Otome Fics

Hi! I’m Jay (she/her) a writer who is usually hyper-fixating on otome games. I’ve played many of the Switch titles and my current fascination is Love and Deepspace. Requests open!

[bullyingfictionalmen]

💕Jay’s LADS Masterlist 💕

🌸Multi-fics🌸

“Who did this to you?” wc: 11.6k

Out of Control (in progress)

🍎Caleb🍎

Delicate Things (NSFW) wc: 9.2k

Assuaging Doubts (NSFW) wc: 2.6k

🐦‍⬛Sylus🐦‍⬛

Crow’s Lullaby wc: 1.9k

A Better Team wc: 656

🐠Rafayel🐠

The Painting that Never Was wc: 3.3k

Princess Treatment (NSFW) wc: 3.4k

❄️Zayne❄️

Shoulder to Cry On wc: 2.4k

✨Xavier✨

Mine All Along (NSFW) wc: 3.5k

🌹Headcanons🌹

LADS x Blind/Visually-Impaired!MC

Coming Out to the LIs

[erenophilic]

"Medicines?" You didn't mean to sound disappointed but you did, taking the packet from Zayne's extended hand and flipping it over to see what it was for.

“It rained yesterday and you forgot your umbrella, so I figured you might need these.” He said in his usual monotone, eyes dropping briefly to the package in your arms. It made you giggle a little. You had expected flowers. But only Dr Zayne Li can show up at your door with cold medicine as a romantic gesture and make it more charming than flowers.

"But you did bring me the umbrella while you were coincidentally passing by." He was doing his thing again—avoiding your eyes as his ears turned the cutest shade of pink. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

“Yes, I think I did.”

“So… ummm… I didn't get wet at all, thanks to you.”

You could see his genius mind working, trying to come up with an excuse. "Humidity carries a lot of pathogens regardless of direct exposure, so I thought it was reasonable to-” he stopped. "Nevermind.”

"Do you think my immune system is that of a Victorian child?"

"I apologise for assuming." He straightened his posture, but you could see the slight tremor in his fingers as he struggled to find somewhere to put his hands.

“So, you do assume that?”

"I'm not trying to imply-"

"What are you trying to imply then, Dr Zayne?"

“You don't have to be so formal, since I'm-” You raise your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “your boyfriend now.” It sounded strange coming from him like a word he had only ever read and never said out loud. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Then come inside, boyfriend." You pressed a quick kiss to his lips and pulled him through the door before he could overthink it. "and next time just say you want to see me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

"I have flowers in my car.”

[artsyririblobbu]

the lads visited the hundred acre wood and roo made drawings of everyone

[mayweholdhands]

February comics ⋆˚࿔

[blackhearteyes999]

MY CAPTIVE

summary: doesn’t every birthday boy wanna get handcuffed and gagged? no? oh… well, sylus does.

tags: LADS, lads smut, sylus x fem!reader

content warnings: bondage, baby 😈 18+ MDNI explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, “inappropriate” use of evol, role play (but is it really??)

word count: 2.8k

mood music: “red lights” by maximum love

note: thank you to @aliciascanvas for sylus’s birthday week prompts!! this is my submission for april 12th, prompt: BONDAGE

and thank you to darling @calebapproves for beta reading <3

“why are you knocking, kitten?”

the door of his office swung open, his eyes widening a fraction when he took in your appearance. 

confidently, you strode through the door, the polished boots of your hunter’s uniform clicking softly against the floor as you approached his desk. 

“good evening, mr. qin,” the serious expression on your face had a curious one blooming on his. 

he sat back in his chair, eyes roving. 

“I didn’t think you worked today.”

you let out a laugh, slowly rounding the desk. 

your knees brushed his as he swiveled slightly in your direction. then you leaned down, eyes locking with his, fingers ghosting over your pistol. 

“stand up.” 

the command in your tone had him tilting his head in fascination before he finally decided to rise, unhurried, gaze never leaving yours. 

“bossy today, aren’t we?” his ever-present smirk grew. 

you smiled back. 

then with the speed, strength, and agility of a hunter- you grabbed him. 

SLAM! 

his face met the desk, a surprised gasp escaping him as you yanked his wrists together. 

click!

the sound of the handcuffs locking and his heavy breathing filled the office. making sure your body was pressed closely against him, you leaned over his bent form, your voice perfectly even.

“sylus qin, you’re under arrest.” 

you felt the subtle shake of his chest as he chuckled against the desk, face turning to better see you. 

he opened his mouth, likely an attempt to say something smart, but a grunt was all that came out when one of your hands found the back of his head and pressed his face into the desk. 

“resisting is pointless,” you recited before tugging at his hair and lowering your mouth to his ear. 

“it’s a shame…” your voice suddenly

shifted to a sultry tone. 

you felt him shift beneath you. you tightened your grip.

“… nobody deserves to get arrested on their birthday.” 

you pushed his body impossibly closer to the desk, letting him feel the bite and coldness of the hard wood as he chose to remain silent.

satisfied, you yanked him upward,

secretly scouring him for any minor slip in  composure. 

his chest rose and fell dramatically as you pulled him back against you, command once again filling your voice, “too bad you’re coming with me instead.” 

he managed a breathy laugh as you shoved him through the door, leading him down the dark hallway. 

“and where, miss hunter, are you taking me?” his gravelly voice echoed in the hallway as you abruptly turned a corner. 

muffled cries caught his attention. 

there, on the floor, luke and kieran struggled against their restraints. 

“don’t mind them,” you nodded in their direction as you continued to push him down the hall, “I just needed to make sure you saw that no one was coming to save you.” 

sylus shook his head in amused disbelief. but his eyebrows raised when you stopped and rounded him. 

“bend down.”

those eyebrows furrowed. 

“and what if I refuse?” 

ZAP!

he jolted forward as you lowered your taser, a satisfied gleam in your eyes as you fisted his collar and pulled him closer. 

you ignored the fact that a jolt administered at that frequency would have a normal person convulsing on the floor for a few minutes. sylus was barely twitching, his breaths merely quickened as his crimson eyes met yours in delighted shock. 

“I wouldn’t recommend talking back,” you smiled at him before wrapping a blindfold around his eyes and pulling tightly.

“k-kitten-“ he stammered, voice still effected by the electrical current. 

“I understand that might be difficult for you,” you cut him off when you began pushing again, “but it’s probably best if you just keep that pretty mouth shut.”

you felt his body twitching as he huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t resist. after forcefully maneuvering him around the base to ensure he couldn’t figure out your destination, you stopped at a sealed doorway, scanning your fingerprint for access. 

when the automatic signal beeped and the doors slid open, you quietly pulled him through. his muscles tensed slightly as he sensed the shift in the air. no doubt he was familiar with the sound of coated concrete floors, the sterile smell of metal, or the drop in temperature as you walked further. 

a sharp breath escaped his lips as his back collided with a chair, his composure still impeccable despite the shove that forced him there. 

the fabric slid from his face, his eyebrow raising as he took in his surroundings. 

“holding me in my own cell, kitten?” his deep voice reverberated throughout the concrete room.

“for now,” you grabbed his chin and forced it upward, “but only until the backup I called for arrives.”

“I’m disappointed…” he drawled, shifting so that you heard the handcuffs clang against the chair, “you know these won’t hold me.”

pulling out another set from your uniform, you dangled them with a mirthless smile. 

“good thing I have a backup pair…” you tossed the cuffs to the side, taser suddenly pressed to his neck and face hovering inches from his. 

“… but I don’t plan on needing them.”

his eyelids shut upon contact. he tilted his head, exposing his neck further. 

you laughed.

“sick bastard,” you pressed the taser harder into his neck, “so you’re into this?”

eyes still closed and infuriating smirk still plastered on his face, he replied, “why don’t you press the button again and find out?”

that’s when he turned his face to you, eyes opening to reveal a nearly blinding glow emanating from his right eye. 

you tried not to grin.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

dropping the taser from his neck, you withdrew, a smug expression growing on your face. 

he seemed to relax slightly at your withdrawal, leaning back against his chair. 

“so, what do you plan to do with me, miss hunter? you don’t really believe that you can hold me captive until your friends arrive, right?”

slowly, you turned and stalked back to him. your gaze dropped, an indignant look on your face as you slid a foot between his legs. 

you pushed his leg wider. then his other leg. 

nestled snugly between his thighs, you leaned down and threaded your fingers into his hair, gently tugging his head back so that your lips were nearly touching. 

“of course I can…” your voice was barely above a whisper as your other hand came up to slip a button free from his shirt. 

“miss hunter-“

“shhh,” you pressed a finger to his lips, “you’re my captive. you’ll do as I say. understand?” 

this was the closest you had ever seen him to flustered. outwardly, he still appeared entirely composed. the perfect picture of a professional crime lord. but you noticed the slight flush creeping up his neck, the way his pupils dilated… 

and the way his pants were pressing harder against your thigh by the second. 

as you reached the last button, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips pressed together, and he turned his head from you. 

“mr. qin,” you grabbed his face, forcing it back, “I believe I asked you a question.”

he managed an indignant huff before replying, “and I believe you still haven’t answered mine, sweetie.”

you allowed yourself exactly one second to appreciate the bite to his words and the heat simmering in his eyes. 

SMACK! 

sylus’s startled gasp was music to your ears. the angry mark your hand left on his cheek began to fade as he slowly turned back to you. his crimson eyes were widened with intrigue, the right one flaring like a beacon as his gaze flicked over you. 

a subtle smile formed on your lips as you brought that same hand to gently caress the wound you had just inflicted. 

“let‘s try this again, sylus.”

allowing your honey-coated words to settle, you swung your legs over to straddle his lap. your hands delicately trailed up his muscular arms before resting around his neck. 

not daring to interrupt you, he raised an eyebrow in interest. 

“you’re my captive…” you ran a teasing finger along his lips. “and you’ll do as I say…” with incredible gentleness, you brushed your lips against his in a whisper of a kiss.

“… understand?” 

though his breathing had nearly stopped, you could feel his pulse racing. you heard a deep swallow, felt his hips shift, watched his pupils blow wide. 

“yes, miss hunter.” 

those three words sent a heady thrill of power through you. 

your hand slid over his exposed abdomen, fingers latching onto his belt. 

“say it again,” you tugged at his belt, “slower.” 

his half-lidded gaze dropped to your lips. a challenging grin curled on his.

“yes…” he tilted his chin to brush his lips against yours, “miss hunter.”

the belt broke free, the buckle clanging on the floor where you tossed it. 

“very good,” you praised, hands roaming over his sculpted physique.

tilting your head, you brought your lips to sweep along his neck, stopping directly beneath his ear as you whispered, “now, don’t test my patience. I have no problem finding ways to shut you up while we wait for my colleagues.” 

there was a small tremor in his breath as he hummed in reply. 

“why do I get the feeling that you’re not actually going to turn me in?” 

you pulled back to meet his defiant gaze, promptly removing yourself from him a moment after. 

a flicker of disappointment danced across his eyes as they narrowed at you, no doubt trying to determine your next move. 

slow and assured, you stepped around him, leaning over his shoulder to dangle the blindfold in front of his face. 

“you’re going to blindfold me again?” he inquired through a laugh, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“of course not.”

then you snatched his face, pulling it back to plant a filthy, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. he couldn’t suppress the groan you coaxed from him with your tongue. you grinned against his mouth before tearing away, leaving him a little bit breathless. 

“you talk too much,” you gave him a stern look, though you were still a little bit breathless yourself. 

then you raised the blindfold… 

and placed it over his mouth. 

he made to protest, but you took the opportunity to pull the fabric between taut between his parted lips. his shock was apparent this time, eyes swimming with a mixture of confusion and desire.

the sound of his muffled growl when his attempt to speak failed drew a crazed laugh from you, which you quickly cut off with a hand to your mouth. 

“that’s much better,” you positioned yourself between his legs once again, staring down at him brazenly as you ran a hand through his hair. 

then you dropped to your knees. 

popped the button of his trousers open. 

paused to gaze up at him. 

but you were the one thrown off this time.

sprawled out before you like a king on a throne, he leaned further back in order to shove his hips closer to you. his eyes were ablaze, any signs of shock clearly replaced by delighted intrigue. he looked so intimidating from this angle- even bound and gagged, that he almost made you forget who was in charge. 

almost. 

not backing down from the challenge in his eyes, you reached to swiftly unzip his pants. then you dared to slip your fingers beneath his boxers, smirking a little when he let out a sharp breath through his nose. 

“too bad I had to gag you for this…” you taunted as you stroked your fingers along the length of him. jesus. he was HARD.

“… I’m sure we could’ve found much better uses for your mouth.”

your tongue dragged oh-so-slowly over his tip, and you saw his chest heave with an exaggerated breath.

“I bet you’d make such gorgeous sounds for me, too… especially when I do something like this,” your cheeks were suddenly hollowed, throat entirely filled with him. 

sure enough, he released a deep, strangled groan that shot straight to your core. you let out a sigh as your mouth started moving along him, a hand joining to stroke him in tandem. 

you set a slow pace, making sure your lips pulled back all the way to the tip before sinking down as far as your throat would allow itself to stretch. 

when your eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze, his right eye flared, his hips shifting to push himself deeper with each pass of your lips. you never wanted to forget the sight. the way his sculpted muscles flexed with each labored breath. the way his eyes screwed shut and he bit into the gag when you flicked your tongue over a certain spot. you were starting to wonder if this should have been yourbirthday gift… 

he tried to lean forward, handcuffs clanging against the chair as he groaned in frustration. 

it was absolutely thrilling, seeing him so aroused that he momentarily forgot he could destroy those cuffs with a flick of his finger.

you pulled back for air, letting out a breathy laugh as your hand continued to stroke him. 

