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pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive
to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.
he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.
your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?
"what? i literally look-"
his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.
you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"
he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.
he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."
You’ve always known Sylus likes to spoil you. It’s a surprise to literally no one. It, however, doesn’t change the fact that you are used to fending for yourself.
Sylus has basically accepted that you will insist on paying for yourself as much as you can, much to his displeasure. He takes what he can get when you occasionally forget your wallet (he didn’t hide it you can’t prove it) or actually let him pay (he pouts until you give in).
You always say you don’t want him to feel like you are just using him. And no amount of assurance that he’s more than okay with that, in fact he wants that, will change your mind.
Until one day you are out shopping. Maybe you are out with Tara or out by yourself. But you once again mysteriously are missing your wallet, except for his card that has been suspiciously tucked in the pocket of your bag.
In that moment you decided to give in. But mostly out of spite. He could deny every other time but there was no doubt he’d taken your wallet and switched it with his card.
So you decide to make a point. You buy anything. You even text the twins to come help you with the bags because you can no longer carry everything.
You don’t look at how much you spend. You know it’s a lot though.
You get back to the base and expect the smug smirk. Which he probably did have. A few hours ago anyway.
But the second you walk in he is jumping you like a man starved. He’d hoped you’d use the card sure, but a full spree? He felt nearly delirious watching the charges stack further and further.
Anyway you don’t get much sleep that night.
You also use his card more often. He reacts the same way every time.
When bf Bakugo calls her spoiled but he's the one who set that system up ^_^
Nobody warned you that dating Katsuki Bakugo would completely ruin your ability to function normally around affection.
Which honestly felt unfair considering he was the one responsible for it in the first place.
Because before him, you were perfectly capable of doing things yourself. You carried your own bags without complaint, opened your own drinks, reached for things on high shelves without immediately looking around for help first. You survived perfectly fine without somebody automatically fixing your necklace clasp when it twisted the wrong way or pulling your chair out absentmindedly before you even sat down.
Then Katsuki happened.
And suddenly somewhere along the line, your standards got impossibly, horrifically high.
Not because he spoiled you intentionally either. That was the worst part.
Katsuki loved you in such a natural, consistent way that half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It wasn’t with grand gestures or dramatic romance movie nonsense either. It was smaller than that, like quuieter. The kind of affection that slowly settles into your routine until one day you realize you genuinely don’t remember the last time you struggled with something alone because somehow Katsuki had already handled it before you even got the chance.
“Stop staring at me like that.”
His voice cut through your thoughts from across the kitchen, low and mildly suspicious, and when you looked up properly, Katsuki was already glancing at you over his shoulder from where he stood near the stove.
The apartment smelled faintly like garlic, black pepper, and whatever body wash he used lately that kept sticking to his shirts afterward. One of the windows above the sink was cracked open slightly, letting cool evening air drift inside while the city lights glowed faintly outside.
You were sitting at the kitchen counter in one of his old shirts, chin resting lazily against your palm while watching him cook.
Or more specifically—watching the way his forearms flexed every time he moved the pan.
Which, in your defense, was distracting.
“Like what?” you asked innocently after a second, blinking at him like you genuinely had no idea what he meant.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes immediately at the tone of your voice, already looking unconvinced before you even finished speaking.
“Like I’m about to buy you something,” he muttered, turning back toward the stove again with a quiet click of his tongue. “You get that look every time you want something.”
A pause settled briefly between the two of you before your brows lifted slowly.
“…Are you?”
His head turned just enough for you to catch the flat look he sent over his shoulder.
“There it is.”
A laugh slipped quietly out of you almost immediately, your smile widening against your hand.
Because honestly? This entire situation was his fault.
“You did this to yourself, you know,” you informed him casually, adjusting your legs against the stool while he stirred something in the pan with unnecessary aggression. “I wasn’t like this before you.”
“Tch. You were absolutely high maintenance before me.”
“No,” you disagreed immediately, unable to stop smiling now. “I was independent before you.”
“That sounds fake.”
“I’m serious,” you insisted, your voice softer this time, more amused than defensive as you watched him move around the kitchen so comfortably like he belonged there. “I used to know how to function normally.”
Katsuki scoffed quietly under his breath at that, though there wasn’t much heat behind it anymore.
“What does that even mean.”
“It means,” you started dramatically, sitting up straighter now as you pointed at him accusingly from across the counter, “that before dating you, I was fully capable of opening my own drinks.”
“You still are.”
“No,” you argued immediately. “Because now you automatically do it for me before I even touch them.”
“That’s because your nails are always too damn long.”
“Exactly,” you said quickly, pointing at him harder. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
His eyes narrowed slightly while you looked entirely too pleased with yourself.
“You made my life too comfortable,” you continued after a moment quieter now, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the counter while you watched him. “And now I genuinely don’t think I can go back.”
Something in his expression shifted briefly at that. Subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t notice, but you did.
Because after years of loving Katsuki, you’d gotten embarrassingly good at noticing the tiny reactions nobody else ever caught. The way his shoulders loosened whenever he relaxed around you. The slight twitch near the corner of his mouth whenever he was trying not to smile. The quieter tone his voice slipped into without realizing it.
“You’re dramatic,” he muttered eventually, though it sounded weaker now, less like an insult and more like something he said out of habit.
“Yeah,” you agreed easily, smiling to yourself. “But am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed your drink from beside the stove before finally walking over toward you.
You watched him quietly the entire time, your expression softening almost unconsciously as he stopped beside you. One of his hands settled briefly against the counter near your shoulder while the other held the bottle out toward you.
Already opened.
Your lips twitched immediately the second you noticed.
“Katsuki.”
“The hell.”
“You opened it again.”
“Tch. Don’t start.”
But he looked away slightly right after saying it, like he already knew exactly where this conversation was about to go.
A soft laugh escaped you while you took the drink from his hand anyway, your fingers brushing briefly against his.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” you murmured, looking up at him over the rim of the bottle. “You can’t keep doing things like this and then act surprised when I get attached to it.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No,” you corrected lightly before taking a sip. “I’m spoiled.”
