thoughts on being passed between and shared by dad!sylus and papa!leb?
hi anon!! assuming you mean dad!sylus from the drabbles and papa!caleb from meet the xias, it's a bit hard to imagine them sharing because papa!caleb is obsessive. like he thinks his pips is all his. and dad!sylus, while more kinky and into corruption, is not as much? i don't know how to explain but they're both depraved and so am i so enjoy this short piece with incest but no specifics because they're both your biological dads in the harlotistic cinematic universe. imply mpreg if you will LOL. enjoy and ty for the ask :)
daddies' home (?)
cw: incest, nsfw, smut, dead dove, dubcon, clit bullying, spitroasting, creampies, oral, overstimulation, squirting, toy use, mild breath play, sylus and caleb kiss, petnames overload, dilfs galore, tba
everything was blurry. the colours of your bedroom, the posters on the wall, the soft silver peppered white hair between your legs, and the muscled expanse against your bare back. your ears felt like it was stuffed full with cotton, muffling the sharp grunts against your ear.
"you're hng- tapping- hngh- out on us, pips?"
the raspy groans against your ear was followed by a sharp sensation of teeth sinking into your earlobe. you let out a weak tired whine which earned a deep vibrating laugh against your raw devoured pussy.
"now now, mr xia...kittens need time to be trained properly. she can't even handle her bathroom needs right now."
he murmured, red eyes fixed on the panting older face behind his beloved kitten. he sucked your swollen throbbing clit between his lips. hard. you let out a cry, legs clamping instinctively as weak splurts of release shot out of you and onto his bare chest. he laughed, tapping your twitching numb clit with the pad of his finger. the ache seemed to extend and spiral into a cramp-like pain as the large slippery girth continued to saw in and out of your wrecked cunt.
"dad...i can't...anymore...please..."
you barely managed to say as sylus leaned down and began making an exaggerated point to lick the creamy white base that had begun to form from the amount of times papa had filled you up.
"ngh- you have to learn endurance, pips. i-it's a tough world out there- hah- for pretty things hngh- like you."
when he finally pulled out, your vision had begun to spot. dad licked the drool of your chin before kissing you. the taste of all three of you mixing in your mouth as you tried to catch your breath. taking away your oxygen and filling your senses with nothing but the moment itself. when he pulled away, papa was stroking your hair as dad kissed him. dad was a good kisser. so good that it made papa all hard again as he thrusted shallowly into you.
papa lifted you up with ease, the soft of your flesh squishing against his veiny forearms as he placed you on all fours. his dick was still buried up to your cervix. dad handed him a vibrator and papa pressed it against your clit with one hand while the other gripped your hips hard enough for you to wince. the buzzing against your sore numb clit and soaked folds made your jaw drop open as a choked gasp leaves your throat.
"your manners are coming out perfectly, sweetheart. look at you, mouth already wide open for your dad..."
he says, tapping his curved swollen tip against your tongue. he rubbed it against your drool before pushing it into your mouth. his fingers curled in your hair as he grinded your nose against his wiry white and silver happy trail. the smell of his sweat and cologne and skin made your eyes roll. or maybe it was the way he was bumping his cock against your tonsils. his head falls back, teeth clenched as he rutted against your mouth.
the lewd gagging and the way his balls were teasing your already stretched lips was a sight to behold. you could feel the sharp twitch in your throat before dad pulled out and stroked himself a few times before cumming on your nose and cheeks with a loud moan. behind you, papa grunted as he thrusted a few more times against your sloppy pussy before he came inside. he pulled out and increased the intensity of the vibration, scooping up your boneless body by the throat in the crook of his arm.
the momentary breath restriction made your face flush and your hands instinctively reach towards your throat before he kissed you to silence your mindless loud pleasure. dad was smiling as he stroked your hair and held papa's hand to press the vibrator against you. loving the way streams of sticky white cum splurted and dripped out of your worn pussy.
"such a good daughter for us, pips...the perfect daughter-wife to your two fathers."
cw: nsfw, mild blood and bloodplay, fem dog/siren (?) hybrid! rafayel x gege! caleb x reader, stepcest/incest/pseudocest (up to you), siren hypno powers, muzzling, creampie, scissoring, oral sex, dub/noncon, trauma, angst, fluff, tiny bit of bondage, might be ooc i'm sorry, tba
a/n: a 45-days belated birthday fic for my beloved @rawrdawgging !! i hope you like it kory and sorry this took forever 🥲 #yuriloversunite (shoutout to the lovely amazing @losermuse for proofreading or else it would have been incomprehensible!!)
growing up, it had always been you and gege. everyone around you had called you 'Grammy Josephine’s strays'. an inseparable pair the other kids avoided. it was always you and the boy that always seemed to hover behind you and stood a little too close, no matter where you went.
it was a genuine surprise when you finally managed to get him to give in and get a dog for your birthday. he had said no to hamsters, cats, and even a singular fish.
"i guess a dog isn't too bad. it can keep up with your chaos."
you blinked. stunned that he actually agreed.
"what? you're...not kidding, right?"
he raised a brow, lips tugged into his infamous smirk.
"me? kidding? never. so now where's my thank you?"
you cheered and ran up to hug him.
"just a hug? come on, pips. throw me a bone here."
maybe taking in a dog was the least of your worries when you had a dirty one already nuzzling against your neck and jaw. kissing and licking you hungrily. his hands trailed down your spine to give your ass a firm squeeze. you thought of getting a muzzle for him one of these days. the sight of him all on his knees panting and restricted, made his smugness more bearable. you walked him back towards the couch, straddling him once he sat.
"huh...someone's excited."
he remarked with that stupid smirk on his face. as if he wasn't already rock hard at the mere thought of you.
"i'm throwing you a bone, Caleb. don't make me take it back."
you huffed, rocking your hips against his tent. he gritted his teeth, stifling a groan that was already building in his throat.
"fuck...pips. you're always so mean to me..."
you rolled your eyes, moving quicker as his large warm hands found their way onto your hips, squeezing them when you ground against his clothed tip.
"mean? if i was mean- hah- i would've- hng- stopped-"
his grip faltered and he flashed you his infamous puppy eyes. the perfect amount of pathetic, wet, and needy in his purple gaze that he knows would have you relent and take pity on his sis-con soul. and it works like a charm. every single time. he's supposed to be the older one too. you continued grinding, hands squeezing his chest. you leaned down against his ear.
"stop that. i'm supposed to be annoyed."
you breathed against the shell of his ear before flicking your tongue against it and sinking your teeth into the lobe just hard enough to leave temporary marks and make his hip buck harder against you. he was as wrapped around your fingers as you were his.
__
so there he was, Caleb in all his boy next door's charming glory, in a hybrid rescue shelter. the female staff were already giggling behind clipboards and fanning themselves with flustered looks. he cranked up the brightness of his smile and walked confidently towards the nearest staff.
"excuse me, may I have one of your best hybrids to adopt?"
and the staff barely even remembered to get his id and documentation for processing.
"y-yes sir! of course!"
Caleb grinned and followed along as she lead him to the common living area for the hybrids.
"here are some of our sweetest hybrids...we have an arctic hare hybrid who is low maintenance...aside from food costs...and then there's-"
her words were already dissolving into the background as his eyes fixed on a dog girl hybrid. she had the cutest and fluffiest purple hair/fur. she was alone off to the side of the room with crayons and papers scattered in front of her. they were filled with pictures of magical lands. the immense princess vibes she held were exactly what caught his attention. the slight brattiness from the way her tail flicked when her vision glided over his form like he didn't matter at all. it reminded him of a certain someone at home. she'll fit right in.
"what breed is that pup?"
her explanation faltered and she turned to face him with a sheepish look.
"that's Rafa. she's new and to be honest...we don't really know either. poor thing came in all by herself."
Caleb began to step closer towards the pretty dog-girl, his shoes thudding against the tiles.
"sir wait! she's very...well...fussy. many potential adopters end up settling for other hybrids instead."
"what? there's no way she'll be fussy with me, she's so cute."
Caleb says confidently as he moved even closer to the dog-girl, his height looming over her smaller crouched frame. the staff could only watch on in resignation as he walked down the path so many other potential adopters have failed.
"hey there...would you wanna go home with me? there's someone who'd love to meet you-"
she sniffed him and at first her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she sniffed deeper. both Caleb and the lady staff held their breath. after a while of sniffing and building up hope for the both of them, she simply turned away and got back to drawing. Caleb blinked and his eye twitched.
"hello...i know you can talk-"
"no."
she interrupts without batting an eye or even looking at him. Caleb pursed his lips. what the hell was this bitch's problem anyway? no he had to play it cool.
"please pleaseeee come home with me!! it's for her, see?! she's so perfect incredible amazing-"
the lady staff just watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes and her jaw unhinged. a grown adult man, 6'2, built to the heavens, groveling at the feet of the sassiest dog hybrid in the shelter. even the sleeping arctic hare hybrid had his eye cracked open to see what was going on. he was fumbling in his pocket for his wallet and he practically shoved it in the dog-girl's direction.
"see! she's literally the sweetest ever!! you'll love her! everyone does-"
the picture made the dog girl blink. something about your eyes and smile tugged at her chest. so that was the sweet smell on this oaf. the smell that she had mistaken for home.
"fine."
she says, picking at her nails and not meeting his gaze. but the way her ears twitched with interest at the top of her head gave her away. she was curious and...maybe even enthused at the prospect of going home- no. meeting the person who smelled like home. so much so that she barely noticed Caleb's scheming eyes that were already planning a get back at her for being so difficult.
__
your beloved gege came home with something that had to be wheeled in. a cloth covered box with something that was making odd breathing sounds. a pitch of whining and panting that either belonged to a huge dog or...-
"gege i asked for a puppy...that sounds so creepy..."
you say, circling the box curiously.
"pips, you asked for a dog and i literally bought you the cutest one. least you could do is give your gege a lil smooch, ya know? as thanks?"
he says with that smirk glued to his jaw. you wracked your brain for a moment, thinking about what could possibly be under the cloth cover. was it an english mastiff? honestly if it was, you'd jump gege in a heartbeat. those things grew up to be skinwalkers with how humongous and...spindly they are. you felt a shiver down your spine as you imagined a large shadowy creature staring at you from the dark as it slowly takes over your home and makes it theirs. next thing you know, it's drinking your favourite brand of coffee on your dining table, legs crossed and rent unpaid. you took a deep breath, patting your cheeks to steel your resolve.
"better not be an english mastiff..."
you murmured to yourself which earned a snicker from your beloved older brother. the urge to smack him upside the head grows and deepens with age, you grumbled internally. reaching out, your fingers traced the edge of the cloth before tugging it away. you could not have prepared yourself for what came next. it was a bitch. literally. a dog-girl in a simple white shirt, sweatpants, and a chew toy clasped right between her teeth. she was drooling a little as she sat there, a scowl on her face and a constant growling sound rumbling from her chest. she had the softest purple hair, wavy, and shiny. and her eyes were an enchanting blue and pink. she looked unreal. and also very annoyed. maybe even a little scared.
"a dog-girl?! seriously gege?! you have to be kidding me!"
you exclaimed in a mix of shock and frustration. he had one job. just one. which by the way, you didn't even entask to him, he snatched the job up himself. saying that he's the best dog picker gege in the world. you should have known. god even an english mastiff would be preferable by now- your thoughts skidded to a halt as soon as you began realising what you saw. the dog-girl tilted her head and scooted closer towards the cage door and she was...
"mhfff hff hhh"
she was trying to speak, actively biting down on the chew toy to try and get it out of her mouth. she shook her head in annoyance and tugged at the hybrid safe lock behind her head.
"ughhh seriously caleb! and you gagged her too!"
you groan before gently raising your hand and moving closer.
"hi there. i'm...so sorry for being too loud. are you alright?"
your soft tone made her scowl ease up, her pinned down ears twitching. she was still drooling and glaring daggers at Caleb who stood there with mock offense. he had gotten you the prettiest dog from the pound! so why were you so upset? you unlatched the huge cage and gently held out your hand. she sniffed it and immediately nuzzled into your hand. you rubbed her head and unlocked the muzzle.
"you smell nice. like home."
she whispers, nuzzling closer against you. her voice was as pretty as her face and her hair. even the instinct to recoil at the way a human with dog ears had practically rubbed drool on you vanished. she was really pretty and that was a privilege on its own. the soft moment was broken when Caleb cleared his throat in an attempt to join the new bond that was happening in the middle of his living room.
"she's a rescue from...a hybrid shelter. she was so stubborn and...frankly, rude, but it seems like she likes you, though."
the redirection of your attention to Caleb once again made the dog girl glare at him, letting out an agitated rumbling growl. you turned to her and stroked her ears which made her calm again.
"yeah it seems she really does. she's beautiful. never seen anything like her before. also you should move away. i don't think she likes you much."
you murmured, scratching under her chin. she seemed to preen, chest puffing at your words. the sight made you giggle. she was perfect. adorable.
"oh wow. okay. you're welcome, pips."
Caleb scoffed, folding his arms sulkily as he backed off. he watched the two of you with a mildly growing peeve. maybe it was just an introduction of a new element in his shared space with you, but something was telling him that in a while he was going to regret this generosity of his.
__
"ah fuck! what is- ugh- wrong with you-"
your cuddle nap with Rafa was rudely interrupted by gege's hooting and hollering. again. you have lost count of how many times this had happened this week alone.
"use pretty words, Rafa's just a puppy."
you murmured groggily, patting Rafa's definitely-not-a-puppy's ears and head which seemed to calm her a little bit.
"you're being unfair pips! she thrashed my entire closet and now she's literally baring her teeth at me!'
you squinted one eye open and Rafa gave you the biggest puppy eyes ever. not a tooth in sight. your heart turned to putty at the sight. she was just so so adorable. she could do no wrong in your eyes.
"no she isn't. if you stop being so loud and just behave for an hour i promise we can catch up on missed time okay? so be a good boy-"
"i'm not the dog here, pips!!"
he exclaimed, groaning in agitation as he combed his fingers through his hair in genuine exasperation. it didn't even take one week. it had been, what? 5 days? and that bitch, literally and maybe even figuratively, had taken everything from him. his living room with all her toys that you had ordered, his favourite seat which had purple fur and hair everywhere, and worst of all his precious baby sister. you. not to mention the nights where his bedtime, the most sacred and intimate and blessed time of his whole entire day, was absolutely ruined by her constant whining and scratching at the door each time the door closed or locked. Needless to say, she was now sleeping on his side of the bed and he had to sleep on the, you guessed it, the floor. he hadn't gotten a single chance to hold you in five whole days. it was five days too long. long enough to drive a loving gege insane!
and then he saw it, Rafa's triumphant smug smirk as she nuzzled against your chest. Caleb felt a chill down his spine. he had went and done it now. brought a literal demon from hell home to his beloved pips and now it was going to throw him out since he's served his purpose. he needed to return Rafa and he needed to do it now-
"then stop acting like it, gege. if you behave, we can sleep together tonight and Rafa can sleep in the spare room that we've been doing up for her okay?"
"deal! i'll be good!!"
immediately all was forgiven. life was good again. there were no demons and no evil and he swears he heard angels sing- and then Rafa began to squirm against you.
"but i don't wanna sleep alone...wanna sleep with you...please..."
Caleb's eyes twitched. this greedy fucking dog! he swallowed his annoyance and put on his irresistible puppy eyes and now you were faced with two of the most difficult to reject pleading looks from the both of them.
__
the sounds and smells from their room was making the pretty dog girl all sulky. littermates. she knew that smell so well. there was a pair of them in 'that' place. the place she was from. they were inseparable and stunk of each other all the time. she had made sure to steer as clear as possible from them and had almost let out an obvious tail wag when they were adopted together. good riddance, she had thought to herself. and yet here she was, pining for someone who was already accounted for. the sweet comforting smell of home that lingered in his musk. intertwined and embedded, begging for her to paw it up.
it should have been her. she whined as she pressed her fluffy ears harder against the door. she could hear the soft pants and stifled moans. your sweet voice that was enough to make her all giddy as she stood outside your door. she closed her eyes, whining softly as she imagined her on the bed with you, nuzzling her nose in your neck as her hands rubbed and tweaked at your chest. how soft you'd feel beneath her fingers, how taut and perfectly textured your nipples would feel in her mouth. how she'd suck and bite and scent you as hers and only hers. get rid of the stink that Caleb had left on you. be the only one you think of. the only one you'd want. if you didn't love Caleb so much, she'd have made him disappear. she hated sharing what was hers.
"gege...quit teasing...h-harder please..."
Caleb's thrusts had faltered a little upon hearing the whimpering beyond the door. that dog girl was a bitch in heat when it came to you. the smugness settled in his chest at the realisation that at the end of the day you'd always pick him. even over her, your most beloved dog-girl in the world. that heady feeling of being listened in on only made him thrust harder, making the lewd squelching sounds painfully heard to their little intruder.
"hah- as you- hah- wish, pips..."
he says through gritted teeth, the flushed curves of his freckled abs dripping with sweat and exertion as he thrusted deeper into the warm vicelike grip of your cunt. his fingers tightened around yours as he pushed your hand deeper into the mattress, teeth clenched as he continued to fill you up to the fullest. bet that pup's real bitter outside the door, was his last thought before his hips stuttered as he came inside. your legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper against you as he pressed his hot flushed forehead against your equally heated one.
"love you, pips. you're perfect."
he whispers, kissing your nose. his fingers slowly loosened from your interlocked hands and he brushes away the stringy sweat slicked strands of hair from your forehead. it was perfect and exactly how life was meant to be. you and him together with that dog out of the picture. well at least when it mattered most.
__
you and Caleb were tangled in the sheets, skin glowing and hair mussed from sleep and faintly smelling of shampoo from the late night shower in the connecting bathroom. the morning was cozy and perfect, the kind that Caleb would dread leaving to head to work. he turned to give you a soft kiss against your temple when there was a loud ripping sound coming from outside. followed by crashes and loud clanging sounds. his lips nearly bruised from how you jolted awake, smacking your temple against his mouth.
"wha- wha?! are we getting robbed, gege? do i need to call the cops??"
you mumbled all sleepy and disoriented. would've been cute if his lips weren't throbbing. the both of you shuffled into the hallway and froze at the visceral sight that assaulted your eyes. the whole living room was a disaster zone. toys and plushies chewed through, drawings torn up, crayons and colour pencils snapped, and Rafa's favourite plate and mug (the sparkly pink coral ones) were absolutely shattered on the floor. she sat in the middle of the mess, hands bleeding and wrapped tight around herself as she rocked back and forth. her usually silky hair was all deflated and her ears were pinned down. you could hear her sniffling, pinkish ocean blue eyes glassy and red rimmed when she peeked at you from behind her arms, scowling.
on the other hand, the energy of the man next to you was beginning to tense. you could feel the air pressure increasing and the way his jaw ticked as he stared the dog-girl down. what a mess, you groaned internally. you placed a hand on gege's shoulder and the air cleared a little.
"you're gonna be late for work, gege. i'll handle this, okay?"
he sighed tiredly, running his fingers through his hair at your words.
"i'm sorry, pips. you sure you don't want your gege to take leave for this? or send her back to the pound on the way to work- ow!!"
you smacked his arm, glaring halfheartedly at him. you could hear a sulking whimper growl from behind you emanating from the curled up figure on the floor. what. a. mess.
you gently tiptoed over all the carnage and gently squatted next to her. she shifted instantly to establish as much space as she possibly could. and then you saw her hands. they were bleeding.
"Rafa...i know you're upset, sweetheart, but i need to look at your hands. they're bleeding."
she growled lowly, a rumbling sound in her chest.
"you don't have to pretend to care. just let that man send me back to the pound."
she spat, her pretty face all tight and scowling. it was heartbreaking to see her so upset.
"i promise i won't lock you out again. okay?"
you tried, gently raising your hand to stroke her head. she caved in at the smell of you, tail already wagging before she gave it permission to. her hands were bandaged and things were slightly better. except for the fact that she had decided to go on a hunger strike.
the strike went on for longer than it should. a few days. to the point where even gege was butting in and trying to get her to eat (albeit in his usual annoyed and rude tone reserved specifically for the dog-girl) only to end up with bitten flesh when he returned.
"fucking-"
"gege!"
"she bit me! god you're insufferable!"
he groaned, glaring at her before he left for work. the whole situation was unresolved still. Rafa was constantly suppressing her tail wags whenever you came near, opting for singular words or soft grunts in response and she would eat so little to the point where her body was beginning to heat up and feel feverish. you were so worried for her and her declining state.
"Rafa please, sweetheart. please eat...for me at least, hm?"
you cooed softly, trying not to let your anxiety and stress cloud her needs. you were cooling her head with damp cloth and in between, she was being fed her favourite food albeit the mashed up version. she didn't pull away anymore, settling deeper into your bed and against you. she ate and rested and even replied in more than her recent use of noncommittal sounds. gege was working a double shift today which left you alone, staying up to watch her and cater to her needs. you gently played with her ears, stroking the soft purple fur with your fingers as your eyes traced the way her chest rose and fell. the rhythm and serenity after all the days of frustration, worry, and constant anxiety created a lull in which your eyes began to close and your body dissolving into hers, forming a curled up ball of limbs.
your peaceful nap was disrupted by movement against your side, followed by an eventual weight on your belly and chest.
"you hurt me alot...reminded me of my days as a lonely stray being hurt by the bad people outside."
her voice was soft but her eyes, even through your groggy sleep laden lids, were shiny with tears and a glow that wasn't quite human or hybrid or even animal.
"i thought you were different...because you smelled like home."
she continues, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. her ears were all droopy and sad and...the mixture of everything made her words ring in your ears. enough to make you want to rip your heart out of your chest just to show her how much she meant to you. her voice was like a sad sludge that was beginning to make your brain all murky and fuzzy.
"Rafa...i'm so sorry...i...i never meant to hurt you..."
you said desperately, getting choked up as you speak. your eyes watered and the ringing in your head grew the more her eyes stayed glowing. your fingers reached for her, grasping onto wherever you could reach. you'd do anything for Rafa. anything at all. and those were the exact words that left your lips.
"please let me prove it to you! i'll do anything to fix this!"
your words made her sniffling soften and her glowing puppy eyes looked at you and she tilted her head to the side, fluffy ears tilting along.
"if you really mean it, then let me scent you."
the word scent was vague. scenting in hybrid culture was reserved for mates. you can't be her mate. it was wrong. it'd be abusing your hybrid caretaker rights over her. your rights which were to protect and care for her. but everything seemed to dissolve into that sludge in your mind. Rafa wants to scent you. rafa loves you so much that she wants to make sure you stay. make sure you were hers without a doubt.
"yes princess...you can do anything you please."
the words came out of your mouth in a singular exhale, your eyes dilating as if on command. the princess was honouring you with a scenting ritual reserved for mates. you were special. you were hers.
__
"grammy!! who is the pretty girl in the cage?"
