Aight Time To Workout Again

aight time to workout again

Hello! LADS boys with muscular fem s/o who can carry heavy stuff especially carrying them with no struggle at all just like Mikasa from aot hehe (I saw gym tiktok girl who can carry an adult man with one arm☠️)

Lnds: Muscle Mommy

Warning: F!reader, AFAB!reader, reader is not the mc, muscular!reader,

Author's notes: I'm a sucker for muscle women. Everytime i see one on my reels and my tiktok i just go 🙈🙈🙈

Zayne:

Zayne was more than happy to see you be so conscious of your health, and quite frankly, it was one of the strong points of your relationship. Even going to the gym would be considered a date for both of you. He's seen your body plenty of times as well, and he knows how toned you are and how you can handle doing heavy stuff most of the time.

But in reality, Zayne has no idea what you're capable of. Not until he passed out from drinking too much at a hospital dinner. It was surprising for you as well since Zayne knew how to moderate his alcohol intake; the night was probably an exception. People were quite worried when a 5-foot-something girl came to pick up the surgeon because you looked like you would topple under his weight.

You wanted to prove them wrong, and so you mounted him on your back easily like you would a child. The drunken crowd cheered you on while some of the girls really asked if you would be okay. You gave them a thumbs-up and a grin before heading back to Zayne's car. They were utterly impressed with what they saw, and some of them even followed you to the parking lot in case you fell over.

Again, as if they'd never seen anything like it, they were shocked to see you tuck him into the car too easily.

When Zayne woke up, he was more than surprised to see himself in his bed. When he went to check his phone, his messages were bombarded with Yvonne and Grayson sending him pictures. He turned red at the sight—he was on your back, and you were giving the camera that thumbs up and a cheeky grin.

"Oh, wow, I wish I had a lover who can do that…You're one lucky man, Dr. Zayne," Grayson said.

When you entered the bedroom in your running attire, sports bra, and cycling shorts with high socks, his eyes stared at your stomach and your arms like how a woman would check out a gym rat. He turned redder and redder as if he was slowly being enlightened with a new realization.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, thought that he was red simply because he was hungover. Luckily, there was some medicine in the plastic bag you were holding.

Xavier:

Xavier thought you were cute, and he found it admirable how you could keep up with his daily training regimen when it was made specifically for him by the hunters' association. He didn't think much of it, and if anything, he was more than impressed and happy that you could keep up. He thought not much of it until he happened to see you downtown.

Beside you was an older lady, small and shriveled up—beside her were boxes and boxes of what seemed to be groceries. From the looks of it, she lived in an apartment that was a few stairs above, and it looked like no one was willing to help her. He was about to approach you, but he was appalled when you threw two sacks of rice on either side of your shoulders.

"Granny, I'll help you out," you said to the elder with a smile. Passersby were staring, especially that old bakery owner who happened to stay outside and witness it all as well. You climbed up the stairs like you just had pillows over your shoulders. Xavier watched you from afar, indulging himself as he saw your arms and thighs bulge while you went back and forth to pick up the groceries.

It wasn't until there were two boxes left that Xavier snapped out of his prolonged trance. He approached you both and carried the remaining boxes. You were glistening with sweat, which further accentuated your muscles.

In his eyes, you looked absolutely stunning, and it was at that realization that something in him welled. Desire? He wasn't sure, but it was…something.

It was his fault he didn't dwell too much on your ability to keep up, but now he does.

It was a…mind-blowing realization.

Maybe he'll ask you to spar with him next time.

Rafayel:

It was very, very convenient and interesting for Rafayel.

Every time you were doing mundane things with him, he would ogle at your body. Those bulging biceps and quads enchanted him for some reason, and it was like he was a depraved woman craving to be touched. You weren't oblivious to this, either. You could feel his gaze every time you did something not even worth noting, but over time, you got used to it.

It was convenient for Rafayel because he could get you to do stuff he would have a hard time doing. For example, Rafayel was a clumsy man; more often than not, his floors would have splashes of paint and chemicals. This time, he accidentally kicked a bucket of paint, and it bled and spread to the underside of a sofa. He called for you and told you to use a mop, but since he was holding it, you decided to lift one side of the couch instead—with one hand.

He stared. He was staring like he was looking at a piece of art. "Uh, Raf? The mop."

"Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah," He snapped out of it and began mopping the paint. You moved on to a big potted plant beside the couch, and Rafayel didn't protest, seeing you pick it up with ease. To say that he was impressed was quite an understatement.

