander presented itself— a stark contrast to the tightly scheduled days you were used to at home and here at court.

For now, though, you stayed by the window, looking out over the grounds. Somewhere, Lily was enduring another meeting, and you silently hoped the dignitaries of Griffyn were at least more pleasant than most.

_____

By the time the afternoon sun reached its peak, you could no longer bear the confines of your chambers. The room felt stifling, though you knew it was more a result of your restlessness than anything else. Normally, you’d be trailing after the princess, your day filled with purpose. Without that familiar routine, the stillness left you feeling oddly untethered.

Seeking relief, you asked Molly if it would be acceptable to go for a walk. She assured you it was not only fine but encouraged, her cheerful enthusiasm evident as she bustled about to help you prepare.

“Day dresses are far too light for strolling outdoors,” she explained, pulling out a pale green walking dress with practical yet elegant lines. The hem barely skimmed your low heels, and Molly wrapped a white shawl around your shoulders for good measure.

“This should keep the sun and breeze from bothering you too much,” she said with a pleased nod, tying the shawl neatly. “I wish we had more parasols, but our queen isn’t fond of them—not for herself or her servants.”

“It’s all right,” you replied with a soft smile. “I don’t plan to be out long, just enough to stretch my legs.”

Molly guided you through the winding halls and out toward the gardens. The walk was quiet, save for the occasional exchange of smiles and greetings with passing servants. Their cheerful responses lifted your mood, though the uneventfulness of the palace only highlighted the stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the night before.

As you stepped into the sunlight, a voice called out, startling you. It was low, familiar, and unmistakably directed at you.

“My lady?”

Turning, you saw him— the tall, scarred man who had stood at the prince’s side during the ball. His presence had been commanding even in the grandeur of the event, and now, in the simpler setting of the palace grounds, he seemed no less imposing.

“Sir Remus,” you greeted softly, adjusting your stance to face him fully.

He inclined his head slightly, his expression far more relaxed than it had been the night before. You couldn’t fault him for that; a grand ball would leave anyone with a touch of nerves, no matter how practiced they were.

“Remus is fine, my lady,” he said with a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’ve no title to speak of, so the formalities aren’t necessary.”

You tilted your head slightly, taking in his appearance. He was tall, his frame sturdy but not imposing, his posture carrying a quiet confidence that spoke of gentle discipline rather than arrogance. Even the scars that marked his face and hands which caught the light as he shifted, did nothing to dull the warmth in his gaze.

“I see,” you said, a touch of curiosity slipping into your voice. “But standing at the prince’s side during a ball like that—surely that carries some weight, title or not.”

Remus chuckled softly, a sound that felt entirely at odds with the stoic impression you had formed of him the night before. “It’s not nearly as glamorous as it looks, I promise. Most of the time, I’m a glorified shadow, trying not to trip over my own feet.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his candor. There was something disarming about the way he spoke, as though he had no interest in the airs and graces so many at court clung to.

“Then you must have done an excellent job,” you replied lightly. “I didn’t see you trip once.”

A spark of amusement flickered in his eyes. “High praise, my lady. Perhaps I’ll add it to my list of achievements.”

You both fell into an easy silence, the kind that felt less like an awkward pause and more like a shared moment of understanding. The gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers, and the distant sound of a fountain added a soothing rhythm to the scene.

“I imagine you’re more accustomed to this place than I am,” you said eventually, glancing around at the sprawling gardens. “Molly suggested this garden, but I’ve no idea where to start.”

Remus nodded, following your gaze. “The gardens are beautiful, but they can be overwhelming for someone unfamiliar. If you’d like, I can show you a quieter corner— somewhere to gather your thoughts without interruption.”

You hesitated, caught between the politeness expected of you and a genuine curiosity about what he might show you. “If it’s no trouble, I’d appreciate that,” you said at last.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he assured you, gesturing toward a nearby path lined with blooming hedges. “This way.”

As you walked together, the conversation turned to lighter topics—the unseasonably chilly weather, the finer details of the ball, and a few amusing anecdotes from Remus’s time in the palace. He spoke with an ease that belied the seriousness of his appearance, his dry wit catching you off guard more than once.

The path opened into a small clearing, where a stone bench sat beneath the shade of a grand tree. The air here felt cooler, the sunlight softened by the canopy above. At the center of the space, a fountain bubbled gently, its water catching the light in a way that seemed almost magical.

“This was always my favorite spot,” Remus said, his voice quieter now as though the space demanded a certain reverence. “Few people come here. It’s peaceful.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, taking a seat on the bench. For a moment, you simply let the stillness wash over you, the weight of the day slipping away.

Remus remained standing, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he gazed at the fountain. There was something contemplative about his expression, as though he were lost in a memory.

“Do you come here often?” you asked, your voice soft enough not to break the calm.

“Whenever I can,” he admitted. “Though that’s not as often as I’d like.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders seemed less tense here, his guard lowered in a way that felt rare. “Thank you for showing me this,” you said sincerely.

He turned to you, his smile faint but genuine. “It’s my pleasure, my lady. Everyone deserves a place like this.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence comfortable and unforced. It was a rare moment of tranquility, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it— and for the unlikely company that had led you here.

_____

The calm was shattered when a rustle of leaves preceded the sudden, chaotic entrance of a disheveled Prince and his knight, Sirius. They stumbled into the clearing, unmistakably attached at the lips. The sight was so unexpected that a startled squeak escaped you as you whipped around, your hands flying up to cover your eyes and the warmth now flooding your cheeks.

Behind you, Remus let out a long groan. “You two— what did I say about being careful?” he muttered, already moving to untangle the pair.

With an exaggerated huff, Remus grabbed Sirius by the collar and pulled him away from the prince, leaving James standing awkwardly in place. Sirius, his dark hair even messier than usual, blinked at Remus before his expression morphed into something between mischief and mortification.

“It’s just us,” Sirius started before catching sight of you. His voice pitched up a notch. “Oh. OH.”

You kept your hands firmly over your eyes, facing resolutely away. “I didn’t see anything!” you insisted, your voice high with embarrassment.

James, ever the composed royal, immediately tried to salvage the situation. Straightening his disheveled attire, he cleared his throat. “My lady, I assure you— this is not what it seems.”

“It’s exactly what it seems,” Sirius interjected with a half hearted grin, earning a sharp look from both James and Remus.

“Not helping,” Remus hissed under his breath, shoving Sirius lightly in the shoulder.

You cautiously lowered one hand, keeping your gaze averted as you lifted the other in a placating gesture. “Your Highness, please. There’s no need to explain. It’s… not my place to comment on such matters.”

The words tumbled out in a rush, and you hoped they conveyed your sincerity. As a mere lady’s maid, it felt absurd that the crown prince was scrambling to justify himself to you.

James stepped forward, his expression softening, though his cheeks still bore a faint flush. “I appreciate your discretion, my lady. Truly. But I must insist, you didn’t walk into anything inappropriate. Sirius and I—”

“Are in love,” Sirius finished bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. His tone was unapologetic, and though you couldn’t see it, you were certain he wore a challenging expression.

The tension in the air thickened, but you found yourself smiling faintly at Sirius’s bluntness. Slowly, you turned back toward them, keeping your gaze carefully trained on a neutral patch of garden behind James. “If I may speak freely, Your Highness?”

James gave a hesitant nod. “Of course.”

“I’m glad,” you said, your voice soft but earnest. “You deserve to be happy, both of you. And I promise— this stays between us.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then Sirius broke it with a low whistle. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, my lady.”

Remus sighed heavily, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “Could you at least try to take this seriously, Sirius?”

“What? She’s clearly not scandalized,” Sirius replied with a shrug gesturing to your calm figure.

James ran a hand through his already-mussed hair, looking more relieved than anything else. “Thank you,” he said simply, meeting your eyes briefly before glancing away. “That means more than you know.”

You inclined your head, still feeling the weight of the moment despite your efforts to ease it. “It’s no trouble, Your Highness. If anything, I feel bad for stumbling into your… private moment.”

“Maybe next time, you two could avoid ‘private moments’ in public gardens,” Remus interjected dryly, giving Sirius another shove for good measure.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sirius quipped, earning a groan from both Remus and James.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension easing into something a bit more comfortable. Yet it drew their attention back to you, a subtle reminder that you were an outsider in this exchange.

_____

With the weight of their attention settling heavily on your shoulders, you cleared your throat and rose from the stone bench. Your fingers instinctively adjusted the shawl around your shoulders as if the gesture might somehow steady you. “I should excuse myself,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve already intruded far more than I intended.”

Before you could retreat further, James moved toward you, his amber eyes wide and earnest. “There’s no need to leave so hastily,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “If you’d allow it, I’d be honored to escort you back.”

The offer took you by surprise, and for a fleeting moment, you faltered. He was the prince, after all, and you, a simple lady’s maid. Yet his tone carried no weight of obligation— only a quiet sincerity that made it impossible to refuse.

“If it’s no trouble, Your Highness,” you replied, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your shawl.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he assured, his voice warm as he extended his arm toward you.

With a glance at Sirius and Remus— both of whom seemed far too amused by the situation— you gingerly accepted James’s arm. You began walking beside him, though it quickly became clear that the prince had no intention of taking the most direct route back to the palace.

But you said nothing. The moment was too peaceful, too quiet to break.

As you walked through the winding garden paths, the vibrant flowers that lined the stone walkways caught your eye. James, his tone light yet tinged with reverence, gestured to them. “Most of these flowers were planted by my mother,” he said, a softness to his voice.

“Really?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as you followed his gaze to the vibrant blooms.

He nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “She always said the gardens were the heart of the palace. Even now, when she has the time, she tends to them herself. These lavender bushes here,”—he gestured to a cluster of pale purple flowers—“were the first ones she planted.”

You paused to take in the sight and fragrance of the flowers, your steps slowing as their sweet scent filled the air. James, noticing your pause, stopped as well. “She planted them with her own hands, when she was still just a princess.”

You nodded, the sight of the delicate flowers filling you with a quiet appreciation. “They’re beautiful. She must be proud of how they’ve flourished.”

“She is,” James replied, his smile deepening. “Though I think she’s most proud of her roses in her private garden. Those are her true pride.” His voice held a lightness, a warmth that seemed to stem from genuine affection.

There was something disarming about his words— something that softened the weight of his title, making him seem less a prince and more a proud son.

In the soft glow of the garden, with the scent of flowers thick in the air, James felt more human than royal. It was a side of him that you hadn’t expected, but it made him all the more endearing.

As you continued to walk, he turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You’re from the neighboring kingdom, aren’t you?”

You nodded, a bit startled at the shift in conversation. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m from Eylillium. I serve Princess Lily as a lady’s maid.”

James smiled, his gaze steady and kind. “I do hope you’re enjoying your time here. It’s been a pleasure getting to speak with you these past two days.”

His words, though spoken casually, stirred something in your chest. The prince, in all his sincerity, had a way of making even simple conversation feel profound. Your heart quickened, and for a moment, you found yourself at a loss for words. You glanced away, unsure how to respond.

Before you could collect your thoughts, James slowed, stopping before one of the covered hallways that led back into the heart of the palace. Off to the side, Molly stood with a soft smile, offering a respectful bow to the prince.

“Thank you for letting me escort you back,” James said, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity as he turned to face you fully. You let your hand fall gently from his arm, the distance between you suddenly feeling more pronounced.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” you replied, your tone light, though tinged with the truth. “I likely would’ve gotten lost otherwise.” A quiet chuckle escaped you, recalling how disoriented you'd been when Remus first guided you through the sprawling garden. Its winding paths were a labyrinth to anyone unfamiliar.

“It’s my pleasure, truly,” James reassured, his grin wide and effortless, leaving little room for protest.

You sighed softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the odd flutter in your chest. You nodded politely, dipping your head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I hope you have a pleasant afternoon, Your Highness.”

James’ chuckle was warm, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I hope to talk to you again soon, my lady.”

James bowed slightly before turning, making his way back toward the gardens with his usual confident stride. His presence lingered in the air, and for a moment, you found yourself watching him leave, an odd mix of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

As he disappeared from view, you blinked, shaking yourself from the reverie. With a quiet breath, you turned to follow Molly, who had already begun walking back towards your room. Your pace was slow, your mind replaying the conversation, as the heat in your cheeks returned with a rush. The weight of everything that had transpired that afternoon began to settle heavily within you.

You couldn’t help but think you might be damned. Not just by the information you had stumbled upon today, the unspoken tension hanging between you all, but by the mere presence of those three.

You were definitely damned.

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[mazeeelabyrinth]

○●○ Daggers and Kisses ○●○

"And now," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "now, you're going to find out just how much of a monster I can truly be."

♡��︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Pairing: Sylus x AFAB!Reader

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Tags: 18+, eventual smut, explicit sexual language, explicit sexual scene, enemies to lovers, dubious consent, dubcon kissing, dubcon blow jobs, nipple play, cunnillingus, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, creampie, bdsm, handcuffs and blinfolds, canon divergence au, ooc?

