. . . he's definitely the type of guy to fuck you deep and hard, making sure that you feel all inches of his dick inside of you
. . . as much as he hates being away from you, he just can't help but love how clingy and needy you get for him when he returns
. . . you just won't tell him what he wants to hear so he has no choice but to break you:( making use of military grade cuffs he just so happened to have laying around
. . . you're just so greedy! you already have the real thing but still keep the fake one with you... since you can't seem to be satisfied, why not fill both holes?
. . . why not make good use of your toys by stretching you good and open before he actually fucks you with his dick? just have to stand there and take it
. . . you put so much effort for his birthday that he can't help but just take you on the couch! too horny and rilled up from all the waiting he'd done
. . . one of the gifts caleb specifically requested from you was to make a compilation of you fucking so he can have something to jerk off to will he's away! the website just isn't doing it anymore for him after he's had you
. . . he sounds so pretty and lovely <3 all tied up and helpless, at the mercy of your mere hands just as always, letting you have your way knowing he can just break free whenever he wants to
. . . something about seeing you all shaky underneath him as he continues to fuck you slowly knowing damn well how overstimulated you are
. . . sometimes all he needs is a good riding to calm his mind from all the stress he gets, being a colonel isn't easy after all
. . . his favourite food above anything and everything, he needs your weight above him while he indulges your yummy pussy
. . . it's not too bad if it doesn't go in right? maybe if he just takes his dick out.. and maybe if you just put your panties to the side..
. . . all leaky and creamy on him, oh you're like a broken sink, too horny to even fully take your panties off that he just rips it in half
. . . oh he loooovesssss taking you from behind, pinning your waist down so you can take him as deep as possible!
. . . kissing his cheek on his graduation in front of hundreds of people? and getting away with it? absolutely not
[ A/N : feel free to imagine as the other lads boys ;) ]
Caleb is a strong believer in your money is your money and his money is also your money.
Saving up for something special for yourself. You don’t have to. Caleb will buy it for you.
You see a pair of shoes you love while out shopping with him. They’re exactly in your style but they’re expensive. You can’t justify to yourself to spend that much.
“Get them, I’ll pay for it Pips”
“No it’s fine. They’re too expensive for you to do that for me”
The next day a package is delivered to your apartment. It’s the exact same shoes you wanted in your size. Plus another pair in a different color.
Your car broke down and it’s going to be costly to fix. Caleb is already telling the mechanic to bill him the repairs.
Caleb gave you access to his savings accounts, checking accounts and credit cards. So you can use them whenever you need.
Caleb prides himself in being a provider. What’s the point in earning so much money as a colonel if he can’t take care of and spoil you.
Im an amateur at writing. I’m sorry for any mistakes
you're immediately snapped out of your daze at the sound of his voice.
"w-..what?" you pant, unsure if you've heard him right or if you're too fucked out to hear correctly.
"you heard me, pips. spell your name on my cock."
he's still so nonchalant about it regardless of the tone of his voice and the words coming out of his mouth. you're riding him and he's simply laying there with his hands folded behind his head, allowing you to do all the work. it's a beautiful sight, really... if only you weren't so cock drunk to get a proper view.
"i-... um.." you stutter under your breath, unsure of what to do next. your hands are still on his chest for support while your head is tilted down to stare him in the eyes. your rhythm on his dick has faltered as you've suddenly gotten incredibly shy, something that rarely happens in the bedroom. "i'm confused."
at that, he raises a brow and lets out a small snicker.
"confused? here, let me help you-"
is the last warning you get before he's bringing his hands to your waist and manhandling you to spell the letters of your name.
it's an amazing feeling, having his cock drag against your g-spot over and over again as you sit there helpless. you've slithered your hands to grip onto his forearms, scratching at them. all you get in return is a hiss, making you look up at him and notice that his tongue is stuck out. he really is focused, i guess.
once he's finished, he leans back and grins the happiest grin there ever was.