“I don’t recall saying you could move,” you rose just enough to push him back against the chair forcefully. 

sinking back down, you dragged your lips teasingly along the side of him before fully taking him back into your mouth. 

and there couldn’t have been anything prettier than the way he threw his head back and moaned through the gag, pleasured agony washing over his face as you continued to edge him to oblivion. 

but that should have been your warning sign. 

because the moments that followed were a blur of red-black mist swirling, metal breaking, and fabric ripping. 

a shriek tore from you as your back met concrete, your wrists suddenly stinging from the mist now forcing them above your head. 

you blinked, vision now filled with flickering ceiling lights. and him. 

sylus prowled over you, gag torn off and replaced by an unsettlingly fiendish grin. the glow from his right eye emanated so brightly that you had to squint. he let out a dark laugh as his large hand slid to rest on your throat. he squeezed lightly, savoring your gasp before dipping his head to return the kiss you’d given him… tenfold. 

his tongue swept deeper, farther than was humanly possible, tangling with yours until you were practically choking. his hips rolled viciously, grinding yours into the floor. the heat and weight of him were crushing, your breath rapidly depleting when your senses were jolted by a loud RIIIP! and the sensation of cold air between your legs. 

“sylus! my uniform-“ 

“-isn’t necessary any more…” he cut in with a growl, knocking your knees wider and tugging your panties aside. 

“… you’re my captive, now.” 

and then he was inside you.

your mouth flew open with a cry, eyes rolling back into your head as he knocked the breath from your lungs with frenzied, punishing thrusts. 

“how do you like my mouth now, kitten?” he taunted, making a point to tug your head back so that he could trail his tongue from your collarbone all the way up to your lips. 

your voice shook as you attempted to reply, back arching off the floor as he drove deeper. 

“tell me,” he grabbed your chin and locked eyes with you. 

“I-I- ilikeitsoooomuch!” you panted, whimpering when you felt his pleased hum vibrate against your throat. 

“good girl,” his sinful praise caressed your skin before his teeth sank into your neck and sucked. 

you ascended. exploded. tried to control the trembling as your bodies found release from the unrelenting pressure that had built between you. 

it was white hot. all-consuming. left you gasping and sweating and moving until you were sure that every last wave of pleasure had been wrung from you both. 

when your lungs finally found air, a feeble laugh slipped past your lips, your body still trembling. 

“something amusing, kitten?” sylus asked as he rose to his knees. 

but he didn’t release you. 

no, instead you were wrapped in mist and pulled to straddle his lap. 

“it was all part of my plan…” your eyes gleamed with mischief, unfazed. 

he chuckled, large hands snaking around your waist to pull you closer. 

“you think I’m joking….” you laughed, insanity brimming behind your eyes, “… what if my plan this entire time was to lock you up and keep you to myself for the rest of our lives?” 

his fingers caressed your jawline, a haziness settling into his gaze as if he was lost in a trance. lips moving closer, his voice deepened with a dark sincerity that had you trembling. 

“then that would be the greatest birthday gift I’ve ever received.” 

dividers by the talented @uzmacchiato

[reilemon]

𔘓 Let's Break Up, Xavier! 𔘓

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When exhaustion becomes unbearable, you end things with Xavier - until one cold camping night brings you back into his arms, where old wounds slowly begin to heal beneath the stars.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft smut, canon divergent

♡︎ word count: 8k

♡︎ a/n: this is set some time after the Misty Silhouette card with Precious Bonfire mixed in. also, i edited this fic so many times (i actually wrote it in January 2025) I can't even tell if it's good or not. if you notice any errors, pls ignore them.

divider by @/strangergraphics

The evening air is crisp, carrying with it the faint chill of late winter. The sky above is a murky gray, the sign of an approaching rain, but the city streets remain dry for now. You step out of the Hunters Association building, the automatic doors sliding shut behind you.

Your shoulders ache, your legs feel leaden, and your head is a mess of swirling thoughts. The last-minute paperwork you filed had been tedious, but it wasn’t what had drained you. No – that slow, suffocating weight had been building for weeks. And the second you spot Xavier waiting for you just outside, that weight settles even heavier.

He’s standing near the edge of the sidewalk, his tall frame relaxed, silver hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights above. His eyes find yours as you step closer. There’s something about the way he looks at you – steady, expectant – that makes your throat tighten.

You manage a tired smile, one that feels more like an obligation, and it barely reaches your eyes. It’s enough to keep the air between you from growing heavier, though, and Xavier returns the smile with a faint one of his own.

“Hey,” he says, his tone quiet but warm.

“Hi,” you reply softly, brushing past him and starting the walk back to your apartment building. He falls into step beside you easily, his stride matching yours.

For a few moments, the only sounds are the faint hum of passing cars, the muted chatter of pedestrians, and your footsteps. Your hand brushes against his, but when he reaches to lace his fingers with yours, your grip is loose, absent. You don’t pull away, but you don’t hold on either.

You notice Xavier glancing at you, but you don’t meet his gaze.

Now, as the silence stretches between you, he speaks first again. “What do you feel like eating tonight?”

The question feels like it’s demanding more energy than you have to spare. You shrug, keeping your gaze on the sidewalk ahead. “I’m fine with whatever,” you answer, aware that your tone is too flat to be anything but dismissive.

Xavier’s steps falter for the briefest moment before falling back in sync with yours. He doesn’t press, doesn’t ask again.

The two of you continue your walk in silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share.

The apartment building comes into view.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the faint crease in his brow, the way his jaw is set just a little tighter than usual. Then your eyes land on the white band-aid on his cheek, and your thoughts drift to last week.

When you reach the building’s door, he pulls it open for you, stepping aside to let you in first. You mutter a quiet, “Thanks,” as you step inside.

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop on your floor, and you step out first as the doors slide open, Xavier trailing just a step behind you.

You’re halfway to your door when a voice calls out, bright and cheerful.

“Good evening! How are you two tonight?”

You look up to see your friendly neighbor Charlie, stepping out of his own apartment, a warm smile lighting up his face. He’s holding what looks like a basket of muffins, the faint, sweet scent of chocolate wafting through the air.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice polite. Xavier nods beside you, his expression neutral. You feel the subtle tension in the way his hand brushes against yours as if testing whether you’ll let him hold it again.

The baker, oblivious to the storm brewing just beneath the surface, steps closer, his tone as friendly as ever. “Hey, I saw this new pastry shop downtown – their éclairs and croissants are apparently amazing. I was thinking of checking it out this weekend. You guys wanna come with me?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Xavier’s voice cuts in.

“We already have plans this weekend.”

Charlie blinks, his smile faltering for just a second. “Oh… okay, no worries,” he says, still trying to sound cheerful. “Maybe another time then. Have a good night!”

He gives a little nod and turns back toward the elevator.

You let out a quiet sigh as Charlie walks away. The polite smile you’d managed for the neighbor fades entirely as you step toward your apartment door. Xavier reaches for your hand again and your body reacts before your mind can stop it – you flinch away, yanking your hand back as if his touch burns, as a sharp, involuntary ‘tsk’ escapes your lips.

Xavier freezes for a split second, his hand hovering awkwardly in the space where yours had been. You catch the subtle flicker of emotion in his eyes – confusion, concern, maybe even hurt – but he doesn’t say anything. He steps back, giving you space as you finally unlock your door and push it open. He follows you quietly.

The second the door clicks shut, the air turns suffocating. You can’t hold it in anymore. You turn to face him and the words spill out before you can stop them.

“Why do you do that?”

Xavier blinks, his brow furrowing slightly. “Do what?”

“That!” you snap. “Cutting off conversations like that. Stepping in like – like you get to decide who I’m allowed to speak to.” Your chest heaves, the words coming faster now. “He was just being friendly, Xavier. And you – you shut him down like he was doing something wrong.”

You can see the way his jaw tightens. “I didn’t mean – ”

“Don’t,” you interrupt. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. You always do this, Xavier! Every time someone talks to me, every time someone tries to be nice, you act like – like you have to claim me or something.”

He takes a small step closer, his voice soft. “I wasn’t trying to claim you. I just… I didn’t like the way he – ”

“The way he what?” you ask, exasperated. “Asked if I wanted to try some pastries? Invited both of us to a café?”

Xavier lingers at the entrance while you step into the living room, not even bothering to kick off your boots.

He doesn’t speak, but his gaze follows you as you start pacing.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

His brows knit together, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You stop pacing for a moment, turning to face him. “This!” you snap, gesturing between the two of you. “Do you think I don’t notice it? The way you get moody every time someone gives me the slightest bit of attention? I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to be understanding, but it’s – ” You stop mid-sentence, your breath catching as the words pile up too fast to get out.

Xavier doesn’t move from his spot by the door. His eyes are soft, almost pleading, as he waits for whatever comes next.

“But you know what’s worse?” you say, your voice growing tired. “You know what’s worse? The way you just disappear.”

He stiffens slightly, but he stays silent, letting you speak.

“Last week,” you continue. “You sent me a message saying you were home, and I went up there – because of course I did. I walk in, and there you are, bleeding like it’s no big deal. You just sat there, patching yourself up like it was normal.” Your voice breaks. “You always come back like nothing happened, Xavier! As if I haven’t sat here, wondering if this is the time you don’t come back at all. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? How much it tears me apart?”

His eyes flicker with something – guilt, maybe, or pain – but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t try to explain. He just looks at you, his face pale and drawn.

You pause. The words feel heavy, but they spill out anyway. “I’m tired, Xavier. I’m so tired of waiting, of worrying, of pretending I’m fine every time you come back hurt. I… I can’t be with you anymore.”

He takes a small, instinctive step forward, his hand lifting slightly as if he wants to reach for you but stops himself. His voice drops even lower, almost pleading.

“Don’t say that… please,” he whispers, the words trembling. “I can try – I’ll change. Just… don’t say you can’t be with me.”

For a heartbeat the room feels too small, his quiet desperation hanging in the air. But the exhaustion in your chest is louder than anything else right now. You shake your head, cutting him off before he can say anything more.

“Don’t,” you interrupt, voice cracking. “I just… I need to be alone.”

You feel your eyes sting, and for a moment, you almost regret saying anything.

Xavier’s gaze drops to the floor, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and strained.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says quietly.

You close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I know,” you whisper. “But you have.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. He just stands there for a moment, staring at the ground, before finally turning toward the door.

When he finally opens the door, he pauses for just a moment. He doesn’t look back, but you catch the faintest quiver in his voice as he says, “Goodnight.”

And then he’s gone.

*

For a long moment you simply stand there, frozen, staring at the empty space he had occupied only seconds ago. The apartment feels suddenly vast and hollow.

Your knees give out before you can even think to move, and you sink onto the edge of the sofa. The tears come before you can stop them, hot and stinging, spilling over as you bury your face in your hands. A raw, broken sob tears from somewhere deep inside your chest, leaving you gasping for air that never quite fills your lungs.

His face refuses to leave your mind – those beautiful eyes that had always felt like your sanctuary, now wide with sadness, so quiet and lost. You keep seeing the way he lingered near the door, giving you one last chance to call him back, the faint tremble in his voice when he whispered “Goodnight.”.

I shouldn’t have said any of that, the thought claws at you. Your hands cover your mouth, muffling the small, hiccupping sobs that keep spilling out. You feel like you’ve just pulled the rug from beneath him after encouraging him to stand taller, to let the mask slip, to show you the parts of himself he usually kept hidden. You told him you loved it when he was expressive. You told him you wanted him to stop hiding. And when he finally started doing exactly that, you threw it back in his face.

The guilt wraps around your throat until fresh tears burn hotter and come faster. You clutch a throw pillow tightly against your chest, fingers twisting into the fabric as if the small, physical anchor might somehow keep you from shattering completely.

Beneath the guilt, exhaustion rests like something living, heavy and relentless. You think back to all of it – the nights you lay awake wondering if he would come back, the times you knelt beside him patching wounds he treated like minor inconveniences, the way you had learned to navigate his silences and sudden moods so the peace between you wouldn’t fracture. It had not been just today, or yesterday, or even last week. It had been weeks of bricks stacking one upon another until the weight finally became too much to carry.

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop, but they just keep coming. I had to say it, you tell yourself, your voice trembling inside your mind. I had to. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Yet even as you cling to that truth, the guilt refuses to loosen its grip. Because you know, deep down, that he had never wanted to hurt you. He simply doesn’t know any other way to exist – this gentle, distant, protective man who disappears into the night and returns as though the world outside never touched him.

Your gaze drifts toward the door, heart pounding with a sudden, desperate urge to run after him – to climb the stairs, knock until he opens, and throw yourself into his arms, saying that you didn’t mean any of it, that you’re sorry, that you’ll find another way.

Instead, you sink deeper into the sofa, wrapping your arms tightly around the pillow as fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

I can’t, you think. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m fine, just to make him feel better.

Your shoulders shake as you let out a trembling breath.

Eventually, your tears slow, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The apartment feels unbearably quiet now – or maybe it isn’t quiet at all. All you can hear is the high, persistent ringing in your ears, a sharp echo left behind your own sobbing. It drowns out everything else, turning the familiar space around you into something distant and muffled, as though the world has been wrapped in thick cotton.

You sit there, curled up on the sofa, staring at the door as if it might open again, as if he might come back.

But he doesn’t.

And you don’t go to him.