There was this one time when he had a whole human-sized block of plaster of Paris outside his doorstep, and only a single man was hauling it inside. It was pure coincidence that you were there to pick something up. Instead, you dropped your bag and took off your black shirt (to avoid getting white powder on it), revealing your well-chiseled abs. The man ogled at it, and Rafayel called for his attention, feeling a very strong tinge of jealousy. Together, you and he hauled it inside his house and into his studio.

When there was nothing to do, Rafayel would use you as his model. You could be sitting and reading a book, and Rafayel would be sketching away, perfectly capturing every curve. Sometimes, you would sit on a stool for hours and flex because, according to him, "You have the form of a goddess."

Well, you weren't complaining. It felt good being admired so much because you chose a healthy lifestyle, and admittedly, it felt good seeing your boyfriend ogle over your body.

Sylus:

Sylus doesn't know what you're really capable of.

Sure, you were sporty, and even if you were inclined to do mixed martial arts rather than boxing, you made a good sparring partner. Regardless, Sylus doesn't want you to get hurt. If anything, you wanted to complain that he babies you too much.

During Sundays, Sylus's form of entertainment is going to underground boxing rings. You went along with him, but rather than placing bets on the broker, you placed bets with each other. There was no money involved but rather something more valuable, ranging from favors to expensive items.

The rounds were progressing well up until it wasn't. Whoever that woman in the ring was devouring each and every one of her opponents, but it was getting boring. And just as you and Sylus were about to leave, the referee called in volunteers as the original player backed out, but bets were already placed on the backer.

You stared at Sylus. He stared, disapproving of your intentions without you even hearing it yet. "You're underestimating me," you glared at him.

"No. That woman fights dirty, and I don't want you bloodied on my bed tonight," Sylus replied.

You didn't listen to him and called for the referee's attention. Sylus clicked his tongue but didn't stop you. The other fighter had that ignorant grin on her face, and you couldn't wait to slam her face to the floor. The people were roaring when you stepped in and did your wrist wrap. Sylus was just behind you. "You sure you can do this?"

"If I win this one, I'll borrow your motorcycle for a month. What do you say?" you snickered.

"You bet too low. Don't underestimate yourself. If you win, I'll give it to you."

"Don't go back on your word, big guy." You placed a kiss on his lips.

Needless to say, you no longer have to take the train to go to work. Sylus, on the other hand, was staring at a picture of you on his phone, the referee holding up your hand while the spotlight was focused on you. He grinned at your triumphant smile.

Sylus expected no less from you.

He knew you were going to win anyway.

Author footnotes: Honestly I have a lot of headcanons for this one because being a musclemommy!reader has the ability to change a lot of things especially with the boys lolol. on another note, I'd probably be like Rafayel when i have a muscular partner. I'd be climbing them up all day everyday.

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thats so sweet im gonna cry :((

THE MORNING AFTER - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : mentions and references to the first time having sex together, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluffff <33

Additional notes : These men would be absolute SAPS the morning after, you guys can’t convince me otherwise. They’re just made to love wholly💗 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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..iS THAT WHY I LIKE THEM BOTH??? 😭😭😭

i still love zayne sm but when sylus came omfg- i can’t resist him 😭😭

cant i just have both 😔😔

Imagine being longtime friends with Zayne and harboring deep feelings for him, but having no idea how he feels about you because he keeps you at what feels like arm’s length.

Sometimes, you feel like a nuisance.

An annoying sister-figure Zayne deals with because he has to. Because he’s known you since you were children, and now he’s your doctor, so he’s obligated to be nice.

But sometimes, he confuses you because did he just compliment you unprovoked? Go out of his way to meet you for dinner? Give you his coat when the cold whisper of the breeze touches your spine? Stay in your living room late into the night talking with you, knowing he has to be up early tomorrow for work?

Whatever’s going on, it’s confusing as all hell. His signals are jumbled like spilled jigsaw pieces, and the accidental touches and the fleeting glances and the way he murmurs unguarded things to you in the dead of night makes your head fill with static, and—

You don’t think your heart can take much more of this push-and-pull, this game of hot and cold.

Besides, who would Zayne be to give someone as plain as you a shot in hell at him? He’s all big-time cardiac surgeon. All modelesque and incredibly smart and made of money, and you’re just a humble, nameless Hunter.

Enter Sylus.

Damn, he’s an asshole at first.

Sure, his beauty is otherworldly, and his voice makes your knees all wobbly. And he’s tall and masculine in every sense of the word, and fuck, he smells good.

