k:

Intro:

♪ twenty & isfp ♪

♪ in college, looking to pursue video game narratives and writing with coding to maybe write up for a video game script one day.

♪ i have been writing for a little short of four years. mostly for fun: right now i am currently just writing on tumblr. please do not hesitate to inbox me any suggestions!

♪ adore Pierce the Veil, Fall Out Boy and have so many different types of music as well.

♪ message to be moots! always looking for more people to interact with!

What to Expect..

anything fantasy, fiction and respectful! NSFW & SFW.

requests are always open, so don't hesitate.

feel free to check my works and message if you have inquires!

Master-lists:

KINKTOBER 2025© : LINK

eater carlos x fem reader

⋆˚꩜｡ cunninglingus, carlos being yummy, non-specific pronouns, but mentions of female autonomy. NSFW !

eater!carlos is VERY cannon, I don’t care what anyone says about that.

eater!carlos finds every moment with reader a blessing, and there are too many times he will just be thinking about reader.

cute thoughts, of course, but sometimes his brain slips into dangerous territory, thinking about all the times he’s made you make noises that he didn’t think he could pull from a person.

mornings were usually slow on the weekends; you weren’t always working early and he was getting up on his normal time, which was very early.

he wanted you to sleep since you worked more than you should, but god, he was getting restless.

he’d walk into the room, you always moved so much in your sleep and he would find you in a new position everytime he came in.

once he saw you on your back though, it was eleven am.

he knew you had to wake up eventually, so why not make it even better for you?

mornings like this were smooth sailing for him, especially since you were the only person that could clench his thirst.

he laid right next to you, pulling the blanket all the way over your hips that you had kicked off hours before. his hands in your bare hips, then up and up and up.

he was smiling, knowing how reactive you could be and how pretty you looked in your sleep like this.. so he whispered close, “you’re awake, aren’t you? you know what I have to do now.”

you got goosebumps, and it was pretty safe to say you had been awake off and on since nine, but you loved how he woke you up on lazy mornings.

he moved on top of you easily, then found his hands on the inside of the long shirt of yours, noting that not much separated him from you. you tried not to smile as he touched your inner core, and even through the panties, felt the wet evidence of what you were thinking about this whole time.

he ate you like he hadn’t eaten in months, years even. (It was three days ago)

even when you were spent, couldn’t take anymore, he knew you could handle more, so he didn’t stop. maybe it was selfish of him, because he certainly wasn’t doing it all for you. he loved your taste.

eater!carlos is a public freak sometimes. summer months are an effect to every man with a gorgeous partner, but carlos can’t hide what it does to him. your skin is magnetic to him, if he can see it, it’s probably game over.

sundresses, shorts, crop stops, oh no.

he’s spent.

eater!carlos will take reader into secluded areas of places, sinking to his knees, reader is always telling him to get up and stop messing around, though he never is.

he needs it, carnally. but he’s responsible, he wouldn’t let anyone see you, call it possession.

he’s not gonna let someone see you two in this way, but he’ll damn sure make sure you are aware that he’ll take it any time (with permission of course)

he’ll whisper things to you in the grocery stores, telling you how he can’t wait to get home and rip you clothes off just make you beg for him to give it up.

eater!carlos doesn’t care if you don’t particularly care about having sex completely, if you’re tired, he’ll always offer to eat it up, BUT if not that either, he’s okay. he just wants to make you feel good.

eater!carlos literally DROOLS over eating, he salivates at the thought of your body shaking under him when he doesn’t stop right after you cum.

eater!carlos doesn’t care about you giving him head, not really. I don’t see him as the type of man to really get off on it.

I feel like the only way he’s really turned on is if he’s watching how turned on you are, and how much you love what he’s doing for you.

if you do wanna give him head, it’s you, so it still turns him on, of course.

eater!carlos can be pretty good about giving you space, but if you’re watching tv, playing a game, doing ANYTHING mundane, he’s eating.

eater!carlos DOES NOT skip foreplay. are you kidding? he’s so dramatic I think he’d actually die if that was even spoke of.

eater!carlos is a service top, can’t really do much about that, and I’m sure we can see that being true.

he’s definitely dominating in all realities, but he will beg you to ride his face. (But you may not be controlling anything)

eater!carlos makes sure you’re ASLEEP, tired and sleeping a full eight hours after, that’s why he loves doing it after work, college, whatever stress you’ve got going on.

don’t come home to him if you’re not ready to pass out…

Im writing something right now, but i just keep thinking about carlos when he's watching the world cup.... (slightly nsfw + gender neutral)

(GOOO BRAZIL )

he's passionate, though he wants to hide it at first from reader, since he doesn't want them to think he's such a douche that he cares about sports like football.

but he does care, it's his home, he wants them to do well.

reader is in the kitchen of their shared apartment, and carlos is trying to stay quiet as he cheers the winning team on, his team.

his shirt was off, since it was summer and the air was never enough. his sweats were black, but hung very... low. which reader kept letting their eyes trail to without much intention behind it. carlos was slightly sweating from the summer heat (and extreme stress of the game)

reader looks over occasionally, smiling to themselves as they clean up around the sink. the score was close, and so was the ref just calling a draw for the teams, but carlos was sitting at the edge of his seat, trying not to get excited, or too upset.

it should be studied how he was able to keep a calm and stoic face on through the whole game so far, but it was thrown to the wind at a bad call by the ref

"Ah! Isso é uma tremenda besteira!"

reader would look up from the sink. carlos never yelled at them, of really much in general around them, so it was new.

carlos felt so embarrassed, he sat back to the couch with a nervous look on his face, then slowly loked over at reader, who was holding in a laugh.

carlos snorted, his face in his hands. "sorry baby, this ref is a jackass."

reader walked over to him, then sat next to him. "i love how passionate you are about football, even if you try to hide it." they let their legs slide under their bottom, head on their hand as they watched him and not the game.

carlos turned over, kissing reader passionately, and before they could really get into it, carlos stood up and cheered out at brazil scoring, making it 2-1.

reader only stares up, lips slightly swollen from what the kiss could've bene before they laughed out, standing up and cheering with him.

carlos turns to reader, apologetic about his abrupt nature today, but reader only grabbed his hands, shaking them in excitement. carlos smiles, shaking his head as he lifts reader from the ground and twirls them in glee. He stops and holds them up to be face to face:

"Now... where were we?"

Its been a minute but i miss you guys.........

OH MY GOSH! Thank you so much, truly. That means absolutely so much to me, you have no idea! <3

I have always struggled with my writing and it feels great to have it appreciated by any and all of my readers.

I will be making another Dispatch post soon! I have an amazing request I am working on, but thank you again for the sweet words!

FEAT: DISPATCH FEM! READER X DISPATCH MEN

(MALE! READER FOR FLAMBAE)

@myswanderlust || a/n: literally making this while I should be working on my finals…. we’re not gonna talk about it. I have watched too many play-throughs on dispatch to not make a fic (or multiple) about the hotties in the game. please let me know what you guys think or want in the future!

✧.*: multi character, reader is a dispatcher, established!relationship, nsfw, semi-public/public intimacy, oral fixation— both received, slight mention of size difference, riding, degrading, mentions of drug use (sonar ofc), dominate!reader & sub!reader, explicit descriptions of sexual intimacy, no use of y!n, use of female anatomy & she!her pronouns/he!him for Flambae

Love&Deepspace boys x Reader with Amnesia

๑: angst w/ implied happy ending, near death incident (car accident), reader forgets who the boys are:/, reader and boys aren’t together, established ex-partners, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns

a/n: IM FINALLY DONE. This took longer than it should've, I am so sorry this is late! I got the flu and finals are kicking my ass already. PLEASE enjoy! Comment some more muliti-chharcater ideas for my boys as well <3

ZAYNE:

After the accident, Zayne had been in the hospital while seeing you roll in on the gurney, head held in place by a guard under your neck. His heart had stopped suddenly, not feeling the real emotion of fear as his body froze.

He wanted to follow the doctors that rushed you into the white rooms that reeked of surgery.

But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t yours anymore, and no doctor would let him in on your surgery from the past relationship. Conflict of interest was a real bitch.

Zayne tried his best to put it out of his mind too, working all he could, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how your figure looked on the gurney. You were bloody, face full of scratches.

Once he had checked with the nurse (for the third time), they told him what room you were in, and he be left frozen in front of the room with the three digit number imbedded in the door.

He knocked, hearing voice that wasn't yours telling him that he could come in. When he opened the door, he saw a friend seated by your side. They didn't turn at fist, but when they did, the sad expression fell to a exasperated one fast.

After the break up, they were absolutely not interested in Zayne. Especially from all the pain the separation called to you.

They don't speak to him and just give him a look. They knew he'd be here, but didn't think he had the guts to show himself after the events of your last time with each other.

𖦹

The day was dark and gloomy, fitting for the conversion you and Zayne were meant to have.

His endless nights at the hospital and lack of communication left you feeling sad at first, then completely cried out. You felt a lack of love for him, mostly because his exhaustion meant he wasn't being the kindest to you when you did see him.

"I'm tired, let's talk tomorrow."

"Wasn't sure how you would feel about me working late. It's not up to me."

"Maybe I should've slept in the office."

It was tense, almost suffocating now, and you needed to speak to him.

The conversation was honest, which you gave a sense of hope for what was to come, but it was short lived. The speech he gave made you feel like you were an inconvenience, and when you asked him to elaborate, he couldn't. His words were painful.

You were together for a long time; had he always felt this way?

It took you a long while to even consider moving on from Zayne, and the process was painful. You had stopped speaking to him as well for your own sanity.

"Come on Zayne. Neither of us are really happy anymore." You would tell him after sneaking yourself past the receptionist, who would always tell you the Zayne was too busy (which was per his request after it was clear that you two would only argue in each others presence).

Zayne didn't look up from his work, the pen tapping the top of his once combed but now messy black hair. He scoffs, "I would be happier if I could get a break, ________." He tells you honestly.

You blink, "No one told you to work your head off your shoulders."

He nods, "I am talking about this."

You smile in disbelief, taken back. "Great. I'll see myself out."

Your words stung his heart, since he didn't give himself time to take it back. He meant the fighting, and he should've said it, but part of him wondered what he was even fighting for. It was obvious that the relationship was on it's last legs.

"If that's what you want." He would tell you. Of course it wasn't, but it couldn't be helped. His residence, though strong, never came from the surface or to your view.

So you walked away.

𖦹

The memory felt stronger somehow seeing you laid in the hospital bed, and hit harder when the doctor that was foreseeing your care had told your friend and Zayne that your brain was severely damaged in the accident, which could result in a coma.

After running some tests, it seemed your brain was active, and that gave you both some hope once again.

It was killed more painfully than anything else, especially when you did wake up, and couldn't remember Zayne at all. You stared at him, almost like you had seen him in passing in college some time, and couldn't quite put your finger on his name.

Your friend was remembered, as well as your parents and anyone else you had known: everyone but Zayne. He felt like it was some cosmic joke; that maybe you were still upset about the break up and wanted an excuse to not speak to him.