“And whose fault is that?”
You smiled slowly then, unable to help it. Because he really walked directly into that one himself.
“Yours,” you answered simply, your voice quieter now, more affectionate than teasing. “Obviously.”
His expression flattened immediately like he regretted asking the second the words left his mouth.
Katsuki clicked his tongue quietly under his breath before turning away again, but not before reaching over to fix the sleeve of your borrowed shirt where it had slipped slightly off your shoulder first.
His fingers brushed against your skin briefly. Absentmindedly like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
And honestly? That was the dangerous part.
Katsuki never realized how affectionate he actually was because to him, taking care of you wasn’t some huge romantic gesture worth acknowledging.
It was instinct, natural like breathing.
He remembered things without trying to. The exact snacks you liked from convenience stores. Which drinks you preferred depending on your mood. The fact you hated crowded trains when you were tired. The specific side of the bed you slept better on.
He bought things casually if they reminded him of you. Replaced stuff before you even realized you ran out of them. Kept your favorite snacks stocked in his apartment like it was second nature now. He even carried hair ties around his wrist sometimes because you kept forgetting yours and stealing his whenever your hair annoyed you.
Then somehow still acted surprised when you became attached to being cared for.
“You are spoiled,” he muttered again a few minutes later while sliding your plate toward you across the counter.
You looked down automatically before pausing. The strawberries were already cut neatly into smaller pieces. Your eyes lifted slowly back toward him.
“…You cut the strawberries.”
Katsuki barely glanced up from the stove.
“Tch. You don’t like the leaves.”
Your expression softened immediately at how casually he said it. Like remembering tiny details about you was the easiest thing in the world.
“You literally proved my point again,” you said quietly, your voice gentler now as you looked back down at the plate. “This is why I can’t function anymore.”
“And? It's not like it's a problem.”
“It is, it’s a serious one actually,” you insisted, though your smile gave you away instantly. “If we ever break up, I’ll actually suffer.”
That made his eyes snap toward you immediately.
“The hell are you talking about.”
“I mean realistically?” you continued, trying and failing to sound thoughtful while resting your chin against your palm again. “Who else is gonna remember I hate strawberry leaves? Or warm my side of the bed first? Or carry my bags before I even ask?”
“You can hold your own damn bags.”
“But you don’t let me.”
“That’s because you start complaining after five damn minutes.”
“Exactly,” you said immediately, pointing at him once more. “You created this.”
He stared at you for a second like you genuinely exhausted him before exhaling sharply through his nose.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And deeply loved,” you corrected softly, unable to stop smiling at him now.
“Tch.”
But there it was again.
That tiny twitch near the corner of his mouth he kept trying to suppress whenever you said things like that too casually. Your eyes narrowed immediately when you noticed.
“Oh my God,” you gasped softly, leaning forward against the counter a little. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are,” you laughed, already grinning too hard now. “Katsuki, you think I’m cute.”
“I think you talk too damn much.”
“But affectionately.”
Katsuki sighed heavily then, setting the spatula down before finally walking fully around the counter toward you.
“You’re annoying,” he muttered, though his hands were already settling automatically against your waist by the time he stopped between your knees.
Your arms slid lazily up his forearms without thinking.
“Yet here you are,” you murmured softly, tilting your head back just enough to look up at him properly.
“Tch.”
But he didn’t move away, didn’t let go either. And that, that right therewas exactly the problem.
Because Katsuki loved you so naturally, so constantly, that half the time he didn’t even realize how obvious it was. Meanwhile you noticed every single thing.
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your super rich boyfie!satoru takes spoiling you very seriously ♡
oh, satoru has a hero complex. a big one. it's not even the typical 'i need to save the world' hero complex (though he has that, too). it's the 'i need to save you from mild inconveniences' complex. and it's exhausting.
you’d think that being a jujutsu sorcerer would make the little things seem insignificant—like a burnt piece of toast or a flat tire—but to satoru, these things were personal attacks on your peace and happiness. a minor inconvenience to you was an all-out emergency for him.
for example, the other day, you came home after a particularly long mission, grumbling about how the straps on your backpack were digging into your shoulders. a perfectly normal, end-of-the-day complaint. but satoru’s eyes went wide, his smile vanishing, and he instantly became a whirlwind of frantic planning.
“no, no, no, absolutely not. that’s unacceptable,” he declared, already pulling out his phone. "which brand? what color? i'm getting you a whole new luggage set, a proper one. i’m talking custom-made, ergonomic straps, with memory foam lining the shoulders. maybe we should look into a personal chauffeur, too, for your next trips. that way you don’t have to carry anything at all.”
you just stared at him, tilting your head. “satoru, it’s just, like, a backpack. i’m just tired.”
“exactly! you shouldn’t be tired! you should be pampered! this is all the backpack’s fault,” he insisted, dramatically throwing your perfectly fine, slightly worn-out bag into a corner. he then pulled you onto the couch, already ordering takeout from your favorite high-end restaurant because you "clearly need high-quality nutrients to recover from such shoulder trauma."
you sighed, burying your face into his shoulder. "i just wanted a hug, 'toru."
he tightened his arms around you, but his phone was still glowing with shopping tabs. "a hug and a five-star dining experience, darling. and maybe a whole new wardrobe. just in case those clothes are also... digging into you. or something."
you knew better than to argue. the fight had been lost the moment your mildly strained shoulders had been mentioned. you were beautiful, and you were his, and therefore, you must be protected from everything, even the minor discomforts of daily life.
I created this mod with the idea of whole phase of "getting to know someone." Some people are ready for relationships, some people do not what they want, and some just want to mess around. I wanted that in game, so i created traits lol! In real life, when you are getting to know someone, you talk about what you want, your dealbreakers, and your preferences. I wanted that in game too, more than just asking a sims favorite color and weather preference. This mod is all about that phase of dating: getting to know someone. Do they believe in marriage? Do they mind living together before or after marriage? Do they want kids? What are their dealbreakers? You get what I'm saying!? This mod let's you storytell that phase.