"there. now my cock is ruined for anyone else. continue, please."
your sexiest pair of lingerie literally drops zayne's jaw— and then his composure, slowly but surely as his laugh forms soft, later broken and akin to darkness, "you wore this for me?" his hands roughly grab your wrists, pinning you down to make you say it again, please, say it like you meant it, "look at you," he growls, voice already gravel alike.
"sweet little thing, begging to be ruined, you've done this on purpose, haven't you?" and the man makes a mess of you in seconds— ripping the thin lace and shoving your legs apart, sloppily attacking your neck with kisses which felt more like bites.
zayne fucks you like he's angry at the world and you're the only softness left, and when he finishes? well, he doesn't pull out, no— he watches his milky cum drip down your thighs like it's proof that you're belonging to him, "mine," within seconds, he groans out your name again and pushes himself back inside to put his cum all where it belonged, over and over, like he'll carve it into your soul.
lust pours off him like steam as he palms your waist and shoves you deeper into the mattress— not hard, but firm enough to remind you who's in charge here.
and when you look up at him— sweet little thing that didn't even know what you've asked for, you grind back against his body as he pushes himself lower, licking down your stomach, claiming you with his tongue flicking between your thighs like a promise and a threat all at once, teeth grazing your flesh just hard enough for it to sting.
zayne ruts his tongue against your folds shamelessly, whispering filth into your cunt like he needs you to hear every word of what he's going to do to you, "you look like a fucking sin dressed up as a dream, baby, all this lace you're still wearing? it's coming off with my teeth."
his hands were all over you, ripping and shredding and biting as he presses his face further into your cunt, kissing hard into your clit, groaning into the skin like he's slowly losing control due to the simplicity of your taste— and truly, he was losing it, faster than you originally thought.
"you made me like this," he growls, "look at what you fucking do to me."
your hips were bucking into his tongue as his cock presses tight against the mattress, twitching the little impulses on his erection away as every lick between your folds felt like the edge of the cliff before he shoves you off as he growls when he feels your slick pool out of you, ultimately completely ripping your panties apart with a snarl.
"you're soaked," he says, "it's so pretty to see," and it sounds like an accusation, almost, like a curse? as if he wasn't the sole reason as to why you were dripping wet already, "you wanted me mad, didn’t you?"
and now you've got zayne furiously devouring you, his hands gripping your thighs, dragging you closer with a kind of desperation that felt less like desire and more like obsession— and his mouth never left its place, tongue alternating between quick, breathless swipes and long, drawn-out licks of wetness which melted your spine and left you helpless, helpless against the hunger of it all.
you do not stand a chance, not a single one and were already dizzy with how close you were, how shamefully fast he's undone you, the sight of him between your legs enough to split your sanity wide open.
pleasure built inside you as his lips suckled at your clit to zap through every single nerve in your body like lightning in a storm, without a doubt, he was relentless, his tongue moving without rest and all you could do was let go as your back arched off the bed, eyes screwed shut, mouth opened in a silent scream as you tumbled over the edge.
thighs clenched around zayne's head— and he looks up at you with that damned smirk of his, the one you knew very well, "you think i'm gonna let you walk after this?" he hisses, placing a subtle kiss on your clit, "baby, i'm gonna fuck you so full, you'll forget what silence sounds like."
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier
xavier looks at you like you've undone him with a single thread as his breath stutters before he stands in front of your pretty frame— staring, like he's seeing something he's not supposed to, and the way a longing curls into his belly felt like sickness, all from the sight of the lacy fabric hugging your hips.
"fuck," he chokes angrily, flustered by you, "do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" as his hands find your waist, then slide down, slowly, as he towers on top of you like it's worship— his tongue tracing your breasts, his fingers squeezing the sides of your hips as he hooks his digits into the band of your lingerie.
the lingerie in itself was black and clinging, thin where it should conceal, sheer where it shouldn't, a masterpiece, yeah? and it makes his balls swell and his groin twitch in his pants, yet xavier smiles, so sickly sweet it drips down like syrup from a knife, sweet only in the way rot is sweet, in the way evil was soft and persuading before it devours you, a smile that says you're in trouble, yes— but worse, that he'll enjoy every second of it.