Nothing. You weren't acting; you did not remember him.

He tried his best to put it out of his mind, but the whole office knew what happened. The news went around quickly and they were in pain seeing him trying to lock into business as usual around work.

The nurses whispered to one another that when they had gone to him for one of their patients, his eyes looked teary, which he bit back quickly when he noticed her. The place held empathy for him, and your doctor was practically backed into a corner by Zayne to explain what happened.

"Zayne. I know you have heard about doctor-patient confidentiality."

Zayne nods, "Of course, this is to further my education in my trade Doctor." He quickly states. The doctor shakes his head with dismay before clearing his throat. "It is a rare phenomenon, but it seems her brain’s trauma from the accident has cut through certain pons, targeting and erasing memories to traumatic events."

Zayne nods, trying to understand exactly what the doctor was insinuating, but he knew it immediately. He had broken you after the fights, the pain and the separation. He was the trauma.

He racked his brain for days, trying to research situations like this, and what the doctors had done to reverse it, but there was nothing. He pondered, his mind slipping in and out of the worst place it had ever been when he thought that he had lost you forever now.

People told him for the last two years that he would regret losing you, and he didn't listen. You were a supporter of his biggest dreams to becoming the best doctor he could. You stood by him through his toughest endeavors and he had pushed you away, and didn't fight. Karma was a—

“Zayne?”

He heard your voice say his name for the first time in two years, and not like you were asking him if you pronounced it right. The pitch had serenity, like you were begging for him to come back, like something in your brain knew it was him.

He turns immediately. “______. What can I do for you?”

He tries to keep himself professional, but his eyes never leave you, searching your face for anything. Your eyes got brighter over the years, like the soul had come back ten-fold.

"I have an off-the-books question, if you don't mind?" You smile kindly, trying to not make him uncomfortable. Zayne just nods, his expression neutral at first, but slowly fading into a small smile to match yours.

You stare up at him, “My friend has been talking my ear off for the last few days about you. They said we, dated?” You ask him with a giggle.

Zayne’s heart breaks for a moment; remembering for the millionth time how you didn’t remember him even thought that smile made him think of all the times you had smiled to him before. He nods, “We have.” He sits at his desk, trying to keep his hands busy with paperwork to stop his heavily beating, and bleeding, heart.

You nod back, not speaking for a while before finally speaking up. “I wanna remember.”

Zayne felt his stomach drop, peering his eyes up at you while you looked down to him with a sad expression highlighted by your eyebrows, but a twitch to your lips, effort to trailing your face. It was hopeful; praying for him to help you.

“You’re a doctor, right? That’s what I keep hearing. I was a lucky girl.” You joke, but feel Zayne’s expression turn cold for a moment, which made your expression fall.

Zayne then smiles down at his desk, the memory of you telling him how lucky you were to have him, when he cleaned a gash you got from your usual clumsiness.

Your smile finds its way back to your face at it, and he is peering up at you again, “Alright, I’ll help you.”

He ponders, still debating his options. What would happen if you remembered him? Could you fall in love again? Did you ever stop? Or would you hate him all over again, and could he blame you?

Zayne smiles as he thinks, which catches your attention, “Hm?”

There goes the memories again.

“We may need to look into surgery, however.” He finally speaks out, lifting his glasses off his face for a minute.

You breathe inward, blinking back a worried expression. “Oh, I’m—“

“—Nott a fan of surgery. I know.” He smiles, reading you like a book again. You nod, a shake finding its way to your head.

“You must’ve really loved me.”

He nods truthfully, “I never stopped.”

XAVIER:

Xavier had gone radio-silent since the breakup. He didn’t know what to say, and you weren’t interested in talking to him.

That was until he had heard about the accident. he felt the world stop around him for a week after. He stared into the headline from the news channel for what felt like days, though it was less than ten minutes.

He walked into his apartment after a long day of wandering, though today seemed harder to cope with than usual: he had seen you everyday since you both still worked together. Xaiver locked eyes with you too many times.

He’d always mutter curses at himself when it would happen, but over the months, you stopped looking in direction. Your face would light up again after months of seeing you try to pretend like he didn’t exist.

He always hoped that meant you would look at him with a smile, telepathically telling him you weren’t upset at him anymore, that you forgave him.

But never. You got better, he got worse. He had never stopped watching you, but your eyes never locked with his anymore: you didn’t care to see him, and he couldn't really blame how you felt.

As he walked with a heavy heart to his resting space, he saw you chatting up with the custodian for the apartment complex. The man looked keenly at you as you waved a goodbye and headed out on an evening adventure. Xavier could only roll his eyes.

After hours of trying to find something, anything to distract the thoughts of texting you, begging you to listen to his desperate pleas or embarrassment, he stared blankly at his ceiling before leaving his bedroom. He turned the tv on in the living room and walked to the kitchen with dragging feet.

He hated himself. Why did he give up on you? All he had to do was tell you the truth.

꩜

“Why can’t you ever just tell me the truth, Xavier?” You would ask him while he drove on the road, his eyes focusing on the road, hands gripping tightly to the wheel as means for his displeasure.

“I am honest with you. You just don’t wanna hear it.” He would say with a tone, which forced you to bite your tongue.

The car went quiet; your expression, though hard to read, also wasn’t. He knew you were upset, and he wanted to blame everything on the text that rang through is phone from an unknown recipient.

He wasn’t cheating, but he was lying. The text made no sense and his reaction to pull back his phone almost instantly didn’t save him.

Though you believed he wasn’t cheating, you just wanted to understand what he was hiding, which only integrated with the argument you were having with him now.

You look out of his car passenger side window, pandering why the fight you were having felt so familiar. That was until he had come to a stop and put the car in park.

You turned to him and uncrossed your arms, only to see that he was staring into the dashboard before locking eyes with you. “I wanna talk. This is—“

“—driving you crazy. I get it. We fight about this almost daily, Xavier.” You expressively would cut him off; you voice starting to sound less empathetic as the months continued with no change, or promise any hope.

He pauses, his expression turning colder, “What?”

“It never changes. You hide things, lie, we fight. Repeating over and over.” You let your thumbs grip to the lining of your shirt, trying to find some sadness in your voice, but nothing came to the surface.

He pauses, but a light anger flashing in his eyes before the car moves forward harshly as he goes to leave. You grab his arm with fear, which stops him completely.

There was fear laced in your expression, which caused his to widen from what he had done to terrify you.

You looked at him, his expression sad when he realized.

You blink before moving yourself quickly, grabbing your things and getting out of the car. You would slam the door of his car and turn your body to walk away.

It was uncharacteristically unlike you, but somehow, Xavier knew it was just another fight, or at least, he thought.

He’d call out to you, begging for you to “just get in the car”.

You couldn’t bare it anymore as you turned around, telling him that a friend would get you. You wanted to go home, and you told him to do the same.

When he did get home, he never heard from you. You kept your distance until in afternoon, a box of things were in front of him apartment door.

Then, you both tried to pretend it didn’t happen, along with trying to forget that you even knew each other at all.

꩜

Xavier blinked at the headline, reading it over and over:

“YOUNG GIRL INVOLVED IN HIT AND RUN.”

In full speed, he called anyone he knew that had ties to you. Following their social medias, messaging them quickly. He needed to know what he could do, but no one would answer him immediately.

That was until the day you cane home from the hospital. He has heard the racket coming from the lobby to the elevator as he started to check his mailbox.

Xavier’s heart stopped upon seeing you, rolling into the complex in a wheelchair that was being pushed by a friend.

You had a fragile look on your face, and though you looked in pain, so hurt, you still looked nothing but beautiful to him.

He was jealous of your friend, wishing that he was taking care of you instead of them; getting you up for your checkups, appointments, helping you into your wheelchair.

Xavier practically dropped his mail trying to get to the elevator in time, but to no avail.

No biggie, he could tackle the next one.

When he steps inside, he rekindles his last week. The pain, how he couldn’t get himself out of bed enough to eat or move at all, thinking of all the pain you were in.

With little to no information, he didn’t even know how bad the crash was, if you were even alive.

His reconciliation made him realize one thing: he had to see you, and he hoped every night that you were alive.

He needed to apologize for not fighting harder for you, for not telling you the truth the whole time.

One he got to your floor, he saw your friend getting ready to shut the door to the apartment before he had used the small of his hand to keep it open.

Your friend turned suddenly at the noise and saw him. “Xavier?”

He smiles to them, “Hey. Good to see you. I just—“

He stops, trying to breathe once he sees the back of your head in the wheelchair. “—I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Your friend nods, “I.. don’t think it’s a good time.”

Xaiver nods, “I get it, she’s probably mad at me. I don’t blame her I just wanted to make sure—“

“—it’s not that, Xavier.” They interrupted.

“Who is it?” You finally say behind her. Your friend and Xavier turn their heads to your voice. He finally sees your full face and smiles. Your friend only breathes out before letting Xavier into the apartment.

You see the man and give him a small smile. He smiles back, grateful to see that you didn’t hate him, or at least not that much.

“It’s good to see you. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He speaks to you, to which you smile and nod before turning your attention to your friend with a confused expression.

They speak up, “This is Xavier. Remember?”

Your lips separate as if to say something, but nothing comes as you shake your head. You eye Xavier again, who seems to have been drained of any energy.

He then looks confused, turning his attention back to your friend. “Does she— not remember me?” He breathes.

Your friend feels their heart break for a moment. “She doesn’t remember anyone really. The doctor said it could be permanent.”

Permanent. Permanent. “Permanent?”

The word repeated in his head multiple times before he had spoken into existence. He shook his head before feeling the ground beneath him start to crumble.

“I—uh.. I need to go.” He speaks before nodding to your friend and heading to his apartment.

What could he do now? Especially if you didn’t remember him. Xavier wished had asked more questions: how much did you remember? Of who?

Were the memories still there, but instead of him it was a black shadowing figure? He didn’t understand, but he knew he had fucked up. More than just before when he watched you walk away, he should’ve done more.

Told you the truth, told you that you were the only person for him.

With a few months dripped off the time, you were walking again and Xavier saw you working again. Even if you couldn’t remember him, he remembered you. He still got to see your beautiful smile, hear your laugh. Even if it wasn’t directed to him, he couldn’t help but be grateful that you were alive.

You had noticed the staring, the way his eyes didn’t hide that he was stealing glances at you, and you decided to do something about it.

After a mission one afternoon, Xavier would come back into the workspace, wiping blood from him face before sitting himself in his desk.

His back arches as he closes his eyes and leans back in his chair to relive himself. You had made you way to him, which he was unaware of until you had cleared your throat.

Xavier shot up and looked to you with haste, the item in his hand dropping embarrassingly. He hadn't imagined he would see you so close, especially since he hadn’t spoken to you since long before the incident at this point.

“Xavier, right?” You smile to him. God, did he miss that smile.

“Mhm.” He says with a small smile back.

You nod and lean near his desk. “I’ve heard around the place that before the accident, we dated, but broke it off?”

Xavier felt his heartbeat collide with his ribs. Where were you going with this? And why was he enticed? Was it because he had been thinking (regretting) everything over the last few torturing months?