Rafa's head lifted tentatively at the voice, her ears pressed down against her head at the approach of footsteps from someone probably not much older than her. this was a first. usually it was the heavy footsteps accompanied by that acrid nose burning chemical scent. the one that they'd poke her with to put things in her body that made her skin feel like it was containing boiling steam on the inside of her body or for them to draw blood out for their endless research into a now lost and destroyed section of a trifecta habitat that was utopian in its existence. a place where sea and mammal hybrids coexisted in a space where the green of a forest met the breeze of the ocean. they called it the in-between.
past attempts of human exploration had been met with hostility due to the intrusive nature so the site was bordered and rumours of cruel experiments and research were the only things that remained of that place. survivors were few and rare, living in constant hiding. she remembers being in water, being told not to wander too far. she was chasing a pack of pretty fishes that seemed to dance where the sun met the water's depths. she felt the pressure begin to recede the closer she swam to the surface. and then it was warm. her mother had always told her to stay away from the sun but she never told her how...beautiful and warm it was. here, she could smell and breathe in a different kind of air. the kind that was light and free. she giggled as the sun warmed her skin and dried her ears, her tail, something she remembered having, flapping in the water all excited.
and then there was a sharp prick against her arm. she yelped and looked down only to be met with something pointy with a dark bluish purple tipped plastic. she remembers that circular logo. she'd remember it forever. because that would be the last day she saw her family and friends and home. the smell beginning to fade in her memory. until the day you came to visit.
it had been a long day of tests and jabs. and when she heard your voice and footsteps, the smell hit her first. the smell of home. a soft oceanic breeze, the warm sun, the sand, the trees...she sniffed against the metal of her cage without realising. the kid outside gave her a soft pitying look.
"oh no...you're hurt. here, take my hanky. it'll help."
your tiny fingers had reached through the cage to pass it to her. the way the sterile lab lights hit your eyes, the smell, the way your lips curved into a smile. she felt...whole, if only for a moment. you were a princess. just like her. you had to be.
"hey we have to head home! stop playing with sick kids like that, pips."
a brown haired boy with plasters on his knees had called out, dragging you away towards the scientist lady the both of you called 'grammy' with a scathing glare thrown her way. and she was alone again. that hanky was...something she kept dear. she'd bite and snarl at anyone who got too close. and after years of learning the way people spoke and her set expiration date neared, she used her voice for the first time. freed herself and barely managed to escape, leaving behind only that handkerchief, worn and tattered from the years it spent with her. she cried that night and vowed to find you. her lost princess. her home.
__
Rafa was lapping at your neck, the warmth between her thighs rubbing against your lower tummy as she licked you all over. cleaning you of that disgusting littermated scent. you were hers and hers alone. you whined softly, skin leaning into her touch, warming the more she grinded her body against you. the sludge was beginning to clear away from your mind. your hands that were wrapped around her thighs reached up to your upper lip only to realise that the smell of copper was from blood.
"it's okay...it didn't hurt you...just had to make you see..."
she whispers, lapping up the blood before finally crashing her lips over yours. her fingers scrabbled against your soft home clothes, tugging it up. she held your hands to her chest, the peak of her nipples stiff from how much she's grinded it against your chest. the face she made when you gave it a testing squeeze was reverent.
"more...touch me...scent me too..."
she pants, grinding harder against your clothed cunt. you could already see her shorts darkening. the power imbalance and the wrongness blurred as the sensation of grinding against her reached a crescendo. you pulled Rafa's hips harder against you as you came, kissing her doggy ears and nipping it which made her let out a keening whine of pleasure. the clothes separating you both parted with a slick string, entirely soaked through. you could see her pretty purple hairs nesting around the soft pink of her flushed pussy. the sight was enough to make your mouth water.
"Rafa...we shouldn't do this. it's wrong."
you tried to reason even though you were already sitting up with your fingers, millimeters away from stroking over her wet shorts. she huffed and placed her hands on either side of you before kissing you hard enough to split your lips. her breath was muffled and her nose bumped against yours. your hands, despite your earlier protests found the waistband of her shorts and tugged it down. your fingers grazed over her bush, dipping deeper into the pool of stickiness in between. the gasp she let out followed by the slight shudder in her hips was enough to have you pin her down and tug off your own underwear.
the room was warm and somewhere along the way, Rafa has managed to take over, rutting her erect clit against yours as she pressed kisses and sharp nips with her canines against the insides of your thighs.
"s-so good...can't stop...rubbing against you..."
your back arched as she smushed her hips harder against yours. the softness mixed with the loud wet noises and the firmness of her big clit against your own was enough to erase the mild burn of her purple cunt hairs rubbing against your raw needy flesh. the throes of pleasure you were both in tunneled into a haze of mounting need and desperation, oblivious to how gege was standing in the room's doorway. his jaw was unhinged and he didn't know which feeling came first. the sharp betrayal of envy or the heat that licked up his nape.
"pips...?"
his voice came out as a rasp of disbelief, his eyes were dark and his chest heaved.
"g-gege- hah-"
"look at me. not him. i'm the one- hng- making you feel- hah- good..."
"Rafa...need more...ngh-"
he just stood there rooted to the spot, using what's left of his dignity and willpower to not combust in his pants from the way you were shaking your hips against the dog-girl's. the way your fingers tugged at the base of rafa's tail to urge her harder against you. the way your clit was so swollen and fat. he fumbled with his belt buckle, ignoring the annoyed look that rafa gave him before he knelt down to kiss you, one hand around his cock.
he began licking down your neck and tonguing your nipples, eyes transfixed on the way Rafa had her tail wrapped around your leg as she scissored her cunt against yours. the stimulation from your tits and pussy was enough to make you cum hard all over Rafa's purple furs, hips twitching. gege kissed away your tears.
"she's mine-"
Rafa's bark was rough but she paused when she saw the way your eyes fluttered shut as Caleb pressed his forehead against yours as he came all over the floor. the look of utter surrender and worship in his eyes at the sight of you. she knew then and there that...he understood what home was. that he was just like her. two people seeking solace in the same home. at that moment where caleb and you kissed, how happy you looked as you did it, and the soft smile you flashed her for her understanding was enough for her to relent. as long as this annoying prick made you happy, she'd recognise him too. not easily...but he was their pack now. their litter.
"hah i bet i can make her feel better than you can."
Rafa felt that soft, orgasm aided acceptance of Caleb shatter almost comically. she wanted to rip that smug look off his face with her canines. but the sight of you laughing softly at his words made her heart stutter. you were a princess even when you were absolutely undone...
but despite everything, Rafa and Caleb's spats continued even as her mouth was pressed against your pussy and Caleb's breath was halting with the way you were sucking him off.
__
"come on Rafa...you can do better than that, can't you?"
you huffed out, fingers tangled in her purple locks as you ground your pussy against her face. your eyes were fixed on Caleb's form. your big strong gege reduced to a whimpering mess with his arms tied behind his back with ribbons and a muzzle over his mouth. you tugged at Rafa's ears which made her whimper and finger herself harder. over the past few months that the three of you have settled into, you realised that sometimes, your favourite pups needed an occasional discipline session to quit driving you up the wall for attention.
today was gege's turn because he had been away for too long and he made you worry without a text just to surprise you when he came back. so there he was, forced to watch Rafa devour his favourite meal. he was struggling, face flushed and panting. his eyes were narrowed as he looked at you. all it took was one glance at his crotch to know the true extent of his suffering. a dark patch bleeding outwards on his khaki coloured slacks. sweat trickled down his nape to join the translucent white front of his tank top.
"you're too cruel, pips. you know your gege's starvin' after a long work trip."
you huffed out a moan when Rafa sucked on your clit, swirling her tongue over and around it until you saw stars and clenched around her head. she whimpered, tail wagging as she lapped up your sweet sticky juices.
"you were late. that's why she's all mine. right, cutie?'
Rafa grinned, face still wet and sticky with you. she was loving this. making it a show as she squished your cheeks to make you face her instead of your suffering gege.
"won't you reward me? for being such a good girl?"
she pouted, as she shifted to curl her arms around you from behind. her tail curled around your leg, the tip rubbing up and down your wet pussy. she kissed down your neck before turning your face to kiss you. her hands teased and plucked at your nipples as her eyes glowed. she was smirking as she watched Caleb grunt and fight against the ribbons. what was this supposed to be again? a discipline session? you could have sworn it was to discipline Rafa too but as always, the spoiled brat always got her way.
"sit, gege."
she says mockingly as she fiddled with your nipples and rubbed against your sensitive pussy harder.
"you're already lucky you get to witness cutie when she's like this."
you let out a choked gasp as she rubbed you harder with her tail, fingers tugging your nipples.
"Rafa...i m-miss him too...please..."
you whined, flashing her your very own puppy eyes. learned from the two best people in the field. Rafa clicked her tongue, huffing halfheartedly.
"fine. but only because you asked."
the moment Caleb was unbound, he was on you in seconds. he tugged at his muzzle, the metal pressing into your skin in his eagerness. Rafa reached down and parted your pussy lips open so he could see how her tail was flicking your clit. you could feel her grinding against your ass all eager and turned on from watching him suffer.
"nuh uh, no touching gege. just look and get off. that's all you get for being a bad doggy. don't you agree?"
Caleb felt his head get filled with a sludge like fog and all he could do was nod and fumble with his belt buckle. he began jerking his red raw cock with his hand, gritting his teeth as blood dripped down his nose. his pupils were blown the way an addict's would.
"don't b-be too mean to gege, Rafa... hah- you know it's better- ngh- when everyone's- hah- h-here-"
you panted out with effort, hips shaking as your orgasm approaches. she bit back a snarky remark because despite her irritation at Caleb's very existence, it was fun. she watched as you tug Caleb's head up. he was lost in reverence as he gazed up at his favourite girl and...sort of favourite third. his eyes were red rimmed and watery and the blood from his nose was leaking down the sides of his metal muzzle.
"m'sorry...i'll be good...i- ngh- i promise- hnh-"
he whimpered, hand growing frantic. his last straw was when you came all over his face, Rafa's tail soaked as she continued to rub you through your orgasm. Caleb cried out and his cock twitched as a splurt of cum shot out onto his abdomen and hands. the sight made Rafa giggle and her eyes stopped glowing. the haze of pleasure descended upon everyone and so did a fit of exhausted fucked out giggles as you all looked at one another.
Rafa settled between you and Caleb, her arms circled around you possessively, though she didn't bite Caleb for patting her head with his bloodstained fingers as the three of you settled into bed to catch your breath. you didn't smell dirty anymore and neither did he. it didn't even matter anymore that she wasn't a part of their birth litter like she had always envied. these moments sealed the fact that she was finally...home. in a pack of her very own.
You see it happen in real time—the hunger settling into his bones, the rot threading through his veins, instinct sharpening into something feral and wrong. The virus doesn't take his body first. It takes his restraint.
And the closest living thing to him is you. He feels it. The pull toward your pulse. The warmth of your throat. The unbearable urge to sink his teeth into the only thing he's ever loved.
But he fights it. He burns through his evol just to hold himself together, veins glowing under fevered skin, jaw clenched so hard you're scared it'll shatter. Every second is war. What he was clawing against is what he's becoming. He refuses to bite you. Refuses to let the infection have that.
So you chain him. Not because you're afraid of him but because you're afraid for him. Metal cuffs around his wrists. A collar against his throat. The weight of it digs into skin that's no longer fully human. To outsiders, he looks like a monster you've somehow domesticated. Survivors keep their distance. Other infected hesitate when they sense him.
He growls at them. Scares them off. Your guard dog. Your weapon. Your almost-boyfriend who still leans into your touch on the rare lucid nights.
And on those lucid nights, when the world is quiet and the chains lie slack between you, he looks at you like he's starving for something that isn't blood.
The chains rattle as Caleb thrusts into you, his cuffed wrists straining behind his back, the collar around his neck pulling taut in your fist. You’ve fitted him with the muzzle tonight—a crude leather strap scavenged from old gear, buckled tight over his jaw to cage those sharpening teeth.
It doesn’t dull the hunger in his eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, but it keeps his mouth from your skin, forcing him to nuzzle instead of bite. His nose presses hot against your collarbone, breath ragged through the gaps, as his cock slams deep into your pussy, stretching you wide with every feral snap of his hips.
You’re on your back in the nest of blankets, legs wrapped around his waist, the leash wrapped twice around your hand for control. He growls low, the sound muffled by the muzzle, vibrations rumbling through his chest into yours. His body is fever-hot, veins pulsing under sweat-damp skin, the infection urging him harder and faster. You yank the chain, arching his neck back just enough to expose the thrumming pulse at his throat.
“Slower,” you gasp, clenching around his thick length to make him obey. He bucks anyway, burying himself to the hilt, balls slapping against your ass as pre-cum slicks the way. The muzzle’s straps dig into his cheeks, but he nuzzles desperately at your neck, lips brushing softly through the barrier, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing anchoring him.
No teeth can graze you now, just the wet heat of his exhales and the insistent rub of his face against your skin. You release the leash a fraction, letting him drop his head to your tits. He mouths at your nipple through the leather, tongue pressing futilely, a frustrated whine escaping as his thrusts grow erratic. Your free hand digs into his hair, guiding him, while your hips rise to meet him, pussy gripping his cock like a vice.
He fucks you like he’s claiming territory, hips grinding deep, the chains clinking with every movement. The infection makes him relentless and extra horny, cock throbbing inside you, veins ridged against your walls. You pull the leash sharply, forcing his muzzled face up to yours.
“Mine,” you whisper. “No one is taking you from me.” He nods as best as he can, nuzzling your jawline with muffled urgency. The tension coils tight; you arch up, nails raking his back, and he shudders, slamming one last time before spilling hot cum into you.
You come with him, walls pulsing around his shaft, milking every drop as the chains go slack in your grip. He collapses half on you, nuzzling into your shoulder, the muzzle warm against your skin.
“Good boy," you murmur, tugging the collar just enough to feel him respond. The world may see a monster, but you see someone who still chooses you.
need. this is what dark content was made for. AUGH PERSONAL GUARD DOG?? i would let him bite me so we could fuck for eternity trusttttt UNMUZZLED AND RAW!! new fave added to my brain thank you for sharing your artistic mind with us muse! forever humbled by your amazing writing 💥💥💥
CW: DEAD DOVE: DNE (18+ mdni), yandere!caleb, non-con/rape, psuedocest, drugging, somnophillia, p in v, breeding kink, degradation, aftercare.
The bed was your sanctuary. Caleb knew this. From his post in the hallway, the crack in the door framed you like a portrait: propped against the headboard, knees drawn to your chest, seeking a warmth the world could no longer provide.
The steam from the chamomile mug curled in the low light. His recipe. The one he’d perfected for you when you were children, when you were just a scared girl who needed her big brother. Now, it serves a higher purpose.
He watched as you raised the mug. Your first sip was a small, grateful sigh. A ghost of the old comfort. The second sip was his victory.
Two.
The word clicked in his mind, precise and proud. That was all it took this time.
Last night: four swallows. The night before: a full half-cup. But he had adjusted the concentration, accounting for your heightened stress and your depleted system. His calculations were flawless. He saw the exact moment his work manifested—the slight flutter of your eyelids, the delayed recognition of the syrupy aftertaste he’d engineered.
Then came the beautiful, inevitable surrender. Your body went soft, your consciousness extinguished like a snuffed candle. The mug rolled from your slack grip, leaving a dark streak across the duvet before it thudded softly on the rug.
He waited and let the silence solidify.
Only then did he act. The door opened without a whisper under his touch. His first move was to pick up the mug, then his gaze fell upon you, where you lay in a perfect, defenceless stillness. His fingers traced your jaw, tilting your head to admire the pliant parting of your lips.
“Time for your nightly exercise, angel. You’ll fit perfectly in no time.”
His hands roamed greedily, yanking up your tank top to bare those perky tits. The cool air hit your skin, and your nipples tightened as if they sensed what was coming. He bent to them, rough and unrestrained, pinching until the ache bloomed beneath his touch. In the same impatient motion, he dragged your shorts and panties down your legs. The fabric tore slightly in his haste. Your pussy parted slightly for him, the soft lips already damp with unconscious arousal.
Caleb stripped fast, his thick cock slapping free, heavy and with veins bulging like ropes, and the fat head oozing pre-cum in sticky strings. He was hung like a goddamn horse, the kind of brutal size that’d split a virgin in half. But these nightly raids were his way of breaking you in, forcing your tight cunt to stretch and memorise his shape.
“So pretty,” he growled low, kneeling between your thighs and slapping his cock against your folds, smearing your juices along his shaft. The wet smacks filled the room, and your pussy twitched like it craved the abuse.
He gripped your hips, nails digging in, and rammed the tip past your entrance with a grunt. “Fuucckk, you’re still so goddamn tight.”
Inch by agonising inch, he forced his way deeper. Your walls resisting the invasion, stretching obscenely around his girth until your lips were puffed from the strain. He could see the bulge in your belly where his cockhead prodded, reshaping your guts for future poundings.
“That’s my girl. Taking gege’s fat cock like a champ.”
Half-buried, he hiked your legs over his shoulders, folding you like a pretzel to drill deeper. With a hard thrust, he bottomed out, balls slapping your ass as your cervix kissed his tip. Your cunt spasmed wildly around him, and juices were squirting out in messy sprouts that soaked his sack.
“Shit, you feel that? Your hole’s learning to hug me tight, pips—gonna be perfect when I breed you properly.” He pulled back slowly, your pussy dragging along every ridge, then slammed home.
Caleb didn't stop there, shoving his thumb into your drooling mouth and hooking it against your cheek to pry your jaw wide.
“Suck it, pips—do a little practice for when you choke my dick.”
Your tongue lolled warm and wet around the digit. Saliva pooling and dribbling down your chin as he face-fucked your mouth to sync with the pumps.
The sight of his thumb gagging you while his cock ravaged you below had him leaking more inside you. He pinched your clit hard, twisting it to make your walls flutter even harder. Your body betraying you with gushes of arousal that lubed his pounding.
He rutted like an animal, sweat falling in warm drops as his hands roamed greedily on your tits. “Gonna flood this cunt. Make it leak my jizz all night, so you wake up feeling like a used slut.”
Your pussy was a ruined mess now, stretched to its limit, inner muscles rippling in futile protest, but fitting him like a custom fleshlight after all his ‘training’. The bed creaked under the assault. His balls tightening as he hammered your g-spot, forcing your limp body to jolt with each brutal plunge.
“Fuck yes!” he snarled, burying deep and erupting. His cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum filled your womb, overflowing and bubbling out around his base in creamy froth.
“Take it all, baby. You’re mine.”
Easing out with a wet pop, he watched his cum ooze from your wrecked hole. Satisfaction twisted his grin; you were moulding to him and ready.
He snatched a rag from your laundry basket, moving with a measured patience that made the abuse of moments ago feel distant, almost unreal. His hands traced your thighs as he wiped, lingering just a second too long, and for a heartbeat, he scooped out globs of his seeds from your sloppy folds, sucking them clean himself with a moan. Then he dressed you in a fresh nightie and tucked the covers around you.
i loveeeee pussy training fics so bad especially when it's noncon ughhhhhh so hot bro. and like the way he's so hasfy and needy with it too this fic made caleb rise in my bias ranks 😭 amazing fucking writing as always (please never leave tumblr diva)
CW: 18+ (MDNI) oral, fingering, come spitting, voyeurism, overusage of pips/honey, Caleb larping as an omegaverse expert (he has no clue what he's talking about), Caleb/Zayne (snowapple), kind of ooc for Caleb & Zayne || Words: 3.3k || Summary: Caleb snoops through his gf's belongings and stumbles upon her BL fics.
A/N: Late bday gift for @losermuse!! I'm sorry that this took so long my brain went on strike </3 Love you lots musey muse!! <3333 Manifesting good grades and rest for you mwah 💙
also zayne has a dick piercing as requested by @harlotistic >:3
Anxiety settles between his ribs, trying to gnaw its way out. His throat going dry—it was just a kiss. A kiss with another man. Not just another man, but Caleb. The look on his mother’s face, perplexed with a hint of revulsion. Mrs. Li is going to tell dad. Dad’s going to—
How melodramatic this is, Caleb thinks. You’re spending time writing this? Caleb lets out a snort in disbelief. Well, it’s better than Pips getting in trouble and Caleb having to bail them out.
Any other person would be creeped out by their girlfriend writing stories about them and a close friend. Not Caleb. Pipsqueak is thinking about him. You see appeal in putting Caleb in fictional scenarios for your pleasure. Gosh, you probably rub your pussy to the thought of him and Zayne fucking.
A thought that goes straight to Caleb’s dick and thus Caleb’s grand plan was forming in his brain. Caleb flips a few pages ahead, curious to see how this story ends. An action that ends up being worthwhile.
Caleb’s fingers dig into Zayne’s hip, the bed creaking underneath the rough and quick snaps of his hips. Caleb’s free hand is wrapped around Zayne’s dick, feeling him throb in his hand.
Caleb’s eyes widen as he reads the explicit words before a slow exhale leaves him. He knew you were a freak. An apple that fell far from the tree but still inherited Caleb’s freakiness—you wouldn’t be his baby sister if you were normal.
—
“I’m not the one who said you were a bottom, it’s what her story implies,” Caleb says, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He leans back on the couch, stretching out his long legs, arms tucked behind his head. “It’s not my fault I’m an alpha, Zayne. I’m born this way.”
Zayne’s right brow quirks up, nimble fingers coming up to loosen the knot of his tie. “I’m not sure I’ve come to the same conclusion. Just because that Zayne was on the bottom once doesn’t make him a bottom.”
Your mouth parts then closes, what does one even say in this situation? Caleb and Zayne were never supposed to know about your little stories. When had an ad gone out for personal beta readers? You’re sat on the couch between Caleb and Zayne. They’ve been discussing your writing for the past fifteen minutes.
Caleb shrugs, “yeah but you have nice birthing hips.”
“I have what?”
“Nice birthing hips. So, you’d be the omega.” Caleb clarifies, leaning closer to you. Violet eyes meeting yours, “did I use the right term, honey?” Caleb’s looking at you like a dog waiting for praise but all you can do is gawk at him. This is not a conversation you could have predicted. Ever.
“I don’t have birthing hips! My hips are perfectly proportionate to my body. You have bigger tits than I do, Caleb.”
“And a bigger dick. That’s why I was designated the alpha.”
This argument is so ridiculous but it does earn a laugh from you. “Dick size doesn’t designate you as the alpha,” you finally speak up, the initial embarrassment has faded. Still, this isn’t an ideal situation. You’d rather Zayne and Caleb remain blissfully unaware about that slow burn fanfiction that ended with Zayne’s face being forced into the pillow as Caleb took him from behind.
“Yeah, Caleb.” Zayne agrees, his leg crosses over the other leg. “Besides, my dick is bigger. We measured it before, remember?” An amused hum leaves him, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose before he pushes it back up.
“That was like years ago. You hit puberty before I did!” Caleb retorts.
Wait what? Caleb and Zayne measured their dicks before? Teenage boys are so strange… Then again, measuring themselves is the most normal thing they could’ve done.
“There couldn’t possibly be a drastic difference from then to now.”
“Wanna bet? Let’s measure our dicks now. Pips, go get the measuring tape.”
Should’ve seen this coming from miles away—Caleb and Zayne have always been competitive. Rising from the comfortable couch, your arms raised above your head to get the most needed stretch. You head to the bedroom, straight to Caleb’s desk.
Organized. You didn’t even have to search, it was right there, waiting for this important moment. This was the night that the measuring tape settled a debate: who has a bigger dick?
From the bedroom, you can hear Caleb shout Zayne’s name in awe. What’s going on now, you wonder as you make your way back to the living room. Both men have stripped. Their clothes neatly folded and placed on the couch.