*

The days that followed blurred together like a half-remembered dream, fleeting and colorless – though you did everything you could to avoid dreaming at all.

Sleep became something you resisted.

You stayed awake long past the point of exhaustion, the harsh glow of your PC the only light in the apartment as hours slipped slowly into morning. You played games you had never touched before – ones he had never recommended, never sat beside you to play – letting the unfamiliar worlds occupy your mind just enough to keep it from drifting somewhere else.

When that was too exhausting, you read.

Not the books he had once suggested, not the ones still sitting half-finished on your shelf with his bookmarks resting like quiet memories tucked between their pages.

Different stories. Different voices. Anything that didn’t carry his presence on the pages.

Anything that didn’t sound like him.

By the time sleep finally claimed you, it was shallow and brief, more like passing out than resting. You woke disoriented, your body heavy but your mind already reaching for the next distraction before anything else could settle in.

You learned quickly that stillness was the enemy.

So you kept moving.

Missions became easier than staying home. You volunteered more often, took assignments without hesitation, accepted partners without preference. Anyone was fine.

As long as it wasn’t him.

Sometimes, returning to headquarters, you would catch sight of him in the distance – silver hair catching the light, posture calm, composed.

You always looked away first.

Then one morning, the elevator doors slid open.

And there he was.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your pulse jumping as you stepped inside, forcing your expression into something neutral, polite.

“Morning,” you said.

“Good morning,” he responded softly.

Nothing more.

You fixed your gaze on the panel of buttons, refusing to look at him, but you could feel it – the quiet, familiar presence beside you, the warmth you used to lean into without thinking.

Now it felt like something you had to endure.

The ride stretched endlessly.

When the doors finally opened, you stepped out too quickly.

“See you around,” you mumbled.

You didn’t wait for his reply.

*

In the apartment upstairs, Xavier had sat on the balcony night after night, staring at your contact on his phone. Countless times his thumb had hovered over the call button, needing to hear your voice, to ask if you were all right, to tell you how much he hated the distance between you.

But he never pressed it. His gaze would drift to the stars, eyes soft with regret.

Later, when sleep finally claimed him, he would slip into dreams where the two of you were together again – soft mornings wrapped in warm blankets, quiet walks beneath starlit skies, your laughter that always felt like sunlight. In those dreams he could hold you without fear, could speak every unsaid word that lived in his chest. The world felt gentle there, forgiving.

Yet the dreams were never fully his to control. Sometimes they would drift and darken, pulling him into endless, shifting streets. People passed him in blurred crowds, their faces indistinct. When he looked down at his own arms, his clothes would change – different fabrics, different eras, different names he had worn and discarded like old skins.

And then, among the faceless strangers, he would see you.

You would be walking just ahead, your silhouette clear and achingly familiar against the haze. His heart would leap with desperate hope, and he would start running – calling your name, reaching out, trying to close the distance that always felt both impossibly small and vast. His fingers would brush your hand, the warmth of your skin so close he could almost feel it…But you would dissolve into blur before he could truly reach you, slipping away like mist through his hands, leaving only the echo of your distant, hurt eyes staring back at him.

He would wake with a start, throat tightening as the hollow ache in his chest grew familiar.

*

Dawn has only just begun to warm the parking lot with its pale, golden light as you stand by the bus doors, tablet in hand. The cool breeze of early spring feels sharper than usual against your skin, and you draw your jacket closer, trying to focus on the list in front of you. The chatter of your group fills the lot – loud and scattered as everyone lugs their gear toward the bus.

You glance up occasionally, ticking off names as people climb aboard. Tara passes by with a bright grin, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “All set, Captain?” she teases.

You roll your eyes, but a faint smile tugs at your lips. “Just making sure no one gets left behind,” you reply, your tone distracted as your gaze sweeps the lot.

The last few stragglers pile on, and you’re about to follow when you hear footsteps behind you. Turning, you see him – Xavier.

He’s dressed in his usual light-colored outfit, a single bag slung over his shoulder, silver hair catching the morning light like a halo, his eyes scanning the bus before landing on you.

Why is he here?

The message from last week flashes through your mind. You had asked if he was coming on the camping trip, and he had simply replied, I’ll be there when I wake up. You had assumed it was his polite way of declining.

But now he’s here, looking a little sleepy. “Sorry for showing up last minute.” he says, voice still raspy.

You blink, mind scrambling to catch up, and nod quickly. “Yeah… it’s fine. Come on.”

He follows you onto the bus. As you climb the steps, a fresh wave of worry hits you. You hadn’t planned for him – hadn’t brought extra food, an extra sleeping bag, anything. Once you’re both seated and he settles into the only empty spot – right beside you – you turn toward him.

“Xavier… I didn’t think you were coming. I don’t know if I brought enough for you.”

He glances at you, his gaze softening just slightly. “Don’t worry about me,” he says simply. “I’ll adjust.”

“But – ”

“I mean it,” he interrupts gently. “I’ll be fine.”

You study him for a moment, searching his steady expression, then sigh and lean back in your seat. “Okay,” you murmur, though the worry still lingers.

The bus jolts as it pulls out of the lot, the hum of the engine blending with the chatter around you. You sit stiffly, tablet balanced on your lap, staring out the window while acutely aware of Xavier sitting beside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him shifting. He reaches into a small paper bag in his lap, pulls out a golden hashbrown, and then offers a second one to you. “Want one?”

You blink in surprise before reaching out to take it. “Thanks,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

You take a bite of the warm hashbrown, letting its comforting taste settle over you.

The silence that follows feels a little easier to sit with.

*

The cool night air bites at your cheeks as you step out of the bathroom, a thin trail of steam from the shower trailing behind you. The campsite has grown quiet, the day’s chatter faded into hushed conversations, low laughter, and the rustling of sleeping bags inside the tents. You pull your jacket tighter as you walk towards your tent, your mind drifting back over how the day had passed.

You kept yourself busy – assigning tasks, checking supplies, making sure everything ran smoothly – and yet you couldn’t ignore how Xavier’s presence had lingered like a shadow. You hadn’t avoided him, exactly, but you hadn’t sought him out either. Still, he was always there: offering you a skewer at lunch, reminding you to slow down and take a breather, silently hoisting supplies you’d been struggling with, tending the fire pits without a word.

Always there when it mattered, even when you thought his attention was somewhere else.

Now, as you make your way toward your tent, your gaze drifts instinctively toward one of the still-burning fire pits.

He’s sitting alone near the edge of the fire, book open on his knee, firelight dancing across his soft features. He looks relaxed, peaceful.

Taking a slow breath, you walk closer, boots crunching softly on the frosty grass. He glances up, his eyes meeting yours in the flickering light.

“Hey,” you say softly, arms crossed against the chill.

“Hey,” he replies.

You shift your weight, breath visible in the cold air, then speak before you can overthink it.

“I was wondering… if you wanted to sleep in my tent tonight,” you ask, your heart picking up the pace. “You didn’t bring any equipment, and it’s going to get colder later.”

He hesitates, gaze searching yours before he shakes his head. “It’s no trouble. Nero offered to share his tent.”

You let out a small breath, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Do you really want to share a tent with Nero?”

A faint, low chuckle escapes him. “Not really,” he admits.

“Well, then.” Your smile softens as you point toward the tent in the more secluded spot. “That one’s mine. Come by whenever you’re ready.”

He studies you for a moment longer, expression unreadable, then gives a small nod. “Alright.”

You nod back, heart still racing as you turn to leave, the quiet warmth of his chuckle still lingering in your ears.

*

The tent is lit by a lantern in one corner, bathing the small space in soft orange light. Outside, the night air is sharp with cold, but inside the gentle hum of the heating mat wraps around you like a comforting cocoon. You sit cross-legged near the edge of the sleeping bag, legs tucked under the oversized fabric, the familiar scent of your laundry softener clinging to your pajamas. 

Beside you, Bunbun sits nestled in a little nest of your hoodie and spare clothes. With Xavier about to join you – the thought sends a fresh wave of nerves rippling through your chest – you’re not sure the sleeping bag will have space for both him and your round, well-loved companion.

The faint crunch of footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. Your heart skips hard as the tent zipper slides open.

Xavier ducks slightly to enter, bringing a rush of cold night air with him, but he quickly zips the tent back up. He shrugs off his jacket, and the sight beneath it gives you butterflies – simple gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that clings softly to his chest and shoulders, his collarbone just visible at the neckline.

He sets the jacket near the entrance, then turns toward you. His eyes flicker briefly to Bunbun nestled in the hoodie, and his expression softens.

“It looks cozy,” he says quietly.

You glance down at the plushie, cheeks warming, as you simply nod in response.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, and it seems both of you are suddenly hyper-aware of how you haven’t been this close in a long time.

He shifts his weight, glancing at the sleeping bag. “You can… take the bag,” he offers.

You shake your head quickly, gesturing beside you. “It’s fine. It’s meant for two. Just… get in.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. After turning off the lantern in the corner, he slips into the sleeping bag next to you. The warmth of his body is immediate, radiating through the fabric even though you’re both holding yourselves stiff and awkward, trying not to let any part of you touch more than necessary. Your legs brush anyway, sending a small spark through your chest.

You lie there with your hands folded tightly over your stomach, eyes fixed on the mesh ceiling while the dim light from outside lanterns casts shifting shadows across the tent walls.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Goodnight,” you mumble, turning your back to him.

There’s a brief pause before he answers. “Goodnight.”

The tent falls quiet, save for the occasional whisper of fabric as you move, trying to settle. You close your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind refuses to quiet. Every small sound, every subtle shift of his body beside you keeps pulling you back to the surface.

You wonder if he has already drifted off – he always could, no matter the time or place. Your fingers curl into the fabric of the sleeping bag, nails digging in as you fight the overwhelming urge to turn toward him. You want so badly to close the distance between you, to reach for the comfort of his arms the way you used to, to feel them wrap around you without hesitation, warm and steady and safe. You miss the way his breathing would slow against your ear, the quiet strength that always seemed to soothe every ache inside you.

You roll onto your back again, as the same thoughts circle endlessly in your mind – Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Does he even want to be here, or is he only enduring this out of convenience?

The seconds stretch on, heavy and endless. Just as you begin to wonder whether this restless ache will keep you awake until dawn, you hear the soft rustle of fabric as Xavier moves beside you.

He turns onto his other side, until the soft brush of his breath grazes your cheek. For a moment you lie perfectly still, heart hammering, fighting the urge to look at him.

Then his voice breaks the silence, low and gentle.

“Can’t sleep?”

The sound of his voice sends a gentle shiver down your spine. You had been so certain he had already fallen asleep.

You nod, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

The silence stretches again, as though he’s patiently waiting for more. Then his voice comes once more, quieter this time.

“Is something bothering you?”

You shake your head, hoping the small motion will be enough, but you can still feel his gaze resting on you.

Another pause lingers in the dark. When he speaks again, you can hear the concern in his voice.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks. “Am I imposing after all?”

The question hits like a sharp snap in your chest. It draws your gaze to him before you can stop yourself.

Through the mesh ceiling, the night sky spills faint silver light across his face, turning his features soft and dreamlike in the darkness. His eyes are clear and unwavering, searching yours.

He looks unsure, almost vulnerable in the gentle starlight.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling just a little. “I don’t want you to leave.”

You don’t look away.

How long has it been since you truly let yourself look at him?

“I miss you,” the confession slips from your lips, barely more than a breath.

A subtle flicker of surprise crosses his face, eyes widening just slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words now spilling out. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away, Xavier… I just didn’t know how to handle everything anymore. And after all the things I said that day, I wasn’t sure you’d even want to hear from me again.”

Tears well up and slip down your cheeks in warm trails. You don’t try to stop them.

Before you can say anything more, he moves. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your face with feather-light care. His thumb catches a tear as it slides across the bridge of your nose, then another.

“I missed you too,” he says quietly. “Every single day.” His thumb lingers against your cheek.

“I wanted to reach out,” he continues. “But I didn’t know if you wanted me to. I thought… maybe you were better off without me.”

More tears spill as you shake your head, voice trembling. “No… I wasn’t. I’m not.”

His hand shifts, cupping your cheek fully now, palm warm against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For disappearing when you needed me to stay. For making you wait and worry every time I left, without ever explaining why.”

Another tear slides down and he catches it.

“And I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting… for getting possessive when someone talks to you. It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because I’m scared… scared that someone better, steadier, might come along and you’ll realize you deserve more than what I can give you right now.”

He pauses, breath shaky. “I can’t make the disappearances stop completely,” he continues. “But I’ll do everything I can to change how I handle them. I’ll tell you when I have to go. I’ll come back faster. I’ll stop leaving you to wonder if this time I won’t return. I’ll make it up to you, every single time – if you’ll let me try.” His eyes search yours. “Please… let me try.”

Under the stars, his eyes look so beautiful. They were so distant and hard to read when you first met him, but now, they look at you with so much hope and longing, not hiding anything. You want to say something, but the words catch in your throat for a second – the old exhaustion and fear still whispering that nothing might really change.

His thumb brushes your cheek, his breath catching just slightly. “Please,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to – I can’t lose you again.”

The desperation in his voice makes your chest ache.

But the flicker of hope that’s been resting in your heart begins to glow brighter.

Your hand rises to meet his. You gently move it away from your face, your fingers brushing his palm before curling around it, interlacing tightly. You lift it to your lips and press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of it.

For a moment, you just hold it there, lingering in the warmth of his skin.

When you lift your gaze to his again, your voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Hold me… please.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, as if even now he’s waiting for the smallest sign that you might pull away.