But you typically wouldn’t give someone like him the time of day. He’s a criminal. Damn near mafia-affiliated. Talks too much shit, and your morals warn you against falling for him.

But, well…

You kinda…

Do.

With time you notice, hey, this guy isn’t too bad. He’s still the leader of Onychinus. Still a murderer and a thief and you’re still low-key traumatized from your first encounter with him.

But he’s not all jagged around the edges like he initially let on. Doesn’t beat around the bush when it comes to what he wants. Wears his heart on his cuffed, designer sleeves when it comes to you.

There’s no riddle to his words. No mistaking how his hand sits possessively at the small of your back when he takes you with him to conduct business. No missing how he blatantly flirts and has even come close to kissing you once or twice.

He likes you, goddamit, if the PDA and the unguarded smiles and overprotectiveness are anything to go by.

And when you’re tucked away all safe in your bedroom, tuckered out from killing Wanderers and battling with your own emotions…

When you’re clad in your soft PJs and hugging your pillow to your bosom with your brain all fizzy as the sun seeks refuge beneath the horizon…

When, in your peripheral, your phone glows on your nightstand. And you worry your bottom with your teeth, scrutinizing the picture flooding your screen—sea-green eyes, kohl black hair, a name flanked in big red hearts.

He’s calling you. Again. Texting you, filling your watch with notifications, filling up the idle space of your home with the insistent hum of your phone, and it’s uncharacteristic of him to be so active.

As your phone forwards him to voicemail and he becomes another missed call in your notifications, you realize.

Sigh.

You fitfully realize that Sylus is everything you want.

Everything you want from Zayne.

You fall back into the serenity of your bedsheets with a wail, muffling such a pitiful sound behind your pillow.

Maybe Sylus is your punishment for being too pussy to confront your own feelings with Zayne.

can i pleaseeee have a zayne 🥺😭

Zayne: Morning Afterglow

Warning: Smut, MDNI, 18+, 2k words, no plot (just a lazy morning), gentle (?) sex, Cunnilingus, unprotected sex, sensual love making. AFAB!reader, Reader may or may not be the mc.

Author's note: how do you write gentle sex exactly???? request made by anon!

A big hand roamed the expanse of your back, tasting its warmth.

For a second, the touch disappeared, changing to a single finger. Carefully, it traced every dip and crevice formed by your position as you lay on your side—your spine, the dip in your shoulder blades, the folds of your love handles, and your Venus dimples.

You held your breath at the thought of Zayne doing it. He's been doing this the whole week. Whenever you were distracted by something, his hand would always come into contact with your body, touching it for his own amusement. It wasn't even intimate or erotic; it was just plain eccentric and out of character.

"Are you that interested in my body? How scandalous of you, Dr. Zayne!" You exclaimed, over-exaggerating your tone.

To your words, he merely responded with a blink and a stare before turning away from you. You were perplexed. Who wouldn't be?! Is this his way of getting accustomed to touching you?

"I know you're awake," Zayne whispered, his lips just behind your ears. You shiver at the lowness of his voice and stiffen as his hand lands on your hips. "Why are you holding your breath?"

"I was woken up to you touching me," you replied back. It's not that you were complaining about it, but it felt… nice. Even if there was no malice to his touch, it sent a small jolt of electrical shock from your back to everywhere. "But good morning."

Zayne's lips touched the nape of your neck, placing a light kiss. His hand, which was on your hip, traced carefully from your waist up to your shoulder. You can't help but crave a kiss, so you slightly turn behind you and meet his face. "Are you still sore from last night?" he gently asked, giving another peck on the forehead.

You shook your head from side to side.

"Good," he whispered, accompanied by a kiss on the nose. Zayne tugged off the plain white duvet that was the only thing covering your naked body. That took you off guard. "May I?" he asked, and you finally rolled to his side of the bed, revealing yourself in all your naked glory. Hickey-riddled neck and collarbones, your stomach, your pinkish thighs, and your supple breasts. He basked in the sight of you riddled with his love marks.

"What's gotten you so eager this morning?" you asked, but he did not respond. He simply pulled you closer and finally laid a kiss on your lips. You had to blink thrice before giving in to his all-too-gentle kiss—a stark contrast to the harsh, hungry kisses he was gnawing out of you last night.

You opened your lips and let his tongue enter, pushing and sliding against yours while shallow whimpers escaped your mouth. You could still taste the sweetness of the chocolate from last night. His hand didn't lay dormant; it stroked and touched everything it came across before landing on your nipples.