Xavier’s throat felt dry, so he only nodded.

You chuckle at his nervous demeanor and nod back slowly. “Is it wrong of me to ask why?”

Xavier found himself chuckling back, his head falling to his hand. “Because I’m a moron.” He says truthfully.

You take a minute to reflect, trying to see if you could guess what the issue was.

“Manipulative?” You ask.

Xavier answers immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Your eyes don’t leave him now. “Cheated?”

Xavier shakes his head, “Never.”

“Then what?” You give up on the guesses.

Xavier breathes through his nose. “I just, couldn’t tell you the truth about my past, my family and the life I had growing up. It meant— means a lot to you. I just.. didn’t wanna talk about it. I didn’t want you to be scared.

You nod, “Did you ever tell me you were ashamed of it?”

Xavier looks up at you now, “I didn’t. It wasn’t until it was too late that I realized you were the best woman I would ever get.” He admits.

“Too late?” You ask him with a smile.

Xavier eyes you harder now, “You don’t remember me. I can’t ever fix it.”

You shake your head, a smile still trailing the features of your face. “I’m not dead.” You speak with suggestion.

Xavier copies your expression with a squint in his eyes, “No. You aren’t.”

“Guess it’s not too late.”

RAFAYEL:

Was he having a nightmare? He was almost sure he had been as he lies in bed.

He had heard the rumors, that you had been diagnosed with cognitive decay, that you didn’t remember your parents, your friends. There was a 99% chance that you didn’t remember him either, and he couldn’t face you.

He couldn’t imagine the look in your face, the confusion. Part of Rafayel wanted you to hate him rather than not remember him at all. It made him selfish, but that was his biggest issue.

That was the reason the two of you broke up too.

He couldn’t stop his selfish ways in the relationship: what he wanted, when he wanted it and why he didn’t want to do whatever it was.

You would beg to see him, but he’d be too busy painting a piece and didn’t want to move from his spot. You wanted to go to dinner, but he wasn’t feeling Mediterranean tonight. That’s okay, let’s do—

“I’m not all that hungry.” He’d say, but you were.

You felt alone in the relationship at some point, and you told him, but it was another hit and miss. You had finally cried out your tears, it was obvious he didn’t love you. At least not as much as you did him.

The top of it all was when it took him a week to contact you after.

꩜

“Raf, I wanna—“

“Hold that thought, I just thought of the perfect piece.” He’d interrupted and head to his painting wall.

You could only scoff. He knew you wanted to have a serious conversation. That, whatever it was, was extremely important to you; but yet again, why were you here at wits end with him now?

“I wanna break up, Raf.”

He stops in his tracks and turns to you slowly. It was obvious he didn't expect that response, or that phrase whatsoever. “What was that?”

“I don’t want to be with you anymore.” You speak quietly, but keeping your stand.

He pauses longer this time, feeling his heart rate increase slightly. Rafayel could only blink, looking down quickly with a scoff. He was about to ask again what that meant, but the anger inside of him was clear. He could long shake his head.

“If that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, eyes turning sad. “It’s not what I want, but—“

“—It’s clearly what you want.”

You stop yourself, then feel yourself fall back into the tiresome state of your relationship. “I’ll never be enough for you.”

He blinks at you with confusion, ready to tell you that you were being ridiculous, that all he's ever wanted was you and he would never feel complete without you, but he couldn't speak, especisally as you kept going.

"You will always want this excitement in your life, with your art and your ventures. I can't always be exciting to you, Raf."

Rafayel opens his mouth to speak, but sees you looking away from him, grabbing your bag and heading out of his apartment. His biggest weakness was that he didn’t stop you.

He was being petty, selfish like always, but now the anger in his eyes was another action he had convinced himself was normal.

You had walked out on him, given up on the relationship. Why should he feel bad? He thinks,

So why did he feel so bad? And why didn’t he run after you?

꩜

That nightmare played on and on in his head for weeks, thought it wasn’t fiction, or a scary dream. It was real: it was the last day he saw you.

Rafayel had tried to visit you, but the moment he would be in front of your door, he would stop and turn himself back around.

A year after the breakup and he was still the same passive asshole that let the love of his life walk out of it. Rafayel finally understood why you broke up with him; so many regrets laced in his brain when he thought of the days you spent the time in his presence.

How you’d try to make conversion but it would futile. He would be short with you until you gave up.

If he didn't feel like it, he wouldn’t do it. He was a spoiled brat.

That was until another attempt came, and his hand came up to the door, going to knock.

Even then, he had stopped himself, debating the outcome. Would you remember, and hate him, shutting him out once again? Or would you not remember, which meant nothing even mattered?

Either way felt like a loss.

So Rafayel would shake his head, turning away. Though something was different this time, and you would open the door to see the man starting to walk away.

In all honesty, you weren’t paying any attention to him and turned to your door to lock it. It felt like slow motion to him; you looked beautiful, dressed in a nice outfit like you were going to meet friends or go on a date.

You weren’t, right?

Rafayel had a hard time not staring, but when you turned to make eye contact. He hadn’t seen your eyes in a little more than a year, but it felt like eons.

“Oh, hello.” You would smile to him, not completely aware of what was happening.

Rafayel felt his stomach drop now. There was no way you remembered him, not with the smile on your features as you stared right at him. Your casual demeanor and relaxed figure. He had prepared himself for the awkward moment he would see you again, but he wasn’t getting that.

“_______.” He would speak your name into existence.

You nod, “Yeah, and you’re?”

There it was. The pain of situation finally settling in front of his feet. You didn’t remember him, and his face couldn’t hide its disappointment. He responds anyways, "Rafayel."

You had watched as his face fell and felt the ting of misfortune. “Oh, you.. must’ve known me before the..”

You had stopped, in case the mention of the accident upset him. He only nods, “Yeah, you were..” Everything to me, was what he wanted to say, but stopped himself.

Could he really confess to a version of you that didn’t know he existed?

“We were dating.” You finally say to him, nodding with understanding to his silence. You could feel the room shake as he held his breath.

The room was filled with tension. What could be said, or done for either of you now?

That was until Rafayel looked down to you, a smile tracing your expressions. He was confused, but couldn’t decide if he should ask.

Your eyes peer up into his, “Something tells me I used to call you Raf. Would I be right?”

His lips part slightly, almost in disbelief. Did you really not remember him? Or was it a lucky guess? His expression made you giggle in return, which made his heart pulsate. That giggle was once and still always the best sound.

“You did. I loved it.”

SYLUS

He just couldn’t commit to you, at least not the way you really wanted. It seemed easy for him to come around and act like your protective man, the best partner a girl could ask for.

Sylus never regretted anything more in his life, especially when the worst hit and you finally realized you were postponing the inevitable. Now it had been months, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He always wished he was around you, and missed the warm of your embrace to his cold skin.

He wouldn’t leave his bed, his brain taking him to places he couldn’t leave: a man who could sweep you off your feet, and truly commit to you.

Sylus knew it wasn’t an impossible concept. Men swooned for you; before him, during him and he knew it would happen after. Was it crazy that he prayed you’d be loyal to his non-existent commitment to you?

Of course it was, how could he ever punish you for what you did? You were a beauty, deserving of a man that could give you the world and more. So why couldn’t he sleep at night? Why couldn’t he—

His thoughts were interrupted by Mephisto, which was not uncommon.

And speaking of him, Mephisto didn’t make it any easier. The whole process, Sylus felt mocked by his companion. Mephisto loved you, and didn’t hesitate to keep Sylus posted on his own grief of your presence.

Sylus turns to his crow, squinting as Mephisto kept his expression the same, but he stared deep into the red irises that were Sylus'.

“What?” Is all he told the crow, a growl hidden behind his words as he mourned the loss of you near him, but only in a sudden twist, his heart would feel heavy. His eyes blinking open as his cold skin had—goosebumps?

Something didn’t feel right, and the way it felt was worrisome.

Sylus debated, wanting to appear near you. He almost always knew where you were, and he checked up on you often, though he’d never admit it.

Fuck it all. If Mephisto gave him this look, he had to know, right?

So he went, “just to make sure.” He’d tell himself, after the millionth time of checking on you when he knew he shouldn’t be.

But this time felt real. There was an eerie feeling deep inside of him, especially when he got closer and closer to your presence.

That was until his breathing was at a stand still. When he saw your limp body bloody and bruised as the car responsible pulled out and away quickly. The scene was chaotic, people trying to get you out of the destroyed vehicle while others called the police.

He ran quickly to aid, pushing others away gently and telling them all that he knew you personally.

He felt the adrenaline take control of the emotions completely as he quickly pulled you from the car, holding you close like this was all a dream inside a nightmare and was the only time he could touch you again.

꩜

Why couldn’t he just ask you to be his? To put the bow on the present so that you didn’t have to explain that you were seeing someone but not with him, after a year.

It was tiresome, and your heart felt like it was at a crossroads. You loved Sylus, but could you take anymore of his excuses about why you two shouldn’t really be together.

Breaking up with him was a thought that barely traced your thoughts, but now it seemed like the only option.

So that’s exactly what you could tell him.

But would he ever listen? Sorta. He did listen thoughtfully; though his face remained emotionless. “You want to end what?”

Now you felt stupid, and his words didn’t make sense. “Whatever this is.” You pointed between your two figures, and Sylus let out an amused laugh.

“Though, you can’t seem to find the words of ‘whatever this is’.” He throws some quotes around your paraphrased words.

His expression was losing its demeanor, though you wouldn’t be able to completely place how he felt.

“You know what I mean Sy. It’s obvious that this isn’t going anywhere for us.” You would tell him, though calmly as you started to head to your bag.

Sylus was quick to make his way over to you and grab your bag from you with a small smile, a huff also making its way through; “Come on, this again? I’ve told you—“

“—You are trying to protect me from the dangers of us together.” You would interpret, mocking the same over used notion he used when you brought this up.

Sylus only smiles again, this time with transparency that he was impressed. “You’ve memorized my statement perfectly. That’s sweet.”

“Not as sweet Sy, considering I have brought this up a million times.” You grumble, grabbing your bag from him. “I’m serious Sy. If you can’t commit, it’s over.”

You walked off, unexpectedly not being stopped by another one of his lazy attempts to keep you happy. He tried, but you continued to leave. Something shoveled deep inside of you muttered to yourself that a relationship built on solid ground would not start like this, where you were begging for commitment. So the question remained:

Why didn’t he just commit?

꩜

You were unconscious, unaware and at times, Sylus couldn’t tell if you were alive, which terrified him.

Never did he think he would lose you like this.

When the paramedics arrived, he didn’t leave your side; not in the truck, not at the hospital. He swore he wouldn’t until you were awake and personally told him to leave.

So Sylus stayed, every day and night for a week until you woke up. He smiled when your eyes drifted from the doctor to him, to where he noticed you made the same nervous expression you did when you two first met.

You were nervous, and it was adorable to him. When the doctor left the room, he would sit next to you. Finally able to look into your eyes again after months.