"you're gonna be good for me, right?" his voice was low, wet with need as he fucks you with desperate, stuttering thrusts, his whole body quaking, "say it," he gasps, losing rhythm, "say you want me, say you need me to mess you up," and when you do? he shatters— with his mouth instantly attacking your throat, your name bleeding from his lips like a confession too filthy to share.
"fuck, angel," he sighs, already moving, already crowding your walls with his twitching erection taking all the space in your pussy, as your entire body melts and your heart bursts out your chest, "dressed like this just to tempt me, huh?"
he presses against you further as you can feel him, so fucking well— piercingly hard and twitching, his cock trapped within your pussy that's growing damper and damper with every filthy grind he gave you as his mouth crashes to yours— his tongue sloppy without a clear pattern as he moans into you when you whimper out his name, his hands skating down to your thighs, spreading them shamelessly.
you need to realize that xavier doesn't ask, he takes, "you were made for me," he growls between licks as if it would hurt to stop, his mouth slicked up with spit and sin, dripping from his chin as his tongue works lower, slower, then rough again, "no one else, no one."
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel
uh, well, your originally smart and devilish plan didn't unfold the way you've had imagined, not quite.
look at it now, rafayel had no desire to touch you nor curse, with no gasp leaving between his lips, instead— he laughs, a dark and low, like thunder breaking over water laugh that made your thighs press together as his eyes rake over you slowly, cruelly, as if he wanted to devour you whole and still leave enough of you to feel every second of it.
"how generous of you," he says, voice like poison laced with honey, "offering yourself up in such pretty little threads."
then he rises, slowly, takes his time peeling the silk off your body with his hands, one strap at a time, dragging his knuckles down your chest, your stomach, your hips as his mouth follows, lips cold, breath hot, every kiss leaving behind a trace— first spit, then glistening bruises, lastly sharpened teeth.
he bends you on your stomach— his body flushed to your back as he presses his cock hard between your ass, still clothed, grinding with desperate need as his mouth hovers over your shoulder, "you don't get to walk away after this," rafayel promises, "not looking like that."
but then you cry out his name in warbled moans and the cutest sobs, reaching back for his large, veiny hand because you secretly liked being used, grasping at his hand like you need it to survive, and he lets you have it— lets your fingers clamp tight around his as you inch back against him frantically.
you're moving like you can't help it— hips rolling against his swollen cock, his tip nudging your hole, dragging your slick against his and welcoming his fumbling hands before he finally lets you get it for real this time, taking the rest of your lingerie of as it turns feral, the kind of motion born from madness, from ache so deep it eats you alive.
and rafayel cannot stop licking you, his mouth was everywhere, spit dripping down your skin, tongue lapping and sloppily hungry at your neck, like he's starved and you're the last thing on this wretched earth. he enters you at the same rhythm you grind back, friction filthy and wet between you, an unspoken sync that should shame you both but only drives you further.
rafayel doesn't just fuck you, he studies your reactions, catalogs them, every moan, every cry, every pathetic little whimper, "so fucking desperate," he snarls, shoving his cock further and then dragging it out fully, slow and filthy, "you wore this just so i'd ruin you, didn't you?"
and ruin you he does, isn't that right? over the edge of the bed, hand in your hair, voice low and venomous at your ear, "scream for me, princess, louder, you fucking love this," he groans, his voice raw and broken against your throat, tongue flicking out again to taste the salt of your sweat, to drown in it, "feel how soaked you are— grinding back and fucking my cock like a damn animal— fuck, you're fucking dripping for it, aren't you?"
and you are, you're soaking his cock and the insides of your thighs, his pelvis, even beyond that, soaking yourself— even worse, you can hear it, the slick, the wet, the mess you made from being overstimulated so fucking much.
the drive off the edge was when he began spitting on it— hot and thick globules of saliva against your warm pussy, splattering it up all disgustingly, then going further in doing it to your back and your shoulders— smearing it with his mouth, grinding harder, meaner, into that spot that makes you clench and whine.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus
sylus sees you and goes still, not blank— no, there's too much boiling heat buzzing from under his skin— although still, like an animal ready to pounce, his eyes darken, head tilted, mouth parting as if trying to find suitable words but failing.
his voice cuts, sleek and sharpened like glass dragged slow across your skin as he tells you to; "take it off."