"Mhm?" you let out when his cold fingertips brushed the peak of your breasts. You arched your chest out even further in the hopes of coming into contact with his fingers again. Your breasts were more sensitive that morning, probably due to Zayne's rough suckling and kneading. The light hue had turned more reddish, and it seemed like they were almost swollen, yet they didn't hurt at all.

You and your lover pulled away from the kiss, a silver thread connecting both of your tongues. Zayne adored the redness of your ears and your low-lidded eyes; you were in a trance as well, certainly in the mood for much more.

He got on his elbows and lowered his face onto your left breast, blowing on it. You flinched at the cold air, making you grab a fistful of his black locks. You glared at him, and he grinned. He opened his mouth and gently lapped at your breast. The other hand found its way to the right and flicked on the nipple at the same time his tongue struck up.

"Ah…" Your back lifted slightly, but the rest of Zayne's body was pressing you down. Despite it not hurting, he was still gentle with his actions. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue and teasing the bud. You enjoyed the efforts of his mouth and fingers, letting out a sequence of weak moans.

Every movement was like a small electric spark from your chest down to your womanhood.

You can't help but let out ragged breaths as your heart beat strongly against your chest. You attempted to calm yourself down by staring at the ceiling, yet Zayne playfully bit your nipple and pinched the other. You thrust your hips against his stomach and let out a loud, unguarded moan.

You could feel something hardening and rubbing against your own thigh, but you couldn't really care less because your lover showered your torso with so many kisses. He left trails and trails of them all over, worshipping your body like a devoted believer. He went lower and lower, and his mouth stopped right at your entrance.

Zayne paused, eyeing every mark he left. He then eyed your womanhood, gazing at it with slight hunger.

The warmth of Zayne's body had disappeared from your own, and the cold wind of the air conditioner took its place. There came the slight embarrassment on your face—he was staring for too long, even if there was nothing to look at down there.

You instinctively closed your thighs shut, but it was soon a futile attempt as Zayne's hands held them open. "Don't close your legs, Honey." Zayne could see the blush on your cheeks, and you couldn't do anything other than lay your head back and wait. For dear life, you grabbed one of Zayne's pillows and pressed it over your eyes and the bridge of your nose. Partially, it was because you were shy, but deep down, you did it because you wanted to feel the sensation even more.

You waited. The minute seemed like an hour, but then finally, finally, you could feel your lover's mouth. You swallowed your saliva and spread your legs a little wider. Zayne kissed the inners of your thighs and gave you a generous, fluid-coated lick, lathering your pussy. You throbbed as his hot tongue brushed on the lips of your womanhood.

"Mhhm," you let out. His finger briefly disappeared from your thighs, but then you suddenly felt yourself being opened. You pressed the pillow harder on your eyes to cope with the embarrassment you felt at being wide open. It wasn't your first time with Zayne, and it's not uncommon for him to do this, but every time, you can't help but feel the shame.

Your hips squirmed at the cold air, but at the same time, you throbbed, feeling a slimy fluid drip out of your hole. "Zayne…" you called in the hopes that he could hurry it up. The surgeon's green eyes flickered up to you, but he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. Why were you covering your face with the pillow?

Swiftly, he yanked it away from you and discarded it to the floor. And while you were in the midst of complaining, his tongue nudged your clit. Slowly, you could feel Zayne's tongue move side to side, firmly and quickly, wasting no time to prepare you. "Ah! Ah! Zayne!" you screamed, hips bucking higher to add more pressure to his face. He wrapped his hands around your thigh while your hand was still in his hair.

He continued eating you out, holding you in the same position all the while he got drunk off of the lewd noises that came from your mouth. You were ebbing at the sensation. Your sex organ was clenching and relaxing at the pleasurable sensations coming from your clit. "Ah—Zayne, I'm—" You couldn't continue your words.

The moment you locked eyes with Zayne, a gentle heat radiated from your core.

The muscles in your legs tightened, and your back arched. A familiar, wonderful tingle erupted out of your vagina. You felt yourself burst, the uninterrupted pleasure prolonged by Zayne's continuous lapping. He held on to you and focused on your reactions, adoring how you whimpered out of pleasure.

You basked momentarily in the bliss that your body had experienced, ignoring your lover, who quietly disappeared from between your legs. You closed your eyes for a moment.

You didn't know what it was you experienced, but it was certainly new—an orgasm that wasn't hard, yet it was a satisfactory one. You stared at the ceiling, a portion of your energy depleted from the early morning activities. Your lids grew heavy, and the cool breeze was nice against the skin, but before you could even doze off, a hand wrapped itself around your calves.