It was relieving that you were alive. He couldn’t be more grateful, though he knew you were strong. He gripped your hand tightly, a tear almost falling before he realized your hand was limp against his hold.

He eyes you with confusion, and when you clarify, he was sure he had fallen asleep and woke up in a nightmare.

“Who are you?”

Who was who? Who was he?

What were you confused about? There was nothing to be confused about.

You knew him, you were just confused after being asleep for so long, right?

‘Of course that’s why.’ He’d tell himself

"No, that’s not why", the doctor would tell him shortly after they ran a PET scan, and you seemed to have congestive decay, or in short, loss of memory.

They weren’t sure it would ever come back, so what the hell could Sylus do now?

He had turned from the doctor to look at you, which made the two of you lock eyes almost immediately. You had already been looking at him, like you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

Sylus was left puzzled by the look, but nonetheless hopefully delusional that you did, would or could remember him at some point.

It was shot in the dark, but he kept out hope.

You were kept at the hospital for further tests, and short exercises to expand the brain to help you remember before the accident.

It wasn’t easy for you, but it made it easier that Sylus was helping. He was patient, and never made you feel like you were a burden for needing his help.

You feel bad, since it was obvious that he meant something to you in your past life, or pre-accident, but it never stopped his kindness.

Your brain wanted to remember him, desperately.

Sylus always caught you staring at him, his heart always beating harder whenever you would, since you never looked away when he caught you.

“What is it?” He asked you finally, looking up from shuffling the cards with splotches of paint in random places to ask what you saw. You would just smile and look down to your legs and waist that were covered in a not-so-soft blanket from the hospital.

You wondered if he was comfortable in the awful chair that he sat on the side of your bed, and if he wasn't, he didn’t show it.

“I understand why I liked you.” You tell him, stopping your random thoughts.

Sylus scoffs and looks away, “Would you mind telling me? It always confused me.”

You only smile bashfully, “You’re handsome, and you are always taking care of me.” You looked bashfully at him, and his face was sorta awe-struck.

Sylus smiled lightly, but it was quickly faltered.

You notice and your expression falls too, “What?”

He just frowns, shaking his head. “I wasn’t all that great. I couldn’t give you everything you wanted.”

You frown back, “What did I want that you couldn’t give?”

“We weren’t together. Just acted like it, and you wanted more. Commitment. I should’ve—“ he stops, feeling himself choke up— “I just regret not being with you these last few months.” Sylus wasn’t looking at you now; how could he? He was so embarrassed hearing his own reasons, which were only laziness, or was it fear that you truly wouldn’t like being in a relationship with him. He never even gave it thought. Why couldn’t he just—

“—Maybe, that’s something we can still figure out now.” You interrupted his thoughts. Right at the baseline before they started to make him hyperventilate.

He looks back into your face, “What?”

“I don’t remember anything, but maybe you could help me.” You say casually, “And maybe— my memory will come back.”

Sylus shakes his head in disbelief. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying, help me understand where you’re coming from, and maybe that’ll help me remember you.

Sylus pauses before trying to speak again, ever vessel on his body shocked by your words. You wanted to remember him? Or your life before? What could happen if you did remember him?

It didn’t matter. He truly owed you everything now, and there was any chance of getting you back so he could do the right thing, he would do it.

So that’s exactly what he did.

"Any chance to be near your again would be the end of my nightmare."

CALEB

It had been weeks? Months? Nope, a year, though it didn’t feel like it to Caleb. How the hell could it have been a year since you left him, and why the hell was he still thinking about it?

He had been with two girls since you broke things off, and nothing stopped his brain from wondering what you were doing, with who and where?

Were you also with someone else? Had you been with anyone else since him? Were they better than him?

Does it fucking matter? His brain would constantly ask.

It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it does.

It really mattered to him, because why couldn’t he just accept what happened? Was it cause it wasn’t his fault, and it was yours?

That was the easiest way to cope with what he had done. He was cold for months, and you dealt with it constantly. He would pass you off; your love, what he would called your “constant nagging” but it was you, trying your best to make sure he was being safe, and that he knew you loved him.

It would keep him up at night, those thoughts of why he let himself slip so far into his own world that he didn’t invite you in it.

Caleb was a mess for months, but hid it all behind being only upset for a few weeks before posting about with someone else, which you saw and stopped the trial run of ‘staying friends after the breakup’.

Once you had completely went no contact, he was a force to be reckoned with.

You didn’t fold at the whims either, never letting your emotions of missing him make you reach back out. He thought it wouldn’t last long, that you would come back. But you didn’t, and though he knew why you were upset, he ignored it.

You wouldn’t fold, and neither would he. He was too petty.

No one could fill his void though. Every hookup, every date, it always went back to his comfort with you.

He also knew that you would hate the man he had become, which kept him further strayed away.

Caleb had stayed friends with some of your friends though, and that’s how he found out about the accident, how you were in the hospital.

꩜

What had happened to make your sweet boyfriend grow so cold?

You weren’t an advocate for whatever new-term bullshit people came with: situationshios, love-bombing, micro-cheating? What the hell is that? It’s all cheating.

But you were using technological advice to try to understand what the hell was going on with your boyfriend, and unfortunately all the answers ended up the same:

“Break-up with him.”

“Don’t waste your time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

Subconsciously, your brain knew that already. You knew it wasn’t worth the crying you did at night when you’d think of how much he had changed, and not for the better.

Breaking up with someone you loved so dearly felt like a massive overreaction, but was it the right one? You were tired of how insecure you started to get when it got quiet in a room that used to be buzzing with laughter between the two of you.

You laid on your stomach in his bedroom, working on your paper for college, turning your face to Caleb. He had the same pouty, bored expression and he watched the show on his tv.

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

His eyes peer slightly down now, looking at yours. “Yeah baby?”

You smile, leaning up to sit normally. Why were you anxious? Cause you’ve never called him out before? Asked about his behavior?

“Is everything alright? It just seems like, you know, you aren’t yourself.” You felt like you were poking at him, but you didn’t mean to.

Caleb eyes you with furrowed eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

You feel yourself heat up slightly, now starting to go slower with your phrasing. “Well, you’ve been so quiet, lately. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright..”

“I’m fine, _______.”

You lean up closer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It was short, passive aggressive and it made your heart hurt so badly. You shook your head, grabbing your bag and putting your laptop in it before going to leave.

Caleb watches, not understanding what the issue was. He was tired, being lazy with his responsibilities and responses. Why were you asking and making a big deal?

“What? What did I say?”

You shake your head, “I’m just leaving, Caleb. This is ridiculous.”

He gets up now, “I’m just tired.”

“You’re always tired. Every time I’m here, whenever we’re out. You’re always acting like this: it’s exhausting.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t understand.” Caleb says, his voice raising slightly with yours. “We are not the same because I’m not jumping your ass with excitement?”

You turn to him with a taken-back expression. “There is a major difference with you since we first got together. You always seem like you’d rather be alone.”

His back turns, mumbling a, “Maybe I do.” , not anticipating that you’d hear it since he wasn’t facing you anymore. Your heart cascading down with speed, but you nod.

“Alright then.” You finally speak back, just as quiet, now leaving his apartment. It wasn’t so easy at first. His guilt flying around him before going after you.

You just continue to walk to your car and he followed, yelling after you that he didn’t mean it, that it was a spur of the moment statement with no validity.

You don’t speak back and when you arrive to your car and go to open the car door, he closes it again. Caleb still, even after everything, not looking into your eyes.

You scoff, “Let go, I don’t want to be here.”

“If you get in the car, you’re telling me you want this to end.” He says with a serious expression, “You told me that we never leave during a fight.”

Your tears were apparent now, though you played strong.

“You wanna be alone, Caleb? You can be that.”

You push open the door, causing his arm to fly back. You get in and drive off, painfully and now aware that maybe those videos of advice were right. Maybe you were too quick to judge people with similar experiences.

꩜

He panicked, the pain in his heart of not being there for you hitting an all time high. He told your friend to keep him updated, but the updates eventually stopped once you were told that your memory had displaced entirely.

You didn’t remember the friend, you didn’t remember much of anyone. The doctor had recommended that you should go back to your previous schedule to see if the normalcy would trace back your memory. Your first option was your job, pre-accident.

You would go for a few weeks, and not much was there. The same tedious tasks were brain numbing, instead of inducing.

You continued it anyways, not really seeing the harm in working for now, at least for the money. Your place was a public palace: people traveling all the time.

So would it be any shock that Caleb would also be there? Or was it a bad twist of fate in his end?

Who was he kidding? You wouldn’t recognize him or have time to rekindle. Rekindle what exactly anyways? You had no recollection of him.

Which he had to remind himself of when he saw you at your job, or at least not what he remembered your job being. Your face was neutral as you cleaned off the top of a sand-alone surface, but he knew it was you.

The way his hand tremored with his drink when he locked eyes with your figure. You still looked beautiful, though that wasn't much of a surprise to him. He knew seeing you again would hurt him; the less he knew the better.

Also because he wanted to reach out, but couldn't. He needed to stay respectful, and he felt wrong going after you when you were venerable. You didn't remember anyone or anything from the life you had before the incident.

So why was he walking toward you, his legs just moving without knowing, and why was he now standing straight and ready to speak your name before seeing your head peak up at him?

You had sensed someone close and you reached to your ear to pull out the blaring music from it. "Sorry, sir. What can I help you with?" You ask him before moving behind the counter and putting the plastic in your pocket.

When he tries to speak to you, his words were stuck in his throat.

Why was this so hard now? How was he even able to walk up to you? Though your reaction was exactly what he thought it would be; you didn't remember him, so you called him "sir".

Was that the part that hurt more? That you didn't remember; that you couldn't feel the same way he could about the break-up because of the accident.

Caleb shook his head, smiling lightly at you before the glow of his eyes made you blink back a little before he turned to walk away with a quick, "Nothing, sorry to bother you."

"Wait."

Caleb stops in his tracks, though he was completely turned from you at this point. He turns his head slightly, then he slowly turned back all the way. He wanted to let you speak, but his heart was racing faster.

"Caleb?" You breathe, now locking eyes with him.

He blinks back, trying to understand how you remembered him, but nothing came to his head. "How--"

"I don't know." Is all you can mutter. After weeks, months of not being able to go back to your normal life because of the memory loss, how could you just remember now? Because you saw him? Heard him speak?

This was impossible. You worked at the same place, listened to the same music and slept in the same bed everyday since the accident and nothing brought you back until you saw Caleb again, but even then, you were way ahead of yourself.

You knew his name, but nothing else could really come to mind. His face scratched an itch you didn't know you even had.

Caleb comes closer, trying to almost see what was happening in your head, but nonetheless, nothing. Your eyes did drift to him, and in a quick second, Caleb feels the urge to hug you, beg you to remember everything, but he doesn't. Instead he just speaks out,

"I'm sorry for ever letting you walk out of my life." His eyes don't leave yours, his statement holding too much weight, but before your brain could even try to wrap around his words, you spoke,

"Why did you let me?"