"take it off," but you don't, not even after he's told you the second time, instead, you smile and he snaps instantly.
"i said—" his words die on his tongue, smothered by the press of your lips he angrily groans into your mouth, teeth knocking into yours when his hands tear at the flimsy material, wanting it gone immediately.
his fingers were bruising, pulling and pushing and gripping your thighs so hard they ache as he pushes you into the wall, a hand passionately around your throat— not choking, not yet— but possessive, a reminder.
he turns you around as he grinds at your pretty ass being all so cute and sweet on display for him, pressing his cock between the mounds of flesh like he's lost in a heat that won't break, "you're beautiful," he admires, "mine, mine, fuck, you look like a fucking dream, i hate it."
he bites at your shoulder, marks you until his name was written into your skin as his hands wander down, fingers pushing inside without warning as he groans at the feeling of your wet cunt, at how ready and prepared you were for him— and when you sob his name, when your legs squeeze together, he grabs your chin and forces you to look back at him.
his fingers were already deep inside your panties and there's nothing in the way now— just his veiny hand and your cunt, and obviously, the mess that binds them together. he slides his fingers through your folds and spreads the slick like he owns it, like he's been starved for this taste of you, humming at how your folds spread so obediently for him, how you're already dripping wet and whining at how sensitive he's got you, your arousal gushing like a wound that won't close.
"so wet already," he breathes against your throat, lips dragging his spit over your neck and jaw, "look at this, baby— your pretty pussy's begging for me," sylus laughs as his thumb circles your entrance, never quite pressing in— just teasing, just ghosting over that trembling rim, watching you twitch and gasp and grind against his hand like a thing possessed.
desperation twists at your spine, lips parting in a whimper you couldn't contain as your thighs turned sticky with your own arousal, making a mess of yourself across his palm as he spreads you open with two fingers at last, groaning low at the shimmer on your pussy dampening his digits instantly and the way you flutter and clench around nothing but his knuckles.
"you need it that bad, huh? all this for me? look at you—" his voice splits into a laugh, yet turns darker still, spit trailing from the corner of his mouth as your hole pulses at the filth of his voice, more slick drooling out with every breath, soaking his hand, soaking the sheets, soaking everything.
your body jerks with every slow stroke of his knuckles, every press that doesn't give enough— fuck, didn't fill you, you wanted him and not this— yet he doesn't stop fingering you embarrassingly cruel, never giving you what you needed, not yet, in fact, sylus wants you crying from how empty you were, sobbing from the absence of his dripping dick wrecking havoc, he wanted you on weak knees, shaking and soaked and ruined before he ever gave you his mercy.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb
caleb sees you and almost trips over himself— twitching, alive with unspeakable want the second he registered your sinful lingerie hugging your body everlastingly bright— his gaze latches onto the gleam of lace, and something in him cracks, fuck, that absurd strip of silk between your thighs must've been the end of him.
he noticed it again, something inside him snaps so quietly yet so instantly— when then, the shock burns away, and in its place grow narrowed eyes, dark with a hunger he couldn't conceal, sharp and resembling a blade being drawn.
caleb doesn't touch you yet, he looks, and it burns, "you think I wouldn't lose my mind the second i saw you like this?" and the question lands awe alike, it's madness with him, truly, caleb feels the tent in his denim grew thicker as his cock urges to get freed.
his hand comes up— two fingers tracing the edge of the sheer fabric, as if testing its durability, it tremors, so faint you'd miss it if you weren't watching him like he's the sun swallowing the world, "you think i don't see what you're doing?" and then his voice folds in on itself, cold and cracked like winter-bled stone, scraped raw at the edges, "dressing like this… for me, for my eyes," as if angered with the strain of not already having you split open under him.
he leans in to wrap his arms around your body, his breath ghosting on your collarbone, not your mouth, not yet, "trying to tempt a man who hasn't even laid his hands on you properly."
he pauses and you felt it— something deep in him unraveling, "you don't know what you've done," and when he finally moves, it's devastating,
you're on the bed before you can breathe, shoved down into the mattress like he cannot bear for there to be even a second more without you beneath him. the sheets twisting under your back, warm and doused from where your skin meets the fabric, soft where his hands are anything but nice.
one hand wrenches your thighs open, rough and eager, spreading you like you're something innocent he's about to defile while the other grips your chin, fingers digging into your jaw, forcing your eyes up to meet his.