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Summary:

You are a bounty hunter with a long-standing vendetta against Sylus, the elusive and dangerous leader of the criminal syndicate Onychinus. Years of near-misses and unspoken tension have turned your rivalry into something darker, something charged. When you infiltrate his extravagant birthday gala aboard one of his luxury cruise ships, you're seconds away from finally striking—until everything goes wrong. Drugged and captured, you wake up blindfolded, bound to the bed in his private suite.

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Word Count: 7.8K

Chapter II: Gilded Cage, Velvet Drapes

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ A/N: It's supposed to be for Sylus' birthday but I was busy with other fics. Better late than never. And yeah, I'm opening the holy gates of LADS fanfics.

MASTERLIST ☆ AO3 ☆ NAVIGATION ☆ TAG LIST

The ocean outside was velvet-dark, its only shimmer the flicker of moonlight splintered by waves. Above it sailed a behemoth of indulgence—an Onychinus cruise liner, gleaming like a floating city, cloaked in celebration and secrets. Music pulsed from the gala deck like a heartbeat, echoing through the ship’s opulent veins.

It was a decadent affair—gilded ceilings reflecting the glittering chandeliers above, their shimmer cascading like rainfall over a sea of masked guests dressed in silk, diamonds, and ambition. Every surface gleamed. Every laugh held secrets.

And at the heart of it all, like a star in his own gravity field, stood Sylus.

The name itself was almost a sin, tasted like something forbidden. White hair falling carelessly over crimson eyes that could ruin you with a glance. He stood near the grand piano, fingers lazily caressing the rim of a wine glass as he listened to a group of investors trying far too hard to impress him. He was barely listening. He never really had to.

Years of pursuit had led to this moment. And still, your breath hitched.

You had tracked Sylus from the shadowy depths of trading networks to rogue Evol labs, always just a step too late, always outmatched. Your assassination attempts were clever, calculated—but he danced through them like smoke. Mocked you, even.

And the worst part? He never retaliated.

You’d survived only because he’d let you. Like a cat with a mouse it wasn’t quite finished playing with. You didn’t know if it was mercy or mockery, and it clawed at you.

You watched him from a distance, holding a silver tray like it belonged to you. Your disguise was simple: black waistcoat, crisp apron, plain white colombina mask similar to those worn by the other waitstaff; and a name tag that read “Isla”—whoever she was. The real Isla was bound and gagged in a supply closet five decks below—your work.

Makeup skillfully applied to conceal your features—particularly your eyes; which he’d seen enough through the masks you wore during your attempts of wiping Sylus’ existence.

Waitress, your brilliant disguise. Nobody important. Nobody worth looking at twice. A perfect shadow to blend in with the glittering snakes of society that slithered through the gala.

The scent of champagne lingered in the air like deceit dressed in silk. You stepped lightly, shoes silent over imported marble, tray perfectly balanced on your gloved hand. But your eyes never left him.

Sylus.

He was a flame in a room of moths—every eye caught in his orbit, every laugh a little louder when it came from his direction. That white hair, always slightly disheveled like he'd just walked away from a fight he enjoyed. Red eyes half-lidded in amusement, danger coiling beneath the velvet of his voice as he conversed with guests draped in silk and sin.

You hated him. You wanted him… dead.

But tonight was different. This time, you had a plan so foolproof it sang in your blood. A few seconds alone with him and you’d deliver a toxin engineered to mimic a slow-onset neural shutdown. He’d never see it coming.

And yet…

Your hands trembled slightly as you passed by him, just close enough to smell the faint musk of his cologne—clean smoke and cedarwood. His voice reached you, smooth and disarmingly amused.

“Careful,” he said, not even turning. “You almost spilled that champagne.”

Your spine went stiff, though you managed to murmur. “Yes, of course, sir. I apologize.”

The party wore on like a fever dream. Dancers spun in silks. The air was thick with perfume, the tension of contracts being made, broken, and reborn. Sylus vanished from the main floor for only a few minutes—and you followed, pretending to carry a new bottle of Dom Perignon.

The hallway was narrow and dim, the hum of the ship louder here, industrial and alive. You’d made it past the ballroom and into the suites' passageway, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline slick on your palms. You reached for the blade—

And then:

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” The voice was low, taunting.

Just as you turned around a corner, two men flanked you before you even registered them—sharp suits, cruel eyes, hands like stone. A heavy hand closed around your arm. The tray clattered to the floor, the expensive wine and glasses shattered like fragile illusions. One wordless, the other sneering as he caught your arm. You struck fast, a knee to the gut and elbow to the throat—but you weren’t fast enough.

Before you could draw, the first guard's arm locked around your waist, another hand slamming a linen-dampened cloth over your nose and mouth.

Chloroform. The sickly sweet smell filled your lungs. Panic surged—your pulse raced, your instincts frenzied, your scream muffled.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You woke with the ache of time lost, your limbs heavy with the residue of the sedative. The room was too quiet. Your head throbbed like a war drum as you stirred awake. Lashes fluttering. Breathing shallow. You blinked, only to find blackness still—until you realized the silk blindfold was tight across your eyes. You tried to move—and realized something was wrong.

You were lying on a bed. Silken sheets cradled your body, disheveled, legs tangled in expensive fabric you didn’t recognize. Your wrists were bound—cold metal cuffing them to the upholstered headboard. Your legs were free, but trembling. The clothes you’d worn had been stripped of their weapons, apron gone, hair untucked, the crisp blouse now wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, askew, pulled halfway down your torso. There was no pain, but the disarray was unmistakably deliberate.

And someone was there.

His presence was unmistakable, even with his back turned. Broad shoulders beneath a crisp button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the crimson lining flickering as he lit a cigarette with quiet fingers. The cherry flare cast shadows on the walls like firelight in hell.

Sylus.

He exhaled slowly, a long stream of smoke curling toward the ceiling like a prayer lost on the wind.

“You know,” he said, voice smooth as obsidian, “I had a bet going. How long would it take before you tried again?” He turned just slightly, enough for the orange glow to paint the side of his jaw.

“Happy fucking birthday,” you rasped, voice hoarse with disbelief and fury.

“You remembered,” he murmured in mock sincerity. “I’m touched.”

The silence that followed was thick, electric, buzzing with tension. Your heart thundered beneath your ribs. The cold thrill that swept through your veins wasn’t fear.

Not exactly.

“You gonna kill me?” you asked.

Sylus chuckled—low, indulgent. He flicked ash into a crystal tray and stepped closer. The room felt suddenly too warm as you listened to the faint rustling caused by his movements.

“Kill you?” he repeated. “Now why would I ruin the one thing that’s kept me entertained these last few years?”

His hand touched the bedpost. A lazy drag of his fingers down the metal. “You should’ve worn something prettier,” he mused. “But I suppose we’ll fix that soon enough.”

You swallowed hard, pulse screaming in your ears.

Sylus moved like a predator—slow, deliberate, savoring the prowl. He took a long drag from the cigarette, his movements languid and deliberate. With the soft flick of his wrist, the smoke spiraled upward in thick plumes, and you could feel the faint sting of it in your nostrils, even as the weight of the blindfold made the world blur into darkness.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beside your hips, a subtle shift that sent every nerve ending screaming awake. The blindfold turned the world into a void, and in that darkness, every sound amplified. The faint rustle of fabric. The soft clink of his belt as he sat down. The sharp flick of the lighter once more, followed by a second exhale of smoke that drifted across your cheek like a ghost.

"You look… quite helpless, like this," he murmured, his voice a low hum that reverberated against your chest. "I wonder what you'll do now. You can't even see me coming, can you?"

You could hear the amusement in his tone, and it stoked the fire of defiance inside you.

"I don't need to see you to know what kind of monster you are," you hissed, biting back the tightness in your throat.

Sylus’ presence hovered over you like a storm. He put away the tobacco, pressing it down against the tray until its last ember faded into ash.

You could feel the heat of him radiating, the crisp, clean scent of his cologne growing nearer, mingling with the tobacco and subtle musk of his skin. Every breath you took felt laced with danger, and yet there was something irresistible about the way he moved, like a predator toying with its prey. The luxurious bed beneath you shifted with the weight of his body as he leaned closer, just close enough for the heat of his breath to ghost across the curve of your neck.

He wasn’t in a hurry. There was no rush. The teasing silence between you felt like an eternity—your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse thrumming against the cold, unforgiving steel of the handcuffs. You tugged, pulled at your restraints, but they only gave a small, satisfying jingle that mocked your struggle.

“Struggling?” His voice, like velvet and whiskey, was too close, and yet you couldn’t see him. You could only feel his presence, like an electric charge that arced between your skin and his.

“I’m not your toy, Sylus,” you spat, squirming on the bed, body tense and restless.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers traced the edge of your jaw, delicate and deliberate, sending a shiver skittering down your spine. The touch was light—almost playful—but you knew it was a calculated move to test your reaction. Your jaw clenched, and you turned your head away from his touch.

He chuckled. “You can keep telling yourself that. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You think you’re in control.” His fingers dipped lower, brushing the curve of your collarbone, the pads of his fingers circling as if savoring every inch of your skin.

You bit back a breath, trying to remain composed despite the undeniable warmth spreading through your body. But your body betrayed you. Every brush of his fingers, every exhaled word, coiled your insides tighter.

“You’re playing with fire,” you warned, though the words trembled in your throat.

His response was a soft, dangerous laugh, and then, just as you thought he might back away, his lips were on your ear.

“You have no idea how much I like fire,” Sylus murmured, hot and husky in your ear. “It burns. It licks at your skin until there’s nothing left but the heat.” His lips brushed over your earlobe, making your breath catch, but you couldn’t turn your head away. You couldn’t even see him.

You felt his hand—strong and unyielding—grip your chin, lifting your face toward him. You twisted, but the restraints held you fast, and then his lips were there, brushing over your mouth, just a whisper of pressure.

The kiss didn’t come. He teased you with it, letting his lips hover so close you could feel the warmth of him, feel the pulse of his breath.

“I know what you want,” he murmured, lips still a breath away from yours, “and you know exactly what I can give you.”

You tried to fight back, twisting your body beneath him, but it was futile. The strength in his hands was overwhelming, more than you’d ever anticipated. His fingers slipped over your waist, dragging across the fabric of your disheveled clothes, tracing the lines of your body as if mapping out every secret you tried to hide.

You kicked out instinctively, your heel connecting with his shin in an attempt to push him back. But it only seemed to amuse him further. Sylus’ fingers wrapped around your ankle in a grip so tight you couldn’t move, pulling your leg back and pushing it to the bed as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“You think kicking me will get you out of this?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement and something darker. His lips brushed your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “It only makes me want to hold you down more.”

Your chest rose and fell with every shaky breath. His proximity made you burn, yet every instinct told you to fight. You bit your lip, forcing your body not to react. “I won’t let you control me, Sylus.”

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, the words sinking into your skin like a promise of something dangerous. He brushed his lips lightly against your earlobe, the touch so soft, it almost felt like a ghost. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

You yanked against the cuffs, trying to twist your body free, but the moment you did, he pressed his knee between your thighs, forcing you to stay still. His touch was all consuming—firm, teasing—his knee nudging, pressing just enough to make your pulse race, but never quite enough to give you what you wanted.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to let him see how much his touch affected you. “Fuck you,” you spat, voice dripping with defiance, though your heart was pounding, erratic in your chest. “I won’t beg.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound rough and amused, as if he was finding your resistance amusing rather than frustrating. His hand moved lower, trailing across your ribs, fingers skimming over the curves of your body with maddening precision. You shivered, trying to turn your face away, but your blindfolded senses only made everything sharper.

You tried to bite at him, teeth snapping in his direction, your breath ragged and angry beneath the blindfold. But Sylus only chuckled again, a sound that made your skin burn and your heart race even faster. He seemed to revel in your resistance.

"Such a fire," he mused, almost to himself. "But it won’t be enough to burn me down."

The lightest brush of his lips against your collarbone made you flinch, your body betraying you in ways you didn’t want to admit. You hissed in frustration, trying to pull away from him, but he was everywhere now—his scent, his heat, his overwhelming presence.

You felt the pressure of his body closer, now brushing against yours. Your breathing was shallow, erratic, every brush of his skin sending a ripple of tension through you. His fingers, still tracing up your thigh, slid higher, pushing the edge of your clothes up with a slow, deliberate drag.

You felt him shift, moving above you like a predator circling its prey. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind screamed at you to fight, to not give in to the burning tension building between you.

“You won’t get away from me,” he whispered, voice dark and filled with something primal. The way he said it made your breath hitch in your throat. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

You squirmed again, trying to break free, but Sylus leaned down, his lips finding the pulse at your throat. His kiss was soft at first—almost gentle—but then his teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, the sensation sending a flood of heat straight to your pussy. He didn’t let up, his hands moving with a purpose, pulling you closer to him, as though he was marking you as his own.

"I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm, little hunter," Sylus murmured, his voice low and almost pleading with cruel delight. His lips dragged down your neck, his body pressing in close, and the fire between your legs burned hotter, more intense with every breath. The fight was draining from you, replaced by something else—a deep ache that you couldn't deny.

“Stop,” you hissed, the defiance still clinging to your voice even as your pulse betrayed you. Your body reacted—tensed, arched, seeking something you couldn’t name. Anything to break the suffocating tension.

But Sylus wasn’t interested in letting you off that easily.

He didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned in, lips finally meeting yours in a slow, agonizing kiss. His mouth was fierce, claiming, tasting, as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss was a clash of heat and hunger, a storm that flooded your senses.

His hand slid down your ribs, and you gasped at the sudden heat of his touch. He was testing your limits, deliberately pushing you until your restraint faltered. His voice came again, softer this time, the heat of it like a furnace against your ear.

“You like that?”

You kicked, thrashing against the bed in a futile attempt to throw him off, but he simply shifted, pinning your legs down with a weight that left you breathless. Every movement only fueled his resolve, deepened his touch.

“Still fighting?” he asked, lips brushing against your neck as he traced his thumb across your jaw. “Such a shame. I thought you’d learned by now.”

He kissed your throat again, his lips moving with dark intention, pressing against the sensitive skin, as if marking you in a way no one else would dare. The contrast between his warmth and the cold steel of your cuffs made your skin tingle, the sensations amplified by the blindfold that left you without sight but all the more aware of every other nerve in your body.

You couldn’t see him. But you could feel him. Every inch of him. Every breath, every whisper of his touch. The taste of him lingered on your lips, intoxicating. He was a drug—something dangerous and addictive.

You were so close. So close to giving in. But the game was far from over.

Sylus pulled away, his smile wicked in the shadows, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're so predictable," he taunted, his voice a seductive caress. "But that's what makes this so much fun."

You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, even through the blindfold, and you clenched your fists in anger. "I'm not playing your games," you ground out, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and desire.

"But you are," he murmured, his fingers tracing a line from the base of your throat down to the swell of your breasts. "And you're losing, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to moan as his thumb brushed over your nipple, already peaked and sensitive. His touch was a brand, searing through the fabric of your shirt. You felt yourself softening, your body betraying you with every stroke.

“Please,” you breathed out, not sure if you were begging him to stop or to go on.

Sylus’ smirk was palpable in the air, his thumb circling your nipple with a cruel precision that had you writhing beneath him. “Please what?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

You clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he affected you. But your body had its own agenda, your breaths coming faster, your chest rising and falling against the restraint of the handcuffs.

Sylus chuckled, the sound a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very bed you were bound to. "I've been looking forward to this," he murmured, his hand sliding down to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it upward, the fabric dragging against your skin as it revealed the softness of your stomach. "To finally see what's beneath that stoic exterior."

You felt the coolness of the room against your exposed skin, the stark contrast to the heat of his touch. The anticipation was agonizing—a delicious torture that had your senses on high alert. The smell of his cologne, the sound of his breathing, the way the mattress dipped and groaned beneath his weight as he leaned closer—it all painted a picture in your mind that was more vivid than any sight.

“You’re going to regret this,” you whispered, trying to sound menacing, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Doubtful,” he chuckled, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. His hand slid up under your shirt, his palm flattening against your stomach, the heat of his skin making you quiver. You tried to keep your body still, but it was an impossible task as his fingers danced over your skin.

With a sudden jerk, Sylus ripped the fabric, the sound of the tearing fabric echoing through the room. The shirt was torn away followed by your bra, leaving your breasts exposed to the cool air. You gasped, the chilly bite of the air making your nipples tighten further under his gaze.

Sylus leaned in, his mouth capturing yours again, his tongue demanding entry as his hand moved higher, cupping your breast with a possessiveness that made your toes curl. You whimpered into the kiss, unable to stop yourself, and you felt him smile against your lips. He knew he had you.

His thumb circled your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, hips moving restlessly against the bed. His other hand moved to your other breast, teasing and taunting until you were panting for more. He broke the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

"Is that all you've got?" you spat out, trying to sound brave.

Sylus’ chuckle was a dark promise. “Oh, no. That’s just the appetizer, darling.” He leaned back, his hand still cupping your bare breast, thumb flicking at the peak. You bit your lip to keep from crying out. The pleasure was unexpected, unwelcome, but it was there, pulsing through your veins like a siren’s song.

He took his time, the sound of his belt unbuckling like a gun cocking in the stillness. The zipper on your pants followed, a slow, meticulous descent that made you feel like a butterfly being unwrapped from a cocoon of steel. You could feel the coolness of the air against your skin, the anticipation making your stomach tighten and your pussy throb.

"You're wet," he mused, “you know that?"

With a firm grip, Sylus pulled your pants down to your knees, leaving you exposed. You kicked again, trying to fight the rising tide of need. But he was too fast, too strong. He caught your ankles in his hands and held them down, his fingers digging into your flesh as he bent to kiss the inside of your thigh. His breath was hot, his tongue tracing the path of your veins, moving closer and closer to your center.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to taste you, to feel you come apart in my mouth.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the whimper that threatened to spill out. “I want you to go to hell,” you managed, though your voice was little more than a whisper.

Sylus’ smile was a wicked curve against your skin. “Now, now,” he said, his breath warm and teasing against the dampness between your thighs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

You squirmed again, trying to get away, the movement only serving to arch your pelvis further against the bed. You felt the soft brush of his nose against the fabric of your panties, and despite the anger, your body reacted, your hips jerking slightly. It was a betrayal—but it was a betrayal that had your heart racing, your breaths coming in quick, desperate gasps.

The jolt of sensation, and your breath hitched. He took the opportunity to nip at your inner thigh, teeth scraping just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Say it,” he coaxed, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your pussy through the fabric. The wetness grew, a silent confession to your body’s betrayal. “Say you want me to lick you until you scream my name. Until you forget why you ever wanted to kill me in the first place.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the way your body responded to his touch. But the way his tongue slid against the fabric of your panties was a sweet agony that made it difficult to hold onto your anger. The heat of his breath against your clit made your hips buck involuntarily.

"You're a monster," you whispered, but it lacked conviction.

"Darling, you kill solely for the money. I don't think you get to tell me that." Sylus' words were laced in sarcasm. He pressed his lips on the damp spot of your lace panties, sneaking a deep inhale of your arousal before pulling away.

Your body was trembling now, your mind racing with a mix of anger and lust. The way he talked about your past made you feel cheap, used—like you were just a toy to him, but the way he touched you...it was driving you wild.

“You’re right, I’m a monster,” Sylus whispered, his breath a warm caress against the damp fabric. “But so are you, aren’t you?” His voice was a seductive purr, his words a dark confession that seemed to resonate deep within you.

You felt his fingers hook under the elastic band of your panties, sliding them down your legs, exposing you completely. The coolness of the air made you shiver, but it was the heat of his gaze that made your skin burn.

"I don't want this," you lied, trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs.

Sylus' response was a knowing smirk that you could feel rather than see. "Your body says otherwise," he whispered, his thumb stroking your pussy lightly. You bit back a moan, the sensation sending a jolt through your body.

You felt the bed shift as he stood, the loss of his weight making you feel exposed and cold. The silence was maddening, but it was broken by the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor. Your heart raced as you tried to imagine what he was doing, the anticipation making you wetter.

“What are you doing?” you choked out, trying to sound more in control than you felt.

“What does it feel like?” His voice was a dark caress as his fingers found the fabric of your torn blouse. He took his sweet time, brushing the stray fabric with a leisurely confidence that made your heart race even faster. The fabric parted, revealing the swells of your breasts more.

“What does what feel like?” you asked, playing dumb, though you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“The anticipation,” he said, his voice a low growl. “The sweet, sweet taste of victory as it lingers on your tongue. And the thrill of knowing you’re about to get what you’ve been chasing for so long.”

Sylus' words hung in the air like a promise as you felt the coolness of your breasts exposed, the air teasing your nipples into hard, sensitive peaks. His fingers danced the side of your breasts, his movements a silent question. You didn’t respond, but your body did, arching into his touch without your consent.

With a smug chuckle, he tugged at your overstimulated nipples, rolling them gently between calloused fingers. The sensation was jolting, making you gasp as your skin tightened into gooseflesh. But it was his eyes—his hungry, predatory gaze—that had your breath hitching. He studied you like a piece of art, his eyes lingering on the rosy tips of your breasts, the way they pointed to the ceiling in silent invitation.

And then, with a suddenness that took your breath away, he leaned in. His mouth closed over one peak, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud in a dance that was both tormenting and exquisite. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips, the sound a mix of protest and pleasure. He bit gently, the sting sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

You writhed beneath him, the cuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to arch away from the sensation. But Sylus was relentless, his mouth moving to the other breast as his hand took over, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching your nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Please...” you whispered, the word slipping out despite your best efforts.

Sylus’ eyes glinted with triumph, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop. He leaned back, his eyes raking over your exposed body with a hunger that was both terrifying and thrilling.

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “Please stop, or please more?”

Déja vu.

You glared at him, though you knew he couldn’t see it through the blindfold. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you spat.

Sylus’ smirk grew wider. “Immensely,” he admitted, his eyes dark and gleaming. He slid a hand down your stomach, the calloused pads of his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both terrifying and thrilling—like a dance with a snake, you weren’t sure if you’d end up charmed or bitten.

The bed shifted, his weight moving to hover over your chest. His thighs bracing against the sides of your breasts, the tip of his cock brushing against your cheek. The smell of him was intoxicating—musk and power, a heady combination that made your mouth water in spite of yourself. You could feel the heat of him, the solid length of him, the blunt reality of his desire pressing into your skin.

“Open up, darling,” Sylus murmured, his voice thick with arrogance. “Let’s see if you can handle what I have to offer.”

With a jerk of your head, you tried to turn away from him, the tip of his cock grazing your cheek. The gesture was one of defiance, but it only served to make him chuckle. His hand wrapped around your jaw, turning your face back to him, his grip firm but not painful.

“You don’t get to dictate the terms here,” he said, his voice a soft command. “You’re mine now.”

You felt his hand tighten on your jaw, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, the pressure of his cock against your cheek insistent. You wanted to bite, to make him feel the same pain you did, but the need to breathe was stronger. You parted your lips, the salty taste of him coating your tongue as he slid inside your mouth.

He groaned, a sound that was pure male satisfaction, and you felt a twinge of anger at the power he had over you. But that anger was quickly drowned by the sensation of his length pushing deeper, filling your mouth, his hand guiding you to take him as he wished.

Your tongue worked against him, reluctant but obedient, as he began to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your cheeks hollowing with every movement. You could feel the slickness of your own arousal coating your thighs, the wetness a traitorous confession of how much he affected you.

Sylus’ eyes never left your obscured ones, watching your every reaction with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and desired. The hand that wasn’t guiding your head moved to cup your breast, his thumb teasing the nipple in a rhythm that matched his hips. Each tug sent a pulse of pleasure straight to your pussy, making it difficult to maintain your resolve.

But you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t. You were a bounty hunter, not a plaything for his amusement.

With a growl, you tried to buck your hips, to push him away, but the movement only served to drive him deeper into your mouth. His grip on your jaw tightened, a silent warning not to bite.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark praise that had you clenching your fists. You hated the way your body responded to him, the way your pussy grew wetter with every stroke of his cock.

The hand on your breast moved down, his fingers slipping between your legs to find your clit. The touch was feather-light at first, a mere whisper of sensation that had you gasping around his cock.

You could feel his smirk against your skin even as he began to move faster, his hips pistoning into your mouth, his thumb circling your clit with a skill that was impossible to ignore. You tried to fight it, to hold onto your anger, but the tension was building, the pressure growing with every beat of your heart.

The hand on your jaw released, leaving you gasping for air as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. But the relief was short-lived as you felt his wetness coat your cheek, a silent declaration of his intent.

“You want this just as badly as I do,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Admit it.”

You bit back the words that wanted to spill out, the truth that you were dangerously close to begging. Instead, you turned your face away, your jaw clenched tightly.

Sylus chuckled again, a sound that seemed to echo through the room. “Alright, if you want to play hard to get...”

The bed shifted again, and you felt him move away. But before you could take a breath, you felt his mouth replace his hand between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that had your body arching off the bed.

“Sylus!” you gasped, the word torn from your throat despite your efforts to keep it contained.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. “That’s better,” he murmured, his mouth closing over your clit, sucking and licking with a hunger that was almost terrifying.

Your legs trembled, your toes curling into the bed. The handcuffs bit into your wrists as you tried to find purchase, the pain a strange counterpoint to the pleasure that was building deep within you.

Sylus’ mouth was a weapon, his tongue a masterstroke that painted patterns of desire on your sensitive flesh. He licked and sucked with an intensity that was almost punishing, his teeth grazing your clit with enough pressure to make you jolt but never quite enough to push you over the edge. You could feel his smile against your skin, his enjoyment of your struggle a dark thrill that only added to the tension coiling in your belly.

Your hips moved of their own accord, trying to find the friction you so desperately craved. His fingers slid into your pussy, the invasion both welcome and unwelcome, stretching you as he explored your depths with a curious thoroughness that had you biting your lip to keep from crying out.

His tongue swirled and danced, each pass bringing you closer to the precipice, your body tightening like a spring ready to snap. You felt the beginnings of your orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to echo through the very air.

Sylus’ teeth scraped your clit, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure that had you arching off the bed, a desperate sound ripped from your throat. He didn’t stop, his tongue lapping at your folds, his fingers curling inside you, the rhythm of his mouth and hand in perfect synchronization—creating a salacious symphony of wet slurping and reluctant moans of delight.