You don’t.

His fingers tighten around yours, and then he draws you in, until there’s no space left between you. Your breath falters as your body follows without resistance, leaning into him as your head settles against his chest, finding its place there as if it had never been lost. Your eyes flutter closed as you listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm steadying as minutes pass.

He holds you like that for a while, his arms tightening around you just a little, the pressure easing the tension from the day, little by little.

You lift your head slightly from his chest, and your gaze meets his. His midnight-blue eyes are impossibly soft, the warmth in them making your heart stutter.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

You’re close enough to feel his breath, warm against your lips, close enough that it would take nothing at all to close the distance – and still, he doesn’t move. His gaze flickers briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes.

Slowly, you lean forward – and he mirrors your movement, your lips brushing against his in the faintest, most featherlight kiss.

You sigh softly against his lips. His mouth is so warm, so familiar, and yet it feels new after all this time. Your fingers trail upward, slipping into the soft strands of his hair. He lets out the faintest sound – a low, almost imperceptible hum of approval that vibrates against your lips. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, as he savors you.

Time seems to slow inside the tent. The only sounds are your mingled breaths and the distant crackle of the dying campfire outside.

Gradually the kiss deepens. His tongue brushes tenderly against your bottom lip in a silent question. You part for him, and the moment his tongue meets yours in a slow, intimate dance, warmth blooms low in your belly.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. You can feel the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm, the way his breathing has grown heavier, matching your own.

His hand slides up your back to cradle the back of your head as he eases you onto your back. You go willingly, heart racing, instinctively making space for him. The weight of him is perfect – warm, solid, grounding – pressing you into the sleeping bag. When his hips finally settle fully against yours, you feel it – the hard, unmistakable line of his arousal, hot and insistent even through the layers of fabric.

He begins to move, careful and testing, rolling his hips in the smallest, slowest grind. The hard line of his arousal drags along your core through the fabric, creating a maddening friction that makes your breath hitch.

He pauses again, breathing heavily, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. Instead, you tighten your fingers in his hair and instinctively lift your hips to meet him.

He groans softly and continues, rolling his hips in languid, gentle waves. Each slow drag presses him perfectly against your most sensitive spot, the layers of clothing teasing and making the sensations sweeter.

You can’t stay still. Your own hips begin to move, timid at first, then gradually finding his rhythm – rocking up to chase that delicious pressure. Soft, breathy whimpers slip from your lips into his mouth with every shared grind.

The quiet rustle of fabric and the sleeping bag shifting beneath you suddenly feels far too loud in the stillness of the night. Worry threads through the haze of pleasure. Your movements falter, hips stuttering to a stop.

Xavier notices instantly. He stills completely, his breath brushing hot against your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, concern threading through his voice.

You swallow, cheeks burning. “I… I’m worried we’re making too much noise,” you murmur, barely audible. “The others…”

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he nuzzles slowly into the curve of your neck, pressing tender kisses along your skin as his hips begin to move again – slower this time. Every roll sends sparks radiating through your core, making your toes curl.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your neck. “They’re probably already asleep. No one will hear us…” He kisses just below your ear, voice dropping even lower. “Let me feel you like this… please.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. The combination of his gentle voice, the teasing roll of his hips, and the sheer relief of finally having him close again leaves you dizzy. Pleasure curls tighter and tighter in your belly with every slow glide.

His hand slides down to grip your hip, guiding your movements so the thick ridge of his cock presses perfectly against your clit. The added pressure pulls a trembling moan from your throat, but it only heightens the aching emptiness inside you. The layers of fabric that separate you start to feel like torture – delicious, but maddening. You need more. You need his skin, his warmth, the feeling of him truly filling you.

You break the kiss with a trembling breath, forehead resting against his. Your hands slide down his back, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging lightly.

“Xavier…” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I need you… all of you.”

His breath stutters against your lips. He searches your eyes in the faint starlight.

Then, as silently as possible, he helps you. The sleeping bag zipper rasps as he tugs it open just enough to give you room. You both move together – you pushing your pajama pants and panties down your hips, him taking off his shirt and shoving his sweatpants low enough to free himself. The cool night air brushes your bare skin for only a moment before his warmth returns, the thick, hot length of his cock now pressing directly against your slick, aching folds.

You let out a soft, broken gasp at the feeling. Instinctively you spread your legs wider, tilting your hips up as your hands clutch at his shoulders.

He groans quietly, forehead dropping to yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You nod, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him closer. “Yes,” you breathe against his mouth. “Please… I need to feel you inside me.”

He doesn’t push inside right away. Instead, he wraps one hand around the base of his cock and slowly rubs the thick, heated length between your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. The sensation is exquisite – the smooth, heavy glide of him sliding up and down, catching against your swollen clit with every pass, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.

Only when you whisper an impatient ‘Xavier’ does he finally position himself. He eases in with one slow, careful thrust – then another – sinking deeper until he’s buried to the hilt.

The stretch is overwhelming in the most perfect way – that familiar fullness, the way your body opens for him like it was made for him.

For a long moment he stays completely still. His breath comes shaky and uneven against your lips. You can feel the subtle tension in his body, the way his muscles tremble.

“...Honey,” he whispers, voice low and strained, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel… so good. I’m already so close.”

Your fingers graze the tense muscles of his shoulders. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fighting the urge to move your hips, “We can just stay like this.”

His eyes flutter open, searching yours. One of his hands gently cups your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin as he tries to steady himself. The thick length of his cock twitches inside you, and he lets out a quiet, breathy groan.

Then he begins to move – slow, deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock along your walls in long strokes. A soft, needy moan escapes your lips at the first real thrust. Your hands clutch tighter at his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm, defined muscle beneath warm skin as his body moves over yours. You can feel every shift and flex of those muscles under your palms – strong, yet trembling.

He keeps his rhythm steady and quiet, mindful of the thin tent walls, but his eyes stay locked on yours, soft and reverent in the faint starlight.

A particularly deep thrust nudges that sensitive spot inside you and a louder moan escapes before you can stop it. Xavier immediately leans down, capturing your mouth in a deep, muffling kiss, swallowing the sound as his hips continue their slow, steady pace.

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing yours with every word.

“Are you okay, honey?” he murmurs. “Does this feel good? Tell me if it’s too much… if you’re too warm in here with me.”

You can only nod frantically, fingers tightening in his hair.

He angles his hips slightly, thrusting deeper, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot again and again, while his pelvis rubs against your clit with each movement, the dual sensation devastating. A broken whimper escapes you despite your best efforts. He kisses you again, but you feel his lips curve into a soft, tender smile against yours.

You feel the orgasm approaching, quick and inevitable with every thrust, your walls fluttering around him.

Breathlessly, you manage to whisper against his lips, “Just like that… Xavier, please… I’m so close.”

He lets out a soft, shaky groan, and his arms tighten around you, cradling you even closer as he keeps that exact rhythm.

“That’s it, darling,” he murmurs. “Let go for me.”

You hold onto him – arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and back, fingers digging into his skin, your face buried in the crook of his neck. His scent surrounds you, familiar and comforting, while his own arms cradle you securely, one hand splayed across your back and the other gently supporting the back of your head. The sleeping bag rustles softly with every movement, the confined space forcing you even closer, skin sliding against skin.

The pleasure builds higher and higher, every graze of his cock against that perfect spot and every press of his pelvis against your clit pushing you closer to the edge. Your body trembles in his arms, thighs tightening around his hips as the wave finally hits.

With a shudder that runs through you, you come undone around him. A broken moan escapes against his neck, muffled into his skin as your walls clench rhythmically around his cock, pulsing with wave after wave. Your fingers clutch desperately at his back, your whole body arching into him as the orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in his embrace.

Xavier holds you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping – gentle, soothing rolls of his hips that draw out every last sparkling aftershock, coaxing the pleasure to linger as long as possible.

He whispers soft, reverent praises against your ear. “That’s it… so beautiful… I’ve got you, princess. I’m right here.”

His words tug at something in you as the high of your orgasm starts to fade. The tenderness of his touch, his pulse against your cheek, the sheer relief of having him close again – it all crashes over you at once. Your eyes grow hot and misty, tears slipping silently down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Xavier notices almost immediately. He stills his hips, then gently eases back just enough to tilt your chin up with careful fingers, his eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes away the tears.

“Hey… are you okay?” he asks, a flicker of worry crossing his face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head quickly, a watery smile breaking through as more tears spill over. Your fingers thread into his hair as you say softly, “No, I’m just… I’m just so happy you’re here. I never want to lose you again.”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move at all, thumb still catching fresh tears.

Then, he whispers your name.

“You’ll never lose me,” he says quietly, forehead pressing to yours. “I’m yours… I’ve always been yours. You’re my everything.”

He swallows hard, hips giving the tiniest, involuntary twitch inside you. You can feel him throbbing, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.

“I’m… I’m so close,” he admits, sounding almost shy. “But I need to know you’re really okay first. Tell me you’re with me… tell me this is what you want.”

You nod, fingers threading deeper into his hair, pulling him closer until your lips brush his. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m more than okay. I want you… Please don’t stop.”

A relieved, broken exhale leaves his lips. Then he starts moving again, chasing his own release.

But even as the pleasure builds for him, he’s careful. When his rhythm falters and his breath turns ragged, when you feel him pulse inside you, he suddenly stills again, hips flush against yours.

“I… I have to pull out,” he murmurs, voice strained. “The sleeping bag… it’ll be uncomfortable for you later. I don’t want that.”

He presses one last lingering kiss to your lips, then – with a moment of hesitation – withdraws. He shifts to the side just enough to free one arm, then reaches down between you. His hand wraps around his slick, throbbing length, stroking himself quickly, desperately, while his other hand holds the back of your neck.

“Look at me… please,” he breathes. “I want to see your face when I – ”

You look up at him, cupping his cheek as you hold his gaze.

With a low, choked moan he comes, hot pulses spilling over your stomach and the sleeping bag beneath you. His whole body trembles against yours, hips jerking into his fist as he rides out the release, never once looking away from your face.

When the last shudder leaves him, he exhales a long, shaky breath and immediately pulls you back into his arms. The mess sticks to both of you, but you don’t care.

He buries his face in your neck, holding you so tightly it almost steals your breath. “Thank you for letting me come back to you.”

You wrap your arms around him just as tightly, tears slipping silently down your cheeks again – happy ones – as you press kisses into his hair.

Xavier holds you close for a long moment, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he still can’t quite believe you’re really here. His breathing slows down against your hair, and you feel the last tremors of his release gradually fade as he relaxes into you.

He moves a little so he’s facing you again. He peppers your face with the softest kisses: one to your forehead, one to the corner of your eye where tears had slipped, one to the tip of your nose, then another to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Each gentle press of his lips makes you smile, a small, breathless laugh escaping you as warmth blooms in your chest.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and shining in the faint starlight. When he shifts slightly to adjust against you, his gaze drifts past you to a corner of the tent. A tiny huff of laughter escapes him.

“Uh-oh,” he murmurs, voice light and playful. “Bunbun saw everything.”

You follow his gaze to where your plushie sits nestled in its little hoodie nest, ears peeking out innocently. A soft laugh bubbles up from your chest.

“Let’s pretend it’s sleeping,” you whisper back, still smiling as you nuzzle closer into his neck.

He chuckles quietly then reaches for the small pack of wipes you’d tucked near the edge of the sleeping bag. He cleans you first – careful strokes over your stomach and between your thighs – before wiping himself. The whole time he keeps one arm around you, as if unwilling to break contact even for a second.

Once you’re both clean and dressed, he zips the sleeping bag back up around you, cocooning you together in the shared warmth. You settle against his chest, head resting right over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm beneath your ear, while his fingers trace slow, soothing patterns along your back.

As you lie there, wrapped in his arms, a faint, flickering light catches your eye. You blink, lifting your head just enough to glance around the dimly lit tent, and that’s when you see them – tiny, glowing specks of light drifting through the air like fireflies, dancing gently around the two of you.

You don’t say anything. You simply nestle closer, pressing your cheek to his chest as the glowing lights surround you both like tiny stars. You smile softly as his arms tighten just slightly around you.

And for the first time in a while, you let sleep take you, knowing you’ll find him in your dreams.