Caleb’s on his knees, his attention all on Zayne until he hears your footsteps behind him. He turns his head, “look at what Zayne has,” surprise coloring his tone. “Zayne, dude, show her.”
Zayne’s clears his throat, his ears glowing as bright as Rudolph’s nose. “I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal of it.”
One would assume that Caleb’s teasing Zayne about his size, oh no. Although, first glance at Zayne’s dick—impressive for being flaccid. However, it’s the shiny metal pierced into his skin that has all of the attention.
“A Prince Albert piercing!?”
Your eyes are wide, without much though you tug the ring, checking for authenticity. Dr. Li has a fucking dick piercing!
Zayne lets out a quick exhale through his nose at the gentle touch—sensitive one, isn’t he? “Is it that surprising?” he questions. “Everyone gets piercings.”
“But not everyone gets a genital piercing.” Caleb points out, his eyes drifting over to you. “Who knew Dr. Li could be so… hardcore, huh?”
A dick piercing isn’t that strange when it comes to Zayne. Zayne, who used to wear his fringe over his left eye (attempted to, his glasses would get in the way), and wore black eyeliner (that he stole from mama), and the skinniest jeans imaginable—he would definitely get a dick piercing.
Dr. Li who lectures you on eating healthier and going to bed at a decent hour, not so much.
“It’s so cool, Zayne! Maybe I should get a clit piercing…” Just an off-handed comment, is it something you would follow through on? Probably not. Your suggestion makes Zayne’s dick twitch in interest.
Movement that catches Caleb’s attention and his amusement. “Don’t those piercings heighten sensitivity? You’re already so sensitive, it’ll probably take a few rubs and you’ll finish before we even start.”
You roll your eyes at Caleb’s comment, “says the one who finished in his jeans just because my ass brushed against his crotch.”
Caleb sputters and then looks at Zayne, "that has never happened. She’s lying. A true alpha doesn’t finish before his girl.”
“Baby, you’re the omega in our relationship. You even said if we were seahorses, you’d gladly carry our babies and—“ Caleb’s hand covers your mouth. Caleb’s cheeks grow rosy; your boyfriend is not an easy guy to fluster. Usually he’s the one trying to embarrass you.
“Anyway! As the alpha, I say we should measure our dicks now before Pips tries to ruin my credibility.”
Clearing his throat, unsure hazel eyes dart from you to Caleb. “I suppose… if this is to be fair, we’d both need to be aroused.”
Caleb nods in agreement, “right, because some people are growers, not show-ers.”
Caleb’s hand caresses the back of your head, “honey, since you like Zayne’s piercing so much, why don’t you help him out?”
What? You were only going to be the unbiased dick measurer. Now, Caleb’s telling you to help another man get hard?
“Pfft, Zayne doesn’t need help. He can just think of someone hot or something.”
“He could,” Caleb agrees. “But I think you’d love the opportunity to play with his piercing.” Caleb has a point. He always has a point.
When your weary gaze catches Caleb’s, he only gives you a self-assured nod. Well, if your boyfriend wants you to help out a friend, how could you turn down the suggestion?
“You don’t mind, do you, Zayne?”
“Of course not.”
And what started out as Caleb and Zayne critiquing your writing has ended up with your tongue teasing Zayne’s tip. Warm metal slides over your tongue; kitten licks over his sensitive head that causes Zayne to grow embarrassingly fast, much like Caleb.
What an ego-boosting reaction.
Now that the surprise of Zayne’s piercing has waned, you’ve noticed how neatly groomed he is. Pubes trimmed down, the clean scent that clings to his skin, mixed with a hint of musk.
Caleb spits in the palm of his hand, “that’s right, Pips. Get him nice and hard. He’ll need all those inches to beat me.” He taunts. Caleb strokes himself lazily, his attention captured by his girlfriend sucking his friend off; arousal outweighs any potential jealousy.
Your lips stretch over Zayne’s girth, the additional weight of his piercing is an odd sensation. The metal clinks against your bottom teeth a few times as you bob your head up and down; sending a shiver down your spine.
Zayne lets out a heavy exhale through his nostrils, muscles tense from your oral ministration. His hand rests on the crown of your head, hips bucking forward to drive more of himself down your throat. You gag as his tip bumps the back of your throat.
“C’mon Pips, you’ve taken a bigger dick than his and you’re still gagging?” Caleb scoffs, giving himself a rough tug. “Is this just to boost Zayne’s confidence?”
You pull off Zayne’s dick, saliva strings from your mouth and his flared head. Zayne’s dick pulsates with need, slick with the mixture of saliva and precum. Instead of responding to Caleb’s tease, you grab the measuring tape.
The measuring tape stretches from Zayne’s tip to the base. “Seven and a half. Impressive, Dr. Li.”
Albeit a dull compliment, Zayne’s chest still inflates from praise.
“Seven and a half! I’m sure if you had a partner, they’d be thoroughly satisfied, dude.” Caleb says, clapping Zayne on the back.
“Regardless of size, I’m still very proficient with my hands.”
Caleb chuckles, “now that, I can’t refute.”
Caleb pushes forward, standing right in front of you. “Pips, I’m ready for my measurements to be taken.”
You repeat the measuring process with Caleb, tip to base, although it’s harder to accurately measure since Caleb’s dick curves upward. “Mm, it looks like eight and three-fourths.”
Caleb’s dick is bigger. The tape measurer does not lie. Even when they stand side by side, the size difference is obvious.
“See Zayne, it just makes sense for me to be the alpha in our relationship. You know bottoms have the smaller dick,” Caleb explains, smugness oozing from his words.
When did Caleb did a Ph.D in Omegaverse? He read the Omegaverse wiki and called it a day, apparently. “Caleb, dick size doesn’t determine status,” you remind him. Caleb only shrugs your reminder off. “Still, he has birthing hips. He’s submissive. And you wrote him as the bottom in your little fic,” Caleb points out with a hint of a smile on his lips.
After a moment, you rise from the floor. “Well,” you begin, your arms wrap around Caleb’s midsection, fingers trailing over the ridges of his spine. “This is reality.” Nails graze his skin, causing goosebumps to flourish on his skin. “And you’ve been acting more like a brat than anything else.”
“C’mon,” Caleb protests, dipping his head so that he could nuzzle into your neck. Uh oh! Caleb has equipped the puppy tactics, must stay strong. “I was teasing Zayne. You know, I have no clue about the alpha and omega stuff.”
“I know.”
Running your fingers through his dark brown hair, lips pressed against his ear before you speak, the warmth of your breath causes Caleb to shudder slightly. “That doesn’t free you from the consequences though, honey…” Honey, so patronizingly cooed in his ear.
“Down on your knees.”
Up and down goes Caleb’s Adam’s apple, skin prickling with the sudden desire to obey. Lovesickness is incurable—Caleb would never want to be cured anyway.
Your boyfriend sinks to his knees.
“Since Zayne doesn’t get laid often, why don’t you help our gege out?”
Zayne sputters, his hands going through the motions to tug at a tie that’s no longer around his neck. Laughter bubbles up from your chest at his reaction—it’s rare to see Zayne so flustered.
“Did I say something wrong?” You question with your head tilted, feigning innocence.
“N-no, it’s just…” Zayne stammers, pushing his glasses up. His words die off as Caleb’s tongue darts out to lick at Zayne’s tip—already mourning the loss of your saliva, all he can taste is the bitterness of Zayne’s precum. “You’re lucky she’s in charge, Zayne. You know the roles should be reversed,” Caleb huffs, his cheeks puffed out as if he was wronged.
Zayne lets out a breathy laugh. “Then you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
Caleb’s eyes narrow, he doesn’t respond verbally. Instead Caleb’s cheeks hollow as he bobs his head back and forth. His hand stroking what he can’t fit into his mouth. He attempts to swallow Zayne down to the hilt, only to let out a wet and muffled gag once Zayne’s tip hit the back of his throat.
“You can do better than that, Caleb.”
Already, your body is sprawled out along the length of the couch. Your bottoms and panties discarded on the floor. “Honey, didn’t you train me to take your dick without gagging? Why don’t you use those skills on Zayne?” Your taunt makes Caleb’s dick throb and arousal spurt from his slit.
Your legs part, your hand finding their way between your thighs. Collecting your arousal on your middle finger, you spread it around your swollen clit. The sigh that escapes your lips is of pure relief.
Caleb’s tongue plays with Zayne’s piercing, causing Zayne’s hips to flex. Violet eyes meeting hazel ones; competitive but both share a common goal, and that’s making sure that you enjoy the show.
Zayne’s fingers thread in Caleb’s short strands, guiding Caleb’s movements. Caleb relaxes his jaw, his tongue swirling against the sensitive underside of Zayne’s length. Zayne’s head is thrown back; heavy pants and moans that can’t be contained, not with the way Caleb is working his cock.
Best seat in the house. Watching your boyfriend suck off his friend—the best gift ever. Even if it came at the cost of your mortification of Caleb and Zayne reading those stupid fics you wrote about them.
“Good boy,” you praise, shooting an encouraging smile in their direction.
“Zayne, make sure you encourage him too. He is the one servicing you.”
For a moment, Zayne looks dumbfounded.
Strong angular brows pull together in thought before he speaks up, “an alpha that’s good at sucking omega dick, how rare…” His ears and cheeks are crimson—the only time you’ve seen Zayne this red is after being out in the snow for hours.
You bite your lower lip to stifle the laugh but it comes out anyway. “Zayne, you can just encourage him like normal.”
Zayne clears his throat and nods. “Your mouth is immensely pleasurable.”
That does sound more like Zayne. You’ll help him work on his dirty talking later. Your finger prods at your entrance, slowly stretching out the muscle. Your finger pumps in and out, slick coating your skin.
Caleb pulls back, needing to fill his lungs with more oxygen. “Zayne, what the hell was that?” He questions, his free hand kneads Zayne’s balls. “Good looks, occupation, and dick size carried you through your first time, huh?”
Just as you’re about to open your mouth to reprimand Caleb, Zayne’s pushing back into his mouth. Caleb’s nose presses against Zayne’s pelvis, causing Caleb to choke from the girth forced down his throat again, eyes welling up with tears.
Zayne’s dirty talking may need work but not his taming skills.
“He’s so mouthy sometimes.” More than mouthy. What shuts Caleb up? You sitting on his face. Caleb look gorgeous when he’s on his knees. Long lashes with tears clinging to them, his lips slightly swollen and covered in a his saliva. Zayne’s not making it easy for him, fingers curled in Caleb’s hair, his hips pumping forward, and forcing Caleb to take every inch.
This is so much hotter than anything you could’ve written about.
Warmth begins to build in your lower tummy. Every deep thrust of your fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Caleb’s dick is drooling, throbbing from neglect. He’s cute this way. It’s the best payback for snooping and that ego of his. “Nn, fuck. Caleb’s learning fast, isn’t he?”
Zayne doesn’t answer. All of his attention is on Caleb.
You can see the moment Caleb’s jaw goes slack and he allows Zayne to drive into his throat. Rough pumps of Zayne’s hips that draw out strangled gasps, balls slapping against Caleb’s chin.
Flushed skin that sheens with sweat, fringes that are glued to their forehead, and spit bubbling from the corners of Caleb’s mouth—an ethereal scene that would be studied in art history 101 if Michelangelo had painted it.
Zayne’s glasses hang low on his nose, his pants heavy. Caleb’s looking up at Zayne through dark damp lashes; with his free hand, Zayne caresses Caleb’s cheek, thumb rubbing over his soft skin. “You’re going to be a good boy and swallow, right?” Zayne asks, voice strained before fading into breathlessness. His balls draw up towards his body, muscles tensing.
Caleb nods.
Zayne’s lips lift upward in a small smile, “that’s right. Good boy.” All it takes is a few more shallow thrusts into Caleb’s fluttering throat.
Knowing that Zayne is close makes your fingers speed up their pumps. Just have to time it right and you can come with Zayne. You have to remind yourself to keep your head up and eyes open, even with your orgasm creeping up your spine.
Missing the moment when Zayne spills in Caleb’s mouth would be devastating.
Zayne buries himself one last time in Caleb’s throat, his body momentarily stiff. Zayne’s release comes out in heavy spurts, filling Caleb’s mouth. “Fuh-fuck,” Zayne groans. Caleb gags, his eyes closing as Zayne’s creamy load coats his tongue. Just one taste and Caleb knows he still prefers your come on his tongue.
“Go ahead and swallow it, honey.” You encourage Caleb but he only pulls away from Zayne. His cheeks slightly puffed out, some spillage dripping down his chin. Caleb crawls towards your resting body on the couch.
“Open,” Caleb demands, angling his mouth to avoid spilling Zayne’s come.
Your brows shoot up at the request and you pause. Then your mouth opens. Caleb spits Zayne’s load into your mouth and you swallow. Just a slight tang—Dr. Li has a decent diet. Desperate lips connect with yours, his fingers immediately replacing yours, he collects your arousal on his index and middle finger.
Caleb has to touch you. Needs to touch you. Repent for being a terrible alpha—whatever that means. Caleb’s fingers press forward, velvety walls tense at the sudden intrusion. Caleb’s fingers are longer than yours, stretching you out. “Did I do a good job?” He asks in between kisses.
“Of course,” your back arches as Caleb hits a sensitive spot. “I could tell Zayne loved it. His ass clenches a certain way—“
“I’m sorry?” Zayne interrupts. He’s sitting in the armchair, catching his breath.
A soft laugh leaves you. “Don’t worry about it, nobody will notice unless they’re looking at your ass.”
Caleb’s thumb circles around your swollen nub. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours, trying to savor the combination of saliva and Zayne’s come that lingers behind.
Caleb moans into the kiss, fingers curling upward, rubbing that magic spot that always has you seeing stars. He breaks the kiss just to hear you cry out in ecstasy, body trembling in as your orgasm washes over you, gushing all over his fingers like you were made to do.
“Cute,” Caleb mumbles against your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses on heated skin. His fingers stop moving, allowing you to compose yourself.
AUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHHH I'M SO BLESSED TO WAKE UP TO THIS!! DICK PIERCING ZAYNEEE I REPEAT DICK PIERCING ZAYNE!! kory you are actually insane not the ooc and then proceeding to write the most in character writing ever. ughhhh i love awkward zayne so bad i'm actually crying like you wrote him so funnyyyy. the fucking ass clench, the failed dirty talking, and somehow still gg along with everything 😭 that's enough of being borrowed by mc and caleb he can come back home to me and the kids now.
Strong angular brows pull together in thought before he speaks up, “an alpha that’s good at sucking omega dick, how rare…” His ears and cheeks are crimson—the only time you’ve seen Zayne this red is after being out in the snow for hours.
You bite your lower lip to stifle the laugh but it comes out anyway. “Zayne, you can just encourage him like normal.”
Zayne clears his throat and nods. “Your mouth is immensely pleasurable.”
fml this whole entire part has me rereading and giggling this is too peak bro. AUGHHH caleb was so bratty like shut up so i can listen to zayne pleaseee/jjj he was so cute. and the rare alpha moment of spitting zayne's cum into mc's mouth aughhhhhh trying so hard to focus on the plot but my mind is just on zayne AND EMO ZAYNE MENTIONED LESGO. amazing work bro omg never leave tumblr again 🙏 and happy belated to muse once again!! 🫶
synopsis. love and deepspace men becoming needy after eating a certain type of chocolate and can’t get enough of you. they can’t help it! you’re just a ten out of five for them.
cw. mdni ! fem reader. aphrodisiacs. dubconish?. marriage kink. brat taming dynamics. overstimulation. sub! caleb. oral sex ( f & m! receiving). impact play. cūm facial. car/public sēx. teasing. orgasm denial. cērvix pounding. mirror play. hair pulling. dirty talk. non proofread. all lowercase intended. listen they go crazy in here.
kora’s note. if you seen me use this photo for a previous fic, you did not.
CALEB ☆
maybe making caleb a milkshake that had aphrodisiac chocolate in it wasn’t a good idea, or maybe this is all caleb’s fault for trusting you with food anyway— he should’ve gone with his gut instinct.
but with his, “ oooh? pipsqueak making something for me, for once? am i dying?” you knew you had him.
and now he has you, in his favored position, legs thrown over his shoulders while your knees hit your chest in a mean mating press. you don’t know how long you’ve been pinned to the now-soaked bed, switching from rooms to positions. you once had him, but he has you now. and by the looks of it, he’s not letting you go anytime soon.
caleb’s so loud— excessively loud compared to usual his tone, which should be a personal record. his head is thrown back, lost beyond recognition in the tight space of your pussy as his fingertips dig painfully into your skin, deep enough to leave dark purple bruises that scream his name the next morning. “ f-fuck, pips, feels s-so good, squeezin’ me to death… please.”
the barely conscious part of his body doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, his mind too fuzzy to think any thoughts that doesn’t involve you or your heaven made pussy, made for him. everything about you were made for him.
“ caleb,” you whimpered, hips defying your body’s fatigued body by bucking towards his mean thrusts, that didn’t look close to stopping any time soon. he was so big, and not a gentle giant whatsoever. molding out your pussy with such deadly accuracy, the sheer girth of it stretched and beat your insides while you bit down harshly on your lip, trying your best not to get a noise complaint… again. “ s-shut up, too loud.”
“ no. you don’t get to complain when you did this to m-me.” his hair is matted with sweat as his purple-orange eyes are dark with passion. he pants and whines every second and you’re close to shoving your fingers in his mouth. but he can’t help it; the way how you clamp and squeeze around him makes his head spin, and faintly he can see stars paint his vision.
the state of your shared apartment is nothing but disarray. you were scrolling on your phone in the living, almost forgetting that you even made him a milkshake until a familiar evol snatched your phone out of your hands, plopping it on the couch cushions beside you as his already tall frame made you feel like an ant in comparison. his pupils were dilated, almost painting his purple eyes black as his hands are braced behind you on the couch. your eyes trailed down to his obvious, straining bulge and that’s when you knew you were fucked.
quite literally as of now.
“ don’t think of anything if it doesn’t involve me.” your thoughts are interrupted as caleb presses down roughly on your clit, flicking and rolling the bud in tight circles as you cry out loudly. “ there we gooo, is this the same girl worried about the neighbors? don’t act like i’m the only one who’s affect—”
“ i said shut up.”
you plunge your thumb into his mouth, and he moans. equal parts loud as it is pornographic, contrasting the reason why you did it anyway.
his sloppy tongue twirls over your digit, tongue gliding around it with ease before he stops to suck the skin, and you feel your walls spasm around his cock with a threat to cum early.
“ c-caleb! you weirdo!” he muffles a moan around your thumb, purple eyes staring into yours without any apparent shame, before letting it go with a wet pop to claim your lips in an intense kiss. one that has your head spinning and your air limited by the second as he kisses you deeper and deeper, leaving your lips bruisingly plump.
“ y’see what you’ve done to me, sweets? i want you to t-take full responsibility,” his voice is raspy. the only time you’ve heard him this vulnerable is when he tried to hide his sickness from you. you rolled your eyes, leaning up to nip his bottom lip with your teeth, soaking in the way how his breath hitches and how his eyes are watery with the overwhelming need to cum.
his free hand presses your hips into the bouncy mattress, now desperately hitting your g-spot, while sliding against your cervix as he fucks all frustrations into you, for the nth time this night. you wiggle, trying to break free of his grasp but it was no use; those years of training really paid off. “ don’t run. f-fuck, just take me, take it all.”
but then he suddenly stops, and you register that it’s because he’s cumming inside of you. his hot fluid flows in your walls deeply, filling you up to a point where more spills out his dick as a useless plug and stains the sheets and your inner thighs. caleb feels as if his soul left out along with his cum, his body buzzes and stills only unclenching when he’s done shooting sparks into you. “ fuck.. you feel so g-good. take it all… just for me.”
his hot body collapses onto your overstimulated one; he looks like he’s been pushed past what he could handle and you’re not even mad he didn’t make you cum this round. your hand comes up to cradle your hair as you make a mental note to become the aphrodisiac chocolate company’s number one sponsor.
XAVIER ☆
to all your friends at girls’ night who convinced you to give your husband— with an already insanely high libido, mind you. those aphrodisiac chocolate: thank you, on behalf of your pussy and dopamine levels. and also fuck you, on behalf of your sore body and your neighbors.
“ such a naughty, dumb girl.” your husband taunts, facing your backside arched in front of his face. he’s got you squirming while facing his cock. see, the thing is, xavier knew you were up to something. he always does. so when you tried to make him eat the chocolate alone, he didn’t budge until you ate a piece with him, landing you in this current situation with ‘ stupid’ written all over your forehead. you should know by now he’s a fox wearing a bunny’s suit.
“ tried to make me horny by myself, but you’re just as bad as i am right now.”
“ x-xavier!” you bite your lip, body’s sensitive heightening as his tongue slides its way into your syrupy goodness, mapping out every nook and cranny with faux indifference. that is, if it weren’t for his cock standing upright, the tip flushed an angry red while droplets of precum roll down the sides. “ ohh, fuuuuck! need more.”
“ you say that while neglecting me. take it in your mouth, allllll the way,” your attention is centered on his cock; it looks so beautiful, very fitting for the man indeed. your mouth salivates with want. your plump lips part to allow your tongue to roll against his slit, while your fingers pump the base. you plant a kiss; his hips jerk in response before stilling as you gulp what you can take of him. “ gooood girl, don’t forget to breathe through your nose, star.”
he gives your ass a playful slap, but his hands are rough from years of wielding a sword so pain blooms where his palm connects. your gargled moan around his cock vibrates the skin, sending a buzzing sensation traveling in his veins— spurring more slaps to bloom on your recoiling skin.
his wandering mouth finally makes home on your twitching clit, slurping and sucking the bundle of nerves, creating a lingering need to paint his lower face in your cum, so you roll your hips back to ride against his face. “ shouldn’t even let you cum, after you tried to trick me. but since you failed you better make it messy, wan’ it e-everywhere.”
xavier spreads your ass apart, feeding himself the wetness presented to him. his hands move from the jiggly flesh to keep your hips still as you squirm from the severity. you gulp in as much air as you can while stroking him languidly. “ o-ohhh, ‘m gonna cum. can feel it, wanna cum on your face, xavi.”
“ make me cum with you. or else i won’t touch you for a week.”
because you’re deep in the moment, you bite down the urge to call him on his bluff. the man can barely last three days without touching you in some type of way.
“ xavierrrr, p-please, you’re so mean!” you moan, suddenly being filled by his fingers pushing past the tight pucker of your hole. caught up in your bliss, you’re reminded of his selfish warning. the grip around his base is tight, leaving no space of skin shown between your fingers as you jerk him off vigorously— your saliva helping to make the motion smoother.
“ give it to me, baby. fuck, you’re doing so good. ride my face, baby. mmfuck…” his voice had deepened a few octaves, throaty moans escaping his chest and flooding the room along with your high-pitched wails. he scissors your walls that invite his digits in so greedily, bringing to your end and impossibly past it. “ cum with m-me, heh. you’re so pretty, so greedy.”
you give him a show as you cum, pretty pussy growing wetter as you ride your high out. although it feels as the room is spinning, you pump xavier’s cock, which spurts white, heavy fluid. you aim your face in that direction, letting sticky splats of cum dribble down your forehead to your chin.
the room silences with a huff as you both come down from your earth-shattering highs— that is before you feel a familiar tingle kiss your drooling pussy, your world is flipped. now conscious of your body half-hanging off the bed as he spreads your thighs to place them on his shoulders.
smiling down at you as dread settles in. you take note of the sunset, and how it’ll be rising in a couple hours by the time he’s done with you.