Your mind was a whirlwind of sensation, thoughts of escape and anger lost in the storm of pleasure. The only thing that remained was the need, the all-consuming demand for release.

But just as you felt the first wave of your climax building, he pulled away, leaving you panting and trembling with need. The absence of his touch was a physical ache, your body crying out for more.

“Please just…” you begged, the word slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

Sylus’ laugh was a dark symphony that seemed to fill the room, his eyes gleaming with victory. “Ah, so you do know how to ask nicely,” he murmured, his voice a sweet torture that had you clenching around his fingers.

He didn’t move for a moment, letting your desperation build, the anticipation almost as potent as the pleasure. Then, with a smug smirk, he leaned back in, his mouth closing over your clit with a renewed fervor that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You were lost now, unable to hold back the tide of sensation. Your body bucked against his mouth, your legs tightening around his head as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. The hand that wasn’t cupping your breast slid down to your waist, his grip firm as he held you in place, his other hand continuing to play with your nipples.

You could feel the orgasm building, the pressure in your core threatening to burst like a dam. You didn’t know if you could take much more—every touch, every lick was like a match thrown on gasoline.

And then, with a final, agonizing stroke, you shattered. The world fell away, leaving only the blissful oblivion of pleasure. You screamed his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, pussy juices pouring like ambrosia that made him want to taste you more.

Sylus didn’t let up, his mouth working you through the climax, drawing out every last tremor until you were limp and panting, the handcuffs the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. You felt him shift, his weight leaving the bed, and for a moment, panic gripped you. But then you felt the coolness of a cloth against your face, gently wiping away the sweat and tears.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark purr that had your heart racing. “Now, let’s see if you’re as good at giving as you are at receiving, shall we?”

The blindfold was removed, and you blinked against the sudden brightness, your eyes adjusting to the sight of him standing before you. He was completely naked now, his cock erect and the bulbous tip gleaming with precum.

The look in his eyes was a challenge, a promise of what was to come. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your body still humming with the aftermath of your orgasm. You knew what he wanted, knew what he expected of you.

With a smirk, Sylus positioned himself between your spread legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your swollen pussy. Your body was still reeling from the intense orgasm he’d wrung from you, but the anticipation of what was to come had your breath hitching.

He didn’t rush, taking his time to align himself with your sensitized cunt, his eyes never leaving yours. The teasing was a silent declaration of his dominance, a promise of the pleasure—and pain—he had in store for you.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid the tip of his cock along the plump folds of your labia, the sensation making you bite your bottom lip to keep from gasping. He watched you, his expression one of dark amusement, his eyes hooded with lust.

The first shallow thrust made you moan, your body already begging for more. But Sylus was in no hurry, pulling out almost immediately and leaving you with only the memory of his thickness. Your eyes narrowed, and you could feel the challenge in his touch. You weren’t going to let him win so easily.

“You’re going to beg for it, aren’t you?” you taunted, your voice a mix of defiance and need.

Sylus chuckled, the sound low and predatory. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. His tongue danced with yours, the taste of you still on his mouth, making you crave him even more.

The second time he pushed into you, he went deeper, the pressure making you arch your back. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his cock stretching you, filling you in a way that was almost painful.

But you wouldn’t beg. Not yet. You’d make him work for it.

He pulled out again, leaving you panting and desperate. The room was filled with the slick sound of his cock sliding along your wetness, a sound that seemed to echo in your ears.

“Please,” you whispered, unable to stop the word from escaping.

Sylus’ eyes gleamed with victory, his smirk turning into a full smile. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in your very bones.

He slammed into you then, the suddenness making you cry out. The handcuffs bit into your wrists, the pain mixing with pleasure, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Sylus’ hips moved in a steady, punishing rhythm, his cock hitting all the right spots, making your body sing with every thrust. You could feel another orgasm building, the pressure mounting with every stroke.

“Is this what you wanted?” you managed to say between gasps. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

His only response was a groan, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he drove into you, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own release.

The third time he pulled out, you were ready to beg for more. The need was a living thing inside of you, demanding to be satiated. But you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

When he entered you again, it was with a force that had your eyes rolling back in your head. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every movement, the friction making your toes curl and your back arch. The hand that had been playing with your breasts moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure.

Your second orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing your breath and your resolve. You screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room as you shuddered around him, your body writhing in pleasure.

You were lost in the sensation, unable to do anything but feel. The handcuffs that had once been a symbol of your captivity now felt like a strange sort of freedom, allowing you to give in completely to the storm of pleasure.

Watching you lose yourself once more to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your veins, Sylus allowed himself an indulgent flush of pride at having brought his enemy to such heights of ecstasy twice in quick succession. With every guttural cry that escaped your trembling lips, he felt himself edging closer towards a gratifying climax.

His rhythm grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he pumped into you with a ferocity that sent shockwaves through the very core of your being. The headboard thudded against the wall in a staccato beat, setting the room's atmosphere alight with a primal energy that seemed to feed the flames of your passion.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, those eyes filled with a mix of anger, desire, and something else—something unidentifiable that sent a shiver down his spine. The fire in your gaze only served to stoke his own, making him push deeper, harder, until you were both teetering on the brink of oblivion.

And then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, Sylus let go.

"Fucking hell…" He panted heavily, his mind momentarily blanked out by sheer physical exertion required to reach his explosive peak. His eyes rolling back in his head as he emptied himself into you, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. Your walls tightened around him, milking every drop of semen from his body.

For a moment, the world stilled, the only sounds the harsh gasps of your shared breathing. Then, with a shudder, Sylus collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his heart pounding against your chest.

One of his hands gently cradled the back of your head as he kissed you, his mouth soft and seeking. The kiss was a stark contrast to the raw power of his earlier touches, a gentle reminder that even in this twisted game of power and domination, there was something deeper—a connection that neither of you could deny.

As your breathing evened out, he pulled back, his gaze searching yours for any signs of regret or fear. But all he found was a smoldering challenge. The fire in your eyes had not been extinguished—it had only been banked, waiting for the next round.

With a smirk that held the promise of future battles and even greater pleasures, Sylus reached up to unlock the handcuffs, his movements surprisingly gentle as he freed you from the headboard. The metal clicked open, the sound echoing in the quiet room like the promise of release.

You didn't move immediately, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. But as the reality of the situation set in, you pushed him off, sitting up with a jerk, the fabric of your torn shirt sticking to your damp skin.

"This isn't over," you murmured, your voice thick with a mix of lust and anger.

Sylus chuckled, his cock still semi-erect and gleaming with the evidence of your passion. "On the contrary," he said, his voice a seductive promise. "It's only just begun."

The air in the suite grew thick with tension, the power dynamics shifting once again as you both stared at each other, the unspoken challenge hanging between you like a live wire.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a low, possessive growl. "You've always been mine, even when you were chasing me across the galaxy."

You stood, the remnants of your clothing falling away to reveal the marks his desire had left on your body—the bruises from his grip, the bite marks on your skin; and especially the creamy white liquid that has started running down your inner thighs. You felt a strange thrill at the sight, a dark thrill that made your stomach clench.

"And now," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "now, you're going to find out just how much of a monster I can truly be."

The smile that played on his lips was the most terrifying thing you'd ever seen—promising a night of pleasure and pain that would leave you forever changed, forever marked as his. And deep down, you knew that you were ready for it. You were ready for whatever he had in store.

You took a step towards him, the taste of his dominance still lingering on your tongue. "Bring it," you said, your voice a dare.

Sylus' smile widened, and in that moment, you realized that you had just accepted his challenge. You had stepped into the lion's den, and there was no turning back. The hunt was over—now, it was time to become the prey.

The anticipation of what was to come had you on edge, your heart racing in your chest like a wild animal.

[mintyys-blog]

DIFFERENT | prisoner! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut,

The air felt heavy as Mark soared through the sky, the wind whipping against his face like it had forgotten how to be gentle. He hadn’t flown in what felt like an eternity, not since being dragged into that hellish prison, locked away and broken. His father had thrown him in there—after everything, after all the years of serving his twisted empire—his father had abandoned him to rot. It was the last thing he expected from Nolan.

But now, none of that mattered. He was free. He was alive.

His body still ached from the burns that had never quite healed, but he didn’t care. Nothing compared to the fire burning inside him—he was going back to her. Y/N. The one person who had always seen him for who he truly was, not the monster the Viltrumites made him. She had been his light in the darkness, and after a year of torture and isolation, he couldn’t bear another second without her.

He had spent the past year trying to hold onto her image, her voice, their shared moments. But the world had changed. The Viltrumites had taken over Earth, breeding with humans to grow their population. Mark didn’t even want to think about it. He couldn’t allow his mind to go there, not now. He couldn’t focus on the invasion, on how everything he had known had slipped through his fingers. No, this was about Y/N.

Mark forced himself to shake off the thoughts, the shadows of his past that clung to him like a second skin. He was going to see her. He was going to hold her again. And nothing—nothing—was going to stop him.

He hovered just outside the window, staring into the darkness of her apartment. The room was dim, but the soft light from her bedside lamp illuminated a faint outline of her figure moving around. His heart clenched in his chest as he watched her.

She was alive.

He felt a lump form in his throat as she went about her nightly routine, undressing and preparing for bed. He shouldn’t be watching her like this, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It felt like an eternity since he’d seen her, since he had touched her, since they had shared moments that had always felt too precious to put into words.

When she changed into her pajamas, he found himself fighting to swallow his breath. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her presence, the way she moved, the way she made the mundane seem beautiful. He hadn’t realized how much he needed her until now.

She moved to her nightstand, and Mark’s chest tightened as she picked up the photo—their photo. He could see the faint smile on her face in the frame, a reminder of happier times. She kissed it softly, and his heart shattered. She still held onto him, even in the silence of the night. But would she remember him? Would she recognize him?

He felt a sudden wave of doubt. He wasn’t the same man who had left. His body was scarred, his soul cracked open by the hell he had endured. Could she still love him? Or would she only see the monster he had been forced to become?

Mark’s hands pressed against the cool glass of the window, his reflection staring back at him. The face that used to be so familiar, so full of youth and hope, was now marred by burns and scars. His hair was gone, and his eyes… the eyes that had once been filled with warmth and love for her, were now filled with desperation.

Would she even recognize me?

His breath fogged up the glass as he exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t afford to be weak now. He couldn’t afford to let his doubts win. She needed him. And he would do anything to show her that the man she had loved was still in there, still fighting to come back to her.

Her silhouette moved again, and Mark quickly backed away from the window, retreating into the shadows, hidden from her view. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he refused to leave. He couldn’t. Not until he saw her face again, until he could hold her.

Minutes stretched like hours before the light in the room finally flickered off, and the soft sound of her breathing filled the quiet air. She was asleep, but the thought of her kissing the photo, holding onto the memory of their love, broke him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Mark took a deep breath, his resolve firming once again. He wasn’t leaving. He stepped forward, just enough so she could feel his presence, but still hidden in the shadows. His fingers brushed against the glass of her window once more, lingering. He wasn’t ready to face her yet—not like this. But soon. Soon, he would be.

In the silence of the night, Mark whispered into the wind, though he knew she couldn’t hear him: “I’m back… I’m coming for you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Mark let the weight of the world slip off his shoulders, just for a moment. He had one purpose now. To find her. To make things right. No matter the cost.

Mark stared down at his clothes—the worn, ragged prison jumpsuit that still clung to his frame. The fabric was torn in places, a reminder of the violence he had endured, the battles fought behind those cold, iron walls. His hands tightened into fists as he ran his fingers over the coarse material, the jagged patches where his skin had healed but never fully returned to its former self.

He couldn’t face her like this. He couldn’t let her see him like this. His reflection in the glass was already enough to make him question everything. The last thing he wanted was for her to look at him and see the man who had been broken and cast aside—who had spent so long fighting just to survive.

Mark took a slow breath, steadying himself. He needed to change. He needed to be someone else, someone worthy of the woman who had loved him before everything fell apart.

Turning away from the window, he flew off into the night sky, the wind rushing past him as he searched for a place where he could change. The world was different now—Viltrumites controlled everything, and he had to be careful. Every move he made could bring unwanted attention.

He landed on a rooftop not far from her apartment, his heavy boots making barely a sound as he touched down. The city below was alive with lights and noise, but it all felt distant, like he was trapped in his own world, away from everything he truly cared about.

Mark looked around for a moment, his mind racing. He didn’t want to waste time, but at the same time, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He needed to look like the man she remembered. Not this broken shell of a person who had spent too long in a cage.

After a moment of hesitation, Mark began to remove the prison clothes, his scarred body exposed to the night air. His muscles tensed as he peeled the jumpsuit off, wincing slightly at the familiar sting of the scars that covered his chest. His body was a map of pain, each mark a testament to the brutality he’d faced, but he wouldn’t let it define him. Not tonight.

He reached into a nearby alley and grabbed a jacket—a simple black leather one—one that he had stolen from a clothing store on his way into the city. It wasn’t much, but it was clean, and it hid the scars well enough. He slipped it on, tightening the cuffs at his wrists, trying to ignore how it didn’t quite fit like the clothes he used to wear, the ones that were theirs—the ones she had seen him in when they were happy. When everything was normal.