Caleb feels himself twitch at your words, not even really having a response. What could he say? That he was immature, and was being selfish by guarding his feelings from the relationship because he felt like he couldn't be the man you deserved, and it made him resent the relationship all together?

It wasn't your fault, it was his since he wasn't man enough to tell you.

His angsty quiet made you speak again, "Caleb."

He looks up, his eyes big and pouty, not knowing or being able to predict what you were going to say. The anxiousness ate at him, but he still moved without thinking, grabbing you from behind the counter and pulling you into him.

Your shoulder was suddenly wet and warm with his watery eyes, though he couldn't even tell you why he was crying. Relived you were alive after the accident, or maybe because his name still sounded the best when being rolled over your tongue and out of your stunning lips.

Either way, he didn't let you go, and you didn't push him off. You couldn't speak but something deep into your body gripped on his back too, tighter than he was even holding you.

The way you both yearned for the touch you were deprived of, it meant more unknowingly.

"Please don't let me push you away."

Who’s ready for some amnesia style angsty one shots for my favorite boys? Should be done within the week. Sorry for the delay!

I am also starting my longer version story asap!

Will be a Gojo fic called MEMORIES LIKE GLASS

I have a tragedy style romance story I wanna write but I can't decide WHOOOO???

Amnesia angst???

Like there's so many men I could write about but I CAN'T decide....

SOOOOOO..... WHO DO WE WANNA SEE???

ꜰᴇᴀᴛ: Sylus ﾒ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ

𝜗ৎ warnings: branding, unsafe sex, bratty!dom Sylus, pathetic! reader, crazy amounts of hickey’s, dumbification, creampies, use of sharpie (slightly), use of AFAB anatomy, use of she/her pronouns

kinktober masterlist

You had no idea why Sylus was acting this way.

It started a few days ago, where you were assigned with Xavier on a Wanderer mission. He had called a few times, but you weren’t by your phone(too busy fighting off these creatures).

When you finally were able to make it call him back, he told you he couldn’t talk, “too busy.”

Then, when you had met up with Xavier to get some work done on research. You had missed a call, and called him back when you were at the office. He smiles to the phone, but frowns when he sees the white hair sitting behind you.

He furrows his brows and tells you to call him when you’re home.

But when you do, he’s radio silent.

When you eventually got to see him after a while, his behavior was nothing short of sassy with you. You frowned after multiple attempts to speak to him; asking him about his week, how he was feeling, but he gave you nothing.

You poke at him, wanting a response, and he gives you nothing.

He grips your hand from poking his side again and looks at you with his eyes narrowed.

It took a moment but, he went back to normal for a moment.

The afternoon was cozy, as he had went back to speaking normally, but it was starting to bite at you what was wrong to begin with.

You tried to beat around it, get an answer out of him, but to no avail; he wouldn’t bite.

"What's wrong Sy?” You’d ask him, practically begging him to speak to you. He would only pout, but finally sighing to respond.

“Missed you, that’s all.” He smiles small, with his eyes closed. You nod, “Im right here..”

He smiles, “Mhm.. you are.”

His hands starts to trail to your thighs, then inner thighs. Feeling up all of your skin and leaving imaginary marks on your skin that were imprinted in his brain.

You feel yourself let go of your breath, a small gasp falling from your lips. You look to his taller figure, “Sy?”

He doesn’t speak back, but leans in to smell your neck, breathing into the skin before muttering: “No more talking. Understood?”

You only nod, begging with your eyes for him to do what he wanted. His left eye lights up upon your consent, and smiles before getting on top of you.

He leans in against to talk, “You took your sweet time getting back to me. Maybe, I should remind you who you belong to.”

Your eyes open slightly as the moan falls from your lips. “Sy.. what—“

“—I said no talking. Did I not?”

Your mouth closes slowly, “Yes, you did.” You’d whisper out. He nods and pays more attention to your body, sliding down and leaving kisses as he does.

He moves from your body and you pant, looking up at him.

Sylus smirks for a moment before moving to the desk in his room. He grabs his sharpie, turning back and taking the cap off with his teeth. “You belong to me. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, and he moves his head, “—Speak up.”

“Yes Sy.” Is all you can say. And he smiles again, walking closer and touching your abdomen. Right at the bottom of it, he took the sharpie and wrote. The ink felt weird against your skin, and from where you laid, you couldn’t see exactly what he wrote, but his name was on there.

“Mmh.. you look so pretty with my name on you.” He tells you.

He traces the now capped pen all over your body, before stopping it at the bay of your clit. You breathing hitches, and your body shakes once before relaxing again.

“Oh— seems like ‘she’ knows who you belong to.. doesn’t ‘she’?” Sylus speaks again, “Wish she was as good as you.”

You nod, “I’m good, Sy— I promise.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Won’t we?”

After taking off any clothes you had left on your body, he kissed at your neck, leaving heavy marks littered around your pulse points, collar bones and chest above your bosoms.

You couldn’t handle the attention of how he attacked you with the affection, but his words created wetness leaking from your pussy.

You grip to his hair, pulling at the light roots as his lips created more blemishes. You moan as he slithers his cock deep inside your pussy with ease.

You couldn’t speak, not with how he ruled that over you when it started, but he wasn’t speaking much either. Just marking you with all his might.

It continued for hours, his marks starting to come more from the sharpie than his might now that he couldn’t mark anything more on your body while fucking you. On the inside of one of your thighs, it was how many times you had cum hard around his cock, his mouth or fingers.

In the other, was his cum count, who was not two loads deep inside of you so far. He smiled down at your marked body, fighting the urge inside of him to ruin you completely for him.

Especially with the image in his mind of you walking into work the next day and letting Xavier see what Sylus had done to you. He would do anything to see that.

After so long, your eyes threaten to fall from the pleasure he put you through. You were fucked dumber than you thought was possible.

You reach up to his shoulders, trying to claw them, but failing incredibly with the lack of strength he gave you from your activities. “Sy—lus.” You whisper out as he fucks his cum into you for the—peaking down to your thigh— fifth time tonight, your pussy twitching and clenching, but your body not being able to move.

Sylus pulls out, and the cum falls out immediately. “Mh.” Is all he can mutter in his own exhaustion, and he peak all over your bruises, but they were all made with his undying admiration of you.

He peaks to the marks in your thighs, seeing the line come across four lines in two sets of them, making this your thirteenth time.

He looks down to your, biting his lips as he scoops his cum with a finger and tries to pool it back into you.

“What did we learn today, kitten?” He speaks up, his voice low with a rasp.

You breathe hard, eyes barely opening to look at him. “M-mh I— belong..”

He smiles down at you, and takes a hand and grips under your chin to keep you looking at him, “I fucked you dumb, didn’t I, pretty girl?”

You only nod, pouting and showing how swollen your lips were. “I.. belong to— you. Only you, Sy.”

Sylus chuckles,

“Damn right I do.”

✎. @myswanderlust

ꜰᴇᴀᴛ: Sheva Almoar & Jill Valentine W/ Carlos Olivera & Chris Redfield ᭪ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ

۶ৎ warnings: voyerism, f/f/f, then f/f/f/m/m, Chris and Carlos being pervs, mentions of fingering, scissoring and cunnlingus, shooting blanks, can be whatever Jill you want (re3 or re5), use of AFAB anatomy, use of she/her pronouns.

kinktober masterlist

The sleepover was planned so casually that it made you feel out of order.

Jill and Sheva were your best friends; some of the most kind and supportive women you’ve ever met. It made you happy to have a friendship with these women.

They were always close, and when you came into the mix (courtesy of Chris), they were immediately perched on becoming close with you.

They love the vibe you put out; sweet and smart.

Jill was more resilient to the “sleepover”, knowing she had work the next day, but Sheva insisted that she’d be okay, also while insisting that it would’ve at her apartment, where Jill also deadpanned.

‘It also wasn’t “that” type of sleepover’, she would say. No crazy dares, no drinking.

But it didn’t end up that way, which was Jill’s reason to be suspicious in the first place.

When you arrived to the Jill’s apartment, Sheva and her turn to the direction of the door, fleeing towards you with hugs.

“Hey gorgeous!” Sheva speaks, her cute pajamas in a purple-lavender color, hair in a mini bun. You smile at her and hug back. “Thank you for inviting me!”

She hits your shoulder gently, “Of course. It’s not any fun without you. Right, Jill?”

Jill smiles; in her sweatshirt and panties, hair out. She still rolls her eyes playfully, “Ah— I’m chopped liver, huh?”

You and Sheva both giggle with her before Sheva smiles back at you and taking a swig of her beer. She taps your shoulder with a full mouth before swallowing and speaking, “Carlos and Chris are gonna be here soon!”

Your smile drops at the statement, your eyes slightly wider and eyebrows furrow for a quick minute. “Huh? Why?” You try to hide your rising panic.

Jill only smiles at Sheva with a knowing look, “Mhm, because we know they have the hots for you, and you for them.” Sheva nods in agreement, taking another swig.

You roll your eyes, “No, I don’t.” You put your bag down on the couch and sit there. Jill and Sheva walk themselves over and sit to where you’re seated between them.

They look at each other, “Do you really not want them to come? We will uninvited them.” Sheva speaks, her accent started to sound more present with these words too, and she hands you a cold beer.

You smile at her and take the beer. “I mean, I don’t wanna inconvenience them but what about a girls night?” You pass off to her, smiling hopefully. Sheva looks at Jill, then at you: “I wouldn’t dream of saying no to that.” She smiles.

Apparently that phrasing comes with its own connotation.

You smile and gently put your head in her shoulder as Sheva hugs into you. “Jill, text them yeah?”

Jill nods, scooting to be closer to the two of you and cuddle up after sending the text to Chris’ phone that ‘We are gonna spend some much needed girl-time together tonight.’

Chris however, wouldn’t see this text.

He didn’t even hear his phone go off as he drove down the road with Carlos in his passenger seat. Call him whatever you want, but he wasn’t a text & driver by any means.

Chris turns his attention to Carlos at a stop light, seeing the man trying to mask his anxious demeanor, but failing miserably when his leg bounced over and over.

He smiles, raising his eyebrows, “What’s got you worked up, cool guy?”

Carlos turns to look at him when the light goes green again. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m all good.”

Chris just smiles back, “If this about _____, you can cool it. We’re just hanging tonight. I’m not gonna make any moves if you like her.”

Carlos looks at him, trying to see if he was bullshitting then shrugs, “Are you hoping I’ll say the same?”

Chris rolls his eyes with a chuckle, “Nah, I know you don’t want my pity points, and that you like the competition.” Carlos smiles back at him, “You’d be right about that, Redfiled.”

When they pulled up the apartment complex, Chris gets out with his offering of beer and Carlos and him walk to the door of the apartment. Neither of them hear much beyond the door, though Chris thought they might hear a movie playing or something.

He knocks the apartment door, stays quiet and then knocks again a few moments later. “Why the hell—“

A giggle makes it through the thin door, to which Carlos and Chris both freeze a moment: it sounded far, like from a bedroom.

Carlos goes to open the door and Carlos stops him, “What are you doing?” Carlos just looks at him with a confused face, “What?”