"i want you to look at me while i take you apart," he purrs as his mouth meets your skin, not gentle but methodical, his wet muscle drawing heavy circles across your chest, then lower, wetting the sheer lace with spit as he growls, "filthy fucking thing, who told you you were allowed to dress like this unless i told you to?"
you try to answer but he cuts it off with a kiss— filthy, wet, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth until it stings, spit stringing from his tongue to yours when he finally pulls back, his voice quieter now, developing a more dangerous sense.
"this body's mine," he's drilling into you now, slow and brutal between your legs, his cock thick and twitching against the damp heat of your center and whenever he fully sheathed himself inside, caleb made sure to add additional fast n meaty rocks of cock to massage your pretty pussy, his hands forevermore keeping you nice and spread on the bed, "—not to be paraded, not to be touched, not to be looked at unless i allow it."
each word lands with a thrust, his mouth returning to your throat, open, hot, desperate— mouthing filthy praise like reverence fouled by lust, a prayer stitched in sweat and spit, "feel how soaked you are?" his cock fucking the arousal back into your cunt until he sees a faint ring of white sheathed on his length, "you were waiting for this, don't lie, you wanted me to lose control."
and you have him now— his mask shattered, face flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, teeth sinking into your skin with favor as he pulls your legs over his hips and pushes in slowly, watching your face twist and melt around him.
"fuck, you take me so well," he whispers, voice thin with control, every syllable trembling on the edge of collapse, "mineminemine i'll make sure no one can look at you without seeing what i've done."
and when you arch your body into him the moment you feel the bubble inside your belly pop— you scream his name with tears clinging to your lashes as caleb shudders from the way you were constricting around him, milking his cock as he fuck you harder, soon after spilling inside you with a low, wrecked growl, hips still thrusting gently as he whispers, "good, good… so good for me."
he doesn't leave your body instantly, in fact, he doesn't pull out, rather does his forehead drop to your shoulder due to exhaustion, and you feel his breathing rattle through your skin like winter wind, cold and biting.
the quake in caleb's limbs never leave, even as he manages to choke out your name, "next time, i want to pick one out for you, spoil you, buy it and rip it off you again,"
He told himself he’d take it slow—that he’d be gentle, that he’d savor you. But the moment he’s inside you, every promise unravels. It’s not just about want anymore. It’s need. Raw, overwhelming, all-consuming need. And it hits him so hard he forgets how to breathe, let alone stop.
Your hands claw at his back, trying to ground yourself, but he’s already gone. He’s mouthing apologies into your skin even as he thrusts deeper—his voice cracked and hoarse, “I’m sorry, I know—I know, just—fuck, I can’t—”
You’re crying, overwhelmed, your body trembling beneath him, and still, he can’t stop. Not because he doesn’t care—God, he cares too much—but because you feel too good, too perfect, too much, and his body keeps moving even while his mind begs for mercy. For yours, and his own.
You whisper his name like a prayer and a plea. He’s shaking. He's biting back sobs. He doesn’t know whose tears hit the sheets first—yours or his.
“I love you,” he chokes, forehead pressed to yours, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I’m hurting you, I know—I just—please… just a little longer…”
But “a little” turns into more. It always does. And by the end of it, you're both wrecked, ruined, too sore to move, too full of emotion to speak. He clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
And even as he holds you, whispering apologies and kisses against your shoulder, his hips twitch once more—because he never really learned how to stop needing you.
(if you're interested in sakamoto days themed blog, plz check out this account:> @yvesssssssss
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