Mark clenched his jaw, pushing those thoughts away. He wasn’t the same person he had been then. But maybe—just maybe—he could be something close to it again.

As he stood there in the shadows of the rooftop, his eyes flicked back to the window where Y/N slept. His heart ached just looking at her, even though she couldn’t see him. He took a deep breath and stepped back toward the edge of the roof, ready to go to her.

But then, something inside him stopped him cold. What if she didn’t want him anymore?

He gripped the edge of the rooftop, his fingers digging into the cold concrete. It was stupid—he’d fought through hell just to get here, and now he was hesitating. He couldn’t let fear control him. He’d spent too long controlled by others, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

With one final glance at the window, and shot back into the night sky, the city below growing smaller as he ascended. His mind was focused only on one thing—getting back to her. Getting back to the woman he loved.

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep his distance. He didn’t know if he was ready to face her, to look into her eyes and show her the man he had become. But he couldn’t wait any longer. Not when he had come so far.

He reached her apartment window once more, this time hovering just a few feet away. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands trembled with the weight of what he was about to do.

He pressed his hand against the glass again, just as he had before, his breath fogging up the surface. His reflection was still there, but now there was something different about it—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. A flicker of it, at least.

As he waited, he could feel her presence, even though she was still asleep. The longing in his chest was almost unbearable. He could do this. He had to. And this time, when she wakes, he won’t be just a ghost in her memories. He would be real again.

Mark hovered in place just outside her window, his heart racing as he fought against the overwhelming tide of emotions crashing inside him. There was no turning back now. He had fought to get here, clawing his way out of the prison, and now all he could do was hope that the woman he once loved still remembered him, still wanted him.

He looked down at himself again—his jacket, still too tight across his broad shoulders, the scarring on his body only partially hidden by the fabric. He wasn’t the same Mark who had left over a year ago. Time and torment had changed him. But in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the woman who lay inside, just on the other side of the glass.

He waited, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully, unaware of the presence just outside her window. His chest tightened at the sight. She’s so beautiful. Still so perfect.

And then, as though the world was conspiring against him, a soft gust of wind shifted the curtains. The movement caught his attention, and his gaze snapped to the small flicker of light coming from the bedroom.

Y/N shifted in her sleep, the faint sound of her breathing calming his racing mind. The quiet moments like this—when everything felt like it was suspended in time—were the ones he craved. He had missed her so much it hurt.

He let his gaze soften, watching as she stirred slightly, her hand brushing the photo from her nightstand once again. The photo of them. The memory of their love before everything had fallen apart.

A sudden pang of longing gripped his heart, and Mark felt the instinctive pull to reach out, to be close to her again. He had to see her. Had to feel her touch again. He couldn’t live in this torturous limbo any longer. He had to show her that he wasn’t broken beyond repair—that he still had something to offer, something to fight for.

Just as the room grew still again, a thought struck him like a lightning bolt. What if she doesn’t want me? What if she wants to move on?

He fluttered instinctively, the tension growing in his body. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was ready to just fly away—to disappear back into the shadows and leave the woman he loved behind forever.

But then he heard a sound—a faint shift in the bed, a small, quiet voice that barely made it past his ears.

“Mark…”

His heart stopped.

It wasn’t a dream. She had said his name. The name he had once heard so many times in the dark of the night, whispered like a prayer. But now, it came with such a heavy weight. Could it be that she was dreaming of him? Or had she felt him here—somehow, in her heart—calling out to him the same way he had called out to her?

His hand pressed harder against the glass, his pulse thundering in his ears. He could feel the heat of her breath against the cold night air, the closeness of their worlds, separated only by a thin layer of glass and time.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Mark moved forward, his chest tightening as he watched her sleeping face. His fingers brushed the surface of the window, the cool glass pressing against his palm as if it could somehow bridge the distance between them. It was foolish, but for a moment, he let himself believe—maybe she can still feel me.

Y/N shifted again in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the faintest glimpse of the shadow outside her window. Her eyes focused, confused at first, but then, as they adjusted to the faint moonlight, something inside her seemed to click.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. She was awake. She could see him. After so long—after everything—she was seeing him.

He could feel her presence shift as she sat up in bed, the soft rustling of sheets the only sound in the room. He instinctively took a step back, retreating slightly into the shadows, unsure of what to do next. He couldn’t just barge in. He couldn’t let her think this was some kind of fantasy. He needed to know if she truly wanted him here. If she would remember the love they had shared before everything went wrong.

Her hand brushed over the window, the glass cold under her fingers as she tried to make sense of the blurry figure outside. Mark’s breath caught in his throat as she stepped closer to the window, her brow furrowing in confusion, then widening in realization.

The recognition in her eyes hit him like a punch to the gut. She knew it was him.

“Mark?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she couldn’t believe it was real. “Is it really you?”

He felt a chill run through him. His breath fogged up the glass as he exhaled shakily, and for the first time in over a year, he allowed himself to hope.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve come back for you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Time seemed to stretch and twist around them, until finally, Y/N reached for the window, her fingers trembling against the glass. Mark could see her expression softening, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The walls she had built to protect herself, the distance between them—everything seemed to crack in that single moment.

Mark didn’t wait any longer.

With a single sweep of his arm, he opened the window, stepping into the room and allowing the cool night air to rush in. He took one step forward, and then another, until he was standing right in front of her. She stared up at him, the light from her bedside lamp illuminating the face she had once known so well—the face she hadn’t seen in over a year.

And just like that, everything else faded away.

Mark reached out, his scarred hands gently cupping her face, his fingers trembling as he traced the outline of her jaw. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stay away any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry for everything. I was wrong. I just wanted to come home. Come back to you.”

Y/N’s hand found his chest, where the burn marks still stood as cruel reminders of the past. She traced her fingers over them, her touch so gentle it made his breath hitch.

“I never stopped waiting for you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I never gave up on you, Mark. I knew you’d come back.”

With that, Mark pulled her into him, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that spoke of desperation, regret, and longing. The kiss wasn’t perfect—it was raw, and filled with the ache of everything they had lost—but in that moment, it was everything. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Mark knew he’d never leave her again. Not ever.

Y/N’s arms instinctively wrapped around Mark’s neck as if her body had been waiting for this moment, craving the familiar warmth and strength of him. She pulled him close, her body pressing against his as though she could merge their two forms together, never wanting to be apart again.

“I missed you so much, Mark…” Her voice cracked, the weight of the words breaking the dam she had so carefully built in her heart. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she buried her face in his neck, her breath shaky against his skin.

Mark felt the tremble in her hands as they gripped the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him being real, here, in her arms again. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her against him, the way she fit so perfectly in his embrace.

“I missed you too,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slid to her back, holding her as if he could never let her go again. “I never stopped thinking about you. You were all I had… all I thought about in that hell.”

She pulled away just enough to look up at him, her fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing the scars that marred his once-perfect skin. She had always loved him for his strength, but now she saw him differently—so much more. The pain, the hardship, the battles he’d fought to get back to her, it all made her heart ache with empathy and love.

Her gaze dropped to his chest as she pulled back slightly. It was then that she noticed how his body had changed. His muscles had grown—more defined, more chiseled—like the remnants of a man who had been through hell and come out the other side. The raw, harsh lines of his physique were more pronounced than she remembered, the evidence of his suffering now worn proudly like a shield.

Her fingertips brushed over his broad shoulders and chest, almost reverently, as though she couldn’t quite believe the transformation. “You’ve gotten so much… bigger,” she murmured, her voice full of awe.

Mark let out a soft laugh, the sound bitter but warm at the same time. “Yeah… prison has a way of making you stronger, or it kills you. I wasn’t about to let it break me.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face, the intensity of the moment not lost on her. “I can’t believe you’re here. After everything… after they…”

He stiffened at the mention of his father and the Viltrumites, but he quickly pushed it aside. It didn’t matter now. They didn’t matter. What mattered was the woman in his arms, the one who had been waiting for him.

“I’m not that person anymore,” Mark said firmly, his voice deepening as he cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “I’m here for you, Y/N. And I’m not leaving. I don’t care about them. Only you. It’s always been you.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face now, but she smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly, her lips trembling against his. This kiss wasn’t desperate like the first one; it was tender, full of the love and years of longing they had both endured. She could taste the salt of her tears mingling with his, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except them, here, in this moment.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes again. “You’re finally back.” She whispered the words as though she was afraid to believe them, afraid that if she spoke too loudly, the magic of the moment would shatter.

Mark’s arms tightened around her, a small, reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You’re stuck with me now.”

She chuckled softly, her laugh ringing with relief. Her eyes locked onto his, and in them, he could see all the love, the memories, and the pain that they had both experienced. It was overwhelming and beautiful all at once.

Her fingers slid to the back of his neck, tracing the familiar outline of his jaw, the once soft skin now roughened by scars. “I don’t care what you’ve been through,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss the scars that lined his neck, her lips brushing against his skin like a vow. “I’m just glad you came back to me.”

Mark’s breath hitched at the feel of her lips against his scars, her soft, warm touch sending waves of comfort through him. He let out a slow exhale, his forehead resting against hers. “You were worth everything, Y/N. Every ounce of pain… every fight… every second of being without you. You were worth it all.”

Y/N hugged him tighter, holding on to him as though she was afraid to let go, as though she could lose him again if she did. “I never stopped waiting for you,” she whispered again, her voice full of raw emotion. “I never stopped loving you. I knew you’d come back.”

Mark pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest. She was here. She was real. And he would never let her go. “I’m here now,” he murmured. “And I’ll stay. For you. Always.”

As they stood there, in the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. There was only Mark and Y/N. The love they had fought for, the love they would always fight for. Nothing else mattered. She kissed him once more, “I missed you Mark— your touch, everything.” She trails her hand inside his jacket, “I almost forgot what you feel like. Why don’t you remind me?” She smirked, kissing his jaw.

Mark’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, everything in him stilled. Her voice, the way she smirked at him, it was as if she had just lit a fire within him. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, his pulse quickening. Remind her? She still found him desirable?

He met her gaze, his eyes darkening with a mix of longing and something deeper—something possessive. “You really want me to remind you?” he asked, his voice low and husky, a hint of challenge in his tone.

Y/N’s smirk widened, her fingers trailing lightly over the burn scars on his chest, the touch soft and deliberate. “I think you owe me that much, Mark. Don’t you?”

Her words were like a challenge, and the old, familiar feeling of desire swept through him, sharper and more intense than it had ever been. He didn’t think—didn’t need to. His instincts took over, and before he could stop himself, his lips were on hers again, this time with a hunger that was long overdue.

His hands found her waist, pulling her against him with a fierce, desperate urgency. She gasped against his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as she kissed him back with the same intensity, her body pressing into his as though she couldn’t get close enough.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. “I never wanted to forget you, Y/N. I thought about you every second, and it drove me crazy. But now… now you’re here. And I’m not going to let go. I’m going to remind you of everything.”

Y/N’s fingers slid down his chest, lingering on the muscles that had hardened through the trials he’d faced, the power that had grown in him over the year of torment and struggle. Her smirk returned as her hands reached the waistband of his pants, the movement slow and teasing.

“You’re going to remind me, huh?” she whispered, her voice dripping with playful challenge. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Mark groaned at the feel of her hands on him, the pressure of her touch driving him to the edge. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he muttered darkly, pulling her closer, his lips finding her neck as he kissed her deeply, his hands moving over her body with an almost feverish need.

Her breath hitched as he kissed down her neck, the warmth of his lips igniting every nerve. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands roamed over her, desperate yet tender, reminding her of the man she had once known—the man she had never truly stopped loving.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured against his ear, her voice low and filled with desire. “Please, don’t stop…”

Mark’s response was a growl, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered against her ear, “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again.”

And with that, he pulled her into him, his hands exploring, his lips claiming hers once more, this time with the promise of everything they had been waiting for. Every kiss, every touch was a reminder of the love they had fought for, the love that would never be forgotten.

Mark Grayson, the man who had been broken, had come back for her, and nothing—nothing—was going to take her away from him again.

Mark’s hesitation was barely noticeable to her, but it was there—an edge of uncertainty, a flicker of vulnerability he rarely showed. His hands trembled slightly as they rested on the waistband of his pants. He could feel the weight of his scars, the remnants of what he’d been through, still raw and ever-present. Despite everything, he knew he needed to let go of the past, needed to be with her in every way.

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze soft and understanding. “Mark?” Her voice was gentle, as though she could feel the tension radiating off him.

He took a slow breath, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them to meet hers. “Do you mind if we turn the lights off?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, as if afraid she might judge him for his scars.

Y/N’s smile was reassuring, her lips curling slightly as she reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” Her words were full of affection, and it made his chest tighten with relief.

In an instant, the room went dark. The soft hum of the night was the only sound now. Mark took a moment to steady himself before crawling on top of her, his movements slow and careful, as though he was savoring every second of this closeness.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck, and Y/N’s soft giggle filled the space between them. Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles beneath the scars. She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back, giving him more access. “I’m so happy to have you back now,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Mark’s heart hammered in his chest at the sound of her words. She was here. She was real. And this—this moment was everything he had fought for. He felt her hands cup his face, and it was like everything else faded away. Her touch, her love, was all he needed.