"Eh?" one of your legs had been hung above Zayne's shoulder, and when you glanced to look, there he was again in between your legs. Zayne's cock stood upright, rock solid, like it was ready to burst.

"Can…I put it in?" he asked, rubbing his cheek on your ankle. His ears were deep red, and his eyes were almost pleading. Who could say no to him? You nodded, and Zayne aligned himself with your entrance.

The high and sensitivity from your orgasm were still there, but you were still eager to move on. You marveled at Zayne's well-toned torso, seeing it move as he thrust his hip forward, careful not to hurt you. The stretch didn't hurt; if anything, it felt good. He pushed himself in further, stopping every now and then because your insides were throbbing.

Your insides squeezed his cock in an irregular rhythm, and it felt good. It was hot inside you, and he was craving more, but it felt like It was the right moment to bask in this sensation. Zayne began to lightly move his hips, giving you shallow thrusts. He held onto your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh a bit while his other hand was guiding his hip.

Heavy breaths escaped from his lips. He was trying his best to hold back, but he couldn't help but let out a few mewls. It felt good inside you. Maddeningly good, yet uncannily, there was no urge to go rougher. He wanted to take his sweet time.

His shallow thrusts went deeper and deeper until you were practically being rocked against him. Your skin rubbed against the sheets while your insides felt like they were being repeatedly stretched, filled one moment and empty the next. Your vision was turning white, flickering with every movement.

Zayne's pace was becoming faster and faster, and it was evident that he was moving to please himself even more. His girth was perfect, managing to add just the right amount of pressure to your favorite spot while his tip kept kissing and touching your cervix. He relished how you were sucking him in, not wanting to let go.

He kept his pace for a little while longer, but then he changed his position, lifting the other leg and pushing himself right over you. He dipped his hips into your opening. "Deep…" you panted. "Zayne—you're so deep…" He kept on doing it until you could practically hear both of your skins making slapping noises.

The series of noises grew louder and louder until Zayne wasn't holding back his relished moans, the guttural noises turning you on even more. He lowered his head to your ear and nibbled lightly while he pushed open your fingers, intertwining them together. "Cumming…mhm!" He kept on thrusting and thrusting, getting sloppier until Zayne buried himself, his everything, into yours.

You let out a choked cry, and Zayne let out a quivering moan in return, his abs and body stiffening as you felt spurts of white hit against your inner flesh. It was hot—and filling you up.

He thrust a little bit more, eager to prolong his ejaculation, but soon after, his body wilted onto yours.

"Honey," you cried, tapping his sweat-riddled back. Your lover was still breathing heavily, a little fuzzy over his climax. "You're heavy…" you whispered in his ear. While he kept himself inside you, as more seconds passed, you felt him go a little softer, with his breathing balanced out. When you turned your head, merely centimeters apart from his—he was fast asleep.

"A lazy day it is," You thought, falling asleep while being crushed underneath your lover's weight.

It was a peaceful morning in your residence.

Author footnotes: I added Caleb because I want to slowly integrate him to my works.

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THE PETNAMES?? PLEASE ICANT- 🤭🤭

bolted - sylus x reader

three weeks after you had broken up with sylus, you run into each other at a gala. his issue, however, is the fact that you came with a date. 

!! nsfw, smut, fem!reader, exes to lovers, pwp, 18+

!!! not set in l&ds universe, reader not mc, pet names, cursing, might be angsty idk, jealousy, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, mirror sex, dirty talk, teasing, hair pulling, creampie, unprotected sex, fluff if u squint really hard, lightly proofread

wc. 2.4k

nsfw under the cut. minors dni

For the months you were dating Sylus, every one of your Friday nights had been reserved. Your own weekly ritual of being dressed in matching designer brands and attending various events: corporate galas, charity balls, and black-tie parties, to name a few. 

For the past three weeks, every one of your Friday nights has been spent alone, completely free of plans. 

Three Fridays have passed since you have shown your face at the social gatherings you so frequently attended. Three Fridays have passed since you officially broke up with Sylus. 

Admittedly not your wisest decision. Sylus was a man of endless wealth, influence, and power. Your own status in society is not at all insignificant; but there is a part of you that still feels inferior.

Because you heard the cruel gossip about your relationship behind your back: whispers of she doesn’t belong here and Sylus would be better off with me. Because you felt as though you were holding him back. Because you were scared that he would be the one to leave first. And though you love him, you left because he deserves someone better. 

But for the first time in three Fridays, you finally allow yourself to regret leaving. You allow yourself to miss your comfortable routine: Sylus buying an entirely new outfit for you to wear, sneaking out of parties together long before they were set to conclude, and ending the night on your couch with whichever takeout meal and show fit your mood that night.