It doesn't matter if he knows how to do something or not, he is either learning to do it himself or paying for someone who does it.
He is just the most competent man alive and will go through legal and illegal methods of problem solving for you. Whether the matter is as simple as building a new vanity for your bedroom, spending and searching through all the internet for that niche scent perfume or picking you up from missions that went down, he is always finding a way out.
Love the way he is always trying to make everything easier for you, and of course he gets his share of happiness in the process, cause nothing is more fulfilling for him than making your worries go away.
It´s really easy with him actually, because you know that he has seen the worst of the world, the worst of people and is not afraid of it. You could have the darkest of secrets and the worst of the problems and all he would give you is love and support.
Of course he loves seeing you all empowered, shooting wanderers, driving your motorcycle at some speeds he finds impressive, winning kitty cups, whatever that makes you have that glow of confidence he loves, but he still relish in the way you relax around him, how you don't have to overthink decisions, how your defense walls are down when he is around.
You could go to the end of the world and be fearless knowing that he is with you.
He says it's because you get the scary dog privilege from him that shields you from danger, you say it's because he makes you feel safe.
He doesn't know what to do when the words leave your mouth.
So he does what he knows best, he keeps you safe in his arms, shielded from wanders, bad people, worries, loneliness...
Yeah he can take everything you throw at him, test him.
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For the last few months you felt like the universe was really on your side from how lucky you’ve been. The plushie that you’ve been eyeing? It’s now discounted almost 90% off and you were one of the first buyers when it went on sale.
The concert to your favorite band/singer that you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford? The company themselves held a raffle for free tickets and you were over the moon when you found out you won them.
Even those yummy food places you wanted to try but knew were too expensive for you had days were they were giving things out for almost free and you always managed to get there on time before they sold out.
If only you knew the truth. How many strings he had to pull to ensure you got all of that. Sure it took a lot of money, time and resources to make sure they got to you before anyone else. But seeing how happy you got made it all worth it.
The way you jump up and down when you got home, squeezing the plushy in your arms out of excitement. How you scream and even cried finding out you got the tickets. And seeing how happy you looked eating those foods. Your cheek puffed out and that content smile, looking like you were savoring every bite, not knowing the next time something like this would happen.
But he’ll make sure it will some time soon. He would do anything in his power to keep you healthy and happy. If that meant draining his bank account to see a smile on your face and the way your eyes lit up, he would do it in a heartbeat. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to worry about that happening. He had more than enough to do all that and more without making a dent in his account.
Now the next step was getting your attention so he could spoil you even more.
———————————————
Please no putting my writing in any AI chat, bot etc. And also no reposting as your own. Thank you for taking the time to read (つ˃ᵕ˂)つ⸝♡
❝ When Sylus gifts you a credit card tied to his account, you told yourself you would only use it in emergencies. But a tiny little purchase of convenience spirals into you accidentally spending half a million on dresses—which leads to Sylus calling you, and is more than pleased.
For #sylusbday2026 - Day 4: Sugar Daddy ❞
— 2.6k words | One-Shot (smut) | Sylus x fem!Reader
[ cw: dom!Sylus, sylus gets off on you spending his money, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink ]
Ao3 Link — ✦➳⋆
In the beginning, it had started out innocently enough.
You needed information for the Hunter's Association which meant going undercover at an event for the elite. Which…required you to wear clothes that cost more money than you made in a month. Probably even two months. There was always renting clothes, and you had planned on doing that, but once Sylus had caught wind of this, he had insisted on being the one to buy them for you.
"My treat," he said, eyes glinting. "But…there is one little condition."
"Oh?" you said, feigning innocence while your heart fluttered, familiar with this little dance.
He brushed his knuckle across your cheek. "I can only give you your gift tomorrow night, at eight. There's a new restaurant in Linkon I want to take you to."
You hummed sweetly. "I suppose I can manage that."
His smile was soft before brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. "Then it's a deal.
Once that night came, and you ate a delicious dinner, he had surprised you. You had expected him to simply pick out a dress for you to wear and then gift it to you, but instead, what you received was a sleek, black credit card.
With your name on it.
You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. "I…"
He chuckled. "What's a matter? Cat got your tongue?" When you still couldn't come up with a response, only managing a half-hearted glare, he sighed. "I've been meaning to give you it awhile. I don't want you to have to ask every time you need me to pay for something."
That made you huff. "It's not like I do it that often."
His tone was surprisingly soft. "I know—that's what I mean. I'm hoping this will make it easier for you. I want you to spend my money like it's yours." He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "It's not just my heart that belongs to you, sweetie. Everything of mine is for you to claim."
Hearing words like that had made it impossible to argue with, so you had agreed. Later, buying the dress and dealing with the mission had gone smoothly, and you went back to your normal hunter routine. But the new card that weighed heavily in your wallet was now a permanent addition to your life. One that would take some getting used to.
You had planned to simply ignore its existence. To only use it in emergencies, like if your car or motorcycle got totaled.
And then you stopped at your favorite cafe, as you often did. But this time, when you opened your wallet to pay, your stomach dropped at the realization that the credit card you always used was currently sitting on the table of your kitchen back home—you had pulled it out to make a purchase online—and all that stared back at you was that black card shining with indulgence.
To be fair, this was an emergency. Just a very, very minor one.
With a sigh, you pulled it out and handed it to the cashier. Your stomach twisted as she swiped it, like somehow the computer would start blaring an alert that let everyone know that you weren't the one paying. That your morning treat was being bought by the leader of Onychinus instead. But she simply handed it back to you with a smile, letting you know it would be ready in a few minutes.
As you waited near the counter, your phone went off.
Sylus: I was starting to wonder if you had lost the card and were just too afraid to tell me.
You let out a huff, typing away at a response.
You: I just forgot my card today.
Sylus: You should do that more often, then.
You sent him a crow emoji with a deadpan facial expression and watched as three dots popped up.
Sylus: You were running low on body soap last time I was over. you should buy some more before you get home.
Sylus: The fanciest one you like.