“You’re perfect,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin as her thumb traced the line of his jaw, taking in every inch of him.

Mark’s breath caught, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes softening despite the raw, jagged edges of the man he had become. “I’m not perfect, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

He could feel the warmth of her body beneath him, the rise and fall of her chest, and it grounded him in a way nothing else could. She accepted him—flaws, scars, everything. It was something he had never truly believed he deserved.

She smiled softly, her lips finding his in a kiss that was slow and tender, full of the love that had never faded, even through the distance and the pain. Every touch, every movement was a reassurance, a promise that they had survived everything and would never let go.

Mark kissed her deeply, as if trying to make up for lost time, his hands roaming over her body with the same desperate need that had driven him to escape. She responded just as eagerly, her hands tracing the contours of his back, feeling the tremble in his muscles as he fought to hold back everything he had been holding in for so long.

“Stay with me,” Y/N whispered between kisses, her breath shaky. “Please, Mark. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

And with that, Mark’s doubts vanished. He leaned into her, kissing her with everything he had, holding her close as they both finally gave in to the love they had fought so hard to reclaim. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Only the two of them. Together. Forever.

Mark deepened the kiss, his hands pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers with an urgency that seemed to mirror the years of separation between them. Every brush of his lips, every touch, was a silent promise, a reassurance that he was here now. He had come back to her.

Y/N’s hands slid down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath her fingertips. She could sense the intensity in him, the years of pain and loss he had endured. But beneath it all was the same man she had loved—just… hardened. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers trailing the burn scars on his skin, reminding herself that it wasn’t the scars that defined him. It was the man he was inside.

She pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing his as she gazed up at him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’re here,” she whispered, almost in disbelief, as if she were afraid this was all a dream. “You’re really here, Mark.”

He met her gaze, his face softening as he cupped her face in his large hands, his thumbs gently stroking her skin. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice was raw, barely a whisper, but it carried all the sincerity she had been waiting for. She smiled, a small, tear-filled smile, as she reached up to kiss him again. This time, it was gentle—a kiss that was full of love, full of the years they had been apart but had never truly forgotten each other.

Mark’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, and she couldn’t help but notice how much stronger he had gotten. His body felt different—broader, more powerful. His muscles had grown, the results of the hardships he had endured in the year of imprisonment. But even with all the changes, his touch was still the same. Still the touch of the man she had fallen in love with.

She ran her hands through his hair, tugging him closer, needing to feel every part of him. She had missed him so much, in ways words couldn’t fully describe.

Mark’s breath was shaky as he moved down to her neck, kissing it with a hunger that sent shivers down her spine. He paused for a moment, his lips just above her skin, before his voice broke through the quiet air.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. You… you kept me alive. You were the only thing that kept me from losing myself.”

His voice cracked slightly as he said it, and Y/N could feel the vulnerability in him, something he usually never showed. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She would never leave him.

“I’m here now,” she whispered softly, her hands moving to trace the burn scars on his chest again. “You’re not alone anymore, Mark. I’m not going anywhere either.”

The words settled between them, and Mark couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again, his lips pressing against hers with an urgency, as if he could pour all his emotions into that one kiss—his longing, his guilt, his relief. He needed her.

Her hands moved to his chest, exploring the way his muscles had grown, the new texture of his skin. She could feel the intensity in him, the weight of everything he had carried. Her lips left his for a moment, and she looked at him, seeing all of him—his scars, his flaws, his imperfections—and yet, he was still everything to her.

“You’re perfect to me,” she murmured, her fingers grazing the edge of his scars, watching the way his breath hitched when she touched them. She smiled softly. “Every part of you is perfect.”

Mark’s chest tightened, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world outside of them didn’t exist. It was just the two of them in the dark room, connected in every way. He could feel the raw tenderness in her touch, the way she accepted him completely, scars and all.

With a quiet growl, he kissed her once more, moving his hands to her back, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. There was no turning back now—no more separation. They were here, together, and that’s all that mattered.

Y/N responded with equal fervor, her body pressing into his, her hands pulling him closer. “Show me, Mark,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Show me how much you missed me, just like I have missed you. Craved you..” With those words, Mark’s resolve broke. He kissed her passionately, his hands tracing the curve of her body, every touch a reminder that they were back where they belonged. Together.

Mark’s smirk against her lips was both teasing and full of something darker, something desperate that had been buried for far too long. His hands moved with a deliberate, almost predatory slowness, tracing the line of her waist before finding the clasp of her bra. He felt her shiver beneath him, her breath quickening as she waited for his next move, but he didn’t rush. He wanted to savor this moment. She had been his anchor all this time, and now he was back—he wasn’t letting go.

With a soft chuckle, he unclasped her bra, his fingers brushing against her skin as he pulled it away, letting it fall gently from her shoulders. He smirked again, his lips brushing against hers as he leaned in, whispering in a low voice, “I’ve dreamed about this… about you. All this time.”

Her heart raced at the sound of his words, at the raw emotion in his voice, the longing that bled through every syllable. She kissed him back deeply, her hands roaming up his chest, exploring the firmness of his muscles, as if committing every part of him to memory.

“Then show me,” she whispered against his lips, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Show me that you’re really here, Mark.”

His hands moved quickly, removing his shirt and tossing it aside before he leaned back down to kiss her again, his mouth consuming hers. His body pressed into hers, and she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the raw power that pulsed beneath it. He was stronger, harder, a man shaped by pain and battle, but to her, he was still the same Mark—the one she had loved, the one she had never truly forgotten.

Mark’s hands were everywhere now, tracing the curves of her body, the soft skin of her back, the arch of her neck as he kissed his way down to her collarbone. His lips lingered there for a moment before he moved lower, his breath warm against her skin.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered between kisses, his voice gruff as he took in every inch of her, his hands trembling just slightly with the intensity of his feelings.

She responded with equal urgency, her hands tracing the muscles of his back, pulling him closer, as if trying to meld into him. She wanted to erase the distance, the time lost. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me again, Mark. I don’t want to be without you.”

Mark’s heart thundered in his chest, and despite everything, despite the brokenness and the scars, he knew that what they had was stronger than anything that could have torn them apart. His lips moved back to hers, kissing her with a passion that was almost desperate. He wasn’t going anywhere—not this time.

The heat between them grew, as if the world around them was falling away, and it was just the two of them, united again. The years of separation had made their reunion even more intense, more electric. He kissed her harder, his hands now moving to her hips, pulling her even closer to him.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, his voice low, rough. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words, a fire igniting in her chest at the possessiveness, the raw need in his voice. She kissed him back with the same ferocity, her hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, desperate to feel him completely.

Once they were both completely bare, Mark glided his fingers over her slit, “wow babe, you’re dripping— missed me that much, huh?” She nodded, “could you blame me? How can I not when I was separated from my handsome boyfriend?” He merely chuckled. “Still think I’m handsome?” She cupped his face, “of course you are.” She pulled him in for a kiss, “now can you fuck me? I think I’ve been patient enough.”

He laughs at her bluntness, “of course sweetheart,” he spread her legs, holding them to his waist. He slowly thrusted inside, groaning in pleasure. He missed this, missed how good she felt. Everything about it, he loved. She moaned, “Mark—“

He slowly started thrusting again, “I remember every part of you. Every curve, every inch.” She smiled, her heart warming at his words. She moaned as he continued his rough thrusts, getting faster by the minute. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she gripped onto the bedsheets. The sound of skin slapping and the headboard slamming into the wall were drowned out by their moans. He brought his hand down to circle her clit, he knew just what to do— how much pressure to add, how fast, everything. It all came back him.

She threw her head back, screaming his name. Her walls gripping him like a vice as she came. Her body shaking in the aftermath. He fucks her through her orgasm, and she doesn’t complain— not once. She wanted this for over a year. Was stuck kissing his portrait instead of the real thing every night, so now she had him. She wanted to make this last.

He lifted her legs on his shoulders and pressed down. She moaned at the new angle; he was managing to go deeper and hit spots that made her see stars.

Her body was shaking, and he grunted, “fuck, I’m gonna cum soon—“ he muttered, she squealed— kissing him again. She panted as she came around him again, and his breathing stutters as she feels him flood her insides with his hot seed. She lets out a shakes breath and he pumps a few more times lazily before finally pulling out. Watching as his seed dripped out of her. He fell beside her, and she curled up to his chest. “I love you mark,” he didn’t have to say it back, the way his grip around her body told her everything.

The room was quiet except for the soft, steady breaths they shared. The weight of the moment hung in the air, a silence filled with an intimacy that neither of them had known in far too long. Mark lay beside Y/N, his body still humming with the energy of their connection. His hand rested gently on her waist, tracing lazy circles on her skin as his mind processed everything that had just happened.

Y/N was nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the sound a reminder that he was here, really here. She could still feel the intensity of everything—the ache of longing, the release, the way they had come together as if time itself had bent to make this moment possible.

Neither of them spoke for a while, content to just exist in the comfort of each other’s presence. Mark’s mind wandered, as it often did when he allowed himself a moment of peace, but this time, his thoughts were far less tortured. He looked at the ceiling, his fingers still gently grazing her skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to simply be.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with the same tenderness that had always existed between them. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against the scars on his chest again. She could feel his muscles beneath her touch, the way his body had changed, but it was the same Mark—the same man who had always been her home.

Mark’s hand stilled on her waist, his gaze shifting down to her with a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low. “For everything… for being gone, for what I’ve done. I—”

She shook her head gently, lifting herself up on her elbow to look at him, her eyes soft but unwavering. “Don’t apologize,” she whispered. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Mark’s eyes softened, and he exhaled, his shoulders dropping as if a weight had been lifted from them. “I’ve missed you more than I can explain,” he said quietly. “Every day, every hour, I thought of you. You were the only thing that kept me going.”

Y/N smiled, her thumb gently tracing the line of his jaw. “I know, Mark. I know. I never stopped thinking about you, either. You’ve always been with me, even when you weren’t here.”

They shared a quiet, intimate gaze, the kind of look that spoke volumes without saying a word. It was everything—the understanding, the unspoken love, the forgiveness that had always been a part of them.

Mark’s voice was a little rough when he spoke again, as though the emotions were catching up with him. “I won’t leave you again, Y/N. I can’t… I won’t.”

She smiled again, leaning down to kiss him softly. “I know. And you don’t need to apologize. You’re here, and that’s all I need.”

He held her tighter, feeling the weight of her words settle into his chest. His lips pressed against her forehead in a quiet, lingering kiss. “I won’t let anyone or anything come between us again.”

For a long while, they stayed like that—wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies intertwined as they drifted in and out of half-sleep, knowing that no matter what the world had become, they had found their way back to each other.

Mark had survived hell to return to her, and now, in the quiet aftermath, it felt like nothing else mattered. There was no war, no Viltrumites, no scars, no past. There was just the two of them. And that was enough.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Taste | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

I posted awhile back about my headcanon that this man loves... tasting his woman. This is literally just that. And yeah I normally put pictures above the cut but... ehhh mdni

>:) enjoy

Words: ~1,800

Tags: Shameless Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N

The front door swung shut with a quiet click, but you already felt his presence before you saw him.

You glanced up from your book on the couch just as Sebastian stepped into the dimly lit sitting room. His coat was still dusted with the remnants of a long day—ashen smudges on his sleeves, a faint tear near the collar. The usual sharp gleam in his eyes had dulled, replaced by a stormy, almost dangerous hunger as they landed on you.

He didn’t say a word, but the weight of his gaze, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides before he exhaled slowly—like he was trying to control himself—told you everything.

“Rough day?” you asked softly, setting the book aside.

Sebastian didn’t answer. He took two strides toward you, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor, and then—before you could blink—you were in his grasp. His fingers dug into your hips, warm and possessive, and his mouth crashed against yours.

It wasn’t a careful kiss. It was a claim.

You barely had time to gasp before his hands slid under your thighs, hoisting you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, hands gripping at his broad shoulders as he carried you with purpose, his mouth never leaving yours. The journey to the bedroom was a blur of half-stumbled steps, of Sebastian groaning against your lips like he had been starving all day, like the taste of you was the only thing that could put him back together.

He lowered you onto the e bed, and suddenly, you were beneath him, breathless. He hovered above you, dark eyes flickering over your face, your lips, your slightly dazed expression.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice low, desperate. "You have no idea what today was like. I was counting the minutes—every bloody second—until I could come home to you."

His grip tightened as he pressed his lips to your pulse, hot and open-mouthed. The scrape of his teeth followed, sending a jolt of heat through you.

You barely managed to get your hands on his shoulders before he was pushing you towards the headboard, caging you in. The groan that rumbled from his chest was the only warning you got before he kissed youagain, hard, all teeth and tongue, nothing gentle about it. Whatever had unraveled him today, whatever had pushed him to the edge, it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was this.

You. Him. The way he was about to take you apart.

His hands skimmed over your thighs, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt. He pulled back just enough to look down, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Easy access today, hm?" His voice was rough, teasing, but there was something darker beneath it—something needy. His fingers toyed with the hem, slipping beneath it, palms trailing up your bare skin. "Almost like you were waiting for me."