“You can’t just walk in.” Chris looks at him like he’s insane, or dumb; like the answer was obvious.

Carlos roll his eyes, “I’ve been in this apartment a million times. I have a damn key.” He tried to knob and the door was unlocked as well, much to Chris and Carlos’ surprise.

They walk through the door without much care, though Chris was still staggering behind, hesitant to being in a woman’s space without prior consent.

Carlos closes the door behind them, looking to the living room and seeing messy blankets thrown together and some on the floor, empty beer bottles and a couple unfinished; snacks that were untouched. He looks confused at the scene before hearing the giggle again, coming from the bedroom.

Chris feels more intrusive now, “Maybe we should g—“

A moan muffles its way out, not coming from Sheva or Jill, before a sentence comes through, “Are you imagining Chris or Carlos now?”

That sounded like Jill speaking, which Carlos and Chris could both attest to. They both shivered at the implications of the sentence. What the hell was going on in there?

The question rang though both the men’s brains, but Chris was less curious than Carlos, who was inching to the bedroom door that looked to be cracked.

Chris panicked internally, having a thought to go with him, but also to pull him back and leave. He felt like a perv.

Carlos felt his eyes widen at the scene as he watched: Sheva and Jill on either side of you, only in their panties. You were laid bare as both of their fingers played with your soaked heat, but their eyes never left your face.

Your eyes rolled back, moans filtering out into the silent space as Jill and Sheva exchanged giggles to your reactions.

You smile, Jill’s fingers trailing your hole as Sheva’s experienced hand flicked at your clit. Jill’s head came down, capturing your peaked nipple in her mouth. She giggles around it, sucking harder when your back arches.

Sheva speaks up, “Who I am when you’re thinking about them? Chris or Carlos? Who’s Jill?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, “I-i don’t know Shev..” you pout to her. Sheva doesn’t seem to like that answer and starts to flick harder, and Jill starts to curl her fingers upon the sight.

You moan a little louder, gasping as your body tries to move, but to no avail.

Carlos feels himself become harder than he had been before, or at least he thought. He grips the base of his cock through his jeans, turning to Chris. “You hear this?”

Chris gulps, “Yes, but they don’t know we’re here. I feel off about this.”

Carlos smiles at him, “They’re talking about us. Kinda seems like they wish we were.” Chris rolls his eyes and walks closer to where Carlos was.

His eyes darkened as soon as he saw you the way Carlos had. You looked closer to cumming now, eyes rolling back, sentences turning to babbles from your brain turning to mush from the pleasure.

Jill had leaned over your face, eyes immediately following before closing as she kissed you, the moans flooding her mouth.

This went on for so long: or at least longer than Carlos and Chris anticipated standing there for.

Their legs ached, their cocks so hungry for attention as you and the other other girls moved around bed: Sheva riding your face as Jill ate your pussy, Sheva scissoring you slowly as she ate out Jill.

They couldn’t believe they had subconsciously agreed to just watch. Carlos couldn’t come to terms with it, but he liked the idea of watching you like this.

Chris shakes his head, “We have to leave before they realize we’re here, Carlos. We’ve been here for an hour now.” Carlos doesn’t respond immediately, his mind wrapped around the thoughts of your noises coming from what he was making you feel instead of Jill and Sheva.

“Mhm.. I know. She looks so good—“ he stops himself, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “You’re right.. we need to—“

“Carlos..” The soft whimper lets out. stopping them bit in their tracks.

“Chris..” comes a second later. They both melt, looking back at the room, but they were met with three pairs of eyes at the door, looking at them through the little crack in the bedroom door.

Sheva makes a face, then bites her lip: “They are such pervs. Huh, _____?”

You nod, eyes dark and staring deep into the men’s eyes. They keep their eyes on you the longest before then looking at Jill.

“We told you guys not to come.” She rolls her eyes, her head falling to the side, which makes her hair move as well.

Carlos shakes his head slightly, believing he might have been asleep this whole time. “No— we didn’t hear anything about that.”

Sheva giggles before turing to Jill, “You texted them, right?”

Jill nods, “Mhm, 100%. Guess you caught us in the act, huh?” She smiles to them. They both can’t say much, still feeling slightly surreal in the moment.

You still lay close to the two girls, cuddled into the Jill’s side, Sheva close behind. Carlos speaks up, his eyes having a hard time leaving you:

“We can leave— we should’ve. I’m sorry.” He nods apologetically. Sheva shakes her head, “That’s not necessary.”

Carlos turns back to the girls, “Wh—“

“How long have you been here? I noticed you about 10 minutes ago. Something tells me you were here longer than that.” Jill interrupts.

Carlos nods, “Around an hour.” Chris looks at him with a straight face, trying not to scold him for his nonsense idea of staying and watching:

Sheva laughs, “So you heard? That kills two birds with one stone.” You hit her arm, “Shush.” You smile, sitting up.

You were still bare, breasts on display for the men who awkwardly but respectfully looked away. You roll your eyes, “Don’t look so chivalrous now.”

Chris looks back, “We are sorry. We shouldn’t have watched.” You only shrug, standing slowly. “You could make it up to us, I suppose.”

They look to each other, though taller than you and the other girls, they felt somewhat powerless. Sheva and Jill stand behind you, grabbing both of the men and dragging them to their spot on the bed.

When they fall back, their hands fly up submissively. “What.. are—“

You lean closer, “No speaking. Either of you, unless we ask you a question.”

Carlos goes to speak again, but Jill takes some soft slaps to his face, which keeps him silent. You speak up now, “Since you two wanna perv on us, we’ll use you instead of the straps.”

They both feel nerves, especially Chris. But his face only reveals that he was absolutely into the idea. Carlos nods, a smile tracing his lips. “Sounds—“

*Slap*

“No talking, Olivera.” You tell him, rubbing the part you slapped. His eyes widened at you, but his smile didn’t falter, “Yes ma’am.”

They giggle and nod, starting to crawl and straddle the two men. You straddle the middle of them, bitting your lip. They looked happy to be involved, but they didn’t get it.

This wasn’t a reward, which they would soon find out when you all rode the men for hours, almost at a point where they shot blanks deep inside the three of you.

It was too much, definitely a punishment: Carlos was turned to a sweaty mess after the hour passed. He could barely keep up.

His eyes had rolled more times than you could count. Chris did he best to keep his mouth shut, but was whimpering, begging the women for breaks that were never given.

After the two men let out strangled breaths and grunts, almost pained, you stopped. Mostly because you three had cum too much, starting to become too sensitive to continue.

When you Jill and Sheva laid, you three would lay between the two men, all bunched together and cuddled. You breathe heavily, “We need them more often for us..” spoke Sheva. Jill nods, smiling at the two of you.

You nod, breathing a heavy laugh, turning to Sheva and Jill:

“Guess we should’ve invited them originally.”

✎. @myswanderlust

ꜰᴇᴀᴛ: Zayne ✎ᝰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ

𝜗ৎ warnings: Intercrural sex(thigh fucking), excessive talking of readers thighs, possession, panty-stealing, panty-sniffing, pathetic!Zayne, softdom! reader, flirty!reader, porn w/o plot, touchy feels, just Zayne being super pervy, use of AFAB anatomy, use of she/her pronouns.

kinktober masterlist

Working this much was killing you. You had no time to do what you wanted anymore, which was starting to create more stress.

It seems hopeless too; you never could come home and do anything other than try to sleep. Your apartment was a mess: Clothes were everywhere and you needed a major reset, but that wouldn’t be for a while.

Zayne was a good friend.. and doctor.

Always so cheerful, in his own way. Always making you take care of yourself, now more than ever. When you and him spent anytime together, you cherished it which how busy your schedules were and how opposite they could be.

He wanted to be help you with the reset, knowing you needed the money right now, and asked if he could help clean up. You were resistant at first, scared he’d judge the mess, but he insisted.

Zayne was at your apartment while you worked at your job. He knew he could be doing more productive things for you, but he wasn’t needed at the hospital, so he would be there when you got home to make you meal that wasn’t fast food.

It was domestic. He had put on some nice music in the back, wiped down the kitchen, cleaned up the bathroom. Swept and mopped any floors. He felt like he was doing you a massive favor that he would never do for anyone else.

It didn’t feel like a drag, either. Zayne wanted to see the big smile on your face when you saw how clean it was in here. One less thing on your ‘to-do list’!

The man chatted to himself to keep busy too; a mental list of what could be done. He tried to make himself even more useful: laundry, dishes and maybe even-

Zayne stopped his thoughts almost instantly when he lifted your laundry basket, seeing the first article of clothing that would lay on the top: black lace panties. His eyes couldn’t leave them, thinking of the times he had imagined sliding these same panties down your legs before he dug deep into you.

It was a little thought that came up when he saw them under your pajama pants when you bent over once.

His cock twitched desperately, but he tried to ignore the burning desire that boiled in the pit of his stomach. He decided to take the basket to the laundry room and start it without another perverted thought, though it was impossible now.

Zane had a thought to take them for a moment, but quickly and internally scolded himself. He was your friend and you trusted him. He couldn’t.

He stared at the panties for a more while longer than he should’ve considering his previous inner dialogue.

Nonetheless, he separated the clothes until they were placed neatly into the washer and started it, leaving out your panties, trying to not feel the shame he felt when he dropped them into his sweatpants pocket.

Zayne feels so nasty: dirty for taking them without you knowing, gross for wanting to smell them until your smell disappears.

He just wanted you so much, he’d reason with himself.

As he made his way back to your bedroom, the guilt crept up again. He couldn’t take it any longer, needing to get rid of them. He reached into his pocket and pulled the panties out, about to take the back to the laundry room before looking at them one last time. Maybe…

He debated himself in his head again before lifting the fabric, smelling your scent that lingered faintly on the lacy material. “So..fucking good.” He choked out to the quiet ambience that surrounded him.

Zayne’s cock hardened immediately, his hand dripping to palm himself through the sweats. The guilt should’ve came forward again, but he couldn’t feel it past his obsessive desire.

He could almost hear your voice as he did it. The way he could hear your smile in your voice when you spoke, or when you would make your little noises when he was around you.

He kept breathing in, his restraint hitting too hard to pull back. He kept hearing you; it was all wrapped in his head.

Though it really wasn’t.

“Zayne?” You call out again.

He still doesn’t turn, infatuated with you, or much more your scent, but apparently not seeing you when you were right in front of him.

You giggle and walk behind him, hugging around him gently. Instead of anything else, he just gasped quickly and froze. He was tense now: What the hell?

How long had you been there?

Did you know what he was doing?

He was fucked. How could he hide your panties from you?

“I missed you Zay. How was your day off?” You speak, your cheek smashed into his back.

He just cleared his throat, keeping his composure once again. “Oh- it was good. How was uh, work?”

You smile, “It was work. I’m glad you’re here. The apartment looks—“ You grab his bicep, hoping to turn him to you, but when you do, he quickly hides a hand from you behind his back.

Your eyebrows perk up, a smile starting to form. “What’s that?”