The only reason you have the strength to drag yourself out of your weeks-long slump now is because of the invitation you received not long ago from some gentleman in your network, asking you to accompany him to tonight’s event: a fundraising gala at one of the city’s many national museums.

Of course, you have absolutely no interest in entertaining the man who invited you, you only know for certain that you would see Sylus tonight. 

It doesn’t take long for you to lose your date. As adamant as he was about getting you to go with him, he proved himself to be quite inattentive now that he had gotten your agreement. 

You are by yourself now, in spite of the crowd of event-goers drifting around where you stand in the extravagant ballroom, moving from one conversation to another.

The heels you wear add a few inches to your height. Not enough, however, as you can hardly see over the head of whichever wealthy socialite is in front of you.

You’re embarrassed to acknowledge the growing disappointment brewing in your chest as you fail to spot a familiar head of white hair. 

Never mind the embarrassment of admitting that you are here for Sylus in the first place. You were the one that ended things, after all. What would you even say to him if you do happen to run into one another? Maybe seeing him would be enough. Enough for what? This was a bad idea, you begin to think. 

That is, until you are suddenly very aware of Sylus’ presence. 

It is first the undeniable heat radiating from something, someone, behind you. It’s then the penetrating scent of bourbon and cinnamon invading your senses. Rather, the scent of trouble. 

“Looking for someone, Kitten?” It is finally his rich, husky voice that breaks through the crowd. Your heart skips a beat. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of turning to face him just yet. “I’m not your kitten.”

“Oh? But you are, don’t forget.” His voice becomes dangerous, and his sly hand sneaks itself around your waist from behind, “Done running away from me yet?” 

Sighing, you turn, simultaneously facing him and shifting just enough to make his hand slip away.

“What do you want, Sylus?”

"You've always given me so much attitude.." He ignores your question. If he notices the desperation in your tone, he doesn’t show it. “Are you having fun going about your night with your arm around that moron?”

“He’s not a moron. And yes, I’m having plenty of fun, not that it’s of your concern.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend your date or why you feel the need to lie to Sylus. After all, you weren’t having fun. 

“Lies,” he immediately accuses. “Do not think that I have forgotten what you look like when you are being dishonest with me. Especially when you are doing so in an outfit that I bought you myself.”

The low purr of his voice easily sends shivers down your spine. He had gotten nearer as he spoke, his face now mere inches from your own, his eyes bearing into yours. 

“Everything you do concerns me.” He comes impossibly closer, speaking directly into your ear now. “Besides, anybody here can tell, Sweetie, you are too out of that idiot’s league. Not your wisest decision.”

Sylus is right. No one can miss how your date’s eyes unfocus, zoned out, whenever you speak. Or how he never introduces you when he goes to greet the other party guests. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving his side and blending into the crowd just moments ago. 

“I could say the same for you.” You counter. He pulls back, curious, “you don’t seem all that interested in your date either, and she’s your type, isn’t she.” 

You don’t hide the fact that you’ve seen the various magazine articles and social media posts, all featuring Sylus and the new woman by his side as the main image. She’s obviously gorgeous. And, you discover with a quick web search, is also from an extremely well-off family with much more influence than you could imagine.

Though you hadn’t seen her tonight, you don’t need to be a genius to figure out that Sylus is here with her tonight as well. 

“I have no romantic feelings towards that woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“But you’re still here with her.”

“She isn’t you, you know.”

“I didn’t know that mattered.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh at you. His turn to be the defeated one.

“Come home, Y/n,” his voice nearly begging as he gets straight to the point, “it’s always been you.”

How could you bring yourself to deny him like this?

You don’t know if it was Sylus’ persuasiveness or your own willingness to go back to being his that brought you to where you are now: locked inside one of the museum’s many private restrooms, the noises of music and chatter from the party now a distant murmur. 

You’re also: bent over the bathroom’s sink, thanks to Sylus, with the skirt of your dress hiked up to your waist and your underwear pushed down around your knees.

“Sylus,” you whine, your legs feel weak with each lick he makes to your pussy. 

“Keep still.” He commands, tightening the grip on both of your thighs that both kept you in place aa well as spread out for him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Baby.” He doesn’t move away to speak and the breath from his hot mouth stays directly on your cunt as he does so, the heat eliciting a loud moan from you. 

His tongue fucks into your hole from where he is crouched behind your open legs. The squelch of your arousal on his tongue and your moans fill the quiet atmosphere of the bathroom. 