Your breath caught as he shoved the fabric up, bunching it around your hips. His gaze darkened at the sight of you beneath—nothing more than lace and silk between him and what wanted.

"Fuck," he muttered, fingers tracing the waistband of your thong before snapping it lightly against your skin. "You have no idea how badly I needed this today."

His hands were everywhere all at once—gripping your thighs, squeezing the flesh there, sliding up to your hips before pressing you down against the bed.

Sebastian dipped his head, dragging his lips along your jaw, your throat, teeth scraping lightly as he reached the hollow just above your collarbone. He sucked at the skin there, and you gasped, hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you.

"Mine," he muttered, the word barely more than a breath against your skin.

You barely had time to register the movement before he was hooking his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down, his breath uneven, his patience fraying.

"Seb—"

He shut you up with a kiss, dragging your underwear down past your hips.

The moment the fabric hit the floor, Sebastian was lpreading you open before him as he leaned in. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, torturous—then his mouth was on you, and any thought of forming a coherent sentence was lost to the sharp bolt of pleasure that shot through your spine.

He groaned,deep and guttural, like he’d been starving for you all day, like this was the only thing that could fix whatever had unraveled him. His tongue flicked over you, slow at first, savoring, before he pressed in deeper, more desperate.

"Fuck," he muttered against you, voice thick with relief. "I needed this."

His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh like he couldn’t bear the thought of you moving away. As if you even could—he had you pinned, utterly at his mercy, his mouth working you over with a single-minded focus that had your nails digging into the sheets, your head tipping back against the pillows.

Every flick of his tongue was measured and practiced, he'd done this enough times to know exactly what you liked, and yet the way he was devouring you was anything but controlled. He groaned against you again, like he was drowning in the taste of you, dragging his tongue over your skin before sucking at your clit, your thighs clenching around his head.

Sebastian liked that. You could feel the way he smirked against you before he gripped you tighter, holding your thighs further apart, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"Such a good fucking girl,," he rasped before dipping back down, his voice nearly lost to the obscene, wet sounds filling the room.

Your breath hitched, a cry escaping your lips as the coil in your stomach wound tighter, heat rushing through your veins, making your fingers twist into his hair, tugging.

Sebastian lived for this, for wrecking you with nothing but his mouth, for making you fall apart against his tongue, and by the way he was working you over like a man possessed, it was as if he needed to ruin you to put himself back together after the hell of his day.

“Fuck,” he rasped, barely pulling away long enough to speak, his lips slick with you. “You taste so fucking good.”

He dragged his tongue over you bottom to top, slow and deliberate as if he were savoring every second, every shiver that wracked your body beneath him. His voice was thick with something dark, something utterly wrecked, the sound vibrating straight through your center.. “Could stay between your legs all fucking night.”

Your thighs trembled against his hold as he sucked at your clit, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, the heat unbearable, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he worked you over.

Then he pressed deeper.

Your entire body tensed as his tongue stretched you, dipping inside you with slow, languid strokes, his nose pressing against your clit. A broken cry tore from your lips, and Sebastian groaned in response, rutting subtly against the mattress as if just tasting you was enough to drive him to the brink.

Your vision blurred as the pressure built, sharp and unbearable and delicious. Your hands fisted in his hair, hips arching into his mouth as he devoured you. He loved when you pulled his hair, when you used him the way he was using you—like neither of you could get enough.

And you really couldn't. You could barely breathe, barely think—only feel.

“You like that?” he muttered, voice rough. “Fucking love when you ride my face, love—go on, take what you need.”

A broken whimper left your lips and you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled into his face, seeking more, chasing his mouth. He moved against you, slick and filthy, brushing against your most sensitive parts as he worked you open with his tongue, stretching you, ruining you.

"Seb, I—I'm so close, don't—"

"Don't what?" he murmured, the words muffled by your skin. "Don't stop?"

The sharp, helpless moan that tore from your throat was answer enough.

Sebastian chuckled, the sound dark and smug, and maintained pace, sucking, licking, worshipping. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to push you past the edge, and he wasn’t about to let up—not when you were trembling like that, not when you were gasping his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

"Go on," he muttered against you, the vibration sending another pulse of heat straight to your core. "Come for me, love."

You couldn't hold back even if you wanted to.

The coil inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you so violently that your world tipped over, your whole body locking up before shattering around him. A strangled cry left your lips as the orgasm overtook you, your thighs clenching around his head, back arching as bliss shot through every nerve in your body.

Sebastian groaned against your core like he was the one unraveling, but he didn’t stop—not even as you writhed beneath him, too sensitive, your body still clenching around his tongue. He licked you through it slowly, dragging out every last aftershock until you were gasping, pushing weakly at his head.

Only then did he finally pull away,

He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh before dragging himself up over your body, eyes dark, lips and chin slick with you. He settled between your legs, his weight warm and heavy, and let out a low, satisfied hum as he brushed his lips against yours.

“Taste yourself, love,” he murmured, teasing, wicked. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was rolling his hips against yours, hard and insistent. Still desperate. Still wanting.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, pressing his body flush against yours, the heat of him searing into your skin. “You look so pretty when you come for me. Think you can do it again on my cock?”

The way he looked at you, eyes heavy with hunger, made your stomach tighten.

You swallowed, breath still unsteady. "I don't think you can wait."

Sebastian smirked, already reaching for your thighs again.

"You're right," he murmured, pressing your legs apart. "I can't."

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[stupidlittlespirit]

THOUGHTS ON PANTY SNATCHER FORD [holds out mic]

yes.

but not 'intentionally'.

*puts on lab coat and taps clipboard*

I think purposefully stealing underwear is a Stan thing, but that Ford would accidentally seize the opportunity if it arose. (for some reason I think of both of them when I think of this one specific behaviour, idk why)

Ford considers himself to be above things like that. He tells himself he isn't weak of the flesh or however he wants to phrase it, and he wouldn't be caught dead engaging in something so perverted.... Except.....

I'm going to set this in the MTB au to illustrate what I mean.

Remember what I mentioned in Spores that Reader will take care of the house when Stan and Ford are away at sea? Well, perhaps they stay over for a night or two (normal, allowed, they're just keeping an eye on things) and they do some of their laundry there. Let's say they accidentally, carelessly, leave a pair of their underwear in the laundry room and don't even notice it.

So they go about their day-to-day none the wiser (it's just one pair, they're probably not gonna notice) and leave etc.

And eventually, Ford and Stan return home.

Ford goes to wash some of their clothes from the trip and uh oh! accidentally discovers Reader's underwear in the drum of the washing machine.

He's embarrassed, of course, and is initially like 'oh no, I'll have to expertly craft some kind of scenario where I can get these back into Reader's possession without them noticing'. And he means that, he really will try and return them to Reader, but then he holds them and feels them and studies them for maybe a little longer than he needs to..... He imagines things and then berates himself for doing so, and just as he's about to force himself to tuck them away somewhere and carry on with his task, Stan is shouldering his way into the laundry room to ask Ford something unrelated.

Panicking, Ford then pockets the underwear because he doesn't want his brother to see them and accuse him of something unsavoury or be gross himself about it.

They talk about whatever and Ford forgets all about it.... Until, that is, later that night.

Ford is locked away in his bedroom, undressing for the night, and as he takes off his jeans, the pair of underwear falls from the pocket of them and onto the floor.

He abruptly remembers and snatches them up, putting them on his nightstand and telling himself he'll return them first thing; he'll call by Reader's house or have them over for a 'welcome back' dinner or something and find an opportunity to slip them into their bag or whatever.

But once he's in bed, he just finds his eye drawn back to them time and time again. He can't help himself. He can't keep his mind off of them. It's driving him nuts.

So he gives in a bit. It's just curiosity, right? If he allows himself to look them over fully then it'll be sated and he can just forget it and move on. Except. Now that he's got them in his hands again....

Now he's wondering what they look like when they're on Reader.... Do the bands dig into the soft parts of Reader's hips? Do they ride up when they wear them? Whilst he's been at sea, have they wandered around the house in just these?

Have they gotten themselves off whilst wearing them?

And fuck fuck fuck, now he's hard. Great.

Cue twenty minutes of him arguing back and forth in his head about how this is wrong and weird, and he's not some creep or low life like his brother (affectionate), he's not going to jerk off over his housekeeper's underwear! Gross!

Unless....?

It's not like anyone will find out if he did, is it? He has plausible deniability ("no, I haven't seen any of your things laying around the house, I've been at sea for three months, why do you ask?") and it's unlikely Reader will come straight out and say they left their underwear here, so he's probably not going to be questioned on it.

So without even really being conscious about it, he sneaks a hand under the band of his briefs and leisurely, he starts to touch himself with them. He starts slow because he's still not sure if he wants to back out of it, but after a few minutes, he realises it feels too good to stop.

I mean, if he's been at sea with his brother for months, with no time to himself and no opportunity for privacy, he's probably fairly pent up and looking for release of some kind. Who can blame him if his thinking is a bit illogical, right?

The next thing he knows, he's ruining them completely and cumming so hard that he has to bite his pillow to keep himself quiet.

And the guilt eats him up afterwards, of course. He knows it's wrong and he can't believe he's done it, he feels terrible about it. He scrambles to clean up the evidence and dispose of any traces of his 'crimes', and he knows he'll need to deal with the underwear itself, too.

But he can't quite bring himself to get rid of them, either. After all, it's not like he can return them to Reader, even if he launders them, so his only option really is to throw them out.

Still, that seems like such a waste, doesn't it? They're perfectly good (once they're clean) and surely Stan would see them in the trash anyway.... So maybe he'll just have to keep them safe in the bottom of his dresser drawer....Maybe he'll have to make sure no real perverts get their hands on them if they go rifling through the garbage.... Really, he's doing this to protect Reader, you see. It's all for the greater good.

Little weirdo. I love him.

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[ticifics]

I know ur not taking reqs rn but i had no idea u write smut 🤭 just throwing smth out there for u to possibly ponder but… remus smut (?)……

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞

── remus lupin x f!reader

warnings n tags: sexual content, mdni, est. relationship, no use of y/n, p in v, unprotected wc: +1.4k

a/n: heeeeey it took a while, but i finally did it! to be honest, i'm a little nervous because it feels like ages since i wrote about remus and this is the first time i've dared to do a smut with one of the marauders (so yeah, i'm nervous). i hope you like it <33

Remus was the gentle type. There were no sharp edges with you, just reverent hands, sweet nothings poured into your ears and gentle, soft kisses. He took his time with you, hungry eyes devouring the soft curves that adorned your body, wondering what he had done to deserve you.

He never found an answer for that, but he would never tire of thanking the universe for this gift.

Even as he sank into you, Remus had to remind himself to be careful. To never cross that line, to never tear your skin, to never leave his mark too deep.

It was so, so hard to just press his face against your neck, feeling your body tremble and shake beneath him, when all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh, claim you. Let the world know you were his.

You see, Remus had never had much. It was only natural that he wanted all of you.

This feeling grew more intense the week before the full moon. These days, Remus became more irritable, more needy, always finding an excuse to put his hands on you. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, and if you were honest, a part of you liked seeing him like this. The way his eyes looked like warm honey when he watched you, the hunger in them, the raw desire. How he seemed willing to bend you over any surface and fuck you until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore.

Not that you showed any resistance. He liked seeing your willingness, feeling your legs wrapped around his waist, hearing your sweet sighs, the way you always seemed ready to take him. Not only that, but how perfect you were, how you fit together like the pieces of a puzzle.

And as much as he loved the sight of your arched back, ass up, and fingers scratching—no matter what the surface was, he preferred to look at your face while he fucked you. Your eyes rolling, your swollen lips parted, the way your body rocked with each thrust.

He liked looking at you. Imprinting in his mind the way your skin was smooth, soft, warm. Infinitely silkier than a flower petal. The way his fingers left red welts on the curve of your hips, holding you where he wanted. And he liked admiring the new colors that stained your neck, running down the elegant column of your throat until they reached your collarbone.

But mostly, he liked—loved—when your eyes met. Nothing affected him as much as the affection, the love, the surrender in your eyes. The way you looked at him as if you would always choose him.

Your fingers cupped his face, feeling the texture of the thin scars that crisscrossed his cheek, pulling him closer until your mouths collided. He sighed against your lips, “t-t-that feels so good, babe. You’re s-s-s-so wet.” ​​His fingers gripped your thigh more firmly, an almost painful grip, making you whimper at the new angle, feeling him hit your precise spot with each thrust.

“R-Remus, that’s… hmmm, that’s too much, I-I—” you couldn’t finish, your body shuddering at the force with which he fucked you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon marks on the skin, trying to somehow vent what you were feeling.

The obscene sound of skin slapping fills the room, mingling with the sound of your mingled moans. His eyes drifted down, feeling his face heat as he watched your weeping pussy swallow his cock, so wet there was barely any friction. It was like you were melting around him. Your lips parted with a silent sound, your head falling back.