Zayne only stares in front of him. Since he was taller, that made him look over you, his eyes never meeting yours. You study his face: no visual evidence was seen, but his ears were red at the tips.

The lack of eye contact only filled you with more suspicion. “Zayne.” You speak with a warning tone.

You practically pull and push on his arm to get whatever it was into your field of vision. When you are finally able to see it, your smile fades for a moment, your mouth hanging ajar for a moment.

Zayne feels the guilt that he was scared of to begin with. He just needed you so badly, it got too hard to bare. But what if that scared you? Grossed you out?

Less than a moment goes by, and suddenly your smiling down at your panties in his hand, gripped tightly as you look up to see his eyes never leaving yours, then down to your mouth, waiting for you to tell him he was a sick freak.

All you could do was bite your lip and pull the bigger man to be up against you by his cotton shirt. Your lips connect for a moment, and you pull back. Zayne’s expression was hard to read, but he seemed to be confused.

“Why do you have these?” You whisper into his lips, and pull back slightly when Zayne tries to kiss you again. He practically whines in his throat from how much you were teasing him now, but he was in for it.

“Can’t I just show you instead?” He whispers to you.

It didn’t take long after his words for you to be on your back, thighs pressed tightly together while your ankles leant the rest of the leg weight on his shoulder.

You were laid nude, beautiful face stared up into his. His hands made sure to touch every vessel of your skin, touching any part of your skin more than once to show his appreciation.

Your breath was held, but when you finally released, it came out as a little whimper. You had thought about him too, spending nights olaying with yourself, wishing it was Zayne in his doctors’ coat, helping you ‘relax’.

When his hands came in contact with your chest, it didn’t stop for a long time. His hands were all over your tits, grabbing and holding their weight with conviction.

“Please... God, I’ve wanted you.”

You smile up at him. “Too bad. You’ve been such a bad boy.” You whisper, but loud enough for him to hear.

Zayne lets his head fall back, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good… please” he begged. His cock was painfully hard, resting in the back-side of your thigh. You only bite you lip with a smile,

“Prove it.”

Zayne’s eyes practically teared up. How could he prove it to you? That he was sorry for loving the smell of you so much he perved on you?

You were right. He knew it.

“How?”

You eye down his naked chest, “However you want. You just can’t fuck me..”

Zayne pouts lightly at this news, but doesn’t push it.

He eyes down your naked thighs, looking past them to your soaked pussy on display for him. Fuck.

You needed him too; you were just being prideful.

Zayne wanted to sink his cock deep inside, letting it stretch you to fit him, and only him, but he was in trouble. He respected that.

He knew he should be grateful. Extremely grateful considering the alternative to this outcome.

His eyes travel back up to your thighs, noting how good they looked when pressed tightly together like that.

His hands started to touch them softly, gripping the skin that coated the muscle of your thighs. You whimpered again, his hands still close to your pussy.

Zayne looked up to eye you from the sounds you made, “You like that?” He pants, starting to breathe heavier.

You nod, starting to move yourself closer to him. He slightly spreads the gap between your thighs and plants his heavy, warm cock inside the gap.

You let out a sharp sigh at the feeling; it felt taboo like this. You knew where he wanted to be, but it wasn’t there. After so many thoughts of fucking you normally, this felt different, but in the weirdest and best way.

“Zayne..” you speak, eyes planted at his cock that was between your pretty thighs.

He looks up, his eyes gleaming at the view of you.

With his cock between your thighs, right on top of your clit, he took an experimental thrust into the heated skin. Zayne’s body shook harder than he thought he ever would. His eyes rolled back hard, his grip to your hips so rough that you could feel his body heat soak into you.

“Haa— fuck..” he whispers.

You started to tighten your thighs subconsciously. His hard cock rubbing your bundle of nerves so perfectly, you could barely keep your thoughts.

Zayne could only start mumbling incoherently; panting out words of how desperate he really was.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.. making you feel so good like this.”

“Wish I was deep— ngh, inside you right now.”

“You’re.. so beautiful like this. Better than my dreams.”

“Only mine— promise?”

Your pussy clenched around nothing hard from his ministrations and words. It felt too good, you could almost pass out.

It made you feel sensitive, especially since he wasn’t even inside you. You hand slides up his arm, gripping to his strong arm. The hand grips harder to your thigh, then moves up to the cavern to get a better hold as he felt his sanity slipping when he started to get closer.

His desperation was endearing, making your feel more for him than you thought was possible. You take the panties that lay beside you, shoving them deep into Zayne’s mouth.

He bites down, moaning around the cloth. Your taste lingered on his tongue as his eyes roll back uncontrollably. His thrusts started to increase. Zayne’s glasses fall to his nose from it, body moving faster than he knew he could control.

Not before long, your pussy clenches again. This time to cum hard. You scratch at his shoulder, back and head arching up as you came down from its peak.

When you finally relax, Zayne’s eyes light up at the sight of you cumming. He couldn’t speak to how beautiful you looked, but the look in eyes said enough to you. His thrusts had stopped due to possibly overstimulating you, which you couldn’t help but feel was sweet.

Quickly, you had turned the tables, leaving Zayne to be sitting under you as you sat on his lap. You only turned slightly before moving your messy thighs to squeeze around his cock like before. He couldn’t speak, only to whimper under you, a quick breath coming out choked.

Zayne wasted no time wrapping around you: big arms taking hold tightly around your midsection, head falling to your shoulder to meet the thrust of your thighs.

His muffled noises were loud, barely covered by the skin of your back and shoulder. “Fuck— going to..”

“Cum, I know you wanna.” You speak to him quietly, but he could hear it all.

Zayne could only groan out, not hiding how needy he was for you. His bigger hand comes up to your right bosom, gripping it tightly to ground himself as his release coats your thighs.

You had watched it all; seeing the white liquid stick to your skin and drip down too. You breathe out hard yourself, feeling overwhelmed by how watching him cum and how it turned you on again quickly.

You turn to him, a new smile trailing your expression. Zayne couldn’t tell what it was, but it made his heart rate increase.

“You’ve been very good for me.” Is all you can say to him, which makes his breathing stop for a moment as he licks his lips, still coming down. “My apartment looks great now too.”

Zayne’s eyes watch closely, chest still rising and falling.

“Maybe I deserve more than just thighs now?”

✎ @myswanderlust

ꜰᴇᴀᴛ: Leon Kennedy 𓍼 ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ

۶ৎ warnings: mentions of insecurities about body, massages, body worship, mirror sex, slow & sensual sex, love-making, sweet themes, possessive themes, adoration, use of AFAB anatomy, use of she/her pronouns

kinktober masterlist

Sometimes, you didn't feel right. You could look into the mirror and point out any blemish that shouldn't be there, any ridge that others wouldn't have in that one spot.

It drove you crazy to be so self critical, but it drove Leon even crazier.

He never understood how you could look at yourself and not see anything other than beauty. You don't tell him much about it, worried you'll set him off to feel forced to tell you how beautiful you were.

He'd still tell you anyways, and though you made little gestures that you were appreciative of it, you also would turn away and have the look of doubt that trailed those pretty features.

Leon would frown, trying to find new things to point out every single day to tell you how beautiful you were to him. Even when he ran out of things to say, he would just reaffirm. A day wouldn't go by without Leon's words of praise, and he was never tired of it.

He was sadder now especially since you had been a little harder on yourself lately with things out of your control that could circle around to the other insecurities from before.

Leon knew he wanted to help, but he also was worried he wouldn't. He just knew he didn't want you to feel like this anymore.

He had asked if you had any plans for the upcoming weekend; no work, no planned events. When you told him you were free, he practically lit up.

You felt appreciation for the plans he wanted to make with you. He would always plan little dates here and there, and the smile he made would make it worth telling him you could.

When the weekend came up, you expected to have a fancy dinner, or even a movie night since it was so close to Halloween, but you were surprised when Leon would cover your eyes gently with his hands and lead you into your shared bedroom.

When his hands come down, they hold at your shoulders. The bed had towels laid across in a folded and fancy matter. There was a little table next the bed with three bottles of oils and lotions.

You turn to look at him. "What is all this?"

Leon only smiles down at you, "I'm giving you a massage."

You only continue staring at him, a small smile forming. "What's the occasion?"

Leon only chuckles, "I don't know if I'd call your stress an occasion, but you need one." He slowly starts to press into your upper arms with more force, and you head falls back with a sigh of relief.

"No more talking. On the bed." Leon speaks with a whisper. He notices you start to relax from his hands.

You start to feel a surge of anxiety from taking off your clothes in front to Leon, but if you were being honest, he was the only one you felt comfortable around at this point.

He notices your hesitation and hooks his fingers underneath your shirt. "May I?"

You turn your head, but not enough to see him. "Mhm." Is all you mutter back.

Leon starts with your shirt and bra, then lowers you pants before leaving you in your panties.

You giggle when he lowers himself to your legs and lifts you up bridal style. He smiles back before putting you on the bed and lowering a towel on your core, that was covered by your panties.

The massage starts off kind, forgiving and slow. Leon's bigger hands covering your body and rubbing the sore muscles of your legs and thighs.

It was comfortable; his hand left metaphorical hand-prints on your skin. The way he touched you made you feel like it was for an audience, but also just to prove how much you belonged to him.

His hands made you feel relaxed, but as his hands traveled higher on your thighs, you started to feel a new feeling deeply rooted inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut, trying to keep your brain from deepening in of the gutter.

Leon had looked up at your face ever so often to see if you were enjoying yourself; making sure it didn't hurt or that you weren't uncomfortable.

Now when he looked up, all he could see was your eyebrows starting to furrow, mouth slightly agape, but with noises that never made their way out. He knew that face.

He looks down to his hand with confusion laced on his expression. His hand were only a few inches away from the sensitive spot between your thighs.

Leon couldn't hold back the smile that made it easily to his lips. He knew you were pent up; maybe the lack of sleep, all the heavy work on the late nights.

He chuckles his hands coming up to cup your cheek. The action made your eyes open slowly again, staring straight at your boyfriend.

He smiles down at you now, trying to capture the look on your face once again of complete need. "I just need you to say it."

You only stare up at him, would not coming out immediately. You felt some block in your throat, but soon enough your eyes never left his before speaking:

"Please."

His actions were quick, his strength was an obvious component. He had practically swiped the towel off of you, his hands swiftly making there way to hook the sides of your panties before taking them off just as quick.

You pant, grabbing at the back of his neck and pulling him down instantaneously to kiss you. Leon's hand slide to lightly touch your core, and without surprise, you were soaked.

Leon's lips come off your own before biting at the sensitive spots of your neck.

The foreplay was short-coming; Leon was too pent up from not having you this last week, and he wasted no time pulling you on top of him.

The new position was taking you for a loop though; your back against his chest, legs still straddling his now naked lap and the back of your face and head bumping into his face and shoulder.

You turn to him, eyes trying to not make contact with the mirror that happened to be placed in front of you in the bedroom. It was a mirror you looked into everyday when you got ready, but now, you felt the self conscious thoughts creeping in when you stared too hard.