SYLUS ☆
you and sylus were headed to an auction, for whatever reason you don’t care to know. but since you both were bored in a room full of shady business dealers, you decided then… what is a better time to try an aphrodisiac and try not to touch each other for the whole night than this one right now?
spoiler alert: he lost.
“ my mischievous wife…” sylus grunts, his hips moving at a snail’s pace, certainly doing this on purpose to reflect your earlier teasing back on you now. your thighs tremble around his slutty waist, fingers digging into his forearms, as your foreheads touch while you breathe soft whimpers into his hot mouth. the pace that he’s going makes you keenly aware of every single inch of him, and how his tip latched on your slobbering slit, before sinking out in your walls leisurely. “ did it turn you on seeing me struggle to hold back my lust while in a room full of people who wants my head? you’re such a nasty girl…”
“ what e-else was a better time to do it than now?” your voice has a breathless pitch to them, close to begging and pleading as your cheeky husband misses your sweet spots on purpose while dragging his thrusts out, and you’re now starting to regret buying the damn chocolate. “ sylus… stop teasing me.”
“ ohhh? now the sly kitten doesn’t like when i tease her back…” he nips your lip, enough to sting but not enough to draw blood. he pulls out of your walls completely, resting the heated length against your pussy, and even then, it nearly grazes your belly button.
his chuckles heat the space between you both while rubbing his wet cock up and down your slit, parting your folds and catching your clit before circling down to your eager hole, just to repeat the cycle all over again. “ tell me, why should i let you cum? after dancing around with other men all night, it’s only fair i get back at you.”
so he was mad. it’s not your fault, really. it had been a couple hours after taking the chocolate; sylus played the part of looking unbothered— not a hair out of place or sweat staining his smooth skin. you, on the other hand… were a mess. seated at one of the tables in the corner, isolated from the rest of the crowd while getting wetter by the minute, where a bright idea sparked in your mind. ‘ why not make him jealous?’
bright side? it worked. down side? you’re sure you’ll end up being the female version of blue balled if he’s feeling particularly merciless tonight.
“ sylus… you are so… petty.” you can’t find the words to express your frustration as you look at your husband above you, basking in your despair.
“ learned from the best. maybe if you’ll beg me i’ll spare you?”
he asks, but his question is not a question; it’s a demand. and you fall captive to it. wrapping your legs tighter around him, the only barrier between your pelvises is his hardened dick resting on your mound, still grinding up and down. you pull out your best trick; pouty lips and teary doe eyes. “ pleaaaaase, sylie? wanna cum, don’t you want to make your pretty girl cum to—”
he bottoms into you with one thrust, making you hiss out a scream as your nails scratch down his forearms. he abandons the slow pace he maintained earlier; this time the car rocks along your body from the power of his hips.
with his hands, he removes your quivering legs from around his waist, pressing your knees together and to your chest as you get to feel your walls make room for him, touching beyond your sweet spot, his rounded tip bruising your cervix.
“ s-sylus! slow down, we’re gonna get caugh… oh m’god! you feel so good!” there’s no room for you to shift your body away— all you can do is hang onto his shoulders and throw your head back into the headrest as he fills your senses with vulgarities.
“ don’t start caring about them now; you never did before.” sylus responds more to himself rather than you. he drags his cock in and out of you; the loud sounds make him even harder as he observes your pleasure twisted expression, paired with your boobs bouncing up and down, matching the rhythm of his hips. “ on that note… i think you can do without an orgasm, don’t you agree, sweetie?”
“ n-no, i’m sooory! won’t ever do it again, just please let me cuuuuum!” your hands scramble for purchase on his hips, dragging him closer to give the attention your neglected clit craves. but he doesn’t listen, pinning your wrists together and above your head while you plead for your anticipated orgasm.
“ gonna cum. you’ll be a good girl and walk back in there, be docile and wait for me to come back and help you, won’t you?” his voice meets your ear, biting the skin playfully. his free hand presses down against your womb to make you familiar with the idea of being filled up, right now. his tempo weakens as creamy cum floods into your walls, rapidly— even some spilling out your stuffed pussy and onto the seats below your moving bodies.
your cunt constricts around him, thinking he’ll grant your mercy and let you cum last minute as a surprise. but you should know sylus better than that. his softening dick pulls out you with a squelching ‘ pop!’ noise, fingers pulling your panties and dress back down.
“ let’s go back. shall we?”
ZAYNE ☆
leaving aphrodisiac chocolate around your husband who’s also a sweet-tooth connoisseur was a dangerous game that you proudly pressed play on. knowing that sneak at least one or two if you left them in the fridge, you glow in amusement watching him suffer silently.
until you made eye contact with him.
“ arch your back, deeper— no… that doesn’t mean look away from the mirror.” his gentle hand holds your chin to direct your overcasted stare to the rectangular mirror propped on the wall facing you, imaging the filthy position you're bent into while zayne grabs your round hips for sturdiness.
“ f-fuuuck, zayne… i don’t wanna look. it’s embarrassing!” you whimpered, fingers bunching the sheets into your sweaty clutch, mouth dropping into an obscene ‘ o’ shape when his dick parts your gummy walls to slam against your cervix with reckless abandon. the velocity he started with didn’t take time to develop like how sex with zayne usually goes; instead of gradually building up the speed and force like he’d would, his one mission seems to be to break you. “ you’re going too f-fast, mmmph!”
“ i know,” he shivers out a laugh, watching your ass bounce off his pelvis in hypnotic circles while your sweaty back is on display, curved and glistening. he can’t help but to plant a flurry of slaps on the skin, making your color a stained shade of maddened red. his cock shudders in its confinement in your tense walls, absurdly growing harder when he hears cute sobbing murmurs escape from your bottom lip, which you bite down on harshly.
his hazel-green eyes notice your hair is blocking your face, hiding his favorite expression you do while he drives you dick crazy. he reaches forward, swiping your hair away from your flushed face, keeping his hand in the soft locs just to wrap it tightly around his fist. “ but you’ll take it, like you always do. and this time you’ll cum for me while looking in the mirror, so you can see how beautiful you are.”
“ z-zayne!” your words a drawn-out slur as his cock sloppily makes out with each part of your cunt, massaging the walls to wrap around his length with a strength akin to a headlock. he’s hitting all your spots with the curiosity of solving a puzzle or mapping his way through a maze— the maze being your pussy, of course. “ fuck meee! please, don’ stop f-fucking me.”
“ i don’t plan on stopping. not until your voice goes hoarse from screaming my name, or until your legs can’t stand.” the man is crazed; is that even the correct word to describe him with? his usual lust is overbearing, but manageable, but now… you don’t know when you’ll break out of his clutch, and it looks like it won’t be anytime soon.
your eyes gloss over while your mouth is hung open as drool leaks from the corners; he’s just so big and ruthless, stretching and expanding your slovenly pussy to fit around the outline of his cock. “ i want to punish you, but it feels so good like this, h-hah. you’ll learn by tonight not to leave your a-aphrodisiacs around.”
you can’t tell if he’s complaining or praising you, at this point it feels like both. can he truly be mad when he’s fucking into with no tomorrow? practically on a sex high.
each thrust, each push is deeper than the last, making sure that after you’re done, you’ll be able to feel him for weeks after, with his lesson ingrained in your body.
your eyes make contact with his in the mirror, and he looks nothing short of a wreck, along with the room for that matter. the pillows and covers are shoved on the floor from when he had first claimed you and you hid your moans in the soft cushions, his pale skin adorned the red lines your nails scratched. but the dealbreaker is the pussydrunk smirk he has, taking pride in the way he's turning you unrecognizable.
“ wanna cum, don’t stop until you make me cum, pretty pleaseeee?”
“ you want to cum? hmm, alright…” his hand switches from tugging on your now, unkempt hair to grabbing your throat, pulling you upwards where your back meets his chest and your wholeheartedly depending on your knees to prevent you from smacking face first into the rocking mattress below. “ you’ll cum like this then, and while you’re at it, give a show for me, princess?”
knowing what he’s referencing, you slip your hand down to stroke your clit in broad circles, growing wetter as you watch yourself getting stretched from position to position like you’re some type of rubber band. “ fuck, ‘m close. you’re so n-nasty, zaynie.”
“ and yet you still followed my demand, like a good girl. not that you had a choice though…” he doesn’t bother to look at you while he talks, sucking your skin that escapes the grasp of his fingers to mark the flesh behind. his hips are rude, punching soft gasps out of you while effectively dizzying your sight.
like clockwork, your body stills, releasing an inaudible scream as your vision goes from grainy to completely black as your high crashes over you, shooting sparks of wetness that spray far, drenching the bed and your eyes roll into the back of your head. your knees wobble while the rest of your body breaks into uncontrollable trembles as it feels like your soul was just fucked out of you. “ i’m the nasty one, she says while squirting on our bed like she sprung a leak.”
“ zaynieee! ‘s too much!” you still manage to babble out words, feeling his thrusts go uncoordinated as a silent reminder that he’s close to cumming, and you won’t go anywhere until he’s done.
“ a-almost done, you can take it, you did before…” his hips buck to desperately chase his pleasure, your hands coming behind to hold on his arms for the ride, displaying your bouncing boobs and how your body rocks forward freely. his brow furrows and the kisses he once placed are covered up with a sharp bite as his orgasm suddenly explodes over all his senses. suddenly, he stops; the break you have can’t even be considered one as your insides are painted his cum that fills you up in one go.
when he’s done twitching and cumming against your back, he pulls out, kissing your lips briefly before a broad arm flips you into another position. this time you’re sideways with him behind, holding your leg up.
“ i told you before… we’re far from done.”
RAFAYEL ☆
treading the waters by feeding aphrodisiac chocolate to your husband when he was in one of his moods was a risk itself, dual eyes staring at you with a deep pout as you fed him the chocolates from the side of the tub, only removing yourself when his gaze grew heavy, like he was undressing you with his eyes.
and soon enough, you were, with an angry lemurian spewing all types of profanity behind your moving body.
“ next time you want me to fuck your brains out, just ask properly, cutie.” rafayel is resting beneath you, broad back leaning against the creaking headboard as your ass bounces in hypnotic circles on his lap. lazily, he brings his hand up to slap your skin, getting a twisted sense of satisfaction as you whimper from the heat of the sting. his cock dragged deeply into your cunt, per his demand, stating that since you wanted him so badly, you’ll have to work for it. “ don’t think about slowing down; keep going until i c-cum.”
his airy voice trembles, a sign that he’s actually about to cum soon, and you grind down on him even faster— not stopping until your thighs burn with an overwhelming heat and your walls are salaciously being painted in his fluids.
“ shit… you and those slutty h-hips.” his head is thrown back, adam apple bobbing as he gulps down; there is a line of sweat that rolls down his neck, which you want to chase with your tongue to taste him. still placed on his lap, you lean back to bring him into a kiss that is malicious as it is passionate. your tongue fights over dominance with his, spit dribbling down your chins, and you only lose when he begins to suck on your tongue, making eye contact as he does so. “ you like it when i do that? wish it was my tongue on your clit instead, don’t you?”
he decides to prove his theory true. calloused hands pulling you off his dick, just to flip you over in one go, without his arms so much as trembling. face to face with your oozing cunt, he parts the folds with his thumbs accompanying your thighs on both sides, mouth watering as you push out more of his cum.
“ h-huh? what are you doing?” you whisper, growing more and more embarrassed as he unflinchingly stares at your leaking cunt. paying no attention to you, he dips his head low, tongue peeking out as he follows where his cum rolls down to your puckered hole, leading back up to your clit to give it a wet kiss. the sensitivity paired with his ignorance causes a heaving sensation to wash over your body, hands scrambling to his hair for a semblance of control, you ask again, “ rafayel! w-what are you doing?”
“ unlike you, pretty girl, i like to clean up my messes.” he gives your clit cute kitten licks, thumb teasing your hole by barely dipping in the tissue as he does so. “ i wouldn’t want my lover to walk around in a mess that i made, while i ignore their presence.”
okay, next time, which there will definitely be, you won’t walk away while he battles a raging boner and to not tackle you down where you stand, which he ultimately did.
“ i literally just got done riding you!”
“ mmm, still not enough.”
“ it s-should be!” your brows furrow in a deep brow as his slick tongue devours the rest of his cum from out your pussy. the grip on your thighs spreads them far apart as they twitch and tremble around his head, while he feasts on your pussy as if it’s his last meal. soon enough, all prior complaints melt away where tension in your lower stomach replaces it as he doesn’t look like he’ll resurface for air anytime soon. in his mind, you look ethereal like this, spread out for him like a platter that he happily indulges in. “ wait, please don’t stop!”
he lets out a throaty chuckle; the vibrations reflect back to you, and every time you squirm he suckles harder. “ it didn’t take long for you to give in… how funny. you know that i’ll always bring out that shameless side out of you, eeeevry time.”
when he decided that you were officially rung dry from your gaping hole, his mouth reappeared on your twitching clit. there, is where he gives your pearl mouth-watering slurps.
your moans grow in volume, a cute habit of yours he notices whenever you’re teetering the edge of your climax. your syrupy fluids drench his face more and more by the moment, stuttering hips grinding deeply up and down while rafayel groans against your pussy. he feels himself growing harder watching you desperately stuck between the lines of denial and growing gratification.
“ keep riding my face until you come over it, cum for me.” and with that, your orgasm crashes over you; the power of it is so strong that you jerk forward, hips still riding his face but losing their needy tempo while you babble out sweet nothings that sound akin to his name. your eyes water with tears that threaten to spill as he drinks every last nectar that your quivering cunt pushes out.
you don’t register your high is fading away, until he continues to perch his lips around your now enlarged clit. you push at his head, but all it does is make his grasp on you tighter as he begins to shake his head side to side. “ a-ah, still sensitiveee!”
you don’t think he cares, and by the looks of it he doesn’t. you now know by the time he’s done that you’ll be lucky to remember your own name.
I LIVEEEE FOR YOUR ALL LI WRITINGSSS your mind aughhh i need to chew on it. MIRROR SEX WITH APHRODISAC HIGH ZAYNE!!!!!!! augh i need that man to pound me seven ways to sunday and back to monday and back to sunday sorry omg...and the rest too...sylus using the word lust has to be the hottest thing ever and caleb being so vocallll and xav and rafayel being insatiable 🙏🙏🙏 need.
༘⋆ ⋮ A story about two people who grew up so close they never learnt how to exist separately.
CW: DEAD DOVE: DNE (18+ mdni), pseudocest, angst, hurt/comfort, religious themes, codependent relationship, porn with plot, handjob, blowjob, period sex, p in v, choking, spanking, breeding kink, blood kink, dub-con? (reader’s consent is from trauma and desperation rather than a clear mindset).
WC: 5.5k
AN: a heavily self-indulgent fic. Wrote this when i was at my lowest so enjoy ♡ (and ignore any mistakes)
Before there were rules, there was a mistake.
Not a sin, no; sins required witnesses, names, and intention. This was quieter than that—a flaw in the telling. A breath divided when it should have remained whole.
Something was made and then split, not cleanly, not kindly. Two vessels from the same source. Two bodies taught to walk separately while carrying the same hunger beneath the skin.
They were not meant to find each other again. Or perhaps they were, but only after suffering enough to believe they didn’t deserve it.
What was certain was this: nothing else in the world would ever fit either of them the way they fit each other. Not family. Not shelter. Not silence. Not pain. When one of them bled, the other felt steadied. When one of them strayed, the other tightened, as if pulled by a thread that could not be cut without tearing flesh.
They were not born together. They were born for each other. And because of that, they were taught very early that love—real love—was something to be survived, not indulged. Caleb discovered early that wanting was dangerous.
Gran taught them that. Not with warnings or lectures, but with aftermath. Wanting led to disappointment. Wanting led to punishment. Wanting meant you hadn’t prayed hard enough or been grateful enough.
So he learnt to restrain it. To fold it small. To keep it quiet. To hold it the way you held your breath underwater—counting the seconds, waiting for permission to surface. Except what he felt for you didn’t stay contained. It didn’t dissolve when ignored. It didn’t weaken with discipline. It simply settled in, patient and unmoving, like something that had always been there and was only now being acknowledged.
It sat in him like a seed buried too deep to dig out, drinking whatever it could find—routine, proximity, silence. The sound of your breathing through the thin wall at night. The way you always stood a little too close, like you were cold even in summer. The way your name fit perfectly in his mouth, even when he refused to say it aloud.
He told himself it was protection. That was easier to live with.
Gran liked protection. Protection sounded righteous. Protection sounded like something a good boy would do. A boy who watched the stove when she stepped out. A boy who walked you home. A boy who made sure the doors were locked and the windows latched, and the world stayed where it belonged—outside.
But protection has a way of souring when it goes unchecked.
At first, it looked like vigilance.
He stood closer in crowds. Shifted so his body blocked sightlines without appearing deliberate. He mastered the geography of public spaces instinctively—where eyes lingered, where hands might stray, and where people felt entitled to look too long at something soft and unguarded.
Once, on a train, a man tried to angle his phone beneath your skirt. The motion barely registered to you—just a flicker at the edge of your awareness—but Caleb felt it like a struck nerve. He didn’t raise his voice or touch the man. He only lifted his hand, expression blank, and the phone flew from its owner’s grip, shattering against the far wall as if repelled by the air itself. The man scrambled off at the next stop, pale and shaking, convinced he’d imagined the whole thing.
Caleb didn’t ask if you were okay. He already knew. He adjusted your bag on your lap, settled his shoulder closer to yours, and stared straight ahead until the train reached your stop.
At school, boys your age picked up quickly what not to do.
The teasing that masqueraded as affection—the tugging at your hair, the cruel jokes dressed up as flirting—stopped after the first warning. Caleb didn’t shout. He didn’t threaten outright. He simply stepped between you and them, eyes flat, voice low enough that only they could hear.
“She doesn’t like you,” he’d say. Or: “Try that again.”
That was usually enough.
After all, one look from your big brother had a way of rewriting courage. They laughed it off, backed away, and found other targets. Teachers called it maturity. Neighbours called it responsibility. Gran called it good sense. And Caleb told himself the same. But somewhere along the way, the vigilance sharpened.
He began to notice things he shouldn’t have noticed. The way your moods shifted with the moon. The way your skin bruised easily, like it remembered pressure long after it was gone. The way pain didn’t frighten you so much as steady you, like it made the world sharper, easier to hold.
When you hurt yourself—small things, accidental things—Caleb felt it everywhere. Not sympathy. Not fear but ownership.
The first time he named it, it made him sick. He locked himself in the bathroom and stared at his reflection until his eyes burnt. Pressed his hands flat to the sink, knuckles white, whispering no like it might exorcise the thought. As if denial could still make him good.
But the thought didn’t leave. It multiplied.
He started keeping track of you without meaning to. What you ate. How long you sleep. When you laughed. When you went quiet. He could tell how your day had gone just by the way you closed doors—soft, careful, or sharp enough to rattle the frames.
If something upset you, his chest filled with heat so sudden it scared him. Not anger at you. Never at you. At the world. At anything that dared to touch what he had already decided, somewhere deep and unspoken, he committed himself to keep safe.
You belong with him. Not to him.
He clung to that distinction like a prayer. But even prayers can be rehearsed into lies. At night, when the house settled, and the orchard breathed, Caleb stopped praying to God altogether. Not because he didn’t believe, but because he didn’t trust Him.
God took things. God tests people. God asked for sacrifices.
And Caleb already knew what he would give if asked. That was when he understood what gran had really been trying to make. Not obedient children. Devoted ones. The kind who didn’t need rules anymore. The kind who would walk into fire without being pushed. The kind who mistook destruction for transcendence because it felt like relief.
The realisation hollowed him out. And still, when you looked at him, searching, trusting, something warm and unbearable bloomed behind his ribs. Something that whispered I will keep you even as it sharpened its teeth.
By then, it was too late to imagine a version of himself that didn’t feel this way. By then, loving you wasn’t a choice. It was a condition.
By eighteen, the condition had figured out how to disguise itself.
To everyone else, it passed as familiarity. As a habit. The easy closeness of two people who had grown up sharing hallways, meals, and long stretches of silence. No one questioned it, not even gran, who trusted routine more than she trusted affection.
Except his friends.
They noticed the way his attention never really left you. The way he tracked your movements without looking. The way his patience thinned the moment someone else stepped too close. They joked about it—called him overprotective, teased him for being a siscon—but there was an edge to it, something that made the laughter taper off instead of landing.
They stopped pushing.
Caleb heard the jokes and let them stand. It was easier that way. A word you could laugh off sounded safer than a truth you had to examine. And he trusted the disguise, too, or told himself he did because nothing about it felt forced.
He knew how your breathing settled when you were calm. Knew the small catch that came when you were thinking too hard. Knew the way your brow drew tight when a sentence troubled you, the way you picked at your lips without noticing, worrying them raw until he took your hand and made you stop.
These were not things he watched for. They were simply there, the way gravity was there.
You sat beside him under the old tree behind the house, knees nearly touching, a book open in your hands. The afternoon was quiet in the way it always was when gran napped—the house holding itself still, the orchard breathing slowly and patiently around you.
You shifted, tugging your sleeve down, and the movement registered in his chest like a mirrored response, as though something inside him had adjusted too. “You’re staring,” you said, without looking up.
He blinked. “I wasn’t.”
You smiled faintly. “You always say that.”
He swallowed, then nodded toward the book. “You haven’t turned the page.”
You glanced down, surprised. “Oh.” A pause. “I guess I keep rereading it.”
“What’s it about?” he asked.
You hesitated, thumb resting between the pages. “Connection,” you said finally. “The kind you don’t choose.”
He frowned slightly. “Like family?”
“Like origin,” you corrected. “The author thinks some people come from the same starting point. That even when they’re separated, they still…recognise each other.”
He felt something tighten behind his ribs.
“That sounds made up,” he said, too quickly.
You hummed. “Most things that scare people do.”
You leaned back against the trunk, eyes closing, sunlight breaking across your face in thin bands. Caleb watched the rise and fall of your chest, the pulse at your throat. He told himself—like he always did—that this was vigilance. That noticing was a form of care.
“Do you think it’s true?” you asked. “That some bonds exist before people understand them?”
He should have laughed it off. Should have shrugged.
“I think people notice patterns and call them fate,” he said instead.
You turned your head toward him. “And you?”
He met your eyes. Held them for too long. “I think some things don’t go away just because you don’t name them.”
Your expression softened, something fragile passing through it before you could hide it. “I’m glad you think that.”
The admission landed heavier than it should have.
Without quite deciding to, he reached out and brushed a leaf from your hair. His fingers lingered at your temple, barely touching. You leaned into the contact automatically, trusting him with the weight of your head.
That trust made his stomach twist.
He pulled his hand back slowly. “You shouldn’t take books like that too seriously.”
You smiled. “You’re worried I’ll believe them.”
“I’m worried they’ll give you ideas.”
“About what?”
He didn’t answer.