“Remus… R-Remus, it’s too much. It’s too much, I-I can’t—”

“Shhhhhhh,” his fingers wrapped around your jaw, bringing your gaze back to his. Weakened, you offered no resistance, biting your lip as he thrust roughly, never stopping. “You can do it. You can take it,” without looking away, his fingers slid between your bodies, his palm pressing against your belly. The pressure made you throb, gripping him tighter between your walls.

“F-fuck,” his eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering at the sensation. The way your pussy felt like it wanted to take him deeper, like it knew that was where he belonged. “T-t-that’s it. See? I t-told you you could do it. You’re so good to me.”

Your eyes drank in the sight of him. The way he looked lost—no, the way he looked like he’d found himself. Like he was finally home. You whimpered, pulling him closer, feeling the familiar weight, the way his chest crushed your breasts. You needed to feel him.

You pulled him into another kiss, a messy kiss, feeling him nip, then suck on your lip. Feeling like you were going to come undone when his thumb traced tight circles on your clit. Your hips bucked in response, thrusting into his involuntarily, uncontrollably.

If they said Remus was in heaven, he couldn’t disagree, not when you repeated his name like a prayer, your voice fragile, small, almost broken. Calling out to him in a pleading tone.

He knew himself that he couldn’t take much more. Every muscle burning with the effort, he lifted your leg a little higher, sinking in to the hilt before pulling back, pulling out almost completely before slamming in again. He pressed his face against your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin, soothing with his tongue the marks he had made moments before.

You sighed, tilting your face, giving him all the space he needed, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you felt his teeth scrape your skin. A little more force, just a little more, and his teeth would sink into your flesh. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting your scent usurp space in his lungs. The sweet aroma that always accompanied you along with the smell of sex that overflowed the room.

“Please. R-Remus, I— ohmygod,” you mewled, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. You were painfully close to crossing that threshold, white spots appearing in your vision.

His lips left a trail of kisses down your jaw, feeling your body tense as he recognized the signs. “I know, love. I-I know,” he sighed, his forehead pressed against yours, sharing the same breath. “I’m too—”

He groaned, his hips losing rhythm as he felt the pressure reach a critical point. One, two, three more thrusts and he was coming undone, painting your walls white. His fingers found yours, squeezing them as he felt your walls crush him, your juices mixing as you fell apart.

Still, he didn't stop, still feeling the spasms of your orgasm, prolonging the sensation until he heard you whimper from the overstimulation. He pulled out slowly, watching cum drip down between your legs. He had to blink to be able to look away.

You were limp between the sheets, trying to catch your breath. As his thoughts were clearly clearing, he mentally cursed himself for his lack of self-control when he saw the marks he had left. Fuck, he should have been more careful.

It took him a while to steady his legs, looking for a towel to clean you, feeling his shoulders tense when you flinched at the touch, still sensitive.

Only then did he approach, wrapping you in his arms, your face resting on his chest—where your heart was still beating wildly. He kissed the top of your head, his fingers rubbing your back tenderly. “Okay?”

You hummed a “yes,” your voice muffled against his chest. Remus sighed as he felt your lips place a kiss over his heart, watching your face lift until your eyes met.

He bit his lip, his fingers cupping your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Remus, no,” you cut him off, a small smile on your face as you leaned down, kissing his lips softly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, seeing the way his mouth assaulted the skin. Your smile widened at the way his cheeks flushed. “Hey,” you called out, “it’s okay.”

“But—” he trailed off at the rebuke in your eyes. He shook his head, still red-faced. “I promise I’ll be more careful.”

But you knew that within the next month, Remus would be like this again. Hungry, desperate, insatiable—you couldn’t wait.

[gojos-version]

Take it.

Pairings- Y/N x Satoru Gojo

Summary- Porn without the plot.

Warnings- Tummy bulge, breeding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yall), mating press, doggy style, pet names (sweetheart, baby), praise, overstimulation

Word count- 1k

Proofread- ✅

A/n- Hi!! It's been a while since I last posted a fic :c I've been pretty busy, and I've had a lot going on so I couldn't sit down and write but things have been getting better so I can finally do what I love doing. Thank you all for your patience, as compensation I'll get out as much Fics as I can, so please feel free to drop any requests <3

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

Satoru pins you to the bed, placing a harsh hand on your upper back. "Such a pretty girl." he Coos as his free hand thumbs your soaked slit. "Y-you know-" You're cut off when you feel his leaky tip at your puffed entrance making you freeze.

"Know what, hm?" He grins and slowly pushes his fat tip in making your walls spasm around him at the sudden intrusion. "Cmon baby, you look so delicious today let me give you a good fucking, yeah?", You blearily nod your head as he sinks his entire length into you.

Fuck. Fuck. Your tight warm walls squeeze the life out of his stupidly big dick, and he hisses in response. "Stop squeezing me baby, might finish too early." He grunts out and slowly starts thrusting his cock into your gooey hole. Shit, he can’t control the whimper that escapes his lips when his hard length sinks all the way into you to the hilt then pulls out to only sink back in till his pelvis goes flush against your hips.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of him now ramming his cock into you with pure need. Each thrust felt like he was trying to reach your lungs, like his cock was tearing your insides to mold and fit him and only him. Skin slapping against each other fills the entire room, a lewd Plap! Plap! Fills your head; your cunt squelching like something you'd see on shitty porn videos but fuck it was real. Your cunt was being so loud. Your body was tingling almost like it was on fire just spreading though each and every one of your veins.

With each thrust his leaky tip with precision would hit your g spot. That fucker had to be using his six eyes. "'Toru- Are you seriously u-using-hah- your s-six eyes-! hngh-!", “H-hah-! So, what if I’m using my six eyes- shit- it feels so good- fuck-!” He gasps out as his hands squish your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and watching as his dick bullies its way to kiss your cervix.

“Satoru- how’s that-! Isn’t it exhausting- fucking! Shit-!” Your walls flutter around him, squeezing the life out of him, “Heh- don’t care- can just use reverse curse technique.” He breathily gasps out. Fuck his body felt like it was going to explode any second, he could taste his release on his tongue threatening to come out at any second. Your walls clamp up and squeeze him so tight that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Before Satoru knew it his dick explodes. White ropes fill you up, and when he comes, he comes so much. You shudder at the feeling of his cum breaching so deep inside of you, it felt like it could reach your throat from how deep inside of you he is.

Your body shakes from the orgasm that just got pulled out of you, your walls clamping and unclamping around his cock. Your insides tighten up when Satoru doesn’t slow down or stop after riding both of your orgasms out like usual. You cry out into the pillow as he fucks his cock into you speeding his pace up faster than before, your cunt- overly sensitive from your previous release- has your back arching and your hands curling into fists clamping the sheets below you till your knuckles went white.

"N-no-! S-slow doohhwwnnn!!" You scream out and he laughs when you pathetically reach a hand behind you and try to push his hips back- a failed attempt to stop him. He grabs your wrists with both of his hands; while not slowing down his harsh thrusts, he pins them behind your back and all you can do is lay there and take it. "Take it. Fucking take it." he moans out, his head falling back in pure pleasure.

Your eyes roll back, and your body feels hot. Too hot. The more pressure he used to pin your arms behind your back pushed your stomach deeper into the mattress causing it to put pressure on the lewd bulge in your stomach. Fuck right now you could incinerate. You sob out of pleasure into the pillow and cry out Satoru's name. “Shh baby, ‘ts okay... yeah... that’s it, sweetheart”, He coos out knowing full well on what he’s doing.

You let out a string of muffled moans as your hips try to meet his, following his thrusts while you weakly whimper into the sheets. "Thats it...such a good girl f'me, aren't you? Atta girl...that's it..." And before you know it, he pushes the weight of his body on top of yours, his chest and abdomen flush against your back, his hands release your wrists to just pin your wrists against your back with his chest.

One of his free hands grab your tit and the other mushes your face together and pushes your head up so he could see you. "My pretty girl..." He whimpers out and he peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw. "Mpphhff! Hnnghh!" Your muffled whines were music to Satoru's ears. "Hah- yeah..f-fuck 'm close..." His cock felt like it was in heaven, your gooey, warm, wet walls just milking him already had his toes curling and thighs tensing.

The both of you didn't notice it yet but, the lamp the both of you had on flickered and frankly so did all of Japan's lights. The hand fondling your tit moved down to your clit as he rubbed and pinched harsh circles making your stomach clench and your thighs tense in response.

"So- ah-rough-!" You managed to babble out, "Quit your complain'. You'll take it f'me won't you, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, yeah?", That's the last thing you hear before your vision turns white and your body shakes; your body on fire while you squirt all over Satoru's cock and pelvis, your release dripping down both of your thighs and onto the sheets below.

You feel Satoru's own release flooding your insides as your walls pulse around him. When you finish coming down from your high you notice the rooms pitch black and..well..when Satoru opened his eyes he laughed. "Hah- looks like the powers out again...'ts okay we've got my eyes, baby." He chuckles out and sits up, flipping you over onto your back and he pushes your thighs to your chest and slips back inside of you making you gasp in response.

"H-hah- We're goin' all night baby. Take it, yeah?" You both weren't making it out alive tonight.

✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

Masterlist<3

Tags!

@my-own-au-my-way

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Royal Flush

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[eyelambspider]

♡ Let Me Worship || Soap & Ghost

⤷ summary : soap and ghost will show you how good they think you look & make you feel even better

┊pairing : john "soap" mactavish x gn!chubby!reader x simon "ghost" riley ┊content warning : nsfw (like pure smut), fluff, nipple play, hair pulling, marking/biting, threesome, body worship, (light?) spanking ┊a/n : this is written with no gender in mind (hopefully it works for any gender reader), if not, plz lmk and i will write for different gender versions! love ya & happy valentines

Soap had just happened to be walking by your room one day. Casting an idle glance to the side at your open door before he paused, stopping dead in his tracks to look back again with wide eyes.

"Steamin' jesus."

You were standing in front of the mirror, eyes trailing down your form, wearing the new outfit you had picked for yourself. Fingers smoothing over your thighs in a way that made Soap's breath hitch. His baby blue eyes drinking in the sight like a man starved.

So enraptured, in fact, that he hardly registered the fact that Ghost was wandering over, his brows furrowed suspiciously as he approached. Wondering what had the man slack-jawed and practically drooling like a puppy.

"Soap, the fuck are yo-" Ghost peeked his head into your doorframe, following the sergeants gaze and immediately going stiff. His brown eyes widening and following the hypnotic vision of you pinching your hips, an unsure frown dancing across your lips.

"Fucking hell."

It led to where you were now: smooshed lovingly between the two of them, unable to feel anything but their greedy hands sliding and groping your body reverently.

"Fuckk me," Soap groaned beneath you, sweat beading against his forehead as he moved your hips up and down on his cock, urging you to rest all your weight on his thighs. To let him feel every inch of you pressed against the hard planes of his body. Bouncing you up and down, the rough skin of his hands gripping into your plush hips hungrily. Meeting yours with a buck of his hips, sinking over and over again into your sweet heat with wanton groans. "Ye feel so good," he panted, unable to hold back the urge to lap and suck at your pulse point. His teeth raking over the sensitive skin, fighting the urge to bite and leave a love bite.

"You look even better," Ghost grumbled, voice noticeably huskier than usual under the fabric of his balaclava. His brown eyes were glued to the erotic sight below him. Gaze traveling over the scarred, hardened expanse of his chest and belly... watching in a hypnotic daze as the thick ridge of his cock plunged in and out. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen: His hips slamming gently into yours, the worn pads of his fingertips searing into the thick flesh of your waist. Holding you down against Soap while he watched your ass bounce back onto him.

Soap groaned against your throat, lapping up the taste of your salted skin, rolling his hips up to fuck you even an inch deeper.

You little whimpers and moans only spurred them both on, and Ghost grinned lazily at the sight in front of him.

He moved his hands slowly, unable to help a caress and a pinch along the way, sliding his rough palms around and up to your belly. Holding you tight and squeezing. God, he couldn't help but lean over you a little to feel just how soft you were against his strong arm. He stole a moment, panting against your ear and breathing you in... before he stood up straight again, carding his fingers through your hair and tugging gently. "Come on love, arch that back baby," he coaxed, able to fuck you harder.

It gave Soap the prettiest view. Your throat and chest glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes teary and rolled in bliss as the two of them fucked you.

"Jesus, weel, look at that..." Soap leaned his face forward, given the opportunity to capture one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. Suckling and biting gently on the nub in a way that made you clench and cry so fucking sweetly. He didn't stop-fuck-he couldn't.

The sergeant wrapped his hands over the expanse of your ass, giving a dirty squeeze before he spread you for Ghost. A little 'thank you'.

Ghost groaned, feeling a deep shudder wrack through the base of his spine. He couldn't take it anymore either. His cock throbbing and weeping already from the stimulation... and how fucking tight you were.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," he growled, tugging your hair a little harder to hear you whine, "Your body just feels too fucking good," Ghost praised lowly, panting hotly under the balaclava that was now sticking to his face like a second skin from all the sweat.

The two of them were close, gripping and growling like men possessed. Squeezing and groping your body in the best possible way, marveling and worshipping how soft you were against them. How fucking sexy you were taking their cocks so perfectly. Your hips, your thighs, your waist, your stomach, your ass. All of it.

"FUCK!"