Leon noticed and his hand crept up to your chin, moving your head to be straight and look in front of you into the mirror. He kisses down the section of you neck that is closest to his lips and speaks, "Look away and I'll stop it all. Consider this your warning."

You gasp when his hand comes down to not-so-gently grip you inner-thigh and his breath rests on your ear with his statement. Leon was a soft man, always doing anything he could to place that pretty smile on your face.

When he called the shots, it felt new. And not in a particularly bad way.

You only nod to him, your eyes now open and examining the display before Leon was able to lift you up with ease, and sit you back to take his length. His sighs of pleasure are hitting your shoulder, which makes the stretch feel less like pain.

His actions were slow, but deep. You felt ever deep thrust and the veins that traced up your walls with his slow drilling movements. Your hand came up to his dirty blonde hair, pulling at the roots. He only groans, and those turn to short audible pants.

Leon hooks his hand up to your face, his fingers sprawled out on your features as you continue to make eye contact with yourself in the reflective surface.

"Leo-n." You hiccup through a moan; the broken expression making you start to lose yourself. He notices your eyes start to roll back, which prompted him to slow down.

You share a broken moan with one another as he starts to come to a stop, his restraint slipping to prove a point to you, but he needed to stay vigilant.

You pout into the mirror, since Leon's eyes never come off of you when you would see him through it.

His eyes are dark, masking the beautiful blue they usually had. They made the notation that he was not going to continue as long as your eyes didn't stay on your figure.

You nod; your whimpers begging him to continue. Pleading with need.

He smiles sadistically before laying his index and middle finger on your clit that was only a few millimeters from your entrance that was plugged up with him inside.

Leon's hands never left your body for a moment. Your mid-section was taken up by touches. Some were intention, some left you wanting to be in his skin. His hands were on your hips, then bosoms, sometimes even holding at your neck. He needed you to know you belonged to him and him to you.

Your back arches against him, but your eyes stays glued on the scene.

Watching the two of you gave a new feeling to the sex you have had with him since the two of you started dating. It was almost pornographic. You loved feeling like you were going to lose your mind, and that's where you were with him now.

Leon swings your arm around his shoulder and leans down to place your hard and perked nipple into his mouth, sucking it with need as he moaned into your chest. His other hand groped the other, then twisted the nub with his thumb and index finger.

"Mhm, now you can see how gorgeous you look when I fuck you like this. So pretty, right?" He asks, but more to himself. He knew you couldn't speak with his close you were.

Your eyes did trace down your body, and for the first time in a long time, you felt good about how you looked. Leon looked at you everyday, he was in love with how you appeared to him. Your full body was on display and you loved watching it.

You started to realize, "Why should I feel any different?"

You smile before biting you lip, the orgasm was starting to rip through your stomach at an alarming rate. You hadn't felt it hit so hard, so quickly, before.

You hand grabbed to his bare bicep, his thrusts not stopping nor slowing down.

"Leon, cumming.." Is all you can mutter to him in time before his own thoughts break.

He had pulled out just in time; lifting you up off of his cock. His action left trails of cum sputtering so far up that it hit your sternum and dripped down your abdomen.

You both breathe heavily through your orgasmic state. Your eyes peer up to the mirror again, letting a small smile trace your features from the after-glow.

Leon had already been looking at you through it, now his mouth attached to kissing up your arms and shoulders as he adored the look on your face.

Leon rests his head on your shoulder, "You finally done being mean to my girlfriend?"

You snort, turning to him. "What happens if I say no?"

He shrugs, and smiles up at you. Leon starts to kiss at your neck. "We'll do this again and again until you say yes."

You look away, pretending to wager the options,

"Yeah, no. I don't think I'm done being mean to her.

✎ @myswanderlust

ꜰᴇᴀᴛ: Xaiver ⟡ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ

𝜗ৎ warnings: semi-public cunnilingus, minimal humiliation, dom!Xaiver, bratty & subby!reader, playful degrading, mentions of dumbification, oral, high risk; high reward, almost getting caught.

✰ Happy Birthday to my cutie-patootie Xaiver! ✰

kinktober masterlist

Xavier could be so mean sometimes. Even when you worked so close to him at the Hunter's association. New projects would come up and new wanderers needed to be dealt with almost everyday.

However in the coming few weeks, Xaiver could only poke fun at you for making tiny mistakes in your schedule or from getting in a minimal scratch in the fight. It was endless, and you had no issue with it at first.

That was until he started calling you out on them over and over.

"This is fifth mistake this week; you sure you're okay?"

"Let me go over them again, you know, just to be sure. You've been clumsy these days."

They didn't seem bad, maybe even laced with some genuine concern that you were too stressed. It was the damn smile he did after each one of his tiny critiques.

You could feel a hidden intention with his words, and it was confirmed by the smile he couldn't seem to hide. The worst part was that now he knew it bothered you, and he would keep doing it to see the cute pout of anger on your face.

That was until one day, you were truly stressed. You had three reports due in just the next week about your findings of new wanderers in the area, and fought almost three a day at this point.

Xaiver would watch you slump over your desk with your tenth cup of coffee of the day, trying hard to keep your mind awake after a lack of sleep.

He only frowned, biting back a smirk, knowing he was about to do absolutely nothing to help as he traveled over to your desk.

You felt his presence was near, but did everything in your power to not give him the upper-hand. You knew he could tell you felt like hell on acid, but you wouldn't admit it.

Xavier knew it too. "How's it going?" he asked with a sweet tone, "Everything alright?"

You nod your head, "Of course. This is my job, Xaiver. I can handle it."

He just throws his hands up in defense, "I was just making sure. Can't have you making any mistakes on those reports after all."

You cold only turn you head toward him quickly, already fed up. "Gee, I thought you were actually worried about me." There was that face again; the pouty and mad expression that he loved.

He just shrugged, "You said you could handle it."

And there was that smile; the expression you hated.

You could only stand up, not even caring about cooling off and grabbing his hand to take him to the corner of the office. Xaiver only lets you pull him there, the other hand calmly at his side.

When you finally make it there, you turn to him, hands crossed and standing before his taller figure, letting an annoyed face trail your features. Xaiver kept the simple smile, though now it seems more innocent.

"What? What did I say?"

You shake your head, "What's your issue? You have been on my ass all week about making some tiny errors."

Xaiver looks at you like a confused puppy, tilting his head to the side. "I'm just trying to keep you sharp." He leaves a little punch to your arm too, which only angers you further.

You roll your eyes before going to walk passed him, brushing your shoulders not as hard as you like before his hand grabs at your wrist without turning towards you just yet.

You don't say anything as you let your eyes trail to your wrist, then up at him, letting your wrist stay in the warm palm of his hand. Xavier isn't looking toward you either at first, but then turns slowly.

"What? I can't help out a friend?" His words ran through your head. The nerve of him!

You didn't quite understand what he was saying; not until his head was placed between your spread thighs and feasting like starving man on your cunt.

"Xaiv- someone could... hear us." You finally manage to get out.

He ignores you, head and mouth right where they wanted to be after months of pinning after how to do this the right way. Well, fuck it; There was no "right way".

The bouts of banter that would make his only want to be around you more were torture. He needed you, craved you.

The closet was bigger, but your body felt cramped again the rack of cleaning products behind you. Your hand held tightly to the side of the rack as your whimpers only increased against your better judgment.

It was a blur how you got to the closest but you remembered how quickly Xaiver dropped to his knees, unbuttoning your pants gently and never letting his eyes off of your face as he did it.

After taking off your panties, he was on you. The mere sight of you broke him to pieces beautifully.

His expression had no trace of a smile; only serious and lust-filled desire entwine in his eyes. Xavier's hands slide up your body tauntingly through your uniform, trying to remove any piece that blocked him from seeing you.

His eyebrows furrow in contrast to his closed eyes as he enjoy his meal with gratitude, but feeling the rough fabric of clothes under his hands instead of your soft skin. His mouth comes off your pussy for a moment, breathing heavily as he stares into you eyes.

The smile came back for a moment before fading and his hands come up to the collar and rip the top buttons off. You gasp for a moment, looking down to Xavier with an expression of anger once again before he raises his index finger to his lips and points to the door.

Your eyebrows furrow as you remember where you are, and how someone could hear you very easily if the two of you weren't quiet.

Xaiver goes back to his initial task, diving right back in and you weren't expecting it, which made your head fly back to the rack. Your hand flew up for you to bite down on for a moment to ground yourself in the pleasure he gave you.

His grip on your thigh was intimidating, just like the look in his eyes that never left yours. Short breaths and little gasps could be heard in the room as his motions continued; some coming from him but mostly from you.

"You love this, don't you?" He pants into your pussy. "And here I thinking you were so mad at me."

His words made quiver against his tongue, though the annoyance pooled on your head.

Xavier's cock was punished by the tightness of his uniform pants, straining to no end just from the mere taste of you. To be fair, it was a dream of his.

You felt yourself become close too, your one hand now having a death grip on the metal of the rack and the other gripped against his that was on your breast.

Xaiver was apparent of you chasing your orgasm, and had the strongest urge to pull away and make you beg for it before something arouse to the occasion.

A gentle knock hit the door of the closet, and you gasped before your other hand came up cover your mouth quickly and tighter for other sounds escaping. You head was angled at the door, and though Xaiver had stopped his assault, his head was only slightly pulled back from your pussy.

Your breathing became heavier in fear, and you peered down at Xavier for a quick moment, before hearing a familiar voice. "Hey! You alright in there?" It was Tara.

Damn, you thought. You and Xavier had come in at separate times to not draw suspicion to the two of you being alone in a closet together. To be fair, you didn't know what Xaiver was intending before coming in here either. Nonetheless, neither of you could be afford to get caught.

The lock on the door would save you now, but in due time, it wasn't promised. You clear your throat to respond, "Ye-Yes Tara, I was just-" You look around the room.

"-Napping. I was napping."

You hold your breath, hoping that was enough for her. She knew you weren't getting sleep from stress too. She told you herself how concerned she was for you.

Before Tara speaks back, Xaiver took an experimental lick at your sensitive pussy once again, and you gasped before pressing a hand to your mouth again and looking down at him. You shake your head, timidly but he only smiles.

His tongue was on you, still making tiny motions. Your embarrassment was evident on your face but the feeling only made you feel better. Quiet breaths escaped you as your peak was so close, but Xaiver wasn't giving you an edge yet until you were in the clear.

You turn your attention back to the door. Tara didn't seem to be by the door anymore, and you breathed out thankfully when you didn't see two shadows of feet by the door.

You peer back down at Xaiver before trying to move. His grip on you becomes evident. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks.

You look at him sursprised, "We almost got caught, we can't-"

Xavier lets out a pout, "But you were so close." He asks before moving his head back. He nods, getting up and turning slowly to walk away, "But if you don't want to cum, of course I can't mak-"

Your hand comes up to his shoulder and pushes his knees to hit the ground in front of you. "Just shut up and make me cum."

Xaiver lets out the similar smile, eyes peered up with more desire than before, though impossibly, and then speaks:

"Make that cute mad face again and I'll do more than just that."

✎ @myswanderlust