Your name was called out, taking your attention away from your phone as you put it away. As you grabbed your order, his offer echoed in your mind. He wasn't wrong; you were low on soap, along with some other body care products. And there was a brand you had been wanting to try for ages, now, but could never justify spending that much. The temptation he had laid out for you was almost too hard to resist…
As you walked out of the store, your heart pounded. You would almost think you had stolen the egregiously expensive bottles of care products you now carried—but no, you had bought them. With a 250 dollar charge sent to Sylus' account.
And speaking of the devil, you felt a buzz in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled out your phone.
Sylus: Was that so hard, kitten?
You: Extremely. My heart feels like it's going to explode.
Sylus: Poor thing. let me reward you for your efforts, then.
You: ……..You want to reward me for spending your money?
Sylus: Come to the base tomorrow evening. I have a few new records I want you to listen to.
Of course, you had happily accepted his invite. A nice, quiet dinner followed by him taking you up to his office. There, he played you the beautiful music while you slow danced in front of the fireplace. Which turned into a passionate exchange of kisses…Which turned into him fucking you on his leather couch.
"Sylus…" you moaned into his shoulder, clinging onto his back for dear life as he thrust into you relentlessly.
"That's it," he breathed out, lips brushing against your ear. "Come apart for me." His cock continued to rub against the spot inside you that had your eyes fluttering shut.
You thought he was just going to say more sweet nothings, but he surprised you. "You were so good for me yesterday. Spending my money like that. All I could think about was how much I wanted to have you—just like this."
Your breath hitched, both from his words of praise and the edge you were nearing.
"That's right. My good girl. Mine."
You gasped, followed by a string of moans and whines as you came on his cock, and he soon followed suit. Hips stuttering as he filled you to the brim, his orgasm forcing out a moan and a few muttered expletives.
The rest of the night was filled with only his soothing touch as he took care of you. Like you were something precious.
At the time, you hadn't realized what that night had changed for you. Had changed within you. But that didn't make it any less real, and it was now festering inside you.
You bought a few more little things here and there, and you found that the anxiety you felt before had been replaced by something else. Something a lot more terrifying.
Thrill.
And it was addicting. Especially with how Sylus encouraged it. Always praising you with a pleased smile, gently pushing you to crave for more, and those little purchases slowly grew more grand. A new TV, higher-quality shoes for going out on missions, treating yourself and Tara to extravagant lunches almost every week…
And now you were laid out on your bed, staring at your laptop screen as your skin buzzed with anticipation. You were about to go through with a purchase that was more ambitious than anything else you had bought so far.
You scrolled through a website that, a few months ago, you would have never even considered clicking on, and now all the designer dresses flew past. Every single one that caught your eye ended up in your cart which you would go through at the end and pick a few favorites. Your goal was to wear one to surprise Sylus with on one of your dates—like the time you had bought that one lingerie set that resulted in an inability to properly stand the next day.
A ruby red dress caught your eye, making you click on it. It was long and elegant, and was revealing in all the right places. You were certain it would get the exact reaction from Sylus you desired, especially considering it was in his color. But, since it was on the pricier side at fifteen thousand, you decided it would be the only one you would end up buying.
You clicked the button to buy it, which you thought had meant it would be separate from your cart. And, of course, since this was Sylus' money, you didn't bother to look at the final price before hitting the "confirm purchase" button, letting the saved credit card information auto-fill.
That familiar exhilarating feeling washed over you as you went back to the main page, and you were about to exit out before something caught your eye. A few moments ago, the red bubble over the cart icon had the number forty-nine displayed inside it…
…And now it was gone.
A chill ran through you, and with trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone to open your email. "No, no, no," you muttered under your breath. Surely it was just a glitch. A weird quirk of the website. Surely you hadn't just bought fifty dresses all well over a few grand each. But when you found the receipt, scrolling down to see the final payment, you felt your heart drop to your stomach.
557,678.87.
Half a million dollars. Spent on dresses. On a random Wednesday evening.
Maybe I can cancel it somehow, you thought, but before you could look into that idea, your phone started to vibrate. An embarrassing, frightened sound left your lips at the caller ID.
Sylus.
You couldn't just ignore him—as much as you wanted to throw your phone across the room—so, with hesitation, you swiped to accept.
"H…hello?" you said timidly.
"Kitten," you heard in response. His voice came out low, deep. Rougher than usual, and maybe even a little breathless. "Having a little fun?"
"Uh…um…" you stammered. "It was an accident?"
"Oh?" His tone took a little bit of an amused turn. "You accidentally bought a whole walk-in closet worth of dresses just now?"
You were lucky he wasn't here to see how your face flushed. "Well, I…I thought I was only buying one, but…I ended up buying the whole cart?"
His chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "I see. Easy mistake."
"I can return it—!"
"No," he cut you off, and you wondered if you imagined the desperate edge. "I want to see you in all of them—and I want to be the one that takes them off of you."
His voice had become sensual, and as always, the lower part of your body responded, growing warm. Then, with a startling realization, you said, "When you say you like me doing this…you mean you like it."
He let out an actual laugh this time. "Took you this long to figure it out, sweetie? Maybe I should have been more obvious." A few moments later, he asked softly, "Do you like it?"
You buried your face in your free hand, mumbling.
"What was that, kitten?"
You let out a long sigh. "…Maybe."
"Then why stop at just dresses?"
"…What?"
"Surely you need some new shoes to go with them."
You swallowed as your mouth went dry. "Right now?"
"Mmhm," he hummed. "Buy whatever piques your interest. No hesitation."
As you started to navigated to the website that had the brand of shoes you had longed for for years—you heard it. So faint over the phone you almost missed it. But it was undeniable: the sound of a zipper being undone.
Your breath hitched, and suddenly, you were aware of the way your cunt was aching, desperate for relief. But despite that, you tried to stay focused on the task at hand.
As you sifted through the selection, picking out whatever caught your eye, you rambled to Sylus with a shaky voice about the things you were selecting. Telling him about the finely cut diamonds encrusted in them. And he hummed along, as if he was drinking in every word. And finally, once you selected everything you wished for, your body was flushed all over with need pooling in your gut.