The quiet stretched. Your knee brushed his, an accident, surely, but his body went rigid all the same. He could smell you now: soap, warm skin, and the faint sweetness of apple bruising in the grass.
You looked at him then, searching like you always did.
“Caleb,” you said.
Something in him answered before he could stop it. He lifted his hand again, slower this time, giving you time to pull away. To remind him of sense, of rules, of the shape things were meant to have.
You didn’t.
His thumb touched your cheek tentatively. Your skin was warm beneath it, softer than he expected, and something inside him gave way with a quiet, irrevocable click. You leaned into his hand like it belonged there. Like it always had.
“We shouldn’t,” he said, even as his breath hitched.
“I know,” you whispered.
Your foreheads touched—barely. A shared breath. A pause that felt older than either of you. He could feel your pulse beneath his fingers, quick and unsteady, answering his own. When he kissed you, it was careful. Not hungry. Not reckless. But reverent.
A brief, soft press of lips, as though he were acknowledging something rather than claiming it. When he pulled back, your breath caught—not quite a protest, not quite a surprise.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice rough.
You rested your forehead against his. “You never have.”
That was the lie. Or maybe the truth simply hadn’t caught up yet. He kissed you again—deeper this time, still restrained but honest. His hand found your waist, firm and grounding, as if anchoring you to him might keep the world from shifting.
For a moment, everything aligned. Then the leaves stirred overhead, and reality crept back in. Caleb pulled away slowly, chest tight and eyes dark. “This stays here,” he said. “Just us. Just now.”
You nodded, though your fingers lingered at his sleeve like they didn’t want to let go.
“Okay, gege.”
Loving Caleb was not an act of devotion. It was an ecology.
You didn’t love him; you inhabited the world his presence created—a climate shaped by his attention, an atmosphere held in place by his gravity. You woke and slept to the rhythm of his quiet accounting. You moved through your days with the deep, cellular assurance that you were being held in someone’s consciousness. Always.
With him, you were not braver. You were not stronger. You were simply, irrevocably real. Your voice landed. Your body belonged. Wanting felt like breathing, not sin. He was the mirror that showed you a whole person, and you believed it.
That was before.
Before your own name began to sound like a theory, not a fact. Before your confidence left you—not with a slam, but with a sigh. Slipping out in the long, hollow silence after they told you he was gone. After that, you became small on purpose. Polite. Manageable. You folded your sharp parts inward so the world wouldn’t cut itself on what remained of you.
You called it survival, but survival, without him, felt like an administrative error, like continuing life after the reason for it had been revoked. So you learnt to replace presence with impact.
You volunteered for missions no one else wanted. You ran toward heat, shrapnel, collapsing structures and any situation that demanded your full nervous system or nothing at all. Adrenaline became your substitute bloodstream. Violence became a language your body still understood. If your heart was going to beat, you wanted it pounding hard enough to drown out the silence he left behind.
Because when you were afraid, you were still somebody.
You hated this about yourself—the way your will to live had rewired itself around him like a parasitic vine. The way your identity no longer existed as a standalone thing, but only in relation to his absence. You weren’t a person enduring loss; you were loss pretending to be a person. Every breath felt borrowed. Every choice felt like an imitation of someone who used to exist when he was there to see you.
And that hatred metastasised.
It curdled into something ugly and reckless: the belief that if you could hurt enough, bleed enough, risk enough, you might recreate the gravity he once gave you. That pain could stand in for love. That being damaged might be easier than being undefined.
You didn’t want to die. You just wanted the quiet to stop.
Now, years later, you were lying in his bed, in his too-clean, too-controlled apartment, bleeding through your shorts. The sheets do not hold you. They were neutral. They belong to the man he became—Colonel Xia—who earned this sterile peace with blood and bone and a cybernatic arm that hummed where flesh had been.
Your body ached with a dull, familiar shame—the shame of needing him so desperately it felt less like love and more like a fundamental failure of spirit. This devotion does not elevate you; it strips you bare until you cannot tell where longing ends and self-erasure begins.
Then the front door opened.
Your breath hitched, and your spine tightened, a pure conditioned reflex. Your body has memorised the imprint of his presence, the specific disturbance he made in the world, and reacted a full, vulnerable second ahead of your will.
He stood in the doorway, a silhouette of controlled power and terrible loss. The uniform hid everything it was designed to—clean lines, pressed fabric, a gloved hand held still at his side. Nothing out of place. Nothing exposed.
This was not the boy who kissed you under the apple tree. This was a monument to endurance, reassembled by people who valued usefulness over mercy, even when the damage no longer showed.
“You didn’t eat.”
You couldn’t look at him. “I didn’t feel I’d earned it.”
The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge. The room bent toward him. “You think I came back whole?” he asked, the question soft and lethal.
You finally turn your head. You saw it all—the scars mapped over old ones, the exhaustion masking as discipline, the eyes that have seen too much to ever be gentle again.
“They didn’t salvage a man,” he said, answering your silence. “They assembled a weapon from the parts. They overwrote my instincts. My tolerances. My pain.” He leaned in, the space between you charged and aching. “You weren’t the only one taken apart.”
A sob cracked in your chest. “Then why do I feel like the only one who broke wrong?”
He slipped the glove from his hand before touching you. Skin met skin—warm, familiar, profoundly alive—as his palm cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t permitted.
“You saw me blow up,” he said, his voice low and gravelly with the memory. “That…that fucked you up. I know it did. That’s a trauma that doesn’t just go away.”
“....I hate that I only feel real when you’re here.”
“And I,” he countered, his voice dropping to a raw whisper, “only became a person again when I found out that your eyes were still in the world to look back.”
The air left your lungs. The last of your resistance crumbles, not with a fight, but with a shuddering exhale.
“Don’t make me exist without you again, gege.”
The words were a child’s plea, scraped from the deepest, most shattered part of you. “I can’t… I can’t do that silence again. I tried to live in it. I tried to be normal. But when you were gone, I lost the part of me that knows how to be. Please.”
Caleb went utterly still. For a terrifying second, he was a statue—a commander assessing a catastrophic breach. Then, something in his face fractured, and you saw the boy from the orchard staring out, desperate and determined.
He moved, not with haste, but with absolute finality.
“I never left you,” he said, and the words were an oath, forged in fire and sealed in steel. “I was taken. And every second of every day, they had me; I carried you. Not as a memory but as a compass point.”
His forehead touched yours. His breath mingled with your tears. “They took my arm. They took my years. They took my peace. But they could not take the direction of my soul. It always points here.”
You were trembling, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as if it alone could keep you from falling apart.
“You can’t promise you won’t be taken again,” you whispered.
“No,” he agreed, his hand firm at the nape of your neck. “I can’t. But I can promise this: if the world comes for me again, it will have to take you, too. Because I do not exist in a future where you are left behind in the silence. I am not built for that version of reality.”
The declaration was terrifying. It was possessive, maybe pathological. It was also the only truth either of you has left.
“I need you, gege.”
He didn’t hesitate to kiss you, and it was not gentle. It was a brutal collision, his lips smashing against yours with the raw fury of all stolen years, his tongue forcing its way in to plunder your mouth like he was starving for every forgotten breath.
You tasted the salt of your tears mixing with the sharp, desperate edge of his hunger, your fingers twisting into his shirt as you yank him impossibly closer, bodies grinding in a frantic bid to erase the void that almost broke you both.
But beneath the fire of the kiss, a twisted need uncoils in your gut—a filthy urge carved from the violence that has been your only constant, the brutal rhythm you’ve sought to crave as proof of being alive. You wrenched your mouth from his just enough to rasp against his swollen lips, voice cracking with raw desperation. “Choke me. Harder. And don’t you dare fucking hold back.”
He goes rigid, eyes flaring wide in the dim light, a storm of shock and revulsion churning in their depths. His hands froze at your hips, fingers digging in just shy of bruising.
“The fuck?” he growled low, pulling back an inch, his breath hot and ragged. “No. I’m not…I won’t mark you like that. You’re not some kind of broken toy for me to wreck, pips.”
“Please,” you choked out, your hips moving against him of their own frantic will, hormones slamming through you like a wrecking ball—your period raging, cramps twisting your insides into knots, amplifying every ache into something insatiable.
“You don’t understand—it’s how it works for me. Pain…force…it’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s how I know I’m claimed. So please.”
His face twisted, jaw grinding as he searched your eyes, horror warring with the dark pull of your plea. “I’d rather die than hurt you like that,” he muttered, voice thick with anguish, his hand rising to cradle your jaw instead, thumb wiping at the tears streaking your cheeks. “Angel, you’re mine to protect, not to bruise. Not after everything.”
But you won’t let it go, snatching his wrist and slamming his palm against your throat, your pulse drumming under the heat of his skin. “It’s not hurt—it’s us. I need you to squeeze until I see stars, make me gasp for you,” you rasped, eyes locked on his.
You pressed closer, voice dropping to a needy whisper. “Slap me hard across the face. The ass. Whatever it takes. These fucking hormones have me dripping and desperate, gege.”
“Pipsqueak—” he murmured, pressing his palm lightly to your jaw, making you tilt your head, his eyes dark and fixed on yours.
“Cramps are ripping me apart, Caleb, but I want your cock more. Just fucking give it to me.” Your free hand slid down to palm his hardening bulge through his pants—he was rock hard from your vulnerability, urging him to break.
He fought it; God, he tried, muscles corded tight, a low groan tearing from his throat as he stared at you—seeing the fractures in your soul mirroring his own. The boy from the orchard flickered in his gaze, that desperate determination cracking his resolve.
“Damn it,” he yielded, his fingers—warm, living flesh and not cold alloy—curling around your neck in a vice grip, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat just enough to make your breath stutter and your vision spot with delicious black edges. The pressure sent a bolt of electric surrender straight to your core, pussy flooding with fresh slick mixed with blood.
Then his mouth crashed back onto yours, devouring you whole, tongue fucking into your mouth in time with the tightening of his hold. You whimpered into the kiss, the sound choked off. Your body bowing toward him as the blend of fear and filthy want sets your nerves ablaze.
His grip on your throat loosened just enough for you to draw in a ragged breath, the air tasting like salvation and sin intertwined. Caleb’s eyes bore into yours, holding the weight of unspoken vows forged in the shadows of your shared past. With a reverence that borders on worship, he released your neck, his fingers trailing down your collarbone like a priest anointing the sacred.
“You’re everything to me, and if this is something you want. I’ll give it to you.”
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly as if unveiling a relic long buried. The fabric whispered against your skin, peeling away to expose the soft curve of your breasts, nipples hardening in the cool air, taut peaks begging for his touch.
You lifted your arms, letting him strip you bare, vulnerability blooming like a bruise you wear with pride. He paused, gaze tracing the lines of your body—the faint stretch of scars from old battles, the subtle sheen of blood trickling from your core, marking your thighs in crimson trails.
“Fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts next. He tugged them down your hips slowly, the material dragging over your skin until it pooled at your ankles. You kicked them off you, fully exposed now—pussy lips swollen and slick with arousal mixed with fresh blood. The scent of iron and desire hanging heavy in the air.
He shrugged off his uniform shirt and tossed it to the side to reveal his chest, a map of lean muscle etched with the faint scars of survival, rising and falling with the rhythm of a staring storm. You reached for his belt, fingers trembling as you unbuckled it, the metal clinking like a chain breaking. His pants slid down his thighs, revealing the thick cock springing free. Already straining upward, veins pulsing with need. It stood proudly, tip glistening with pre-cum and ready to claim you.
Your fingers encircled his shaft, gripping the velvety heat as you stroked upward, thumb swiping over the slit to collect the salty pre-cum and smear it down the length. You worked him with slow pumps, twisting your wrist at the tip, feeling the rigid flesh swell in your palm.
Your other hand dipped lower, cradling his heavy balls, massaging them with gentle squeezes that made him hiss through clenched teeth. Leaning in, you flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting the musky bead before sucking lightly. Your lips stretched around the head as you bobbed once, twice, drawing out a guttural curse from deep in his chest. The power of having him like this—vulnerable, throbbing under your control—sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your bloody pussy clenching emptily.
Caleb’s restraint shattered. With a feral snarl, he yanked you up and onto his lap, your knees straddling his thighs, your slick folds brushing the underside of his cock. The contact made you both shudder, blood smearing along his length like war paint. His hand reared back and cracked across your ass, the sharp sting exploding across your skin, forcing a yelp from your lips as your body jerked forward.
“You wanted this, right? So take it like a good girl,” he growled, his palm landing again with a meaty smack that stung your cheek. His cock jerked violently beneath you, growing even harder at the sight of your flinch—your eyes squeezing shut, mouth falling open in a silent cry, and ass quivering from the impact.
“God, you flinch so pretty for me,” he rasped, spanking harder, the force rippling through your flesh and straight to your swollen clit. Each strike made his cock throb insistently, veins standing out as his pre welled up, mixing with your blood to create a slippery mess between your bodies.
“Bleeding and begging, huh? This ass is mine to bruise, pips—every mark screams how bad you crave my cock ruining you.” Another slap echoed, your hips bucking involuntarily, grinding your soaked pussy along his length. He delivered a series of quick, stinging blows, alternating cheeks, watching intently as welts bloomed and your body trembled. His dick twitched with every gasp and twitch you made.
The spanking left you panting, ass throbbing in rhythm with your cramps, but the pain only intensified the ache in your core. Caleb gripped your hips, flipping you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress dipping under your weight.
You arched your back, presenting yourself as he knelt behind, his hands spreading your cheeks to expose your dripping, bloodied pussy. He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, gathering the warm fluid, before notching at your entrance and thrusting in with one savage plunge. The stretch burnt deliciously, your walls fluttering around his girth as blood eased the way, coating his dick in glossy red.
“Gonna fuck those cramps right out of you, pips,” he grunted. He withdrew slowly to let you feel every inch dragging against your sensitive insides. Then slammed back in, balls slapping wetly against your clit. The impact jarred a moan from you, his cock emerging streaked with blood, shiny and obscene, before he buried it deeper again, grinding against your cervix.
“Think back to those nights in our old house—how I’d knead your shoulders after a long day, fingers digging into your skin until you melted? Same hands on your hips now, pulling you onto gege’s dick like you were made for it.”
“Ye–yeah, you always spoil me,” you moaned, arching your back to meet his thrusts.
“Damn right I do,” he growled, gripping your hips tighter. “Spoiled mei mei, begging for my cock even when you’re bleeding. You love it when I take control, don’t you?”
“Yes—god, yes, gege,” you gasped, your walls clenching around him as pleasure spiked through the ache.
His pace built relentlessly, hips pistoning as he fucked you from behind. One hand—the cool, articulated fingers of his cybernatic arm spread across your lower belly, metal and polymer warm from your skin as he pressed you down to feel his own cock bulging inside you. The pressure deepend with every thrust, the synthetic thumb finding your clit and circling it firmly, rubbing through the bloody slick to send sparks racing down your spine.
“Feel that? I’m owning this womb, filling it up—marking you inside out,” he panted, voice laced with possession. His free hand wrapping around your throat from behind, guiding you up. The pressure pressed your chest and neck, your vision narrowing, the coil in your gut tightening as every nerve hummed with awareness.
You pushed back against him, meeting each brutal snap of his hips. The wet sounds of blood-lubed fucking fill the room alongside your choked whimpers and his ragged grunts. His fingers were digging in your neck, thumb and fingers digging in as he railed you harder.
“You’re so tight, sucking me in like you never want me to leave—fuck, pips, I’m gonna flood this bloody pussy, breed you deep,” he snarled, the words vibrating through his chest pressed to your back. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your skin, mingling with the crimson trails down your thighs. His balls tightened as he rubbed your clit faster, pinching the nub to make you cry out.
The orgasm crashed over you first, a white-hot wave that seized your muscles, pussy spasming wildly around his plunging cock, milking him as blood and cream gushed out. Caleb’s hand clamped harder on your throat, cutting off your scream into a strangled gasp, stars bursting behind your eyelids as he chased his release.
“Fucking hell—squeeze that cum for me,” he demanded, thrusting erratically now, slamming deep one last time as his cock swelled and erupted. He held the choke through his climax, His body shuddering against yours, until the last pulse faded, and only then did he release your neck. Both of you collapsing in a heap of sweat-soaked limbs and shared breaths.
His weight settled over you gently now, his chest heaving against your back as he eased out with a soft, wet slide. The mix of blood, cum, and slick trickling down your thighs in warm rivulets. He drew you against him out of habit, one arm curved around your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles over your hip like he was trying to reassure himself you were still there.
“You okay, angel?” he asked, his voice clicking into a different register, soft as a flipped switch. His lips brushed your shoulder, hesitant, almost guilty. “Was I too hard on you? Too rough with the choking, the slaps…I lost myself in it.”
You turned just enough to look at him. Everything in you ached—not only your body, but something deeper, older. Still, you managed a small, fragile smile.
“I’m okay,” you murmured, reaching back to thread your fingers through his damp hair. “It was perfect. Just what I needed—made me feel alive.”
Relief loosened his expression. He pressed his forehead briefly to the back of your neck, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for hours. His hold on you tightened, protective and a little afraid.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful so much as delicate, as if one wrong word might shatter it. His heartbeat drummed steadily against your spine, grounding you, reminding you that you were here, in this moment, not drifting somewhere far away.
After a while, he shifted, glancing at the crimson-streaked sheets. “Want me to run a bath? Help you clean up?”
You shook your head and moved closer, tucking yourself into him as if you could disappear there. “Not yet,” you whispered. “Just…stay like this a little longer. I want to feel you a little more.”
Caleb swallowed, then nodded, pulling the blanket over both of you with careful hands. “Alright,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Gege’s got you.”
His voice was gentle, but it carried weight, the kind that settled into your bones and made you afraid to move in case it disappeared. A vow disguised as comfort. A promise you were too tired to question. And in his arms, messy and small and quietly shaking, you let yourself believe it the way a child believes in safety.
genuinely i am always in awe at the way you make these themes so beautifully depicted that i literally forget that i'm reading smut on tumblr dot com. oh your writing is so so dear to me, dinda. i hope that writing this helped you vent out your feelings during your low moments ♡ love you, muse!
(spoilers below)
A sob cracked in your chest. “Then why do I feel like the only one who broke wrong?” — made me tear the fuck up because wow. this is such a good way of depicting how trauma just affects people differently and they cope differently
“Cramps are ripping me apart, Caleb, but I want your cock more. Just fucking give it to me.” Your free hand slid down to palm his hardening bulge through his pants—he was rock hard from your vulnerability, urging him to break. — made me giggle abit because her priorities are too real but wow this was such a viscerally written scene. like reader wants Caleb to hurt her so she'll feel real and in a way strengthen their connection that was fracturing from everything.
i love love the allegories of siblings you've used throughout the story. the way he deflects thungs is so in character. the way reader trusts him implicitly under that apple tree. aughhhhhhh i love them so bad my traumatised babies. i genuinely could go on and on about how beautiful this is. i'm hc-ing this as the hunger named you reader and caleb, reincarnated into the modern day. adds extra tragedy because even in this lifetime their soultie and love is taboo.
amazing amazing work muse!! will uhm flay a slice of my brain to print this on and then sew it back up so there's a physical manifestation of this story in ny head.
I got random inspiration whilst thinking about riding in a skirt- I hope you enjoy!!
It was you and that damned skirt again, perched on the couch without a care for his "work ethic". The quiet was peaceful at least, your face engrossed in whatever book you were reading whilst he bored himself with the paperwork in front of him. He knew it was important, something fishy was brewing and he needed to focus but as your cheeks peaked our from underneath the skirt the more you moved, he couldn't resist.
You barely noticed he moved, the dark clothing he sported was blending in with the dim light of the cosy atmosphere. However when he did make his way in front of you he wasted no time in showing you his issue. His cock was aligned to your face, the bulge rapidly forming just peeking above the curves of the opened book. "I haven't even done anything," you giggled. The Polaroid of the two of you slotting in it's new space in the book. The chapter left unfinished as you set it aside, something only the most treasured people in your life would get the privilege of experiencing.
"You expect me to believe this outfit wasn't on purpose?" He tutted, cattoloused fingers running along the pleated hemline as he tugged you closer. The bows that were printed on the underwear you sported darkened in colour as you faced his heated gaze. "It's trendy-"
His fingers grazed against the dampening fabric cutting you off with a forced gasp leaving your lips at his actions. He was always bolder than the other men you have dated, of you could even call them that compared to him. Their experience lack luster, pleasure solely focused on their own instead of yours as well. With Leon you felt safe, treasured, like your pussy was made of gold or crafted to perfection just for him. The size probably helped, his cock moulding your walls to his size where it fit with ease and left everything else you used feeling empty.
"So responsive, were you like this to everyone or just me princess?" He cooed, fingers stroking the sodden fabric against your lips. " I haven't even done anything yet and you are soaked,"
Your hips chased his movements, reluctant to let him get away with the delicate touch that wowned the coil in your stomach tighter. Your legs spread over his thighs as he sat on the sofa with you, your feet locking him in place so he didn't move away.
You felt the roughened pads of his fingertips slide underneath the ruined fabric, your arousal greeting him - soaking him before he teased your entrance. He circled you, fingers flicking up quickly to greet your clit before sliding in ever so slightly. A taunting game.
He watched as your thigh contracted, your body arching into the minimal touch he was offering. He should make this quick, fuck to get rid of his throbbing cock and then finish the work before the deadline but as he looked at you. His personal pornstar at his fingertips, he couldn't help but want to play for longer.
His other hand moved your shirt up, freeing the perky breasts he loves so dear. His fingers toyed with the nipples, watching at the pebbled to his touch. Your chest arched into his touch, feeding your breasts into his hands as he began to grope them. The sensation vaguely distracting you from his fingers curling against your velvet walls. "So quite today," he huffed. His eyebrows pinching as he leaned forward, his scent hitting you like a frieght truck as he invaded your personal space further.
Leon's breath fanned over your chest, his tonuge capturing the lonely nipple as he teased circles around it. The movement matching his thumb as he played with your clit. Everything was calculated and practiced. Hitting the right combination of details as he bought you closer to your first orgasm of the night. One hand laced through his hair, tugging him closer to your breast, feeding it to him as he sucked it eagerly. Your pussy throbbed against his fingers, their actions not quite hitting the sensation you needed on their own.
Leon groaned against your, his teeth nipping at your breast before he let go with a pop. He fought against your hand as he moved to the other one, working your skin with tender spots as he sucked against them. Marks you were sure to feel in the morning. You squirmed against him as hit the spot, your legs brushing against his hardened cock that was painfully strained against his sweats. "Such a little slut distracting me in this skirt with these cute undies," he whispered against your skin - his teeth nipping as it as he moved to your lips.
Your finger tugged against this lengthened strands, curling them into your fingers for a firmer hold. He didn't care, not when it felt real. Each tug grounded him, bought his focus back to his girl instead of his own pleasure for the time being. He could feel your cunt clenching around, begging him to come closer and move faster as you felt the tip of your orgasm. The seering pain of your clit only adding to it as his thumb toyed with it.
"leon-" you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows you had behind you. He watched your blissed out form, your thighs shaking as you cooled down from the high. "I'm not doing all the work, come on princess" he cooed.