You feel him chuckle behind you before feeling the cold air hit your wet core at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Y’know, for someone who was just playing so hard to get, you’re really enjoying this aren’t you, Kitten?” He teases, and though he stopped eating you out, his hands keep their position on your thighs, massaging them up and down. 

“Shut up.” You push yourself back so that you were practically sat on his face. He, thankfully, doesn’t object and gives your clit some much needed attention, sucking hard.

You can feel your climax sneaking up on you and so can Sylus, recognizing the way your moans got breathy and the way you clenched around him when he inserts his fingers into you, intensifying the pressure between your thighs. 

He continues sucking your clit, lightly grazing his teeth on your sensitive bud. The stimulation startles you at first, he’s never done this before, but it soon turns into euphoria as the pain mixes with pleasure. 

It all becomes too much for you and your walls finally come crashing down on Sylus’ tongue. He takes you through your orgasm, making it last as long as possible, until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. 

He’s quick to get up on his feet behind you. You immediately come to his understanding and slouch against him, letting him hold up all your weight. 

“Look at us,” he gestures to your reflections in the mirror. You’re a mess: your dress straps cling to your upper arms and your face is covered in bliss. Sylus nonetheless towers tall behind you, annoyingly put together as he always is. “It’s like nothing ever changed between us, hm?” 

You have to agree with him. The sight is not new to you, and you’re overcome with a sense of fondness for all the times you’ve stood like this before. 

On the outside, your physical states are pure opposites. However, you know that right now, Sylus is as aroused as you are. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he has yet to come. 

Still in your post-orgasmic haze, you try your best to reach behind you to where you assume his crotch is. 

“Already can’t get enough, Dear?” He teases you but even so, he moves back and pulls out his dick from his pants, simultaneously guiding your body so you’re bent over in the same position you were previously in and sliding his erection between your folds from behind. 

“Relax. You can take it,” he coos before slamming into your walls without warning. 

“Sylus!” You gasp at the intrusion. It’s a miracle that you even have the effort to scream his name, it was as if all your breath was taken away.

“Still so goddamn tight as I remember, Sweetie, I thought I told you to relax?” He begins to hammer his dick into your pussy, not sparing you and your sensitivity at all. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your moans and yelps with each thrust fill the room.

“Sy, ‘s too much!”

“You can handle it. After all, you wanted this.” His tip finds your g-spot and hits it at that same brutal pace. “Are you still thinking about that asshole that you came here with? Hm? Even as im fucking you like this? Have you forgotten him yet?” 

In the midst of being fucked, it takes you a second to figure out what, or who, he’s talking about. The truth is that you had forgotten all about the other man once you entered the seclusion of the bathroom you are now in. You don’t get a chance to reply before he continues.

“Can he fuck you like I do? Do you think of me when he’s this deep inside of you?”

Your eyes widen at the crudeness of his words. 

“I- never- we don’t-!” You’re quick to deny his accusations, albeit struggling to get the words out between moans. 

“Spit it out, Princess. Are you saying he doesn’t fuck you at all?” His hips smack against yours, hard this time. “Or are you saying that his dick can’t go deep like mine can?”

As he interrogates you, a hand reaches down between your thighs and begins circling your clit. The stimulation is all too much, and you’re still unable to properly speak. 

“Sylus-”

He takes a fistful of your hair and nudges your head up, forcing you to face the incriminating scene reflected in the mirror. “Answer me.”

You watch yourself shake your head rapidly, still being held up from your hair. “No! It’s not like that.. He and I never did it..”

“Oh yeah?” He still has the same smirk from earlier in the night on his face, but now his eyes are shrouded in a devious darkness. “That’s a good girl. If I had found out that he fucked you I might’ve had to kill him.”

He snorts, seeing your shocked expression. “I’m kidding sweetie,” he clarifies. Sylus then lets go of his hold on your hair and your head falls forward with more of his thrusts. “Now keep being my good girl and come for me.”

The exchange is pushed to the back of your mind and you’re reminded of the physical situation that you’re in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your whole body jerks up and down from bouncing back from his. 

You uncontrollably spasm as you cream around Sylus’ dick, squeezing around him just right. Overstimulated, your jaw hangs open as screams burst from your throat. Afterwards, you become fully limp in his hold.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ noisy, huh? You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl..”

You feel the exact moment he reaches his climax. He thrusts himself one last time into your sore cunt before you’re filled with his cum. 

You stay there for a while, neither of you bothering to move. 

