~The cold wind busts through the woods, shrouded by mist, yet he finds her by her light that gives him warmth.~ đđ«
Hi Everyone~ itâs Kiyo đ I sometimes call my mutualsâlovesâ âplatonicallyâ She or her/ 20đ more about me here - Currently under Rafayelâs spell and Xavierâs warmth
@ta-ni-ya â„ïž and I are in collaboration where we combine her artistic skills with my writing abilities to create an stories for our ocs!đ€âš âĄâ„ïž ^Aus can be found down here!âĄâ€ïž^
âI kindly inform everyone that I ship my OC with Tokito Muichiro (From kny) â Her Name Is Kiyoka Watanabe, so the content here is also about them (MuiKiyo) - rp account!âš @ask-watanabe-kiyoka
@kiyo-niya for our account! We will be posting some NSFW there, kindly DNI if you are uncomfortable đâ€ïž remember we warned you already â ïžâŒïž
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Ongoing series: Kiyoka Watanabe and Kirika Shimizu â âĄ
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Appreciating my amazing friends here đ€â€ïž
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Disclaimer:
In some of my AUs I will age up Muichiro in the age range of 16 to 20 it depends on whenever I feel like writing about a certain fic about MuiKiyo or KiyoMui but no NSFW since most of my mutuals or audience are minors and so on, I wonât explain further.
We can make our Kny OCs interact I would love to consider that! Only if you are interested in the way I write them maybe? it's more focused on romantic stuff or light stories, whenever I plan to write a story with a heavy topic, there would be warnings!
No, I won't be taking requests yet on OC X Canon or Character X reader, for now, I would explore my way of writing in the things I'm inspired by or interested in. Like @ta-ni-yaâs hehe, if you are one of my closest mutual maybe I would consider that, it dependsđ€đ please I don't want to feel overwhelmed
Again I will repeat, please bear with me, I never have written a fanfic before, I just create scenarios and role-play with some mutuals, where I can share ideas or develop my Au's
Lastly, I don't draw or do art, but I want to learn and explore that in the future, so the drawings or art that you see in my blog are works of my amazing mutuals (not mine)who are artists! Go follow them, they are mentioned above ^^
Love ya'lls thank you for taking the time to read this mwah~! -Kiyođ§Ą
a soft morning with Rafayel - inspired by the "before sunrise" 5 star memory - wc; 387
The faint call of your name stirs you from your slumber, a warm hand inches along the side of your body and settles on your jaw as your eyes flutter open and attempt to focus on the blurry figure in front of you. You instinctively nuzzle your face against the palm that cradles you, a small hum leaving your lips as you do so.
âHi, baby.â You whisper, your voice still thick with sleepâsimilar to how the clouds on the horizon continue to cling to the sea just beyond your bedroom window. âDid you just get into bed? I thought you said you'd only be an hour or two?â
Your attempt to chastise Rafayel's actions pairs poorly with how utterly adorable he thinks you look right now, with sleep still etched into your eyes and the absentminded way you're pressing yourself against his hand there isn't much you could say or do that would wipe the lovesick look from his face.
âDon't worry about it, angel.â He leans closer to you, his hand dropping from your face to your waist, and he plants a delicate kiss onto your forehead before speaking quietly. âI didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry.â
You hum, your eyes are already droopy, and Rafayel knows that in a few minutes you'll be fast asleep again. Only this time he'll be by your side.
âMâkay.â You sigh dreamily, âas long as you're coming to bed nowâŠâ
He answers your unasked question by lying his head down next to yours and slipping one arm beneath your neckâhe places the other firmly across your upper back, enveloping your sleepy frame completely. When he pulls you flush against his body the smell of paint and cologne washes over you and the last remaining wakefulness drains from your features as you breathe in his scent.
âI'll show you everything I was working on later, all right cutie?â Rafayel whispers against your head, before pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. âSweet dreams, you.â
Rafayel's eyes flutter closed as your head nuzzles further against his neck. He feels your lips leave a gentle kiss just below his ear, and the tips of his ears redden surprisingly quickly. The sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the room, the perfect white noise to lull the artist to sleep.
rafayel transforms into the ruthless sea god while he's inside you
it happens while his head is buried in the crook of your shoulder. you can't see his face. you aren't even aware he's changed. he just stills for a moment and inhales deeply, tickling your neck with his nose.
then he shifts a little, just enough for his cock to slip a little further inside youâtesting.
he'd been rolling his hips into you in long, languid strokes. it'd been lazy and sensual. a stark contrast to the way he nudges into you now, all coiled tension.
there's no warning when the tension snaps.
he draws himself from you, right to the tip, then drives deep in one smooth motion. again and again, without hesitation, his cock spears through your wallsâhips colliding into you with a weighty, almost brutal force.
and when you gasp out his name as you bounce against the mattress beneath him, he finally lifts himself from your shoulder so you can see the scales adorning his cheeks and the blue glow of his eyes.
there's no gentleness in them as he looks upon you, only the raging hedonism of a god with no one to answer to but himself.
without word, he sits back on his heels, grips your hips, and begins tugging you onto his cock. it's inhuman divine strength only you can overpower.
but you don't. instead, you bask in the mind-numbing ferocityâa willing sacrifice to your god's hunger.
đč.á | stoner!rafayel can get high from just about anything.. including you
not proofread
stoner!rafayel who is usually always high, no matter day or night.
stoner!rafayel who claims that he gets the most of his 'artistic abilities' when he's as high as a kite.
stoner!rafayel who will text you to come over in the most needy way, even if it's already past midnight, then proceed to deny it in the morning.
stoner!rafayel who, when he finally gets you to smoke with him, always gives you his joint instead of rolling a separate one up for you, claiming that he was just too comfortable to get up.
stoner!rafayel who gets hard whenever he sees you smoke because he imagines your pretty lips wrapped around his cock instead of the blunt. but when his imagination finally comes to life, he doesn't know what to do with himself.