You were lifted in his lap, panties pulled down before he worked on free his cock. Your cunt leaking on the sweats as he did do. "Fuck baby - so wet for me" he groaned. His tip slid in with ease, your pussy stretched and waiting eagerly for your favorite thing. You were in charge, you had to work for the second orgasm as your body recovered from the first. A punishment from being such a tease in his eyes.
Your thighs ached as you moved, used to the princess treatment of being splayed out on his expensive bedding. He smiled as he felt your skirt scratch against his skin, hiding your movements from sight. "You can do it, you can get what you want," he encouraged as his hands squeezed your hips to move you faster. Your words blurred together as you lost yourself in the pleasure you were giving yourself.
His cock was rock hard, twitching with your grinding as his head threw back. Everything for the two of you was forgotten, worries being fucked out as you doubled your efforts.
Leon knew it wouldn't take long until you caved. Your body already shaking as it struggled to find the stamina to upkeep it's desperation. "Don't stop, keep going baby"
His words fell on deaf ears as your head flipped in his shoulder. Sobs wracking your chest as you continued to loosely move your hips. Unable to reach the snap of pleasure you were starving for. It was cute seeing your frustration like this, words failing you as you whined for more. Your thighs too weak to carry you, not Leon though, not which chiselled body.
In his own frustration he moved you, laying you along the sofa before his hips began to snap against yours. It was harsh, bruising almost as he got lost in the building pleasure that swirled in his balls. They thightened the wetter your cunt got, your words disappearing as you smiled towards the ceiling.
The tears that kept falling were highlighted in the low light, your eyes blissed out as your smile grew wider. Your breath failed you, forming a silent scream on your lips before you gushed around his cock, the arsoual pooling on the leather of his couch. "Fuck princess-" he grunted before he filled you with a final snap of his hips.
His load was big, filling you with the warmth you craved to satisfy yourself. Leon held you close, his cock softening inside you with a poor attempt to plug the cum inside so it didn't ruin his couch. His fingers ran through your hair, your head rising as falling as you fell into a sleep against his skin.
MADSSSS THIS WAS TOO GOOD i yearn for leon s kennedy to do this to me 😞 also the thought of him saying "...cute little undies" and the part where he was cooing and saying "I'm not doing all the work, come on princess" in his re9 voded voice has me so feral!! I am deeply in love with the way you write him ♡♡♡ and the transition into sub space was so well done too aughh i'm gonna start violently convulsing hhh amazing work, mads!! 💥
★ CW — making amateur 'home movies', Xavier; cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, Zayne; unprotected sex, backshots, cumshot, Rafayel; oviposition, breeding kink, mating press, belly bulge, Sylus; blow jobs, pet name (kitten), edging, begging? Caleb; camgirl, masturbation, video sex
★ NOTES — I saw a ff16 Clive edit to p*rnstar by nessa barrett and the thirst inspired me somehow oops
XAVIER
Making a sex tape never really crossed Xavier's mind. Mainly because he doesn't see the need for it. He's already between your legs at every opportunity he gets, and he has every part of you memorized.
He only agrees because you want it for when he disappears on long missions.
It's hard to keep your phone steady when Xavier is ravenous between your thighs, sucking your sensitive pearl between his glistening pink lips.
He kisses your clit one last time before looking up between your thighs at the camera. "Get a good angle?"
You wish your phone could pick up on the pink flush across his cheeks, but the view otherwise is downright sinful. The lower half of his face is coated in your juices as he takes in your wrecked state with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Mm, not really," you muse, zooming in a bit to fill the screen with his pretty face. You're sure half the video is either pitch black or just shots of the top of his head. It's hard to focus on keeping anything in frame when he's slotting his tongue in your cunt.
"I can hold it. You just focus on feeling good," he suggests, already prying your phone away.
You're about to argue that he can't do all the work when his fingers sink into your pussy, sliding past your slick folds without any resistance to the knuckle. A weak gasp is your only response as you sink against the pillows, instantly forgetting whatever argument that was on the tip of your tongue.
Your mind too muddled in pleasure to resist as he fingers you, curling his fingers and adding one more to stretch you open. Once his mouth joins, sucking and grinding his tongue on your clit, your body jolts in response.
"Ah, Xavier!" Your free hands pull at his silvery locks as he hums against your pussy. You rock your hips against his mouth, chasing your peak, feeling it rise—hot and fast. Almost too fast.
He strokes your walls expertly with his long fingers, having memorized every inch of you already, knowing exactly what spots make your toes curl and your back arch.
But this time, what he's doing is something else, something too intense.
"Wait, wait I- I think-" You attempt to scramble away to but he keeps two hands firmly on your hips, gripping you so tight you have no choice but to take it.
You come hard and fast, back arching against the sheets, crying his name. He doesn't take his mouth off you, licking up every drop that gushes on his tongue. By the time he comes up, the lower half of his face is glistening with your juices.
You try to steady your breathing, head spinning and legs still shaking in the aftermath.
"Did I just-" You trail off when your cheeks start to burn. The sheets below you are wet against your skin.
"Yeah," he says, an almost dreamy sigh comes after as he licks his lips clean, wiping off the cum streaked across his cheek with his hand.
You notice his other hand still gripping your hip. "Xavier? Where's the camera?"
You look off to the side where your phone is laying face down. Who knows how long it's been there? You shoot him a glare. He has the audacity to look innocent with his eyes going round.
"Oops, my hand slipped," he pouts, cupping your sensitive pussy. "Take two? I can make you squirt again for the camera."
ZAYNE
He has a secret (not so secret to you) collection of all your nudes and videos in a private folder on his phone. He thumbs through them whenever he misses you.
He LOVES adding to his collection. His favorites are the close up shots of your body preferably with his cum splashed on your back or leaking from your cunt. Welcome to my pervert Zayne agenda…
"I think she's ready." Zayne parts your folds with two fingers, bringing the camera up to record the way your cunt drools down your thighs. He collects the slick on his fingers, smearing it back over your swollen lips.
You bury your face into the pillows, feeling completely exposed to not only Zayne's eyes but the cold lens of the camera. Your thighs are aching from how long you've been propped, ass up for him as he gets his perfect shot.
He pulls the camera away before sucking the mess off his fingers.
"Please," you moan, rocking your hips back to press against his obvious bulge. All the teasing he's done to you while holding himself back has only gotten him even more worked up. You peel your face from the pillow to look back at him. Your pouty lips and watery eyes only earn you a low groan.
"You're beautiful," he says, moving the camera to snap a photo of your expression. "Stay like that."
You bite your lip. He looks about to burst right then. The camera clicks rapidly a few more times as he adjusts the angle. It's a huge ego boost knowing how easily you can turn Zayne on and how obsessed he is with you and your body, how easily it gets him hard just thinking about all your curves and your pretty face on the edge of ecstasy.
"I know pictures last longer, but I can't," you murmur, pressing harder against his cock.
"Sorry, I can't help myself when it comes to you," he confesses, sliding his hand down the expanse of your back, massaging a handful of your ass. He undresses himself with one hand, the other never leaving your skin.
You watch his dexterous fingers move down the buttons of his shirt, popping off each one by one to expose more and more pale skin. You almost wish you had your phone to record too.
Zayne slips his shirt off and undoes his pants. His cock, neglected by his desire to focus on getting the perfect photo of you, springs against his belly once freed, already weeping and red.
You spread your legs wider as he aligns his tip with your slick, tight cunt. He eases in slow, hissing at the way you squeeze him, hands gripping your waist to pull you onto him.
Your lashes flutter as he pushes in until he bottoms out. It's so good to finally have something filling you other than his fingers. "F-Fuck, feels like 'm gonna come already," you moan, as he rubs at your swollen clit.
"Don't hold back then." Zayne takes all of his pent up energy out on your poor, sensitive cunt. You squeal into the pillows, grasping for stability as his thrusts punch into you rhythmically.
The peek of your orgasm approaches fast and so does his as his thrusts growing more and more unrestrained.
He pulls out, using his hand to get himself the rest of the way, before coming in a hot stream over your back.
"Hold still," he orders, still catching his breath. The camera clicks again. "Perfect."
RAFAYEL
The two of you have a secret porn account. No faces, just fucking. The face you make when you come around his cock is just for him.
The account blew up because of one thing—the ovipostion. People are fascinated, glued to the screen watching as he breeds you with his eggs. The comments are always feral and begging to see just how much you can take before you break.
"I'm stretching you out good, huh?" Rafayel all but purrs as he folds your thighs to your chest. "Getting you nice and ready for my eggs."
His presses down on your abdomen where his cock is spearing your walls with each hard thrust. You squeal and squirm against his unrelenting pressure but don't get anywhere.
"S-So full," you slur, grabbing onto his hand and blinking away the tears gathering in your waterline.
"You're so cute like this. Are you gonna cry?" He thrusts his hips once, hitting that spongy sensitive spot, making you clench around him. You've already come twice now in preparation for his eggs, so every little movement is making you writhe.
"Ah! Ngh, R-Raf!" You yelp, the tears in your eyes spilling over, hand clawing at his hips.
He dutifully wipes them away for you. "What, my beloved?"
"I-"
"Can't speak?" He takes the camera that was set up on a tripod, pointed at your entwined bodies, and brings it to where you connect. "We can let this do the talking then."
The slick sounds of his intense thrusts mixing with your desperate pants are no doubt getting picked up by the mic.
"Hah, f-fuck—ready, beautiful?" He pants.
You nod, mouth and tongue failing you when you feel the swell of his cock. It stretches you until you're trembling around him, cunt throbbing as your body tries adjusting to the new size.
No matter how many times you've done this, you still tense up in the beginning.
But you guess that's what people like. Listening to you whimper, watching you squirm.
"Breathe," he reminds you, low enough that the phone won't hear. A comfort for only you. His own breathing is drawn, close to a whimper as the first egg passes from him to you.
When it begins to slide in, kissing your cervix, you claw at Rafayel's chest, trying your best not to jostle him for the camera.
The tears flow down your temples, breath growing quicker. Whimpers and sobs falling from your lips as the egg, no bigger than your fist, breaches your womb. It sits snug inside you, jostling with each thrust, but there's still more to come.
Your thoughts drift as another egg is deposited into you, knocking against the other one seated in your womb. The bump of your stomach growing more and more visible and the fullness in your womb makes you shift. "Mmph-"
Rafayel grabs your hips to keep you still. "Ah, no moving. Gotta show the audience how good you take it."
You try your best to breathe through it, laying as still as possible as another slips into you, eyes nearly rolling back. Three round eggs sit nicely inside you, heavy and filling.
He pulls out of you slow, careful not to jostle you too much, and turns the camera off before tossing it onto the bed. Editing can wait. First, he needs to tend to you. He laughs at your dazed expression. "Still alive?"
You mumble something, tongue still tied, resting a hand on the bump of your abdomen.
Rafayel lowers himself to kiss the swell. "You did so well."
(NOW IMAGINE IF HE HAD TWO CO- *blows up*)
Check out a comic of this scene by @conjunction-of-crows !!!
SYLUS
Don't get mad, but Sylus is fairly vanilla. I SAID DON'T GET MAD!
He's not making some crazy, raunchy sex tape where you fuck ten ways to Sunday. And if he does make a sex tape, it's meant for your eyes only, and it's intimate. Low light, up close shots, just the sounds of your lips around his cock and his low breathy moans.
"Take it in your mouth, kitten," he instructs, a gentle hand guiding your chin toward his stiff cock.
He leans against the couch cushions, phone in hand with your pretty face on screen, looking up at him with round eyes. Your lips part, tongue peeking out to give his already weeping head a lick.
He's salty on your tongue. Your hand wraps around the part of his shaft you can't take into your mouth. You start slow with your mouth bobbing off the head of his cock, running your tongue over his slit.
He groans, head falling back against the seat. His hand is tight around the phone, gripping it as steady as he can to keep your pretty face in focus.
"Good," he praises. "You can take more though."
You take him deeper, wrapping your hand around the half you can't fit. Your head bobs around his cock as you tease him slow with your mouth.
You want to work him up—have him beg for you on camera, if that's even possible. That's your real mission.
You kiss his tip, batting your lashes up at him as your hand works his cock slowly.
He raises a brow, a silent question.
"Say please," you purr.
The ever impossible man laughs—in your face. The flush across his cheeks and the heavy rise and fall of his chest are a hopeful sign. "Is that what you want from me?"
You nod, trailing your tongue up from his base and along his shaft, eagerly listening to his shuddering breaths.
"You'll—ah—have to give me a reason to beg."
It's a challenging smirk versus your icy glare. You look into the camera that's still focused on you. "I'll have you begging in minutes."
"I invite you to try."
You don't back down from his invitation and go back down to tease his shaft with slow, strokes.
The teasing goes on until you know he's about to come. The way he slumps against the cushions, eyes shut with his head back, Adams apple bobbing, heavy breaths escaping—all the signs you've learned to pick up on.
You bring him to the height of pleasure only to pull away at the last second—over and over. His hand reluctantly lets you pull away. "Ready to beg?"
"You'll have to try harder than that, sweetie." He lets out a dry chuckle that makes you huff. You take his cock in your hand again, holding him tight as you thumb over his leaking tip.
He hisses, hips jerking into your grip, and you smirk.
"One little please won't kill you, Sy." You grab his hand and bring the phone closer to his lips. All he sees in its vision are your glossy, swollen lips. Sweet eyes batting up at him as you ask him to beg for you. "Just once."
Maybe it'll take a little more to break him. One more push closer. Maybe you'll have to climb onto his lap. Or maybe-
"Please."
You're almost left in a state of shock as the word leaves his mouth. Part of you never thought you'd get here, and the other only feels the ache between you legs with the desire to hear it again.
CALEB
You're a fairly unknown camgirl. At most, you'll have three people watching your streams at a time, and you better believe Caleb is there 100% of the time.
He's your top donor. When your streams are quiet and it's just him, you even address him by his username and ask what he'd like to see.
Got carried away with Caleb's part, read the whole fic on my old blog here! Please read my A/N before you click away tho! <33
A/N — thinking of potentially turning Rafayel's part into a full length fic. let me know if you're interested in reading more! do you want more oviposition (ik I do... pls tag me in the fics) anyway, thanks for reading! comments and reblogs always appreciated (◠‿・)—☆
this is honestly so on-brand for each character and my fave fave has to be oviposition with raf because why is this so hot?? i am a rafayel lays eggs truther so thank you so much for this!! you write out the scenes so in depth and beautifully i am in love!! amazing work, fae!! gonna eat this fic and digest it so it'll be in my bloodstream ♡♡♡
soo what do you imagine zayne's reaction upon seeing mc/reader bare-faced, hair down and wearing her pajamas for the first time?
- 😺 anon
Zayne is pretty sure he's getting a hang of this boyfriend thing.
He'd gathered from your text that you'd had a very busy, chaotic day, full of annoying tasks and people getting on your nerves. So naturally, the correct boyfriend thing to do would be grab your favourite take out and head over to your place, right?
As he stands by your door, he finds himself feeling almost...nervous. The two of you often spent time together at odd hours, mostly due to the nature of your respective jobs, but something about this feels different. Perhaps it's the overnight bag sitting in the trunk of his car, or the fact that you'd so casually mentioned going for breakfast tomorrow, as if it was a given he'd spend the night.
He might even sleep in your bed.
Before he can dwell on that thought too much, the door opens. You light up when you see him, but Zayne remains absolutely stuck.
You look...beautiful.
Of course, he thinks that every time he sees you. But usually he sees a more "done up" version of you, with your hair done and makeup on. Tonight however, your hair is down and slightly disheveled, your face is slightly shiny with what he assumes to be your nighttime skincare, and you're dressed in a large faded t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants.
"Zayne? What are you doing here so late?" You smile softly, leaning on the doorway to let him in. For a moment, words simply escape him as he stares at you. But when your brow raises, he manages to pull himself together.
"I...brought you dinner." He holds up the bag, through he almost drops it when your face lights up in joy.
"Oh you're just the best boyfriend ever! Come on, we can eat this in bed, right?"
Well, he's definitely got this boyfriend thing down.
you shouldn’t be doing this. caleb wouldn’t want you to do this, but he’s so, so far away from you, leaving you in your shared apartment in skyhaven while he tends to his colonel duties. but you couldn’t care less— you’ve been holding yourself back for way too long.
to be honest, you almost caved in the day he left. getting wet while sleeping on his side of the bed while sniffing his pillow that smelled exactly like him, washing your hair with the same apple smelling shampoo he masturbated to the thought of you before, or wearing his shirts that swallowed your figure whole like how he usually does.
“ pips…? what’s up? why do you sound like you’re crying?” he answers on the first ring. his voice is groggy with sleep and you feel a pang of guilt hit your chest
“ ‘m not, i just… miss you s’bad.” your thighs part slightly as your fingers tease the skin leading to your dripping cunt.it’s funny how a simple sentence from him has your head swooning with need. your fingers part your folds, resulting in a sticky sound hitting your phone speakers, knowing for a fact that caleb heard it too. “ want you here with me, but you can’t be… because of your stupid job.”
he chuckles, voice clearing up as your conversation continues, “ oh? wellllll, what do ya miss about me?”
you gulp soundly, feeling your throat close with the threat to cry out his name as your fingers progress on your clit, hips moving up and down to the sensation, but deeply you wish it was his skilled fingers instead. you try to mimic how caleb would touch you but your fingers don’t compare to his— too short and too impatient. “ i-i miss your smell, your dumb jokes, your c-cooking… and how you take care of me.”
“ take care of you as in… touching you? describe to me how i touch you, sweetheart. ‘s been some time.”
you can hear the sound of fabric being rustled accompanied by the strangled noise of a suppressed groan. so, he’s not the only one affected by the distance it seems.
“ i like it when you tease me with kisses on my skin,” at this point you know that he knows what you’re doing; you don’t bother trying to hide your moans anymore or the loud squelching sounds of your clit being rubbed in tight circles. “ and h-how… you finally eat me out, bringing me close to cumming before fingering me t-too.”
“ r-really? even though you always, haaah, complain ‘bout me teasing you, should’ve learned by now to trust your body more than your words.” you can tell that he’s touching himself too, by the way wet ‘ schlick’ noises vibrate in the phone speaks along with how he tries to act nonchalant while guiding you to your orgasm, but his breathing and quiet moans— that he thinks you don’t hear, makes him break character. you arch your back with a moan, images of him claiming you flashing in your mind, bringing you to the point of extreme suffering. “ sloooow down, princess. don’t cum too early; don’t you want to cum with me, hmm?”
“ c-can’t help it, want you so bad it hurts…” you’re breathless as you respond, feeling the pending orgasm that was previously building up dwindle slowly as you wait for him to get close to the brink. “ caleeeeb, hurry, wanna cum now.”
“ first you wake me up, now you’re complaining?” he groans. on the other side of the phone his head dips back into the pillows, fingers tightening around his cock and with the help of his saliva, their pace grows furious, making his hips spasm upward wildly, before giving you the command to cum with him. “ start touching your clit again, ‘m c-close.”
with his permission, your fingers move faster while pressing down to speed up your orgasm. your thighs ache with sweet heat, along with your lower body trembling as you’re finally brought to your awaiting orgasm. you barely manage to gasp out his name. you can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or if it’s because you were pent up for so long but the way you clench down around nothing makes his absence apparent— usually you’d be filled with his tongue, fingers, or cock, but now it’s nothing.
and on the other side of the screen, caleb cums too. and fuck, you can just picture the lewd scene. his thighs flexing while his cock sprays out sticky cum that would usually be painted in your mouth or across your body. his grip tightens around his now sensitive cock as he moans through it all. “ w-wish i was there with you too, would make cleaning a lot easier, hah.”
it takes a while before you both come down from your highs, breathing heavily into the mics as the phone limply falls from your hands and onto the lonely side of his bed. you close your eyes; the sudden drowsiness from an orgasm settles in but the sound of an image being sent makes them open.
he's complaining as he jerks off 👎👎👎 irritating ass man but the pic he sends reader should frame it for all to see cause that's reader's man frrrrr!! this was so hot augh made me wish men were real. thank you for today's meal, kora ♡
cw. mdni ! fem reader. dom & sub undertones. marriage kink. size kink. choking. impact play. hair pulling. cum play. dumbification. cērvix pounding. public sēx. fingering. choking. squirting. breeding kink. biting. hints of blood play ( rafayel’s). bondage. fem! dom ( sylus). oral sex ( f! receiving). dirty talk. non proofread. all lowercase intended. enjooooy.
kora’s note. i don’t know how to characterize sylus that well… but i hope i delivered for all my crow girlies out there!
XAVIER ☆
xavier is a seasoned hunter, having trained and built up his speed since he was only three years old. so it’s hard for him to break the habit of being fast. wether it’s walking with you down the street, doing mundane tasks, or fucking you mercilessly into the sheets.
the morning rays of the sunlight peeked through your blinds, golden hour painting your skin a beautiful orange-red hue as your shirt— that’s actually his, is bunched up around your hips, ass up, face pressed into the soft pillows where you moan your pleasure filled melodies at. xavier, the same man who claims not to be a morning person, drives his hips into the soft skin of your ass, reddening the shade.
“ why’re you holding back your sounds? you’re the one who woke me up grinding against me,” he moaned, sounding freshly thick and raspy after not being used all night. the sound of his voice does more than what it actually should; most of the time he uses his soft, feather light voice to address you or children that notice him first.
but when he switches that fake tone off, whether to fight wanders, address his backtrackers, or to pound into you mercilessly, god does it wreck you.
“ ‘s too early, xavier. don’ want the neighbors to h-hear,” you gasp out, your back dipping into a deep curve when he intentionally thrusts forward to dig in you deeper. “ a-ah! right thereee!”
“ hah, there’s my nasty girl, what happened to you not wanting to wake the neighbors?” well, if they were asleep, they certainly aren’t now. xavier tends to go fast only a couple minutes into sex, often making your headboard slam against the wall with such brutality that it leaves dents or cracks in the wall, even splitting your headboard in half when the sex was particularly breathtaking that night. “ you’re grip me even tighter when the frame hits the wall; you must like letting people know your husband is fucking you good.”
his roughened hand spreads your sore ass cheek, exposing a creamy white ring of arousal around the base of his cock, before momentarily disappearing as he slips deep into your heated warmth. letting the round skin go, not without delivering a ringing slap to your flesh, he surprises you enough to lurch forward.
“ well, too bad for them. ‘m not good at sharing what’s mine. never have, never will be.” the next breath you take is fresher as he pulls your hair, clutch taut enough to make your back meet his chest.
he wraps the same hand around your throat, squeezing the sides to make sugary gasps fall from your mouth, pressing a heated kiss to the corner of your mouth his hips resume, this time abandoning the slow but steady pace, now surely fucking you with the ruthless speed he always took.
“ x-xavier, haaaah, fuck! ‘s too fast for the morning!” he squeezes the sides of your throat before twisting his hand to push you back on all fours. your shaky fingers grip and dig impossibly deep into the sheets, as your vision blurs, almost making you dizzy. above you, he’s on cloud nine— the specks of light are an easy tell. “ ohhhh! so fucking deep in me!”
his deep cerulean eyes wandered everywhere across your body, broadly displayed underneath him, catching how the way your ass ripples with every slam forward and how your thighs will shake when he only inserts the tip in. suffice to say, most of your day will be spent in bed, as your hunter husband beats all spots that you didn’t know existed.