After what feels like hours of standing still, Sylus finally pulls out of you. And last moan escapes your lips as he does so. 

He kneels, pulling up your panties from their bunched up state around your ankles to over your sopping hole before any semen could leak out. 

“You think you can keep it inside until we get home?” He asks before leaving a kiss on your clothed cunt and standing to fix your dress, erasing any evidence of your sexual encounter. 

“And when are we getting home, exactly?” You don’t comment on the fact that he said ‘home’ as if it was the same place for you. As if nothing had happened between you two. You don’t comment because you want both of those things to be true. 

“Now.” It isn’t a suggestion, nor a question, but a statement. 

“Wait, you’re not staying until the gala ends?”

“No, Sweetie. We’re not staying until the gala ends.” He laughs as if it’s obvious, “we both know that I could buy out this whole fundraiser if I wanted to.”

“What about our dates?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re my date, and I’m yours.” 

Sae having a butt fetish will never be not funny to me HAHAHSHSHA

༉‧₊˚. "𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐀𝐓?"

★ ft. itoshi sae x gn!reader synopsis. you catch your boyfriend staring at your ass , shocker !

notes. sae canonically has a butt fetish so i thought this would be fun to make, lol . also, established relationship (!!) and suggestive, ig (?) ps. new theme !!

you stood at the kitchen counter, preparing your morning coffee in your favourite mug as you vented passionately about the latest gossip from work to sae. "—and then, he had the audacity to put the blame on my friend! can you believe this man?!"

your boyfriend, who had just recently roused, leaned against the opposite marble counter behind you, stifling a yawn as he ran his hand through his disheveled hair. he nodded from time to time, an occasional soft hum escaping his lips as he listened to the silly frustration that laced your words.

little did you know, however, that your words were falling on deaf ears. his mind wandered, and the absent nods of his head were more reflexive than attentive. sae’s drowsy gaze was more drawn to the hypnotic sway of your hips as you added yet another spoonful of ground coffee into your mug. 

soon, what was left of his attention perished as he let out a barely audible, unresponsive grunt. your sounds were thus unregistered and quickly drowned into the back of his preoccupied mind, slipping in one ear and vanishing out the other.

"—anyway, do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?" you ask after finishing your rant, setting down the spoon with a clink as you reach up to fetch another mug from the cupboard above. after no response came, you repeated, "sae, do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?" you quirk a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder. "earth to sae...?"

sae abruptly snaps out of his trance, halting his observation of your round backside. he blinks a few times, lagging, before he speaks in a raspy voice, "ah, your friend...?"

you turn around to face him completely, furrowing your brows. "what?"

"what?" he repeats, caught off guard. you look at him knowingly, sighing softly as you pinch the bridge of your nose to maintain your nonchalant demeanor. "itoshi sae." his body tenses at your usage of his full name, and his fingers stop their rhythmic tapping against the marble surface.

"how many kitty paws are imprinted on my pajama, from the back?" you question, your hands finding their place on your hips as you shoot him a feigned glare.

his half-lidded eyes flick down to your hands resting on your hips once more, lingering a moment longer than necessary, briefly noting how your pants hugged your figure perfectly. quickly, he lifts his gaze to meet your narrowed eyes. "like, twel— ... shit," his voice is cut off awkwardly, his elbows hitting the counter with a thud as he leans forward, burying his [hardly] guilty face in the curve of his hands.

"pftt, you're so indiscreet," you laugh, adding cream and sugar to his coffee, the spoon clinking against the mug as you stirred. "seriously, are you dating me or are you dating my ass?" you quip playfully.

he groans quietly, pushing himself off the counter as he approaches you. his larger hands find your hips, then swiftly move until they settle on your rear, rubbing small, gentle circles on the fleshy round globes. leaning in close, he whispers in your ear in a teasing tone, "can’t i appreciate how beautiful it looks?” his breath fans over behind your ear. “okay, sorry, it was hard to resist.”

“you’re adorable– ah,” a soft sigh leaves your mouth as his lips suddenly latch onto your exposed neck, trailing down sloppy kisses, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin. you shudder, fluttering your eyes shut at the feeling of him grinning against your nape. a small whimper caught in your throat as his arm snaked around, delivering a firm smack to your bottom.

"s-sae, you're such an ass..." you pouted, hands slightly pushing against his chest in an attempt to distance and control yourself. he cocks an eyebrow, a smirk ghosting over his lips as he moved towards the counter, holding onto his mug. he brought it to his lips, glancing at you over the rim as he sipped the warm coffee, his voice hoarse.

"hm, ironic."

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