[applefishing]

being in a poly relationship with each duo:

rafayel/caleb: you are PROTECTED and WATCHED. they get along annoyingly well and end up telling each other all their secrets, even the ones kept from you. they decide working together fully is in your best interest. feed into each other's yandere tendencies. lots of ribbons and blindfolds and manhandling when they fuck you. their shared cute aggression and inability to say no to you is your greatest weapon.

zayne/sylus: daddy duo. zayne is the strict one. you go to sylus when you want to go behind zayne's back to get your way. sometimes sylus betrays you and ties you to the bed posts and leaves you for zayne to find when he gets home. they both call you sweet girl, and when you are in public, they both have a hand on you somewhere at all times.

rafayel/zayne: work really well together when shit gets serious. teacher/student roleplay, often. they have very different worldviews and you are always trying to prompt philosophical discussions between them for your own entertainment. also work together well at night. rafayel holds you against his chest, entirely restrained, while zayne punishes you with his cock. very gentle thorough aftercare.

rafayel/sylus: they nearly kill each other a few times at the start. they are apparently accidents, but you have your doubts. especially when sylus calls raf kitten one day and gets a dagger in his shoulder as a consequence. they take you on exotic trips very often. you get fucked in each place. they keep track of these places on a map and challenge each other in various games to decide who gets to choose the next place to take you. they both love dressing you up all pretty, often in pink.

xavier/caleb: always competing for your attention. snarky. passive-aggressive jealous bickering. lock in together when you need protecting. no hand raised against you lives. every time caleb feeds you a perfectly cooked meal, xavier fucks you for desert to make sure he's keeping the balance. caleb banned him from the kitchen for your safety. xavier makes you call him gege sometimes just to piss him off.

xavier/zayne: you catch them in discussions sometimes that make your head spin. they respect each other a lot. zayne has an accident with his evol one night and needs distance from you, escaping out into the cold night. but before he can spiral into self-loathing, xavier follows him out and talks him out of it. he tells him he's the only one in the universe he trusts with your life.

rafayel/xavier: pure joy and fun with a side of murder. they don't get along at first. xavier doesn't like how involved you are with rafayel's revenge/rescue missions. but after insisting on coming along, he quickly gets on side. ends up completely dedicated to the cause, especially when he sees how it upsets you. you find them napping together sometimes, and rafayel calls xavier old and out of touch when he doesn't understand his art. you have baths together nearly every day, and at night they grab at you and tug you between them like two only children who've never had to share their favourite toy.

xavier/sylus: sylus scares children off as he stands at your side and xavier smiles from your other side and tells them he's not nearly as scary as he looks. sylus stirs up xavier's jealous tendencies on purpose just to fuck with him, and because he knows you like it. he'll sit you on his cock and ask who fills you better or challenge xavier to try and take what belongs to him. respect each other but bicker like they hate each other.

zayne/caleb: serious plotting and scheming. have the potential to take over planet earth. EVER is rubble in 4 business days. no matter how much you want to see them fight, they keep it out of your sight, even when you tease and incite jealousy as best you can. sometimes when you've been more trouble than usual, they punish you together for being a bad girl.

sylus/caleb: the most pampered spoiled princess known to mankind. wants for nothing. sleeps in between them every night and when one of them is gone the other cockwarms you to soothe you. potential for absolute evil to manifest between them as they feed into each other's all-consuming obsession and desire for you. have the potential to work together to destroy all life in the universe if it would make you just a little bit happier.

[qintten]

[animation] all 3rd myths complete! say hi to them! 🐟⭐❄️🐦‍⬛🍎

also posted on my twitter ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) !!!

individual gifs under the cut~

wow this quality as usual free to use/edit/crop with credit if you wanna use this on your blog! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

[myearts-uwu]

Turtleneck Sylus

Felt like I wasn't able to focus and draw anything else if I didn't work on this thingie that's been marinating since mid-January. The 2nd anniversary offline event in China changed my life for the better, not gonna lie. I was going crazy over turtlenecklus.

Bonus comic sketch because I realise it's been a while since I drew these two together.

And finally I need to show you guys the two very specific shots of the Sylus turtleneck cosplayer from the offline event because WOW it did something to my brain.

[bullyingfictionalmen]

I love your ex series with the boys. They’re so satisfying. I can’t wait to read your other stuff- I’m gonna be digging through your master list but I wanted to message you about how much I enjoyed the ex series first

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 💖💖 You’re so kind! 😊 I’m really happy you enjoy these, they’ve been so fun to write! I’m nearly done with Sylus’ story, so stay tuned~ 🐦‍⬛❤️

[byallmeans1]

[bullyingfictionalmen]

Mine All Along

After Heartbreak pt. 4: Xavier

Zayne | Caleb | Rafayel | Sylus

Pairing: Xavier x fem!Reader

wc: 3.5k

Summary: Your last relationship never worked, and now you know the reason.

Tags: nsfw, minors dni, smut, confession, protective Xavier, jealousy , p in v, fingering, semi-public sex

“You like him, don’t you? Just admit it.”

The look in your ex-boyfriend Brian’s eyes is nothing less than furious. It’s ugly, laden with an amount of scorn that tells you it doesn’t matter what you say in response. He’s decided the answer all by himself.

You let out a bewildered sigh. “Are we really doing this here?”

‘Here’ being the entrance to the Hunter’s Association’s main HQ building, a full week after you mutually called things off. You gather he’s not over the crux of your final fight, which was his firm belief that you were in love with your coworker-slash-neighbor, Xavier. You had tried to make him see reason at first, but at this point, you’re past that. Now, you’re just annoyed that his raised voice and rigid stance are starting to cause a scene at your workplace.

“Apparently, we are,” he snips. “Since you still refuse to answer my questions honestly and give me the closure I damn well deserve. Do you like him?”

“I told you when we broke up,” you huff, “Xavier is my partner. As in, my coworker.” It’s true, but your words sound defensive, even to your own ears. Xavier is a special person in your life, and you’d be lying if you said there was never romantic tension. But he’s also difficult to pin down, and can be withholding in spite of his kindness. Long story short, it’s complicated. Still, it has never amounted to anything. Your grip tightens on the cardboard box of your ex’s things that he refuses to take from you until he’s beaten this dead horse one more time. “I never cheated on you, Brian, we’re just close. The work we do here means I have to trust him with my life. And I do.”

The man in front of you, who you once considered close, safe, sneers with such open disdain that it rips at your chest. “That’s not an answer. You’ve been blabbering about trust, but how about how I felt, huh? How was I supposed to trust you when you were always putting him first? He undermined me every chance he got!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, he was just existing near me!” You cry. “Don’t project your insecurities on us! Xavier knew about you, and he was completely respectful of our relationship.”

Xavier has been too respectful, really. You’ll never forget the flash of something like devastation in his eyes when you announced that you had a boyfriend. It makes your gut hollow out to remember it. But for all you know, it could’ve been a hallucination, because it was gone in a blink, replaced by an aloof, sleepy expression.

“Congratulations,” he had said softly. His hand had hovered over your shoulder in a facsimile of friendly support, but he’d flinched away before he could make contact, making an excuse to leave the room.

And then, distance. Coldness where there had once been camaraderie. He stopped talking with you outside of work, he disappeared on missions more than usual, and worst of all, he could never quite meet your gaze anymore, always looking to the side, at the ground, above or through you. Like you didn’t exist.

Your stalwart partner, ever reliable even with his mysterious comings and goings, has turned into a ghost. Xavier’s presence has always been subtle, understated. But when it recedes entirely, nothing makes sense anymore. Tasks that used to feel routine are now tedious. Fights that felt easy as breathing have you grinding your teeth and clenching your sore muscles. It’s obvious, even to the rest of your coworkers—you’re not in sync anymore. You’ve been worrying that he’ll go to Jenna and request a new teammate. Hammer a final nail in the coffin of your relationship.

All of this turmoil, and for what? For a guy whose inferiority complex and rampant control issues kept you from your friends, from any environment where Xavier might appear to ‘steal you away’. Who never trusted you or valued your autonomy or integrity. This man has never loved you, and the indignity of it turns your shame to anger roiling in your ribcage. “I think you should go. Take your things and move on.”

You step closer and push the box toward him, but he stands his ground. His forceful refusal has you staggering back a step. “Just admit it!” he seethes. “How hard is to–AGH!”

Your ex cries out as his arm is twisted at an unnatural angle. Behind him looms Xavier, looking as stoic and imposing as you’ve ever seen him. “It seems to me,” he says cooly, “that I’m the one you actually want to confront. Is that right, Brayden?”

“G-Get your hands off me!” your ex cries, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle from Xavier’s grip. “A-And it’s Brian.”

“I’d be willing to duel you, Brent.” Xavier twists Brian’s arm harder, until beads of sweat start to form on his forehead. “Swords, fists, take your pick. Though I can’t promise it’d be honorable after the way you’ve treated my partner.”

Your heart trips over the way he says ‘my partner’. Like there’s never been any doubt that you belong side by side.

“Fight… you? You’re insane! Let me go, man, I don’t want this lying, cheating slut anyway–”

Xavier scowls, and you hear a distinct ‘pop’ as Brian’s shoulder is dislocated. Time seems to grind to a halt as his face turns purple and his eyes go wide. Then, he lets out a wail, drawing the attention of some alarmed passers-by. Before he can start ranting about hospital bills or pressing charges, though, your coworkers Simone and Tara appear on either side of him. Simone clamps a hand over his mouth, and Tara’s cheery smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she grips his good shoulder.

“A little noisy, aren’t we, Bradley?” Tara chirps. Brian makes a muffled, pathetic sound behind Simone’s hand. “There, that’s better.”

“Let us handle this,” Simone says flatly, eyes flicking to your stunned expression. “After everything this prick put you through, we’ll make sure Dr. Li gives him an earful at Akso.”

“Xavier,” Tara gestures for him to let go of his hostage, “you stay here and make sure she’s okay. Okay?”

Xavier simply nods, releases Brian’s arm, and you both watch as your friends march him toward the busy street. When they disappear from sight, Xavier turns back around, his features softening now that he’s focused on you. He takes the cardboard box from your hands and, for the first time in months, looks directly into your eyes. “You alright?”

“Xavier…” Staring into his deep, earnest gaze, something inside you crumples. You can’t quite pinpoint the feeling–embarrassment? Relief? Maybe it’s a potent mix of both. You take a shaking breath, unshed tears burning behind your eyelids. “I… I’m sorry.”

Xavier sets his free hand on your shoulder and guides you away from the stares of curious onlookers. “I stole your chance to break his arm, I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “But let’s talk about this someplace quieter.”

You nod, following him into the HQ’s seldom-used side-entrance. Xavier’s clearance lets him pass without a hitch, and it’s not long before you’ve ascended a deserted stairway that leads to the roof of the building. There isn’t much up here, save for a card table, a few boxes of books, and some worn patio furniture. There’s also a lone lounge chair in an alcove, tucked under a wide umbrella. You recall that you’ve been here before, as this is one of Xavier’s coveted napping spots during spring and summer.

Now that you’re far from the commotion below, you let out a sigh of relief and lean against the railing. The view of Linkon’s cityscape is slowly morphing from day to dusk. It’s a little windy, chilly, even, but you don’t feel the cold with Xavier standing so close at your side. For a beat, neither of you can muster up any words, so you stand motionless, not quite tense, but not relaxed either. Finally, Xavier breaks the silence.

“I didn’t realize the two of you broke up.”

“A week ago,” you confirm. “But it was a long time coming. That guy has some… issues.”

“Clearly,” Xavier scowls at the horizon.

“I should apologize,” you bite your lip. “You shouldn’t have been dragged into that whole thing.”

“Don’t. It made me happy,” he says, still looking into the middle-distance. He must register that he said something odd, because his eyes snap to you, wide and placating pools of blue. “I mean, um, even after I was rude… you said you still trust me with your life.”

“Of course I do,” you swallow the lump in your throat and lean against his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter what else is going on. That will never change.”

Xavier leans his head against the top of yours, letting out a breath that registers to you as relieved. “Good. I was worried you hated me.”

“Me?” You gasp in surprise. “I was sure you hated me. You haven’t looked me in the eyes in months! Things have been so… distant. I thought for sure you’d ask Jenna to change partners.”

“Never,” Xavier says instantly, firmly. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

Your cheeks immediately flame red, heart rabbiting in your chest at the deeper implications. Flustered, you cast your gaze to the box of random items next to Xavier’s feet and draw in a frantic breath, grasping for a distraction. “What am I supposed to do with all this? He wouldn’t take them back, and I’d really rather not talk to him again.”

Xavier strokes his chin, thoughtful. He seems to zero in on a lighter sitting at the top of the pile. “I think I have an idea.”

In mere minutes, a metal trash can, lined with old newspaper and takeout boxes for kindling, nurses a decent-sized flame at its center. It’s far from a bonfire, but you do worry a bit that someone could spot it, especially in the dark. “Uhhh, isn’t this–”

“Illegal?” Xavier’s grin is slightly evil. “Are you going to turn me in?”

In answer, you make a ‘zipping’ motion across your lips.

You start with small things. Birthday cards and movie tickets, photo strips and other little mementos you kept to honor your budding relationship. You watch them catch at the edges and slowly turn to ash. You brace yourself to feel sadness, melancholy, regret. But as you burn through reminders of dates you always had to plan, books you pretended to like, a spare t-shirt that didn’t even smell like him because he’d never lend you clothes he actually wore, the fog of doubt and guilt swirling around your skull is cleared away. In its place is just… relief. You can’t help it. You start to giggle. Softly at first, but then the laughter builds in your chest and you can’t keep it from bursting out.

“You good, there?” Xavier looks a bit concerned. “Are you still in shock?”

You shake your head. Between bouts of belly-laughter, you manage to say. “It wasn’t real.”

Xavier pinches your cheek, brow furrowing. “You know this isn’t a dream, right? We’re here on the roof burning that amoeba’s stuff.”

“Ahh, I know,” you sigh, wiping away tears as you toss a horrible self-help book onto the fire. “I just mean… that relationship wasn’t a real connection. Not anything worth holding onto. It always felt… off, somehow. After the initial spark, I realized that most of the time I spent with him I’d rather have been with my friends. With you.”

Xavier’s expression is hard to read. Intense. “I… I’m sorry for keeping my distance. I was selfish.”

“No! It wouldn’t have mattered to him how respectful you were, Xavi. He was jealous of you from the outset, but I couldn’t do what he wanted. Because I… because I didn’t want to stop talking with you. You’re too important to me to make it okay to just cut you out of my life.”

The sentiment lingers in the air like smoke, curling skyward, until Xavier volunteers something else.

“I… wasn’t that respectful,” Your partner admits. The crackling flames dance in his eyes to mischievous effect. “I did try to undermine him. At every turn.”

“Huh?” you flinch, butterflies scattering in your stomach at this new information. “H-How so?”