“ oh, starlight. if only you knew how gorgeous you look right now, displayed beneath me while you take what i give you.” every inch of xavier’s length staggers and proudly takes claim in you deeply, causing your eyes to cross and gaze meet at the tip of your nose. “ i bet your face looks even better, wish we had a mirror right now…”
his voice trails off in thought and you feel a pang of irritation swell up. is the man seriously thinking about fucking you in front of a mirror while thrashing your body around like a weightless ragdoll? despite this, you turn your head to see him, to see if he’s truly unbothered, and that is far from true.
his eyes meet yours as you glance back at him, holding you in some sort of lust trance as you can’t pull away. the sight of him breathless, shirtless where you can see his chest rise and fall with quickened breaths, while his pants are hastily shoved down at the peak of his thighs. his lips quirk into a soft smirk, flashing you his fangs while his hands knead and mush your ass like it was dough.
“ don’t look at me like that, star. you’re going to make me cum too e-early.”
“ c-cum on my thighs, xavie. i know you like them.” you shyly offer, and seeing how his smirk tugs into a furrowed frown, you know he won’t refuse. now he’s the one that looks pussy-drunk. “ don’t hold back on me, wan’ everything.”
“ f-fuck, d’you not hear yourself right now?” he grabs your elbows, twisting and crossing them as you’re unceremoniously shoved face first back into the sheets. he uses this as his leverage, body leaning above yours, your walls still struggling around the stretch of him while your eyes are closed, a fucked out grin on your face at the overwhelming sense of exhilaration. “ y-you’re impossible, a fucked out brat at that.”
a guttural grunt escapes from him, and before you can register it, a warm substance paints the back of your thighs with a translucent shade. your body goes placid, soaking up the sight of his head thrown back while his fist vigorously pumps more and more liquid from his rounded tip. after a few more pumps, his fade officially ends, resting his cock in between your cheeks like a lewd sandwich.
all is tranquil, your body relaxing into the bed completely fine with the fact that you might not get your own orgasm as of right now.
that is until you feel him move; his wet tongue licks up his cum before licking stripes on your swollen, twitching clit. “ what? you thought i wasn’t going to make you cum?”
what. the. fuck.
ZAYNE ☆
it shouldn’t be a surprise that your doctor husband is very good at using his fingers— after all, he is the best cardiac surgeon in linkon city. but you couldn’t help but be surprised every time he breaks you down and builds you up with such precision using his fingers alone.
the environment in zayne’s room held that familiar warmth but lingering coldness to it, like all doctors do. the box of lunch you packed for him sat unattended on his desk, his coat draped over his office chair while your bodies are placed on his sofa. legs displayed over his so that you won’t close them as his fingers mashes against your sweet spot, inflicting whimpers in the still atmosphere.
“ although i love your sounds, my love, it’s best if you keep them down. do you want greyson and the other doctors to hear how you break on my fingers?” zayne breathed his question into your ear, seemingly getting his answer as your walls clenched around his digits, ultimately sucking them in and latching on with a vice-like grip. “ but knowing you… you like the thought of that.”
“ n-no, ‘s embarrassing!”
“ you want me to believe you… when you sound like this?” silence falls as the wet sounds of your pussy squelching fill in the air. loud ‘ shlick!’ noises echo off his office; part of you wants to care that you’re at the hospital and anyone at any minute could walk in on the greatest cardiac surgeon finger fucking his wife, but the other part wants you to be louder so that people know that zayne is yours, and you are his— if they didn’t already. “ i thought i told you to spare your thoughts for me when you first walked in here, teasing me in that short sundress i bought for our anniversary.”
you whine, head shifting on his shoulder to nip at his jawline. “ can you blame me? you’ve been neglecting your poor wife like a meanie.” behind you, zayne is a wreck also. his glasses sit low on his nose, his tie is loose on his dress shirt, and a few buttons are popped, displaying the marks you made vibrant and clear as day. marks that scream your name and that he’s yours, legally so.
“ am i being a meanie, or was i just busy with my job? but i don’t have any complaints, besides the thought of someone seeing you dolled up.”
“ o-oh,” despite your current predicament, you bark out a wet, but shaky laugh. “ it’s funny seeing you jealous about me, zaynie.”
“ what’s funny is that you are trying to act unbothered right now.” zayne immediately claps back, witty as ever, the prick— but he’s not wrong. you can barely speak a sentence without moaning or stuttering, and your thighs are quivering mess where they are spread over his still ones. and with one particular thrust to your sweet spot, your body lurches upward as sparks of pleasure develop from the source and trace their way up your spine, numbing your brain in the process. “ you like it when i touch you there? that’s right, you always do.”
zayne’s fingers are experts at saving lives, and making you see stars effortlessly— god bless those anatomy lessons.
with every push and pull he delivers to your sopping cunt, you feel your mental state slipping further and further. his calculated fingers press on where your bladder is and pause, much to your dismay. “ have you been drinking enough water, my love?”
“ i… um, y-yeah?”
“ from your tone, i can’t believe you, but we’ll find out if you’re telling the truth or not.” with that, he continues, this time with much more deliberate force. your body curls up as he stimulates your bladder with the intention of a madman, but the arm holding you steady tilts your head up to look into his lust-clouded hazel-green eyes. “ i need you to relax for me, if you want me to make you feel good. relax and don’t fight the feeling.”
is he… trying to make you squirt?
your mouth intends to say something, but broken gasps are all that bubble out. your hips ride the feeling of pending ecstasy while your eyes can’t move from his, pulling you deeper into a love state trance.
“ h-hah, a-are you trying to make me squirt, dr. zayne. how perverted.”
“ just something i’ve always wanted to try, and what’s a better moment than now?” his lips pressed against yours in a searing kiss, releasing all his pent up frustration on the kiss as the hand that once tilted your head up squeezed at your throat, making you more keenly aware of the feeling, sound, and most importantly him. “ it shouldn’t take long to see if you’re lying or not, judging by the way she’s sucking me in so greedily.”
“ fuh— fuck, i think ‘m gonna squirt! can feel it!” your nimble fingers find purchase in his raven locks, completely shattering any image of him trying to act composed as if clothes didn’t tell a different story. he pushes up into your gummy g-spot, stimulating the area impossibly more— and that was your end. your body thrashes before stilling as clear fluid shoots from your pussy, spraying and staining the sofa cushions and the area below that. “ o-oh my god! your making me a mess!”
if anyone didn’t know you were having sex before, they sure do now. the evidence lies on the saturated cushions, floor and also zayne’s pants. your body relaxes back down with pants, grunting when he pulls his now glistening, slick fingers out of your hole with a resounding ‘pop!’ sound.
“ be a good girl and suck them clean for me?”
RAFAYEL ☆
the stroke game that this man has on him? unholy. nothing less to expect of a merman though.
“ rafa— yel!” you moan out under the said man as he has your wrists crossed and pinned to the couch cushion. your marked thighs are thrown over his scratched, broad shoulders, his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy with rapid succession.
the compromising position he folded you into made one thing clear: you’re his, and that he’s far from done with you. i mean, that shouldn’t have to be stated anyway; knowing the stamina your siren husband possesses it’ll be no surprise if you went from the couch to the bedroom floor.
“ yeah, cutie? is it too much for you, is your husband fucking you s’good?” he mocks you. rafayel can be so cruel at times, from the way he taunts to how he fucks. his once dual blue and pink colored eyes are now dominated by dark pink— a sign of his lust, as they take in the sight of your pussy clamping around the base of his dick, reappearing and disappearing with every calculated thrust he pushes into your sweet spot, briefly knocking against your cervix. “ she’s sooo messy and greedy. you were just crying about how you couldn’t take it anymore, but now you’re clinging on to me like i’ll let go.”
your vision is spinning, brain mushy, but the only thing that rings relevant is rafayel and the way how he’s making you feel oh so good.
he shifts his posture— removing his rigid hand from pinning your wrists so that they can now pin your hips to the cushion, grip bordering on painful. his face is now in view instead of the ceiling as he practically breaks you in more. the sight of him is nothing to take for granted: his eyes are sharper, kiss-plumped lips twisted into a slick grin while his eyebrows furrow with concentration.
“ so cute. so unaware that i’m nowhere near fulfilled,” with that, his lips slot over yours in a searing kiss. he nips your bottom lip, just enough to draw blood, which he chases after with an impatient tongue while you whimper from the sting. and with your lip split in half, his thrusts resume. one precise roll of his hips makes you gasp sharply as your toes curl over their place on his shoulders.
“ o-oh my godddd!” your eyes are clouded with an explanation beyond lust, your tongue rolls out your mouth, letting drool seep from the corners as your eyebrows are pinched tight. “ so fuckin’ good! wan’ you to cum in me, please breed me!”
“ breed you? gosh, when did my pretty girl get so vulgar?” he plants kisses from the corner of your mouth, leading to your earlobe as he gently nips the flesh. his hips seem to pleasure and map out every inch of your pussy expertly, to the point where punched-out gasps are all you can create. it’s all too much. his voice, hips, words— they’re all working in sync to turn you dick drunk. “ if you want me to breed you, then you’ll have to accept all of it. every last drop, or i’ll fuck you to the point where you’re too stuffed to function.”
your eyes numbly close. body full of euphoria, and soon, his cum too.
“ hellooooo, earth to cutie,” he drawls, his thumb teasing the skin of your stomach, trailing down until he reaches your swollen albeit neglected, clit, where he presses down, eliciting a jerk from your shocked body.
“ y-yes! i can take it, make me cum m-more.”
“ so many demands… but who am i to deny you?” the grin he wore faltered before twisting down into a snarl. his playful demeanor is nowhere to be found, and you can bet it’s because he’s bordering on close to cumming. the pressed flicks on your erect pearl match the speed of his hips as the hands plastered on your bent upper thighs are used as leverage to fuck you in harder.
the strength of him rocking you and the couch combined, knocking out punctured groans and grunts from both of your lips while his dick imprints his name into your heated cunt. “ ‘m gonna cum, and you better take it all, f-fuck.”
your hands fly down to press your nails into his buttocks, leaving marks of your nails that he’ll definitely complain about later. “ fill me up, fill my pussy up; ‘s all yours, rafie.” your whisper trembles as you feel the weight of your orgasm sneaking up.
and with the fervent contact on your clit and sweet spot, you’re cumming. body arching forward in overwhelming pleasure as heaved gasps leave your mouth. it’s not long before rafayel cums along— no, inside of you. but to call it a lot or messy would be an understatement.
“ fuuuuck, cutie, i-i’m cumming. hah, you take me so g-good.”
his body goes completely limp on top of yours, chests moving at their own pace as you both come down from your high, skin to skin. rafayel leans his head up to press another kiss against your lips, this time less rough but more passionate. his tongue sweeps the cut he made on your bottom lip as a silent apology but you couldn’t care to hold a grudge against him for it.
i mean, he did just rock your whole world, couch included.
SYLUS ☆
the inches he has packing below the belt? beyond your expectations. and every time you’d have sex it’s more mind blowing than the last time.
“ are you sure you can ride me? you can’t even handle it when we’re in missionary.” sylus chuckles below you, legs parted wide enough to suit your much smaller body facing toward him, and above him you hiss through the ache of his cock splitting your walls.
he is so big that the outline of his cock peeks through your stomach every time you bounce up and down, your juices making his cock glimmer whenever it appears, just for a second before being greedily sucked in by your warm slit.
“ shut up. don’t talk to me, just enjoy the r-ride.” you can feel yourself cringe when he chuckles even harder at your cute stutter. just from a couple of bounces you were already past the brink of being tired, but stubbornness fueled you; you refuse to give in to sylus’ pride.
“ why would i want to do that, kitten? i want to hear how you struggle to take me,” his hands that were once behind his head, while radiating that laid back vibe, spring forward to trace the valley between your breasts. salacious gaze soaking up the lewd clockwise motion your boobs bounce in. he leans forward, leaving you no choice but to scramble for steadiness on his broad shoulders; your pleasure stricken face soon turns into a deep frown, the one that sylus loves to provoke. “ how your thighs tremble from the stretch, and how you’re gripping me oh so tig—”
“ i told you to sit back.” you push at his chest, and his back meets the headboard with a thump— a little harsh but it’s nothing compared to what he takes daily. you find the pink bow you once wrapped around his bicep earlier, and pin his wrists together to tie them. to think all of this started over the bow was insane; that’s what you get for following trends. “ next time i’ll duct tape your mouth too.”
“ yeah?” he whispers, dick twitching from its confinement in your walls. unsurprisingly, he’s getting off to you domming him. again.
“ yeah.” during your exchange, your body doesn’t stop rocking against him, before you return to your original pace. as the headboard and mattress squeak and shake, so did your hips. you plant your hands on his sturdy pecs, fingernails slightly digging into the stiff muscle while your lower body moves sensually against him.
every pump of his cock, touching your sweet spot and impossibly beyond wrecks through you at full speed. hips steadily rocking against his forcibly still ones with heated eye contact in the mixture. with the way you took control and rode him, he wouldn’t mind having sex like this every. single. time.
the pad of your thumb swipes against his bitten lip, pulling it down from his teeth to bring it to your mouth. and distantly, sylus has to chant prayers to not cum on the spot. “ mhm. you taste good. don’t you like being a good boy for me, sylie?”
good boy? he’ll make you eat your words later. right now? he’s too focused on how cute you look, and the immense contentment.
“ you’re having fun being in control; maybe i’ll let you do this more often. you’d like that, obviously.” each bounce drew pierced sounds from your moaning mouth and slovenly cunt. the tie that will snap making your pleasure heightened was so close but so far away at the same time. there’s no one else dick that can compare to sylus’; you’re convinced that he set the sex standards insanely high for you. regardless of the fact, you continue to ride him, blinking through the hot tears threatening to fall from your eyes due to the high of delectation. “ but then again, i don’t think you’d be able to handle me like this all the time.”
“ wanna cum, sylus…” you lick your fingertips, covering them in your salvia before reaching down give your throbbing clit the attention it’s longed for, his favorite sight to watch. whether you’re in doggy, missionary, or cowgirl sylus will always get drunk off the sight of you taking what’s yours while he gives your needy clit attention, but since his hands are tied you fill in that spot.
“ then we’ll both cum t-together. just keep doing what you do best.”
his arms strain against the thin fabric. it would barely take a blink of an eye to rip free, but tonight is the night when he will solely give in to your fantasies.
the passion in the room intensifies. your hips roll in tandem. more breathless sounds— more like screeches all things surrounding him. the pristine pretense of sylus falters. his eyes are now barely opened, his brows are furrowed in need as he constantly fights himself back from overpowering the thin ribbon keeping his arms together.
his eyes trail down to the sight of your expanded pussy around the girth of his base, your finger meeting his gaze as you come up to mix your shared arousal before swiping it over your clit.
and that alone sends sylus to his end.
a guttural grunt rips through the air of your shared bedroom, body tensing and arching forward as the fabric around his wrists snaps with a ‘ swoosh!’ sound. “ fuck, k-kitten. driving me crazy…” now it’s your turn to laugh at his cute stutter. his arms shoot to grip your hips, unintentionally leaving bruises that he will kiss over. a strangled inhale makes him tip his head back, singing his groans to the ceiling as his hips shallowly buck upward to ride the rest of his high, before they calm to a stop.
there’s barely a breath but your hips continue their earlier ministrations. “ didn’t make me cum yet. think you can still take it, my good boy?”
you were officially going to be the death of him.
CALEB ☆
if there was one word to describe caleb— it would be ‘ meanie’. whether it’s teasing you for burning food, or rather making you squirm and tense underneath him.
“ looks like she missed me, huh pips?” caleb characteristically comments. his eyes aren’t on you, and he wasn’t waiting for your response. he was talking to your pussy instead. his mouth stops just before it makes contact with your sodden lips, but fuck. how you wish he would finally shut up and do what you’ve been yearning for, but he won’t, not yet because who is caleb if he isn’t extremely talkative, much to your dismay.
his thumb emerges to part your folds, pressing down firmly then traveling up to your clit where he gives it a ghost touch before stopping again to make travel towards your aching hole. there, is where he barely pushes the tip of his thumb in. “ clenching around nothing while your clit is twitching at me. mmm, fuck… did i miss this.”
“ caleb… can you stop talking to my pussy like a weirdo and eat it, instead?” you sit up to lean back on your elbows, face scrunched and eyes glaring down at the weirdo in question as he rests his cheek against your inner thigh before turning his head slightly to smell the skin there, making goosebumps arise on your flesh. you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty— painfully so. but it’d be even better if he’d wrap those pretty lips around your equally pretty clit.
“ ohhh? is someone jealous i’m not giving her any attention?”
“ caleb!”
his tongue departs from his mouth to lick a devastating strip up your pussy; from your hole to your pulsing clit, the action cuts you off from voicing any complaints, all while making eye contact with you. “ hmm? did’ya say something?” he pauses to lean back, bringing his finger to smear in his spit with your arousal, staining the sheets and your upper inner thighs. the sounds that your mouth and pussy produce are downright nasty and noisy. “ couldn’t hear you over this louuud pussy. she’s basically too for me; how cute.”
his words slur; his mouth hasn’t even left your clit before he starts talking… again. the vibration sends sparks racing up your spine, electric and thrilling. you curve your back into his ministrations, presenting more of your pussy to him you yank his frustratingly hair closer. “ less talking and more eating.”
and he moans.
it would be a bold lie if caleb said that he didn’t get aroused off by you bossing him around. as if he can’t easily overpower you without breaking a sweat— not that he would ever without your consent. his plush lips feel absolutely divine motioning around your clit. he sucks at your pearl messily, mouth completely drenched in your syrupy slickness opening wide so his tongue can lap at creamy substances pooling out of your pussy. “ h-hah, don’t fucking stop,”
your body finally relaxes back on the mattress as he doesn’t look like he’ll pause to open his stupid mouth. while his head guides the movements of his tongue, your hand is still buried in his dark brown hair. you keen depravedly when two of his fingers tickles your slit faintly before dipping in your clingy walls. “ yessss, caleb!”
“ you taste so good. missed this s’much, princess.” he pulls back to watch his fingers fade in your tight walls, strings of saliva connecting his moistened lips to your clit, but all he’s focused on is hitting that spongy spot that leaves you a keening mess, and is he good at it. your back deeply arches, until it’s almost hovering off the bed while he curves and slams his fingers into your sweet spot. “ i can tell you’re about to cum, so don’t hold back on me. want it all.”
you’re riding his face now, fisting his hair for stability while chasing the pleasure that builds your anticipation. with one more thrust of his fingers paired with the suction on your firm clit, you’re cumming. hard too. “ ohhhh, fuck fuck f-fuck! ‘m cuuumming!” your mind is a hazy blur, thoughts racing but centered on him and how good you feel right now as your whole body goes stiff.
sparks of liquid stream from your climaxing cunt while your cream pushes passes through your clenching walls and onto his awaiting hand. “ so messy, pips. this is definitely a first.” he patiently holds back, until your back flops against the mattress with a dull thud, and your heaving breaths soon die down, panting and twitching from the sensitivity and the strength he milked from you.
a slurping sound brings you back to earth. wearily, you look down at caleb, to see him still between your thighs with his fingers in his mouth, now chasing after your lewd essence. “ you don’t think we’re done, do ya? oh well, i wanna see how much i can make you squirt in one night.”
this is a work of art like you write all of them so accurately and so hot, kora!! it was a very steamy read for sure and augh squirting with zayneeeee i wish i had a free bag of squirting with himmmm and messy sex with caleb and crazy sex with rafayel and sylus taking pussy like a good boy...how do i print this out and shove it into the wrinkles of my brain??
“ don’t look at me like that, star. you’re going to make me cum too e-early." -yall heard it from the man himself sorry to the people waiting for xavier 😈 loved this so so much wow ♡
CW: 18+ (mdni), gn!reader, sub!zayne, forced feminisation, dirty talk, hand job, fingering, degradation, humiliation kink, praise kink, usage of boypussy as his hole, pet names (baby, sweetheart & good girl)
WC: 2k
AN: this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away. Ooc zayne cause i wrote this while stroking my dick
Your hardworking husband, Zayne, always puts everyone else first. Long shifts, aching muscles, exhaustion written in the lines of his face—but he never complains.
You see it, though. After all, you’re his partner.
So when he comes home, you greet him with a kiss, a warm smile, and a small box.
“Go to the bedroom,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “Put this on. No questions.”
He hesitates, blinking at you in confusion, but obeys. He always does.
Minutes pass. The door creaks open.
And fuck.
The sight of him makes your breath catch. Sinful doesn’t even begin to describe it.
The pink babydoll drapes over his body like a sinful dream, delicate chiffon flowing down his torso, teasing glimpses of flushed skin beneath. The lace cups barely cover his chest, sheer enough to reveal the soft peaks of his nipples, while the garters strain against his thick thighs. The delicate thong? Useless—his cock presses hard against it, too big, too much. And then there’s the final touch—the soft ribbon clip in his hair, pinning his bangs aside.
He looks at you, uncertain, arms twitching like he wants to hide himself.
“Don’t,” you command, stepping forward. “Let me see you.”
His hands fall, exposing everything. His breath is unsteady, lips parted.
“You look so pretty, baby,” you murmur, fingers trailing over lace, teasing over his cock where it strains against the fabric. He shudders at your touch.
“I feel ridiculous,” he mumbles.
You smirk. “No, sweetheart. You feel good.”
He whimpers as you press closer, your lips grazing his ear.
“Now,” you whisper, voice dripping with promise, “let me take care of you, okay? On the bed, please.”
Zayne nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. There’s something vulnerable in the way he looks at you—uncertain, needy, but trusting. He shifts onto the bed, laying back against the pillows, his thick thighs spreading on instinct. The sight alone makes your mouth salivate.
“You’re so good for me,” you murmur as you crawl over him, hands trailing up his sides, feeling the warmth of his skin through the chiffon. His chest rises and falls unevenly, anticipation written all over his flushed face.
When you kiss him, he gasps into your mouth, lips parting as you slide your tongue against his. He whimpers when you deepen it, fingers threading into his soft hair, tugging just enough to make him melt beneath you. His hands twitch, unsure whether to hold you or keep himself exposed.
You press closer, rolling your hips just enough for him to feel how hot and needy you are through your clothes. “See?” you murmur against his lips. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. You’re not ridiculous. You’re beautiful, very beautiful.”
A needy sound escapes him, barely a whine, but you catch it.
Your lips trail lower, over his jaw and down to his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. He shudders beneath you, squirming slightly, but he doesn’t stop you.
“Sensitive, aren’t you?” you tease, nipping just above the delicate lace trim of his babydoll.
You smirk as you move lower, pressing your tongue flat against one of his nipples through the lace. The fabric is thin, letting you feel how hard he is underneath. You flick your tongue, sucking gently, and his breath stutters.
“F-Fuck—” he gasps, his back arching slightly.
“Aww, baby,” you coo, pulling back just enough to admire the way his nipple stays pebbled beneath the damp lace. “Getting this hard just from me sucking your tits? I thought you said this was ridiculous.”
His face burns red. “I—It’s just—”
You don’t let him finish. You move to his other nipple, giving it the same attention, sucking and teasing while your hand drifts down, pressing between his thighs. His cock is fully hard now, straining against the tiny thong, a wet patch forming where his tip leaks precum.