"Now, go on and buy them, kitten," he breathed out. "Be a good girl for me."
You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you, and your self-restraint finally snapped; one hand slipped into your underwear while the other clicked to complete the purchase.
Only a few moments after the payment went through, you heard Sylus let out a low moan. "Yes," he whispered. "Just like that."
"Sylus," you whined, fingers easily slipping into your entrance with how wet you were.
He took a shaky breath. "You also need some new things to wear underneath, right? Another layer for me to spend my time undoing?"
You nodded even though he couldn't see you while opening a new tab. "Y…yes. I need…" you trailed off, body shuddering as you rubbed over a sensitive spot inside you. "I need you," you whined.
"Fuck," he muttered before moaning. His voice was strained as he continued to speak in between harsh breaths. "Next week. After your new things arrive. I'll give you what you desire, kitten. I promise."
Those words intensified the needy haze in your mind. You were no longer truly thinking as you selected various lingerie. Your decisions were based solely on how much you wanted to see Sylus take them off you. Then, you stumbled upon a piece that had a hole in the underwear—made to be worn while he fucked you—and you let out a surprised, needy moan.
"What—fuck—what is it, sweetie?"
Through words that you weren't sure were all that coherent, you explained what you found. And you could easily imagine the way his head tipped back as he let out a deep, desperate sound that rumbled through his chest. That was all the encouragement you needed to make it the final thing you added to your cart, and you purchased it all without a second thought.
Sylus' reaction through the phone settled deep in your chest, making you thrust helplessly into your own hand. "Oh, kitten, yes. Good girl. Doing so good for me."
"Sy…Sylus. I'm…" You had started rubbing your clit with your palm as you fucked yourself with your fingers, and you could feel your climax approaching soon.
Based on how he sounded, he wasn't fairing much better. "Just…just hold on a little longer for me, sweetie. You need jewelry, don't you?"
You let out a whimper as you obeyed. Ruby necklaces, emerald encrusted chokers, diamond earrings, 18-karat gold rings—you added them all. It didn't take long for the total to reach the millions. The cost of a modest mansion sitting in your cart.
With your orgasm approaching, any hesitation that would have normally been there was absent as you clicked to purchase everything. Once you did, you whined out, "Sylus."
A string of noises were forced out of him, tumbling past his lips as the dam broke. "Oh, fuck. Fuck—ah, ah, good girl, my good girl…"
You let his words of pleasure wash over you, basking in the praise. And that was all it took to join him with your own climax.
As you both took time to catch your breath, all you could think about was how much you couldn't wait for next week to come. To see all the ways he would indulge you—and how you would indulge him.
"I want to know all about the filthiest things you imagine us doing together, before acting them out in ways that will make those authors blush."
CW: SMUT. P IN V. SEX ON A MOTORCYCLE. DIRTY TALK. 🔞MDNI🔞
Edited repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
Pomegranate Masterlist
Part 2 Xavier Here
Sylus’ bed felt like a cloud—too soft, maybe—but you’ve sunk into it anyway, phone in hand. Your thumb scrolls through the e-book, trying to figure out why your coworkers have been acting like they’ve discovered some forbidden scripture. Turns out it’s just...well, a lot.
You read on, and honestly? Your eyebrows are practically hitting your hairline. It’s not just explicit, it’s vivid. The kind of writing that makes you go “Wait, people actually do that?” while you sink deeper into the pillows, feeling a familiar, prickly heat creep up your neck. It’s that weird, guilty flush you get when you’re reading something you probably shouldn’t be in public or Sylus' bed.
By chapter ten, you’re basically holding your breath. The author is laying it on thick, describing a scene on a motorcycle that’s, frankly beyond scandalous. It’s raw. It’s primal. The way the characters are fucking, right there in the open air, wind whipping, leather rubbing against skin makes you squirm, the luxurious sheets suddenly feeling too coarse against your skin.
How does someone even manage that without falling off? You wonder this, half-distracted, as you keep reading, your heart drumming a little faster against your ribs. It's a hell of a lot more intense than the sanitized version the girls at work droned on about.
A familiar but not unwelcome heat begins to pool low in your belly. The words on the screen grow hazier as your thoughts drift, the fictional tale merging with memories of Sylus. His hands, so strong and sure, tracing the same path down your body as the man's did in the story.
The aching emptiness between your thighs grows more insistent, it builds with each passing moment until it turns to a throbbing need that demands attention.
Sylus isn't here, but his remembered presence fills the room, a palpable weight in the air. Your mind conjures him sitting across from you, his crimson eyes burning into yours with that intensity you've come to crave. You can almost hear his low, rumbling voice murmuring filthy praise as he explores your body with his eyes.
The heat between your legs grows unbearable, the damp patch on your panties spreading with each passing second. Your hips lift off the bed, seeking some relief from the pressure building within you.
But there is no relief to be found. Not until you take it for yourself. Sylus' voice echoes in your mind, a sinful whisper urging you on. Take what you need, kitten.
So you do. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers seeking out slick heat. A gasp escapes you when you feel your own arousal, desire coating your fingers. You circle your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing beneath your touch, begging for more.
In your mind, Sylus is there, watching you. Such a good girl. So responsive. So eager.
Your shaky fingers drop the phone that lands on the sheets with a soft thud and your moans fill up all that empty space in Sylus' absurdly oversized bedroom. Two fingers, then three, working yourself with a kind of messy desperation.
You're picturing it now. His bike. Not some random motorcycle from a trashy novel, but his—that sleek, jet black beast in his garage. The engine roaring beneath you, vibration rattling through your spine as he pins you down, his helmet somehow making him even more intimidating. You can almost smell the leather, the faint hint of his cologne cutting through exhaust fumes.
"Hold on tight" you imagine him saying as you curl your fingers just right. The visor's dark but you know those crimson eyes blaze behind it. Predatory. Famished.