“Well,” Xavier scratches the back of his neck. Puffs out his cheeks cutely. “Whenever I’d see him out somewhere, I’d mess with the lights so he had to fumble around. I called him the wrong name on purpose. I also hired some witches from Etsy to curse him.”

“Xavier!” your eyes go wide. Your hands fist in the fabric of his jacket and shake him a bit.

“They weren’t deadly ones,” he pouts. “Mostly.”

You let out a cackle and lean into his chest, shoulders shaking, and the next moment, Xavier is wrapping you in a hug. It’s the first time he’s done so deliberately, and you could swoon from the softness, the warmth. It’s an embrace that makes you feel at once safe and electrified. You squeeze him tightly in return. “You’re the best,” you murmur against his quickening heartbeat. “I missed you.”

You’re close enough to hear a breath get caught in Xavier’s throat. One arm tightens against your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. With his free hand, he guides your chin up so you’re looking directly into his half-lidded eyes. They draw you in, hypnotizing wisps of blue flame. “Say that again.”

A deep flush heats your cheeks, spreading down your neck and chest. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from his intense stare. “I… missed you, Xavier. You’re the best–”

Your words are cut off by a hungry kiss. It pulls a surprised gasp from your lips, but you soon melt into the contact and kiss him back, cradling either side of his face to angle your mouths just right. There’s something all-consuming about the way Xavier touches you–alternating between light, exploratory caresses and moments when he seeks to claim you, fingers splayed across the curve of your neck or the divet of your waist. There’s a possessive edge to his voice as he calls your name between kisses. “I missed you too,” he rasps. “You have no idea how hard it was to stay away. To let someone else touch you the way I always wanted to. It was driving me insane.”

“You…? Ah!” Xavier’s teeth scrape the lobe of your ear. He nibbles and sucks your jaw, your neck. HIs free hand kneads your breast over the fabric of your Hunter’s uniform, and the bolts of pleasure striking your core steal your breath and make you arch against him. “Y-You wanted me?” you pant, eyes fluttering.

“Want,” he corrects, guiding you back in his embrace until your calves brush the edge of the lounger. As your back hits the woven material and Xavier’s warm weight surrounds you, skilled fingers peel back layers of your uniform, exposing your heaving chest to the cool night air. He lavishes every revealed swath of skin with tantalizing kisses and bites. “I’ve never wanted anything else in this life. Only you.”

“Xavier…” Of course, you’re not clueless. You sensed something hanging in the air all this time, woven into those sapphire eyes, boundless as deep space. Xavier took special care in mentoring you, helping you, keeping you safe. But he had also seemed so far out of your reach. An ethereal being with secrets you could never fathom, unwilling to let you close enough to truly know him. Now, though, it’s clear as the stars overhead that he wants you close. Each worshipful touch feels like desire made manifest. “I want you, too. I always, hah, have–”

“Fuck.” Xavier’s breath trembles as you fumble to pull off his jacket, his shirt. You run greedy hands over his chest, his shoulders, his abs. His skin feels almost feverish in the way it burns for you. When you trace the bulge in his pants, his body moves to meet yours of its own accord. He says your name into your ear, and it’s halfway between a curse and a prayer. “We shouldn’t do this here. Tell me to stop.”

“No,” your voice is teary, rough between desperate grinds of your hips. “Please, I need you.”

Xavier stops moving. He looks beautifully flushed and half-crazed.

A beat passes, and you worry you’ve taken it too far. But then he lets out a long breath. He grabs your knee, spreading your legs for easier access. You’re the picture of debauchery now, hair mussed, shirt ripped open. The fabric of your skirt has ridden up so your soaked panties are on full display. Xavier’s tongue wets his bottom lip. “You can have me,” he promises, low, wild. “Tell me what you need, baby. Anything.”

“Inside,” you whine, writhing with impatience at the ache at your core. “I want you inside me.”

The sound Xavier makes is nearly a growl. The leather of his belt seems to hiss as it falls to the ground. When he shifts his pants down and his cock springs free, proud, long and leaking precum from the tip, your mouth goes dry. You reach a hand out to tentatively stroke his length, feeling it twitch at your touch. He groans, grabbing your wrist. “Shit… wait. If you keep that up, I won’t last. Let me take care of you first.”

Xavier’s fingers ghost over the gusset of your panties, his thumb circling your clit. “So wet,” he praises you, moving the fabric aside and dipping two fingers between your glistening folds. “This is all for me, right?” You moan his name as he works you over, cataloging each reaction, curling and scissoring until you’re a whimpering puddle beneath him.

“Please,” you beg, bucking against his hand. “More, Xavi–”

“I’ve got you,” Xavier breathes. “Always.”

He lines himself up at your entrance, bicep flexing as one arm braces beside your head. When he sinks in, inch by delicious inch, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw tenses. Clearly, he’s trying not to move until you’ve adjusted. And you’d normally be grateful–Xavier is big–but right now the stretch, the fullness is a taste of exactly what you’ve been craving. It’s a wonderful prelude, but it isn’t enough. “You can move,” you tell him, a blissful smile lighting up your whole face. “I trust you.”

Xavier obliges, slowly at first, testing to see how you respond to the slow drag of his cock. When you clench around him, low moans fall from his lips and he can’t help himself, his thrusts become deeper, faster. He fits perfectly, hitting your most sensitive spot again and again. Hot, sloppy kisses pepper your skin as he pounds into you. Your hips rise to meet his, nails scratching red lines into the planes of his back.

If your brain wasn’t shrouded in such a lustful haze, maybe you’d be embarrassed about the sounds you’re making, the slap of skin on skin and the crescendo of lewd moans–you aren’t sure if the wind is carrying them or swallowing them. All that, and you’re bare to the night, to the city at large, if not for Xavier’s body blocking yours from view. But you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. There’s only him and you, frenzied, entwined as you lose track of rhythm on the precipice of ecstasy. “Love you,” he whispers, proud and possessive. “Mine… Mine.”

Those words alone are enough to send you careening over the edge. Your back bows, your brows furrow, face contorting in a silent scream as pleasure overwhelms your senses. Xavier isn’t far behind, managing to pull out, a broken cry of your name on his lips, and come on your trembling thighs.

For a long while, the two of you lie there, catching your breath. Xavier’s fingers entwine with yours, and you share a little giggle, not quite believing what just happened.

The fire in the little trash can has long since burned out, and the shadows of night have descended. Xavier kisses your forehead, helps you get cleaned up and straighten your clothes, and then he pulls you into his arms again. “Let’s go.”

“Wha—?” Your unasked question is cut off as blinding light surrounds you, along with a familiar feeling of weightlessness. You blink, and when you open your eyes, you’re both sprawled across Xavier’s bed. As soon as the light dims, Xavier slumps, becoming dead weight on top of your prone form.

“Xavier!” you squeal. You push against him, but he’s both too heavy and too strong for your efforts to be fruitful.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he secures a full-body cuddle. “I’ve been so tense lately, trying hard to avoid you and suppress my feelings. Now I’m… sleepy.”

You sigh. Run your hands through Xavier’s fluffy, silken hair and surrender to the wave of happy exhaustion blurring the edges of your vision. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Xavi. I love you. And honestly… I was yours all along.”

Against your cheek, Xavier’s breathing has turned deep, even. He doesn’t say anything, but his lips quirk into a triumphant smile.

[manjarundirpakdingo]

LADS Men: When you take them to Girls Night.

Xavier Score: 5/10.

He's mostly chill. He's attached to your hip the entire night so he tails you around like a puppy. Big fan of skin care sessions, will slap on a face mask and knock out immediately. Will help you guys film tik toks, and be an excellent light source for pictures. While he's too uninterested in others to provide any actual gossip, he will indulge. No one shit talks a man like Xavier. Also tells fantastic horror stories. (-5 for trying to make appetizers)

Zayne Score: 4/10 :(.

He was actually very excited and wanted to make a good impression on your friends. Unfortunately, he brings such an cool, 'i'm above gossip aura' to the party that your friends just go quiet around him. Its a shame tho, Zayne had diligently studied the drama for this occasion. He kept tabs on which doctor is cheating with whose wife, he even tried to ask the head nurse a casual question or two. Poor baby felt very prepared for the gossip with your friends, but it never happened. Being Zayne, he reads the room quicky and turns to the kitchen to make cocktails for everyone instead. Don't worry Zaynie they'll warm up to you soon.

Rafayel Score: 9/10.

Make no mistake, he IS one of the girls. Not only is he ever present for girl nights, he is the one hosting. Makes Thomas do all the work, so the food and drinks are always ready. At Rafayel's everyone gets matching PJs and home-made hummus. Down side is that he IS the drama. Will start acting up when someone suggests a scary movie to watch. And will give unsolicited makeup advice while reading the other's boyfriends to filth. Will psyche himself watching conspiracy theory videos with the group and will spiral.

Caleb Score: Sus/10.

He takes over all the mother hen duties when your friends are over. Will make huge batches of food and help in wherever needed. You're well fed, hydrated and moisturized. (Unintentionally, makes your friends swoon over him). Problem is that feels wayy too left out. Will try and act nonchalant, but Caleb is not nonchalant. Actually as you're giggling in your room with the door closed, he's realises he's very, very chalant. Now he's pressed up against the door trying to eavesdrop. Hey, don't look at him like that, he's just making sure there's no other pests in your life. Sus points for wearing matching pyjamas with JUST you so everyone knows he's the one and only true bestie you need.

Sylus Score: 1?/10

Really? Skye? your suspiciously secret boyfriend whom you never talk of? The fruit vendor? So random of him to show up. Yeah, its a shock to you as well, because you specifically told him NOT to. You warn Sylus to be discreet and what does he do? Two hours into the night, he shows up at your door in an eye mask, a bag full of expensive skincare and a basket of tangerines. He's infuriatingly good at small talk and keeps making up lies about his 'fruit business'. What's worse is that in the middle of it he turns to you with a shit-eating grin and you have to nod along. We'll give him 1 point for the tangerines.

[nan-chi]

When you try to take care of the flowers but the garden is right next to the gym room 🥵

[byallmeans1]

[byallmeans1]

[bullyingfictionalmen]

Princess Treatment

After Heartbreak pt. 3: Rafayel

Zayne | Caleb | Xavier | Sylus

Pairing: Rafayel x fem!Reader

wc: 3.4k

Summary: Rafayel drags you out of your depression-hole after a tough breakup for a day of pampering.

Tags: fluff, a bit of smut, nsfw, minors dni, handjob, dry humping, confession, reader is depressed, rafayel is the sweetest

You’re taking the breakup like a champ. Kinda.

Your ex-boyfriend (who was really more of an ex-life-ruining-situationship) had been taking you for granted at every turn, treating you like an on-demand hookup instead of a priority. It had become clearer after his initial charm wore off that he wasn’t a good person, much less a good partner, but you’d been in denial. Hoping he was secretly better than everyone thought.

He wasn’t.

Still, it hurts. You know ending things is the right decision, but your ex’s nonchalance and callous dismissal of you weighs heavy on your heart. So you hide. Spend two weeks holed up in your apartment, drowning in tissues and takeout boxes, only emerging for work. Eventually, you’ve worn out your list of comfort movies. Your sad girl playlists barely earn a reaction, and you’ve moved from spiraling about your doomed romance to staring at the ceiling as you dissociate.

Well, if there’s one positive to this heartbreak, you know your friends will be thrilled your ex is out of your life–they’ve been not-so-subtly rooting for a certain eccentric artist since you started working as his bodyguard.

Rafayel Qi. 

Yet another cause of your denial. You suspect you’ve been nursing feelings for him for a while now, but there is no way that such an ethereal, moody, mystery of a man could reciprocate your little crush. In times like these, you figure it’s better to stay on the ground among the mortals instead of shooting for the moon. So, you’re just employer and employee. Friend-adjacent. Those undeniable moments of tension, attraction… Rafayel is a playful guy. A flirt. It means nothing.

Still, in your absence, the texts from Rafayel are piling up:

Rafayel: cuuuuuutie! Where’d you go? Haven’t heard a peep, did the seagulls get to you? The crabs? I shall storm their hq Rafayel: miss bodyguard i need you sos. Thomas is violating my human rights, talk some sense into this freak Rafayel: aaaa this art block is turning me into jelly, dun leave me here to languish, i beg

You’ve resorted to turning off your phone in the evenings, lest it vibrate off the table to its death. You want to tell him about everything, commiserate, laugh as he talks shit about your no-good ex. But somehow, you can’t bring yourself to look at his messages. He hates the guy, and in your shameful state, you don’t know if you can handle an ‘I told you so’.

However, by Saturday of week three, Rafayel takes matters into his own hands.

You’re still nestled in bed, eyes dull and ringed in shadow, when you hear the chime of your electronic lock. Seconds later, he bursts through your door with a clatter.

“Miss Bodyguaaaaaard,” he sings. “Geez, what died in here?”

He can’t even see you, but you instinctively pull the duvet over your head. When did you give him a key card, again? “This is trespassing,” you deadpan from under the covers.

“Oh, I know,” he crows from your living room. “But my lawyer’s the best in Whitesand Bay. I think I can argue extenuating circumstances.” 

You briefly wonder what kind of sea creature could represent Rafayel in a court of law. A whale? A dolphin, maybe? Or, failing that, had Thomas secretly passed the Barr at some point?

“Cutie,” Raf continues, “have you done any laundry in the last few weeks?”

“Take a wild guess.” 