You hum against his skin, trailing wet kisses down his trembling stomach as your fingers slide over the lace barely containing his throbbing cock. He gasps when you press your palm against him, rolling your hand over the sticky wet patch soaking through the fabric.
"You're such a mess already," you murmur, teasing the waistband before pulling the thong aside, letting his cock spring free—hard, flushed, dripping. "So desperate. You like being dressed up like this, don't you?"
His breath stutters. "I—I don’t—"
You grip his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes meet yours. "Don't lie to me, baby." Your fingers swipe through his precum, smearing it over the swollen tip before bringing them up to his lips. "Open."
His lips part hesitantly, and you slide your fingers inside, pressing against his tongue. He whimpers but doesn’t pull away, sucking instinctively, his tongue swirling around them as you push deeper.
"That’s it," you croon, watching the way his lashes flutter, his cheeks hollowing around your fingers. "My pretty girl, sucking so well. Just like I taught you."
His face burns at the words, but he obeys, sucking earnestly, lips wrapping around your digits like he's done this before—like he's been trained for it.
You let him work his tongue over them, making sure they’re slick before pulling them free with a soft pop, trailing them down his body. His thighs tremble when you push them apart, your fingers teasing lower, circling the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks.
"The most respected doctor, reduced to this," you muse, pressing the tip of your slick finger against his hole, watching the way his body reacts—clenching, shuddering, already so sensitive. "Spreading your legs, letting me play with your little boypussy like you were made for it."
A wrecked sound escapes him, somewhere between shame and pleasure. His cock twitches against his stomach, leaking more with every filthy word you whisper.
"You love this, don't you?" You press the first finger inside, slow but firm, stretching him. "Love being my good girl. Love being used."
He gasps, back arching. "I—I’m not—"
You smirk, curling your finger just right, making him cry out. "Oh? Then why are you clenching around me so tight? Why is your cock dripping all over yourself?"
He whimpers, legs trembling, his hands gripping the sheets like he needs something to hold onto. His body betrays him, hips rolling, trying to take more even as his face burns with shame.
"Pathetic," you hum, adding a second finger, feeling him stretch, fluttering helplessly around you. "You act like you don’t want this, but your pussy is swallowing me right up. You were made for this, weren’t you?"
His thighs twitch, struggling to stay open, but you refuse to relent. Instead, you press your palm against his lower stomach, feeling the way he clenches around your finger, trembling beneath you.
"Feel that?" you murmur, pressing down just a little, making him squirm. "How deep I am inside you? How your cunt is already trying to milk my fingers?"
Zayne lets out a whimper, his hands fisting the sheets, helpless against the way his body reacts. You drag your nails lightly down his inner thigh, watching as goosebumps follow in their wake, before pushing a second finger inside, stretching him wider. His muscles flutter around you, his breath coming in short, shaky gasps.
"Such a pretty thing," you hum, scissoring your fingers inside him, feeling how desperately he tries to take more. "Your body knows exactly what it wants, even if you won’t admit it."
His cock twitches against his stomach, leaking steadily, precum smearing against his fair skin.
"You’re leaking everywhere, sweetheart. Making such a mess of yourself." Your grip tightens slightly as you stroke him, thumb rubbing over his sensitive tip, smearing the wetness around. "What would your colleagues think if they saw you like this? Dr. Zayne, always so professional, reduced to a moaning little thing, legs spread, getting his boypussy stretched while he drips like a bitch in heat."
A choked sob leaves him, his body caught between the pleasure of your fingers inside him and the steady strokes of your hand on his cock.
"Please—" His voice cracks, wrecked and pleading. "Please, please, can I cum? I need it, need you—please!"
"Can you?" you echo, tilting your head like you're truly considering it. Your fingers slow inside him, curling just enough to make his thighs twitch, but not enough to push him over. Your grip around his cock loosens slightly, your strokes turning light, teasing, maddening. "You say you need it, but do you really deserve it?"
Zayne whimpers, his hips jerking up in desperation, seeking more, but you deny him. His cock throbs in your hand, leaking all over himself, the pathetic little mess he’s made only adding to his humiliation. His lashes are damp, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looks up at you, pleading.
"Please," he sobs, voice shaking. "Please, I—I'll be good, I promise! I’ll be your good girl, just—just let me cum! I need it so bad, please, please—"
His words crumble into broken moans as you tighten your grip around him again, fingers pressing deeper inside his clenching heat. He’s trembling, so close he can barely breathe, every muscle in his body tight with anticipation.
You hum, dragging your thumb over his swollen tip, spreading the slick mess around in slow, deliberate circles. "Look at you. Squirming, begging—so desperate to cum. And after all that fuss about how ridiculous this was." You smirk, watching him unravel beneath you. "But this is what you were made for, isn’t it? Pretty and pliant, just waiting for someone to take you apart."
Zayne sobs, nodding frantically, his thighs trembling as he clings to you. "Yes—yes, please, I need it! Please let me cum, I’ll do anything—"
His voice cracks, his entire body taut with need, teetering on the edge of bliss. You tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze, a slow, wicked smile curving your lips.
"Then do it, sweetheart," you whisper, voice thick with amusement. "Cum for me. Show me how much you love being ruined."
Zayne lets out a broken sob, his whole body tensing as the last bit of restraint snaps. His back arches off the bed, thighs trembling violently as his orgasm crashes over him.
"Oh—oh fuck—!" His voice is high and wrecked, eyes fluttering shut as his cock twitches in your grasp. Ropes of cum spill over his stomach, dripping down in thick, messy streaks. His boypussy clenches around your fingers, pulsing with every wave of pleasure that wracks his body, desperately sucking you in deeper as he rides it out.
You don’t stop. Not yet. You stroke him through it, dragging out every last drop, fingers curling inside him just to watch him jolt. His overstimulated cock twitches helplessly, smearing the sticky mess across his flushed skin, his legs trying weakly to close—but you keep him spread, watching with delight as he comes completely undone beneath you.
"That was incredible," you murmur, dragging your fingers lazily down his quivering stomach, smearing the mess across his skin like a brand. "So good for me, baby. Look at you—just perfect."
His breath stutters, eyelids fluttering as he basks in the afterglow. You reach for a towel, wiping away the sticky mess on his stomach. Each swipe is firm and efficient, your grip steady as you keep him pliant beneath you.
His body twitches as you clean him up, his muscles still trembling from overstimulation. You press a kiss to his temple, fingers threading through his damp hair, but the possessiveness in your gaze never fades. “You’re still so pretty like this,” you muse, letting your hand trail over his bare thigh before gripping it just enough to make him gasp.
Zayne exhales shakily, his fingers weakly gripping the sheets. He’s still floating, vulnerable, but you don’t let him drift too far. You shift onto the bed beside him, gathering him against your chest. His body relaxes instinctively, melting into your warmth.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper, lips brushing against his sweat-damp skin. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Thank you…”
“Mm. You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you murmur, your hold on him tightening. “I always take care of what’s mine.”
your author's note is ME OMG brooooooo chafing my dick with this one cos no fucking way. forced feminisation zayne with boypussy, bitch, and good girl...i fear i might lose my mind. i need a polaroid of this stapled to my frontal cortex. not ooc at all. matter of fact, very c. very very.
and for some reason i think greyson first this role too. a bunch of nerds that want to be dommed so bad after long days at work 🙂↕️
I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IN THE AIR YOU'RE BREATHING BUT GIVE ME 14 OF THEM IMMEDIATELY!!! HOLY SHIT. i am living for your dom writing era muse!!!! this is so tasty...got me bricked up in the bus frfr ♡
Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, gun play, dead dove, caleb is a walking red flag in this one, the gun goes WHERE???
An: So um… I’m obsessed with him, and I sincerely apologize for writing this.
No, you’re absolutely right. Sylus would never fuck you with his gun. He cherishes you, worships your body as if you’re a goddess who fell into his lap. He’s too weary of accidentally hurting you. He couldn’t fathom shoving an object of war inside your pretty little pussy, the most safest of places that he knows. It’s a blasphemous thought really.
but you know who would do that…
“C-caleb, th-that… oh my god… what are you doing-? Mmph! Shit,” you gasp and pant, looking down between your legs to marvel at the black weapon adorned with silver attachments sliding through your slick folds.
Caleb’s lilac eyes are on you, watching you from between your knees, and he has a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches the confusion, fear, and arousal take precedent on your face.
This type of debauchery is only something you could take part in with someone you trust with your whole life. Caleb already knows all your secrets… What’s one more sick kink to add to his arsenal of blackmail?
“What’s the matter, pipsqueak? This is only such a small step up from my hand.” He taunts, raising his robotic arm up to give you a teasing wave.
His other hand is carefully dragging the handgun up and down, watching as you coat his gun in the most beautiful of shine. Truthfully, he’s considering doing this with all of his guns. He needs his pretty girl to christen all of his weapons. You know… for luck.
“Ah-!” you gasp and tense as you feel him aim the weapon right at your small bundle of nerves, applying a small amount of pressure before he skillfully maneuvers the gun in small circles.
Your hands are fisting at the sheets, slightly pulling at them as you try to take your mind off of what’s happening to you. He’s using a gun to bring you to the edge, and the worst part was you’ve never been this close to finishing so quickly before.
Your stomach tightens, and you’re on the cusp. Your legs try to clamp around Caleb’s arm and the gun, but his other hand presses to your knee and forces you to keep your legs open.
“Tsk. Come on. Let me see~ I wanna see you unravel on my gun,” his eyes are glimmering with mischief and perversion as he applies more pressure, and he flicks his wrist in tighter circles, pinpointing your pleasure center down with such ease.
“Fuck-! Caleb… I-“ you can’t even get the words out before you feel your body snap like a bowstring. Your pleasure ripples through your body in waves as your walls clench around nothing.
“What a pretty sight,” he murmurs proudly as he finally relieves some of the pressure. “I wanna see it happen again,” he proclaims, sliding the gun further down towards your entrance.
“Wait- You can’t be serious, C-caleb,” you choke out, squirming backwards on the bed away from the handgun being pointed towards your very core.
“Dead serious, pipsqueak,” he affirms as he gives you that cold gaze he’s mastered since becoming a colonel. “What? Don’t you trust me?”
He flips the gun upside down, tilting the handle towards your clit as the muzzle plugs your entrance.
Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you find yourself stilling for him. Some deep depraved part of you is just as enticed as it is repulsed.
“Look at you being such a good girl,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to the inner part of your knee before he slides the barrel of the gun inside you.
“O-oh!” you gasp, arching your back off the bed as you squeeze your eyes closed. The metal isn’t very cold anymore, and it’s adequately lubed with your arousal from earlier.
“Shh, shh.” he whispers as his hands slowly work the gun further inside you. His eyes are enamored with the sight of your puffy folds, happily swallowing his gun like the needy slut you are. “Feels good to let go, don’t it?”
You’re too focused on the feeling of his gun slowly sliding in and out of you. Your warm walls hug around the barrel. You’re completely baffled at how you’re getting so turned on from this. You should be scared out of your mind, but instead, your hips are rolling, trying to seek out more stimulation from the weapon.
“Sooo eager. God, you’re so beautiful,” his voice is husky as he whispers. He can feel the strain in his pants from his erection, but he’s not looking to relieve himself. This is all about you.
He tilts the handle of the gun upwards, pressing the butt of the handle against your small bundle of nerves. The angle of the gun making it possible to stimulate twice as much.
“Oh my— shit, Caleb!” you’re stumbling over words as your cunt flutters around the gun. You’re already close again.
“That’s right, pretty. Cum on my fucking gun. Come on. Give it to me,” he demands, gripping the gun tightly with one hand as he’s pumping it in and out quicker. The sound of metal clicking and squelching echoes in the room.
His face is twisted in pure concentration, and his muscles flex with each time he moves the gun inside you. His chain bouncing around his neck as he works you down.
Your body goes taut, and you lift your hips up off the bed. Your slick is gathered beneath you onto the sheets. You’re dripping.
Your ears begin to ring, and you shout his name as you squeeze around his gun. His hands become more methodical, pumping the gun leisurely with his hand.
You can hear him let out a low growl as he watches your pussy constrict. You’re such a pitiful thing — trying to milk his gun as if it could even give you anything.
You’re gasping for air as he slowly pulls the gun out of you. Its shiny metal was glistening in your slick. Caleb smirks to himself, knowing that every time he cleans it, he’s going to have to plunge it into you again.
“Messy girl,” he grins as he admires his weapon. He then slowly brings it up to his lips before his tongue lulls out, and he licks your juices straight off of his gun, savoring your taste.
“You’re sick,” you pant, unable to tear your eyes away from the downright pornographic sight.
“Says the one who just came on my gun like a psychopath.”
Leon's no stickler for wedding traditions. But when no something blue has you feeling blue, he might just have a fix.
f / m fluff and cuteness before you walk down the aisle. leon is a sweetheart. one or two bad puns. you're a lil anxious but that's okay!! ft. your beloved's neck trauma </3
word count: 888 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist
a/n: for zo from this ask. i got asked about what a wedding between leon and reader in my agent au might look like and this is SO BAD I'M SORRY. I WROTE THIS AT 1 AM WITH CLASS AT 7 THE NEXT DAY. posted on ao3 first bc i was too sleepy to make the tumblr banner 🤧 *gestures vaguely hoping you still like it*
“One peek. For half a second.”
“It’s bad luck.”
“Since when have you cared about being lucky? You’ve never needed luck to land a bullet.”
Shoulder pressed to your dressing room’s door, laughter flutters in your chest. “You don’t get it. It’s the principle.”
“What kind of fuckass principle-”
“Leon!”
“-gets to tell me I can’t see my wife?”
“Soon-to-be,” you smile, picking at the white lace of your bodice.
“Oh man.” You practically hear your still-fiancé’s fingers fly up to pinch the bridge his nose. “Sweetheart, you should’ve told me you were such a goody-two shoes before I put that ring on your finger.”
“You didn’t get the memo after I’ve been landing you in hot water with Hunnigan for three years now?”
Leon’s palms clap dejectedly against the door. Half-surrender, half-plea.
“For the millionth time, go away,” you giggle. You lean your back against the door. Imagine him doing the same when the wood paneling seems to press back. Breathe for a beat too many before saying, “You’ll see me in a bit, I just…I need the luck for today to be perfect.”
You think you’ve finally won when he goes silent. For a second, anyway.
“So that’s what it is.”
“Hm?”
“Are you nervous?” Leon asks quietly.
“What girl isn’t nervous on their wedding day?” you whisper back.
“Does it have to be? What if our wedding isn’t perfect?”
Talk about a surefire way to spike a bride’s heart rate. You frantically check your reflection in the vanity mirror. Clutch your bouquet tighter lest it fall fantastically apart at his words.
“See, this is why you’re not supposed to be here,” you hiss at the door, “now I’m panicking!”
One last roll call. You’re sure you’ve planned for everything. Your something old: your mother’s wedding veil. Something new, the diamonds on your neck. Something borrowed: the roses you’ll carry to the altar, gathered from your maid of honor’s garden that you’ll make sure to toss back. Something blue…
“Shit!” you cry out.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I forgot my something blue, Leon, I can’t walk without it!”
“You’re sure?”
Of course you’re sure. It’s Wedding 101, the one rule you can’t break. Everything you’ve been through with the man on the other side of the door has led up to this moment. Your jobs never allowed you the privilege of making mountains out of molehills, but today? This is the moment you’d been promised would be perfect – in spite of the endless trials and tribulations the universe seemed intent on imposing on the both of you.
Sleepless nights. Far-flung disappearances. Knives at your throats. Knives at each other’s throats that one time with the parasites. Thanklessly saving the world from the brink of disaster only to have each other to lean on at the end of the day. Over and over, falling in love with the only person who understands the fatal mistake of taking normalcy for granted.
Just once, you wished you could have it like everybody else waiting for you to walk down the aisle.
“Open the door, sweetheart.”
Your voice cracks. The no doesn’t come out like it should.
A muffled swish of fabric sounds from the other side, and Leon repeats himself, tacking on a soft please this time. “Do you trust me?”
Nobody more than him.
“Just stick out your leg,” he murmurs. “I won’t look.”
An odd request. You crack open the door. Hesitantly step out your right foot.
“Little more, please.”
If you’re not mistaken, the faintest of sighs sounds the moment you do. Leon presumably drops to his knees at the muffled thud of carpet that ensues, and it’s suddenly your turn to gasp. He’s reaching up your dress, fingers skirting over your leg, along your thigh-
“What are you doing?” you squeak, gripping the doorframe.
“Not that I’m into the garter thing, it’s kinda gross, actually – phew, you’re not wearing your holster – but maybe this will work.”
Smooth, silky fabric encircles your thigh in seconds.
“Too tight?”
“Mm-mm…”
He chuckles softly and ducks out, taking care to fix your skirts as if nothing ever happened, looking decidedly the other way the whole time. You pull your foot back into the safety of your dressing room and bunch up your dress in confusion to find-
A navy bow tie wrapped around your upper thigh.
“How’s that?” Leon ventures hopefully.
It’s something. It’s blue. You relay this to him, disbelief eventually bubbling into laughter.
“But now you don’t have a bow tie, stupid!”
“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get rid of it? You know how much I-”
“-hate things around your neck.”
“Right?” The exasperation in his voice makes you giggle. “And they wouldn’t listen when I told them, baby. I told you, I’m hopeless without you.”
Leon’s hand reaches out on a mission to find yours, one that it fulfils, complete with a kiss on your knuckles. A mission with ulterior motives; you pretend not to see the flash of something blue that glances up at you. The blue you can’t wait to wake up to for the rest of your life.
“Perfect wedding or not, I just wanna marry you. Don’t you?”
You don’t save the I do for the altar.
What’s one more imperfect tradition?
click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!
likes kill fics :( comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
oh my god vivi. this has me deceased. i need to marry this stupid idiot asap like WHY DID THIS HAVE ME GIGGLING LIKE AN IDIOT FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES NOW?? I'M GOING TO THINK ABOUT THIS FOREVER. can't believe fuckass tumblr didnt notify me of this 😮💨 it sorta gives b99 and like cute af romcom vibes i love it so much. i love you for this 👩❤️💋👩
CW: age gap relationship (legal), older!reader (early 30s), emotional dependency, found family that turns complicated, angst, hurt/comfort
Caleb was twenty when he moved into the apartment next door—a young father with a three-year-old daughter and eyes that already carried the kind of weariness most people didn't earn until middle age.
He had just started university on a hard-won scholarship, working graveyard shifts at a convenience store to keep the lights on. The baby had come first; his education and everything else came second. His ex was gone before the dust settled—no note, no closure—just a quiet apartment and a child who didn't yet know how to miss her mother.
He called his daughter Pipsqueak. She was tiny, loud and in his words, the only thing that kept him going. Sometimes, when he left for his shifts, you'd see her pressed to his leg, little hands clutching at the fabric, and him crouching low, whispering something only she could hear.
You met them before you ever saw them. The first night they moved in, laughter spilled faintly through the thin walls—soft, high-pitched, the unmistakable sound of a child. You could hear the rhythm of their life through the plaster: the scrape of a chair, the gentle murmur of bedtime stories, the creak of a tired parent pacing a small room. It had been years since you'd heard that kind of warmth in this building.
You were in your early thirties, a mid-level office worker whose life had shrunk to the size of your apartment. You filled the quiet with folded laundry, watered plants that never grew, and made dinner for one.
People said you had an old soul, but really, you were just tired—tired of being dependable, useful and invisible. When Caleb moved in, it was like the sound of life returning to a house that had forgotten how to breathe.
It started simple. You helped him fix a broken outlet, lent him detergent, and showed him which store sold toys cheaper. You hadn't meant to linger, but you did.
Then one evening he came home with a plushie from the clearance bin, grinning like it was gold. You helped him snip the tag off, watched his daughter squeal with delight, and something in your chest ached: warm and dangerous all at once.
He was polite, soft-spoken, and always apologising for taking up space. The more you saw him, the more you noticed how young he still was—how his hands trembled when he was tired, how he smiled like it cost him something.
Soon, you were babysitting Pipsqueak when he worked the night shift. Then you were bringing over food, proofreading his essays, slipping a few bills into his grocery bag when you realised he was skipping meals. His gratitude came quietly, heavily, almost reverently. You told yourself it was kindness, but it started to feel like something else.
His daughter adored you. She'd run into your apartment without knocking, giggling as she climbed into your lap to stir pancake batter. One morning, she called you "Mama" by accident. Caleb laughed softly, but there was a break in his voice when he said, "Guess she knows who's really raising her."
As weeks blurred into months, the lines between your homes began to dissolve. Toys appeared under your couch, textbooks on your counter, his jacket over your chair. You stopped noticing when your routines merged. He'd wait for you after your shifts, cooking dinner, fixing things that didn't need fixing, humming lullabies that weren't for the baby. You told yourself it was harmless—a bit of shared comfort between two lonely people.
But the whispers came anyway. Neighbours said you'd "taken him in," that you were playing house with someone else’s child, with a man who should’ve been calling you ma’am. You ignored them, though a part of you hated how the shame sometimes felt sweet.
He began to call your apartment home. At first, it was accidental then deliberate. "We're home now," he'd murmur when he dropped his daughter off, voice low like a prayer. You never corrected him.
One night, after putting his daughter to bed, he sat beside you on the couch, exhaustion trembling through his body. "You're the only one who makes it feel like I'm not failing," he said, voice breaking in the quiet. When his head dropped onto your shoulder, you didn't push him away.
After that, something shifted—not loud, not sudden, just the slow rearranging of a life around someone else's presence. He started spending more time in your apartment than his own, leaving a trail of small domestic ghosts behind: a coffee cup by the sink, a half-read book, his daughter's socks in your laundry. You'd wake to the sound of him in the kitchen, whispering to little pips to keep quiet so you could sleep a little longer.
He was careful, almost reverent, as if afraid he might break whatever fragile peace the three of you had built. Sometimes you'd find him sitting at your table long after midnight, hands clasped, staring at nothing. When you asked if he was okay, he'd just smile and say, "I like it here. It feels safe."
You tried to end it once. You told him it wasn't fair—the age gap, the dependence, the way people talked. He just stared at you, hollow-eyed, and said, "Everyone leaves. I thought you wouldn't."
So you stayed.
And maybe you shouldn't have, but Caleb made it hard to regret. He loved with the kind of passion that felt too big for his age—like he'd been waiting his whole life to finally be allowed to love someone back. His kisses were earnest and grounding, nothing like the fumbling hands and careless mouths from the men you'd waste your thirties on. He kissed you like he meant it, like he was trying to memorise the taste of you before life could take it away.
You only had time when pipsqueak was at daycare, and he didn't have classes. Those few hours in the quiet afternoon light felt stolen, suspended between guilt and tenderness. You'd trace the curve of his jaw and wonder how someone so good could've been left behind. You couldn't understand how his ex could walk away from him—he was everything you used to dream about when you were younger.
If only you were the same age. If only it didn't feel wrong every time you caught sight of your reflection in his violet eyes—you, older and tired; him, still full of something unspoiled. But you stayed anyway, guilt and all, because leaving him felt so much worse.
reader i need you to lock in really quick and realise that being older shouldn't make you feel guilty like the man loves youuuu pleaseeee they're so good for each other oh my god i'm going to actually cry. again, realistic as hell and genuinely heart wrenching and filling in the best way ♡♡♡
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