Sweat pools at the small of your back. The sheets tangle around your ankles like they’re trying to anchor you, but you're already gone. That coiled pressure builds low and hot, your hips chasing your own rhythm with pathetic little jerks. Faster. Sloppier. The leather of the imagined seat would burn against your bare skin, and Sylus—god, Sylus—wouldn't even bother with gentle. Not for this.
"Gonna fuck you stupid"
You gasp out loud, cracking open, the words dissolving into nonsense as you feel it cresting, that white knuckle, toe curling edge. Your thighs clamp together, trapping your hand as your climax crashes through you, body seizing up, back arching almost painfully off the bed. The orgasm rips through you like Sylus' motorcycle would tear through the open road, a mind numbing rush of sensation that steals your breath and leaves you gasping.
"Fuck!" The word claws its way out of your throat, raw and guttural, as you shatter apart on your fingers. Your pussy clenches around the invasion, rippling and fluttering as it tries to milk the imaginary cock pounding into you. In your mind Sylus snarls behind his helmet, the sound drowned out by the roar of the engine, hips slamming forward one last time.
Your chest heaves, lungs burning as you gulp down air, the aftershocks still sparking through your nerves. Your fingers are drenched, your thighs trembling where they're locked together, the bedsheets tangled and damp beneath you.
A laugh, breathless and slightly manic, bubbles up from your throat. "Great..." you mutter to yourself, still trying to catch your breath.
As the last waves of pleasure ebb away, a profound weariness seeps into your bones. The adrenaline that fueled your solo session evaporates, leaving you boneless and pliant.
Your eyelids grow heavy, the events of the day—a tense hunt, the provocative novel, the sinful fantasy of Sylus—all start to blur together into an indistinct, dreamlike haze. The flickering dance of the fireplace light across the bedroom walls fades, the shadows lengthening and merging as your consciousness slips into twilight.
You stir from your sleep, the beep of the alarm clock piercing through the silence of the bedroom. As you blink you become acutely aware of a firm, warm body pressed against your back. A muscular arm is draped over your waist, holding you close to a broad, bare chest that rises and falls with each soft, steady breath. Glancing over your shoulder, you find yourself face to face with Sylus.
Not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep you remain still and take a moment to appreciate his devastating good looks. The grayish white hair, usually so perfectly styled, is now slightly disheveled. His brows, normally arched in a state of contemplation or challenge, are now smooth and undisturbed. Even in sleep, there's a raw, masculine beauty to Sylus that sets your heart racing.
You can't help but remember the fantasy that played out in your mind the night before and a fresh wave of heat pools between your thighs at the recollection.
Suddenly, Sylus stirs, his hold on your waist tightening. His voice, low and gravelly from sleep, rumbles in your ear. "Morning, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Sleep well?"
You press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away.
"Mm, I did," you reply softly, slipping out of his embrace and rising from the bed, the cool air of the bedroom kissing your skin. As you gather your belongings and begin to ready yourself for work, you can't help but sneak glances at Sylus as he stirs and stretches like a panther. The sheets pool around his waist, that tantalizing V line you adore so much disappears beneath the fabric. You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry, and quickly avert your gaze.
"Well, I should get going," you say, slipping into your shirt and buttoning it up with trembling fingers. "Can't be late for my shift today, I have an important meeting with Jenna"
Sylus follows your every move and you pray to all the gods he doesn't see the blush staining your cheeks when you turn to face him "I'll... I'll see you later, Sy"
You turn to leave and are almost out his bedroom door when you hear him call you.
"Miss hunter"
Freezing in place you slowly turn, eyes widening as you follow the direction of his pointed finger.
You hurry over to the bedside table, snatching up your phone and clutching it to your chest like a guilty secret.
His deep, smooth voice stops you in your tracks when you try to make an escape once again "Pick you up after work" he states. It's phrased as a question, but his tone makes it clear that he expects an affirmative answer.
"I... yeah, sure" you manage to stammer out. "After work." You can feel Sylus' gaze burning into your back as you hurry towards the bedroom door once again, phone clutched tightly in your hand.
Somehow you can't shake the feeling that Sylus knows exactly what you got up to last night. The way he looked at you, the knowing glint in his eyes. You shake your head, trying to erase the unsettling thought, and fasten your steps towards the front door.
The moment you clear the Hunters Association doors, your heart does this crazy little double thump, part nerves, part whatever that thing is that happens when you know you’re about to see him. And there it is. That goddamn motorcycle. Even in the daylight, parked casually on the curb, it looks like something out of a high budget sci-fi flick, all sleek lines and menacing black paint.
And Sylus, of course, is right there with it.
He’s leaning against the bike, one leg crossed over the other in a way that’s too damn effortless to be fair. He’s doing that thing again where he looks like he’s just passing time but you know better. His leather pants and jacket fit him like a second skin, clinging to shoulders that are just a lot to take in.
He catches sight of you and turns his head. He straightens up, that slow, lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the kind of smile that makes you forget how to breathe.
"Ready to go, kitten?"
Your voice dies in your throat for a second. You manage a nod and reach for your helmet, your fingers brushing the cool, polished surface. But before you can even get it on he’s there, his chest almost touching you, the scent of him—that mix of leather and something sharp, something expensive—filling your lungs. He’s got his own helmet tucked under one arm but his attention entirely on you.
There’s a flicker in his eyes that makes your stomach flip "Would you like to use my visor to apply your lipstick, just like you did the other day?"
You can't help but glance at his helmet tucked under his arm, a shiver running down your spine as you remember how your fingers trembled when you traced your lips with the cherry red shade, Sylus' gaze boring into you.
Shaking your head and take a step back "No, not this time" the words barely audible over the pounding in your ears.
Sylus' smirk turns positively wicked, his eyes glinting with a knowledge that makes your breath hitch in your throat. He knows. Somehow, impossibly, he knows about your late night fantasies, about the way you touched yourself to the thought of him pinning you down on his motorcycle, the engine roaring beneath you as he...
No. You can't let your mind wander down that path again, not now. Not with Sylus standing right there, his gaze sharpening as if he can hear every dirty thought racing through your head.
Quickly securing your helmet, you try to ignore the way Sylus' smirk widens as you fidget nervously. The visor fogs up slightly from your ragged breaths, a poor shield against the weight of his knowing gaze.