In any other mood, you might feel embarrassed at the prospect of the bougie Lemurian picking through the sad wreckage of your Depression Apartment and leap up to retaliate. But right now, you can’t bring yourself to move. You can barely muster irritation at the appalled noises Raf is making as he shuffles about, opening windows and rifling through cabinets and closets. 

Eventually, he makes it to the dark cavern of your bedroom. You hear the door creak, then a dramatic flourish of curtains opening. Fabric rustles as he bends to speak near your ear. “Wakey, wakeeeey.”

“Fuck off,” you mumble.

“What was that? Blanket off?”

Before you can protest, your whole blanket is viciously yanked away, exposing your poor eyes to the blinding light of midday. You hiss, making a grab for the fluffy material, but Rafayel just uses that opportunity to take hold of your wrist. His sunset eyes are sparkling, and his grin is triumphant. “Gotcha.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why else?” His tone is suddenly serious, eyes sharp. “I was worried about you.”

You bite your lip to keep it from quivering. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Raf pulls you into a crushing hug. You’re used to him giving you a quick squeeze, or leaping into your arms in excitement on occasion. But this is a very different kind of embrace, like you might slip through his fingers if he lets go. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You lean into him, inhaling sea salt and amber notes and just… appreciating how warm he is. How solid. “Thanks for checking on me, fishie.” 

“Seriously?” Rafayel scoffs, putting his hands on your shoulders and holding you at arms-length to shake you. “You think after all this time and all this,” he gestures to your messy surroundings, “you’re getting away with a little check-in? Your optimism is boundless.”

“So… what do you want from me?”

“For one thing, I want you out of here while the cleaners are working. They’re on their way now.”

“Cleaners? Huh?”

“Don’t sweat it, cutie. I know these aunties are reliable, they’re the goddesses that turn my art cave back into a studio after a rough project. They won’t judge you one bit after what they’ve seen.” Rafayel shivers, remembering.

“I-I’m confused. You hired cleaners, and now you want to take me somewhere?”

“Not somewhere, cutie. Everywhere.” He lets out a conspiratorial laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to tunnel back into your blankets. Rafayel grabs your wrist, and his grip is like iron. “Now, come on. You’re overdue for some pampering.”

Your brain can barely compute this role-reversal. You were expecting your reunion with Rafayel to include a lot more wounded theatrics. A petty comment or three. But Rafayel doesn’t criticize. He just chats cheerily about his latest pieces, complains about Thomas as usual as you wash up and get dressed. You still look like hell, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he takes your hand and pulls you into the fresh air. The weather is perfect today, and the cool breeze stirs something long-dormant in your chest.

“Where are we going?” you ask, tentatively glancing at his profile from the front seat of his sports car.

“To stage one of Operation Princess Treatment,” Rafayel shoots you a wink. “Obviously.”

You can’t suppress a little giggle at the fact that this plan has a code name. “O…kay?”

“Tsk, tsk. I can see the doubt in your eyes, cutie, and I’m offended. Just relax, okay? You’re always protecting me, so let me take care of you this time.”

His tone is as carefree as ever, but you can tell Rafayel is being earnest. And after handling your fragile emotional state on your own for so long, his words are a balm to your frayed nerves. “Raf, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Your first stop together is a salon and spa. Upscale, decorated to the nines, and smelling of eucalyptus and fresh cucumber-water. “This… looks pricey,” you lean close to whisper into Rafayel’s ear.

“You heard the code name,” Rafayel laughs. “Princess. Treatment. So I’m treating.” When you give him a bewildered look, he adds, “What else am I supposed to do with all the money I make painting? Lemurians have no use for worldly possessions.”

“Wow, what a magnanimous benefactor,” you roll your eyes.

Rafayel flashes a dazzling smile and runs a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “I am, thank you for noticing.” 

As it turns out, Rafayel’s definition of ‘pampering’ is on another level. You both get facials, deep-tissue massages, explore saunas and salt rooms and something to do with invigorating UV light. It’s more than you might do for yourself, but you can’t deny how fun it is to flit from room to room and find new definitions of relaxation. You can feel the exhaustion melting out of your tired body. Knots upon knots from grueling battles are kneaded until you’re pleasantly loose and energized.

“Better?” Rafayel asks, his knowing smile telling you he’s already certain you are.

“I think we need to come back here, like, every week.” 

“Good to hear. Now, chop chop, we’ve got a full schedule today, Your HIghness.”

The next stop is a popular shopping plaza whose usual walkways are lined with street food and various handicrafts. “We have perfect timing for the Saturday Market. Let’s look around and see what they’ve got!” 

Rafayel pulls you from stall to stall, and you admire the pretty clothes, unique crafts, delicate pottery and glassware. Window shopping quickly transforms into retail therapy, as the two of you load your arms and bags with goodies. In between, you snack on the market’s huge variety of culinary offerings. Before you know it, hours have passed, and the amount of merchandise you’re lugging around has gotten ridiculous.

“Um, Rafayel, I don’t think I can carry anything else,” you chuckle, peeking around your haul to catch his eye.

“That settles it. Let’s bring this stuff to the car, cutie. We’ve got a few more stops.”

Your quest continues in a pop-up art exhibit in Azure square where up-and-coming talents are displaying their work, then a beautiful bookstore, a local art supply and stationary shop. Finally, Rafayel leads you to a picturesque restaurant at the seaside where you can rest your legs. A banquet of fresh seafood sends your tastebuds straight to the heavens.

“Well, how are we feeling?” Rafayel grins as he walks backward down the beach. He’s looking more otherworldly than usual with the breeze tugging at his shirt, the setting sun at his back and his sandals in one hand. His sea-glass eyes search yours for approval, and that eager desire to please is unbearably cute on him. “Did this make up for some of the fun you missed during The Wallowing?”

“Yeah,” you admit, blushing a bit as you reach the edge of where the soft, dry upper shore meets the damp, tide-kissed sand near the water. You kick off your own shoes and leave them next to Rafayel’s. Fish that he is, he’s already ankle-deep in seafoam, pulling up something from the shallows. 

“C’mere!” He beckons to you, and you can’t help but leap into the waves. You misjudge your jump a little and crash straight into Rafayel, but he catches you around the waist with one arm, laughing as he leans back a little, threatening to drop you.

“Raf!!” you squeal, clutching his arms tightly.

“Kidding, kidding! I’ve got you.” He hauls you against his chest, waves now lashing around your thighs. “Lookie,” Rafayel’s free hand, still dripping, clutches a beautiful multi-colored shell. Its ridges and shape are near-perfect, save for a little chip near the top. You trace the shell’s edges with a fingertip, mouth quirking up in a small smile.

“It’s like your eyes,” you murmur, realizing belatedly that your tone sounded a bit too lovestruck to easily play it off. Your hand flinches back, self-conscious, but Rafayel seizes it before you can run away.

“You like it, huh?” Rafayel looks extremely pleased with himself. He leans closer, tone dropping as his breath fans the shell of your ear, “Does it really compare to the real thing, though, princess?”

Your shiver, lips parting briefly, but no sound escapes them. You want to look away, but you feel magnetized to the spot. Or rather, you want to lean into his touch. To embrace the heat of his body that contrasts the chill of the water so beautifully. Maybe you’ve gone temporarily insane, but your response comes out radically honest. “Nothing else really… compares to you, Rafayel.”

Your words seem to briefly stun Rafayel. His easy smile turns into a little ‘o’, and maybe he’d blame the pinkish hue of the setting sun, but you know he’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “Full of surprises as always,” he says, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I can never win against you.”

“I mean it,” you say, gently placing your hand over his, encasing the little seashell between you. Truthfully, you haven’t been this happy in a long time. And it’s not because of the luxurious spa treatments or the shopping (though you can’t deny those helped). It’s because of the man who’s been beside you all day. Laughing with you, lifting your spirits and drawing you into the magic of his atmosphere. You’re a little wistful, thinking of how this day will be over soon. Selfishly, you want it to stretch into oblivion, if only to stay at his side. “Thank you for being so good to me, fishie.”

“Why,” Rafayel’s lips turn down slightly. “Why are you thanking me like this is some special occasion? Like you don’t deserve this every day?”

Your eyes widen, aghast. “I… Well, this was amazing, but–”

“But nothing.” Rafayel insists. The shell falls from your hands as he grabs your forearms. “I held back when you and that sea slug were dating–”

“That was you holding back, huh?” you mutter.

“–but I won’t hold my tongue anymore.This is how you should be treated every day. If not with a packed schedule like today, then with a relaxing day at home. Or an ordinary outing that feels extraordinary because you…” Rafayel stops himself, uncharacteristically serious. He touches your cheek and your heart throbs. You don’t dare move as he holds your gaze. “I would never leave you to languish by yourself like he did. Neglect your needs and take you for granted. I want you to laugh when you’re happy, cry when you’re sad, and I want to be there for you through all of it. That is the way to treat someone you love.”

Someone you love.

The words ring in your ears like the starting notes of a symphony. Is this real? It can’t be, because then your nonexistent feelings aren’t unrequited. Then–

In a perfect interruption of your wide-eyed shock, the sea chooses now to smite you and Rafayel with a monstrous wave. It crests right behind you and smacks you hard at the shoulders. Rafayel grabs you tight and tries to steady you, but you lose your balance and go crashing into the water. It’s not deep, and the force of the tide pushes you back to the shore. And that’s how you end up on top of him, sputtering and trying to rid your mouth and nose of salt. “S-Sorry,” you cough.

He helps you sit up, and when you look at Rafayel, his face breaks into a manic grin as he takes in the sight of your wet hair and seaweed-tangled limbs. Your cheeks burn mercilessly. “Why’re you staring? It’s creeping me out.”

You try to scoot away, but Rafayel holds you to him. “I was staring because you’re beautiful. And I’m smiling because I’m glad you finally know how I feel.”

 “Y-You meant it, then,” you clutch the soaked fabric at your chest as your heart threatens to make an escape attempt. “You love me?”

Rafayel presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I do. I have for a long time, actually.” He angles your chin up so you’re looking right in his eyes. “How do you feel about me?”

You hesitate, unsure how to describe the magnitude of these feelings rampaging within. The waves crash over your knees again, bringing with them a cold gust of sea air. You shiver, and Rafayel pulls you into his lap, rearranging you both so he blocks the wind. You hold him tight. Let out a breath. “Do you know what the worst part of my breakup has been?”

Rafayel gives a slow blink–incredulous, but willing to hear you out. “Couldn’t say.”

You tighten the hug, pressing your cheek into his chest. “It’s the fact that I haven’t had the strength to reach out to you when you’re the one I wanted to talk to the most.” Rafayel’s heartbeat speeds up under your ear, so you continue, emboldened. “I felt bad about it for a long time, how much I wanted to be close to you. You’re the person I want to confide in when something good happens, or when I’m struggling.”

Raf’s voice goes soft, quiet. “Why didn’t you?”

You give him a watery smile. “I knew I couldn’t, because once I heard your voice, I’d spill everything. Something in me knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist telling you exactly how I feel, and I was convinced that was crossing a line, and that you could never return my feelings. And it’s so stupid now! I wasted all this time striving for someone else’s approval, but in the end, the only one I really loved was you.”

“You’re unfair,” Rafayel pouts. A deep blush makes heat radiate off him in waves. He adjusts his hold on you from around your back to around your waist. “How am I supposed to contain myself when you say things like that?”

“Then…” you plant a kiss on his neck, tasting a hint of salt on his skin. “Don’t hold back.”

Rafayel’s eyes flash, dark and bottomless as the ocean floor. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, groaning into your mouth as your hands slip under his damp shirt to caress his toned body. He returns the favor, hands exploring your curves, even squeezing your ass. “Hey!” you laugh. As payback, you grind your hips against his, stifling a whimper at the delightful friction of his hardening bulge against your clothed cunt.

“Princess,” he huffs, nipping your bottom lip and pulling back a bit, his expression half-crazed. His elegant hands splay possessively over your hips.“You’re playing with fire.”

“So?” you purr, relishing the way both of your bodies respond to one another, craving more, more, more. “You’re an expert at that.”

Rafayel lets out a low, velvety curse in what must be Lemurian. “We’re still outside right now,” he reminds you, but his voice is breathy and his head is tipping back as you shamelessly chase your pleasure. 

“S’okay,” you pant, “no one will see.”

You kiss him deeply and keep up your punishing grind, loving the way Rafayel’s thighs tremble beneath you. You can feel him losing his grip on his rhythm, sloppier and more desperate, breath ragged between kisses. When you moan his name in response to a strong thrust, Rafayel nearly growls, flipping your positions and pinning you to the packed sand. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck as one hand dives under your shorts to thumb your pulsing clit. “This okay?” He whispers. “I won’t finish until my princess comes.”

You could almost come on the spot, just from how tenderly he says it. “Please,” you beg, “Fuck, Raf, please.”

His touch is sublime, each stroke and swipe of his fingers sends you closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. You arch into his touch, frantically palming at his cock through his pants to give him some semblance of what he’s giving you. It’s clumsy, but you manage to slip a hand under his waistband, stroking his length, thumbing the tip and spreading precum along his shaft as you attempt to match his fevered pace.

“Shit,” Rafayel lets out a broken cry of your name, “Don’t stop. I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, me too, ahh–”

Something snaps. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, muscles spasming as waves of white-hot pleasure render you boneless. Rafayel comes hard around your hand, and you hazily stroke him through it, then pull away to let him roll to the side, spent.

“Was this part of Operation Princess Treatment?” You tease.

“The confession or the sex?” Rafayel grins at you, hair matted to his forehead and cheeks still flushed.