"W-we should get going," you stammer out, your voice sounding breathier than intended.
Sylus chuckles and takes his time settling his own helmet on his head, the sleek black visor hiding his expression but not the sheer, masculine grace of his movements. When he speaks, his voice is muffled but unmistakable. "Whatever you say, kitten."
He swings a muscular leg over the bike, settling into the saddle with the ease of long practice. The engine roars to life beneath him, the vibrations rumbling up through the frame and into your bones. He revs it once, twice, the growl of the motor sending a thrill of anticipation and nerves through you.
He reaches out, offering you his hand to climb aboard behind him. As you place your trembling fingers in his palm, he gives them a squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. It's a fleeting, almost innocent gesture... but the heat of his touch lingers, the promise in it sending your pulse racing.
A sly grin tugs at your lips as you wrap your arms around Sylus' waist, your fingers splaying wide across the firm expanse of his abdomen. Two can play this game, Sylus may have stumbled upon your secret fantasies, but he's far from grasping the all consuming hunger that's been building all day.
As the sun dips below the horizon and the city lights begin to wink awake, a sudden daring seizes you. Your hands, with a mind of their own, start to drift lower, fingertips teasing along the waistband of Sylus' leather pants. His abdomen tenses beneath your touch, muscles clenching and unclenching as if trying to process the sudden contact
The motorcycle wobbles slightly, Sylus' grip on the handlebars tightening as he sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. The knowledge that you can unnerve him like this is headier than any adrenaline spike you've felt on a hunt, more intoxicating than the finest vintage wine.
Emboldened, your hands continue their descent, fingers tracing the zipper of his fly. The outline of his arousal begins to strain against the confines of his pants, and you can't help but marvel at what you do to him.
You know you are treading on dangerous ground, toying with a man who could consume you whole if given half a chance. But the thrill of the risk, the power of knowing you can bring him to his knees is too delicious to resist. Your fingers dance along the bulge forming in his pants, mapping the shape of him, committing it to memory. The motorcycle rumbles beneath you, the vibrations adding to the ache building between your thighs.
"How much longer until we're back at your place, Sy?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The wind whips around you as the bike eats up the miles, the city lights blurring into a stream of glowing embers.
"Not much longer"
Your traitorous hand slides down, fingers fumbling with his zipper until the metal teeth part ways with a soft hiss.
Sylus sucks in a sharp breath and your hand delves inside, palming the rigid heat of him through the fabric of his boxers. The bike surges forward, the speedometer needle climbing higher as Sylus matches the urgency of your touch with his reckless driving.
When a light turns red and the bike rolls to a stop, you don't miss a beat. Your fingers dip inside, wrapping around his thick, pulsing cock as it springs free, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. His hips move forward when your hand closes around him, length throbbing against your palm.
"Kitten," he grits out, the word strained and guttural, as the light flickers from red to green. But you barely register the change, too focused on the task at hand. Slowly, you run your thumb around the fat head of his cock, circling the weeping slit, teasing the sensitive flesh until Sylus' grip on the handlebars tightens, knuckles turning white.
"Eyes on the road, Sylus," you murmur with a wicked edge to your voice. "Wouldn't want us to end up in a ditch." Your hand starts to move, stroking him with long, deliberate pulls.
The bike roars as Sylus accelerates again, the engine revving in time with the pounding of your heart. Your fingers dance over the thick veins of his cock, the ridge beneath the head, squeezing and stroking until Sylus is breathing hard.
"Fuck," he grits out, the bike swerving slightly when you twist your wrist "If you keep this up, we'll never make it back to the house."
Less than a minute later the bike screeches to a halt, tires squealing against the pavement. Through the visor, you glimpse your surroundings, not Sylus' place, but somewhere else entirely.
You blink, glancing around the deserted lot, a single flickering lamp casting long, dancing shadows across the cracked asphalt. The moon hangs heavy and low in the night sky, its pale glow the only light source beyond the dying lamp. A chill runs down your spine when you realize Sylus has brought you to a place far from prying eyes, tucked away on the city's outskirts like a hidden secret.
"Sylus, where are we?" you manage to ask, voice tinged with a hint of confusion. He doesn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch out, the anticipation buildind.
Then, in a voice that's low and rough as gravel, he answers "Somewhere private, sweetie. Somewhere I can finish what you started without any interruptions."
"What? But-"
Before you can voice your protest, Sylus' hands move to your helmet, long fingers making quick work of the straps. The cool night air hits your face like a slap as he yanks it off, tossing it carelessly aside with a clatter. You blink up at him, suddenly feeling vulnerable like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
His eyes, they look different tonight. Darker, almost black in the dim light, but you can see the intense, almost feral gleam burning in their depths. Its like staring into the eyes of a predator, a wild beast that had just caught the scent of its prey.
His command is simple, blunt and it makes your toes curl inside your boots "Get off the bike, Y/N."
You move on autopilot, Sylus watching intently as you swing your leg over the bike seat. The moment your feet touch the ground, he's off the motorcycle too.
The moonlight carves sharp shadows across his face, a predatory stillness radiating from him like heat off asphalt. You just stand there, heart hammering, unsure if you should bolt or do something else entirely.
He moves before you decide. One fluid stride closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist with the kind of certainty that made your breath hitch. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, not gentle or cruel, just possessive. He pulls you flush against him, and you feel every hard line of his body, the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing insistently against your belly.
"Did you really think teasing me like that would go unpunished? I really hope not, because I intend to collect what's owed." He punctuates the words with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making sure you feel every inch of what you’ve done to him.
"I can't exactly bury my face in your sweet little cunt with this helmet on, but don’t you worry your pretty little head, I've got other plans for you tonight."
His thumb catches your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze through the visor.. There’s no gentleness in him now, only raw, unfiltered need.
"Question is," he murmurs, tone taunting, "can you handle what you started?"