“Either.”

You both share a giddy smile. “Well, both were part of a longer-term plan,” he admits. “Provided you felt the same. This… was more improvisational.”

Rafayel cleans himself off a bit in the water, gets to his feet and pulls you up with him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you can’t help but kiss him again before the long, sandy journey home. None of that matters now, anyway.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

You grin. “I know.”

[bullyingfictionalmen]

Assuaging Doubts

After Heartbreak pt. 2: Caleb

Zayne | Rafayel | Xavier | Sylus

Pairing: Caleb x fem!Reader

wc: 2.6k

Summary: Your ex never called you ‘sexy’, and it’s still bothering you after the breakup. Leave it to Caleb to kiss away your insecurities.

Tags: nsfw, minors dni, smut, porn with feelings, oral (f!receiving), nicknames: pips, baby, my love, jealousy, protective Caleb

“Piiiiips, you want some dinner?”

Caleb pokes his head in, leaning on your doorframe with a spatula in his free hand. He’s been acting extra chipper lately, but you barely notice his presence.

You’re too busy listlessly scrolling through your social media in an attempt to distract yourself from your recent breakup. Sprawled out on your comforter, you refresh and refresh, your irritation growing with each swipe down. You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen, but It’s definitely not to keep tabs on your shitty loser ex. Not at all.

After a bit, Caleb sighs, speaking a bit louder. “D’ja hear me, pip-squeak? I made chicken wings, you want some?”

“Pass,” you grumble, flinging your phone to the foot of your bed and flopping back into your nest of pillows. “Not hungry.”

“That bad, huh?” Caleb frowns, setting down the spatula on your desk and perching at the edge of your mattress. “Here I thought you were feeling better after the waterworks dried up and we booked those sessions at the rage room.”

You glance at him from your peripherals—the worried crinkle in his brow, the firm set of his jaw—and suddenly you feel guilty for being such a buzzkill for the past few weeks. You let your eyes flutter shut and take a breath before admitting, “I am feeling a lot better. You’ve really been good to me, Caleb. Thank you.”

“Oh-ho,” Caleb leans down to poke at your cheek, “tell me again how amazing I am.”

“Don’t push it,” you half-heartedly bat at his shoulder.

You feel the mattress shift with his weight as Caleb scoots a bit closer. He takes your hand, his teasing facade nowhere to be found. “If you are feeling better, why don’t you look happy? Do I need to kill him?”

He looks so serious that you have to laugh. “You keep asking that. Answer is still ‘no’, by the way. He’s an ass, but the death penalty is a bit much.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. So what’s really going on?”

You heave a sigh, biting your lower lip. “Well, to be honest… I’m not sad anymore. Even got most of my anger out. It’s just… Ugh, never mind.” You turn over so your back is facing him, shielding your blushing cheeks with a pillow.

“Hey,” Caleb clasps your shoulder and shakes you. “Tell me.”

“No,” you protest.

“Teeeell meeee—“

“Caleb, no! I can’t tell you this kind of stuff, it’s too… aaaaah!” You kick your feet in frustration.

“Pips,” Caleb gives you a moment to calm down before his hands begin tracing soothing patterns on your back the way he used to when you had nightmares as a kid. “You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever happened, I’ll support you. You mean everything to me.”

Slowly, you roll back over to look him in the eyes. Annoyingly clear and earnest as they always are. You puff out your cheeks and let out a huff. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Do you think I’m, uh… sexy?”

You may as well have just spoken in Latin the way Caleb’s eyebrows jump. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again. After he clears his throat, he speaks in a small, raspy tone. “What… what do you mean?”

“Forget it! Let’s go eat, huh?” Face burning, you leap off the bed and try to flee the scene. Caleb grabs your hand to stop you, still looking dumbfounded.

“Why did you ask me that?” His fingers curl around your wrist, so hot you feel like they could brand you. “Please, explain.”

You hesitate. Stare at the floor until the truth bubbles up so violently in your throat that you can’t keep the words from tumbling out. “He, my ex… He said I wasn’t, um, good in bed. His type was ‘sexy girls’, but he never called me that. Only ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ or ‘pretty’. I wanted to make him happy, but he never told me what he wanted, just lied and said it was fine until he lost interest and we broke up. I don’t know what to do, because what if I’m boring? What if I’m just fundamentally un-sexy?”

Silence falls. Your eyes sting. At first, you can’t bear to look up at Caleb’s reaction, but eventually it becomes too much and you peek at his expression.

He looks absolutely pissed.

He pulls you close, hugging you so tight you can barely breathe. You hug him back, letting a few tears escape and burying your head against him. Once he finally lets the tension of his muscles ease a bit, he lets out a long breath. When he speaks, you can feel the low rumble of it below his ribcage. “I think I might actually have to kill this bastard. He really had you convinced you’re not sexy?”

You crane your head up to look at him, aghast. “You’re saying that like you think I am. Do you?”

Caleb twists a lock of your hair around his fingers and kisses it. “I do. That a problem?”

Your stomach flips, your core begins to ache and your pulse pounds in your ears. Did he really just say that? No, right? Only in your wildest fantasies does Caleb talk like that. Like he wants you. With only a few words, fervent feelings you’d buried long ago are breaking through soil in your chest.

You let out a breathy little laugh and take a step back. “No, no, you don’t count. We grew up together, so you have to say that. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt sexy.”

“That’s not–” Caleb runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Takes a moment to gather himself, then bites his bottom lip in a way that makes you desperate to do the biting. “Your exes… were you ever in love with them, Pips?”

His question is like a knife to the abdomen. A wave of embarrassment threatens to send you running, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Steeling your resolve, you look Caleb in the eye and shake your head. “I always thought it would grow organically,” you explain. “I didn’t hate being with them, but I wouldn’t call it ‘love’. And I doubt they loved me either. I… don’t even think I know what that feels like.”

Caleb tilts his head, considering. His palms sweep from your forearms to your shoulders, and you shiver at the heat of them. “Do you want to know?”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Frantic calculations run through your brain at top speed. What does this mean for us? Is he saying he loves me? Is he going to fuck me?

“You can say ‘no’, Pips,” Caleb’s tone is light, and his touch lingering at your cheek is so gentle. But his eyes—there’s something darker about them, hungrier than you’ve ever seen. He leans in, lips close to your ear. “Tell me to stop, and this conversation never happened.”

Instead of pushing him away or telling him off, you take the hand on your cheek and raise it to your lips, pressing a slow kiss to his palm. Your gaze intentionally captures his, a challenge, and that intense, focused stare sends sparks right to your core.

“You’re curious, then,” he grins like a cat. “Bold, too.”

“And you still haven’t done anything.”

Caleb laughs in that throaty way that you know means you’re in trouble. You squeal as he sweeps you off your feet and ungraciously dumps you onto your bed. “Lay back,” he orders, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You eye his chiseled chest and torso, mouth watering as you clumsily scoot toward your headboard and arrange yourself among the pillows. When he hovers over you, you swallow thickly, bracing as the cool metal of his dog tag brushes your chest.

“The others, they didn’t deserve you,” Caleb’s fingers card through your hair, careful. His voice is a low rasp. “Couldn’t appreciate what they had. What I’ve always… treasured.”

“C-Caleb,” you breathe, halfway between a warning and a plea. Maybe you should feel hesitant, but you’re spellbound, mesmerized by the way his amethyst eyes smolder in the lamplight.

“Let me show you, please,” his fingers trace your side, landing at the hem of your tank top and toying with the soft fabric, “what it’s like when you actually love the person you’re with…”

Your breath hitches. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Smell the heady mix of his citrus shampoo and your clean linens as his forehead presses against yours. There’s an inherent question in his darkened eyes, “Is this okay?” You raise a trembling hand to trace the apple charm you gave him so long ago.

“I want you.”

That’s all he needs.

He descends, pressing a tentative, if searing, kiss to your lips. You bite his bottom lip and pull him closer by his necklace, reveling in the low groan the motion pulls from his throat. “Fuck. You’re not going easy on me.”

Your lips part on a laugh, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His mouth is insistent against yours–eager and reverent. You’ve dreamed of this, and yet it’s totally different to feel the planes of his chest flush against yours, to feel his teeth lightly scrape followed by his tongue soothing the sting. It’s raw and overwhelming. You let one hand thread through the soft hair at the base of his neck, and hold tightly to his t-shirt with the other. Your makeout becomes messier, hazier, until your former insecurity ebbs to a low buzz and is overtaken completely by a pulsing want. A craving low in your belly that you know only he can satisfy.

“Caleb…” your voice comes out strained, almost a moan. He tenses, his kisses travelling across your jaw and down the column of your neck. He grins against your pulse point, definitely feeling how your heartbeat races for him.

“You are unreal,” He says, pausing his journey across your collarbone to look up at you through his lashes. You are all mussed hair, glossy eyes, kiss-bitten lips. “No one with eyes would call you anything less than sexy.”

Your cheeks feel scorched against the cool pillowcase as you turn your head away from his adoring gaze. “I don’t get it,” you mutter. “I barely did anything.”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Caleb chides. You squeak in protest as he pulls you to the edge of the bed. “You never have to try. Not when you’re with me.”

“You’re biased,” you pout, still looking away. “A big softie when I’m involved.”

“You’re wrong,” Caleb corrects. He nips at your neck, leaving a trail of love bites before sucking pretty bruises into the sensitive skin. You moan his name, wriggling against the mattress until his grip settles at your hips to keep you still. “When you’re involved, I’m just… greedy.”

Caleb pulls your arms up over your head, and your shirt along with them. You shiver, but the chill of the air is soon replaced by Caleb’s body heat. His warm, rough palms cradle your bare breasts, fingers rolling and flicking your nipples. Then, it’s his tongue swirling over the sensitive peaks, cataloguing every whimper and soft intake of breath he earns from you. His attention wanders lower, lower, hands mapping your curves, soft lips planting kisses across your stomach, against the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“This whole time,” Caleb admits, barely a whisper. His thumbs hook under the elastic, grazing your hipbones, and a rush of electric anticipation goes straight to your soaked cunt. “I’ve been selfishly wondering if he touched you like this.”

He slides your shorts down your legs, nudges a pillow under your hips, and you breathlessly accommodate him. He kneels next to the bed, brings your legs up over his broad shoulders, and when his eyes lock onto your panties, their soft cotton stained with the evidence of your arousal, his throat bobs.

He licks his lips. Parched.

“I wish I could erase it,” he confesses lowly, fingers feathering over the place you need him most, and then retreating to knead the plush of your inner thighs. “I don’t want you to remember what it felt like to be touched by him.”

You can’t remember it–not your recent ex, not a single time anyone has made you feel this way. Not when there’s this. When there’s him. You’d say as much if you weren’t rendered speechless by the press of his hot mouth against your clothed cunt. He kisses your lower lips with such reverence, tongue teasing your folds through the fabric as his thumb traces slow circles over your clit. Your breaths turn ragged, little whines escaping you. You’ve never really gotten the appeal of head before, but with Caleb, it’s transcendent.

You’re not even bare, but the pleasure builds, and your muscles tense. You feel a coil tightening within, frustration and pleasure entwined. Your thighs strain, tightening around his head, your hands thread into his hair in an attempt to ground yourself. You crave everything he’s willing to give you and more.

“Please,” you beg. “Caleb, please, more.”

The sound in Caleb’s throat is almost a growl. “Hang on, baby.” He continues to tease you, just enough pressure to make you keen, but not enough to offer any relief. “Y’Taste so good. Let me take care of you properly.”

“Caleeeb,” you huff, hips bucking in a futile effort. “I need you. Tongue, fingers, anything.”

“Fuck, Pips,” Caleb hisses. You can feel the bed shake as he idly ruts against the mattress. “So perfect. You’re gonna be the death of me.” There’s a shift in the air as his restraint snaps. Finally, he rips your panties off and tosses them aside. He grips you firmly, casts a ravenous grin your way, and then he eats.

He’s insatiable. Downright gifted with that silver tongue and making a mess of you with every lick. Shivers of pleasure wrack your body every time his nose rubs against your clit, every time his tongue swirls just right.

“Aaahhh,” you cry, tears springing to your eyes. “Ca…leb!” You pull a moan from his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and yank him closer. Soon, his fingers join the tantalizing ministrations, long, thick and so addictive as they curl and stroke your most tender spot at a punishing pace.

Caleb curses, picking up the speed of his hips when he feels your walls pulsing around his fingers. When he pulls back to suck on your clit, a whole-body tremor brings you to the brink, so close to the edge that you’re seeing stars.

“Caleb, I, aaaaah,” you whine. “Love this. Love you. Please, please, please…”

“S’okay, my love,” he slurs, pussy-drunk and about to fall over the edge with you. “Come for me.”

With his prompting, you can let go at last, surrendering to wave after wave of tingling pleasure. Caleb makes a choked sound as he fucks you through your orgasm, and you let out a broken moan of his name as he comes. There’s nothing but the smell of sex and the sound of your labored breaths as all the built-up tension seeps from your bodies.

Your bleary eyes follow Caleb as he pulls away, lips and chin still glistening with the sheen of you. He wipes his mouth, cleans you both with gentle attentiveness and then curls up next to you. His embrace is solid, protective as he absently runs his thumb over your knuckles. “So? Did he ever make you feel like this?”

“Who?” you manage, still blissed out and barely coherent. “S’only you, Caleb. I’m yours. It’s never been like this with anyone else.”

“Good,” you feel Caleb smirk against the crook of your neck. “Because I’m yours, too, and I’ve only just begun to show you what that means.”