With that he spins you around, the sudden movement making you dizzy with anticipation. He bends you over the motorcycle seat, your breasts flattening against the cool, unyielding leather. Before you can catch your breath, he's kicking your legs apart, his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to grip your hips. Then he hikes up your skirt, exposing you to the cool night air.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, the fabric stretching taut for a moment before giving way.
"Lift your feet" you comply, lifting one foot and then the other, allowing him to remove your underwear entirely. He balls up the delicate lace, tucking them into his back pocket as a trophy of sorts.
With your pussy now exposed Sylus leans down and slides his cock against your folds, the thick head catching on your clit with each pass. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine, your back arching as you press back against him instinctively.
You can feel it in the desperate, erratic way he grinds against you, in the harsh, ragged sound of his breathing. It's a battle of wills, a contest to see who will break first. And as Sylus' cock catches on your clit once more, sending a bolt of electric pleasure rocketing through you, you know it won't be long before one of you snaps.
"Fuck, Sylus!" you cry out when you feel the tip of his cock now pressing insistently at your entrance.
Your hand shoots back, fingers clawing at his hip, yanking him forward with a kind of animal desperation. The stretch burns—Christ, it burns—and you can't stop the broken sound that tears from your throat. "Oh god," you gasp out, eyes rolling back, "you're huge, fuck—"
Sylus doesn't wait for you to finish. He's already drawing back, that agonizing slide of withdrawal, before he slams home again with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. The motorcycle groans beneath you, metal protesting like it's personally offended, your hips chasing his, angling for that spot, that spot, where pleasure fractures into something sharper, something that borders on too much.
He's relentless. You knew he would be. The rhythm he sets isn't gentle, it's punishing, possessive, HIS.
Pleasure builds to a fever pitch, your climax is so close, within reach, when suddenly Sylus curses under his breath.
"Dammit..." Before you can process, before you can protest, he's pulling out of you abruptly, the sudden emptiness a shock to your overstimulated flesh.
"Nonononono Sylus!" You cry out, a wail of frustration and need, your fingers scrabbling helplessly on the smooth leather seat.
He's panting harshly, his chest heaving as he fights for control.
"You feel too fucking good. I'm not going to last if you keep taking my cock like that"
You watch as Sylus moves to sits back on the motorcycle seat, facing the back of his bike, his eyes shining with dark promise as he meets your pleading gaze. With a smirk, he pats his thighs invitingly.
"Climb up here, kitten"
He grips the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly waiting for you to obey. The thick length is slick with your arousal, the swollen head an angry red and leaking steadily. The sight makes your mouth water, your body screaming at you to take what you need.
You swing a leg over the motorcycle seat, straddling his hips, the thick ridge of his cock nestling against your dripping slit. With a shaky breath, you reach down and grasp his shaft, positioning him at your entrance. His hands find your hips to pull you down. You sink onto his thick cock with a low moan, your head falling back as he stretches you wide.
"Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding you into a steady rhythm.
You start to move, lifting yourself up until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back down. The helmet catches your eyes, the sleek black surface reflecting your flushed face and as you fuck yourself stupid on his cock, keeping your eyes locked on the helmet, the fantasy you've imagined playing out before you.
When he feels your movements start to slow, your thighs trembling with exertion, Sylus takes control. He grips your wrists firmly, pushing your hands to the back of the motorcycle seat. "Hold on tight, I'm going to fuck you now."
Then, with a hard thrust of his hips, he's slamming up into you, burying his cock deep inside you.
"Oh god!" you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the leather seat. His helmet blurs before your vision as Sylus pounds into you, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the night air, mingling with the creaking of the motorcycle and your wanton moans.
"Fuck," Sylus snarls, his breath coming in harsh pants fogging the inside of his helmet "You look perfect around my cock."
His hand tangles in your hair, gripping it tightly forcing you to keep eye contact with him through the helmet as he fucks you.
Suddenly he changes the angle of his hips, tilting them up as he slams into you.
"There!" you beg "Right there! Please don't stop!"
Your nails dig into the leather seat, gripping it for dear life as Sylus pounds into your g-spot. The pleasure feels overwhelming, your body shaking and trembling with the force of your impending orgasm.
When your pleasure crests to an unbearable peak, you force your eyes open. Through the visor of his helmet, you meet Sylus' eyes, and what you see steals your breath away.
In that moment, you see a man consumed by desire, a man who would move heaven and earth to claim you, to possess you. It's a look of pure worship. A believer seeing his god, his reason for living. Sylus is lost in you, lost in the feel of your tight cunt gripping his cock, lost in the way your body responds so perfectly to his touch.
Your body seizes, back arching as your orgasm crashes over you.
His eyes widen when he feels your walls clamp down around him, "Fuuuuuck!" his voice echoes through the night, his hot, thick cum painting your insides as he grinds against your cervix.
You both collapse against each other, chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Sylus' arms wrap around you, holding you close.
After a long moment, Sylus lifts his head, his crimson eyes finding yours through the visor. "Was that everything you imagined it would be, kitten?" He reaches up, finger tracing along your jawline before tilting your chin up "Because I can assure you that for me it was even better than I could have possibly imagined."
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound in his chest as he watches you laugh. He reaches up and unclasps his helmet, pulling it off to reveal his handsome face, flushed and gorgeous in the moonlight. Leaning in, you press a soft, quick kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him.
"Let's go home Sy, I still have a few ideas"
Sylus grins as he pulls out of you and helps you off the bike, his hands lingering on your waist. "Next time make sure to pick out the nastiest, most depraved books you can find. Spare no expense, kitten. It's my treat."
His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "I want to know all about the filthiest things you imagine us doing together, before acting them out in ways that will make those authors blush."
He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "And maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll even let you read them to me while I worship your body"
He pulls back slightly to gauge your reaction, one eyebrow cocked expectantly, waiting for your laughter to fill the crisp night air once more. The way his eyes shine makes it clear that he's already imagining all the deliciously depraved things he wants to do to you, inspired by the pages of those naughty books.
f2u MC gifs/stickers
i can't believe we're getting a joyride card!!! did y'all see MC running to hug him? #felt that (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)
good luck to everyone pulling!
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