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would it be too pathetic to say he never wanted this moment to end? maybe, but he couldn't care less about how he looked right now.
his head was thrown back against the bed's pillow, hand covering his mouth in an attempt to mute the whoreish sounds escaping him, but it was no use when he was being this loud.
"f-feels so.. so good!"
his whole face was flushed red and glistening with sweat, he didn't know if it was from the weed or you, probably both.
your tongue lapped at his tip, swirling before taking him back fully in your mouth, relishing in the way his hand on your head held you there, muffled moans and hisses finding their way to your ears.
rafayel's hand that was resting on your head seemed to grow a mind of its own as he suddenly pushed your head down on his cock, causing you to gag on it unexpectedly, earning rafayel a glare which only made him get off more.
suddenly, you pulled off with a wet pwah! earning a startled whine from rafayel's end and his eyes shooting open from the unexpected loss of your warm throat.
"hey! w..whatâmmph!"
you cut off his protests with two fingers in his mouth, your other hand still lazily stroking his leaking cock, which caused his eyes to flutter deliciously and moan around your digits.
"poor you.. maybe if you stay paitent i'll keep going for you, got it?"
that was all rafayel needed to hear before he was nodding feverishly, tears threatened to build up in his eyes from how much he needed you back on him, his hips bucking into your grasp.
scoffing, you took your fingers out his mouth, glistening with his spit, before trailing them down and circling his nipple, causing him to yelp before you leaned back down and licked a stripe up his cock before enveloping him back in your mouth.
rafayel's head fell forward, strands of hair sticking messily to his forehead from his sweat. a whimper followed from the dual sensation, yet he didn't want it to stop.
neither of you knew he was going to cum so unexpectedly, the only warning was in the way his hand suddenly flew back to your hair, grabbing a fistful of your hair to steady himself, but not to control your movement as he came down your throat.
an erotic pop! filled the room as you pulled off from him, wiping the cum that ran down your chin with the back of your hand as you took in the sight before you.
rafayel's head was buzzing, his hair a messy and sweaty halo as his eyes fought to stay open, not from exhaustion, just from how much pleasure rushed through him, and how much he wanted more.
his hand fumbled onto the nightstand next to the bed, blindly feeling for the unfinished roll-up of weed, and fingers trembling with the aftershocks as he clumsily tried to light it.
he was so focused that he didn't notice what you were doing until you suddenly sank down on his still hard cock right as the flame flickered and caught on the paper.
"shit!â'stoomuch!-"
stuttering, he tried his hardest to force the word 'sensitive' out, but it was no use, especially when you plucked the joint out of his fingers and took a hit, your fingers wrapping around his chin, catching his lips in a desperate kiss, all while passing the smoke to him.
he wasn't ready for you to ride him, after all, the most you usually both got to were high makeout sessions, but the sensations were so shocking from the mix of weed and lust that he didn't mind you trying something new.
with shaky fingers, you moved the blunt back to his lips, almost giggling at the way he simply just took it, it was second nature just by how he could smoke, even if it was while he was getting his brain turned into mush.
planting your hands on his chest, your own moans and pants slipped out, hips alternating from rocking and moving up and down just to bring you both closer to the edge.
rafayel nearly choked on the smoke as you shifted your hips in a way that both caused you to falter, your moans mixing together in a pornographic symphony. which is all it took for you to come undone on his cock.
"fuck! 'm cumming, raf!"
your cunt gushed over his cock, soaking it in a way that only made everything much more hotter, and rafayel found himself erratically bucking his hips back up into you, chasing your high to meet his.
his whole body froze before shaking, finally emptying his load again, a sound caught between a moan and a gasp finding its way out. all the sensations heightened from the weed.
rafayel buried his face in your neck, whimpers still following as his cock twitched inside of your heat, eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming pleasure.
eventually, you pushed yourself off, your thighs quaking before falling limp on the side of his chest, a dopey smile on both of your faces from the two types of high you were both experiencing.
"wannaâŠ"
rafayel's voice was soft and raspy, something that usually happened after he smoked, and you guessed he was going to say 'wanna sleep' or 'wanna smoke', but you weren't expecting what he said.
"wanna go again."
right. you forgot that for whatever reason, getting high also made his stamina unnervingly high.
summary: After rescuing a captive selkie from one of EVER's ships, you find yourself on the run from the organization desperate to reclaim him. Navigating these dangerous waters is hard enough as a pirate captain. The last thing you ever expected was to start falling for the mythical creature aboard your ship.
tags: pirate au, fantasy, slow burn romance, some steampunk elements, typical pirate au violence, blood, implied torture, minor character death, angst
abstract: your boyfriend just does things that makes your heart flutter and your panties dampen <3
ft. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb
cw: insp by the tiktok trend ; fluff + smut; body worship, somno, riding, fingering | [implied short reader with caleb + chubby reader w/ rafayel; implied yandere! caleb] - unedited <3
âč àŁȘ Ë rafayel qi ; the way heâs so clingy
whenever rafayel manages to get some time with you, of course he's going to be clingy. his arms are going to be glued around your plush tummy for the whole time he's lounging around with you. his head resting on your shoulder while doing any task with you in front of him. even when he paints, he'd have you sitting between his legs or on his lap, one hand caressing and rubbing circles on your love handles or plush thighs, while the other focuses on the canvas in front of him.
but of course, his clinginess isn't only limited outside the bedroom. and that alone, gets you so turned on.
"shh, don't run away. stay w'me..." he'd whine, an arm wrapped around your tummy and only tightening the more you arched your back away from him. it was tortuousâabsolutely insane. normally, he'd be sassy with it, still having a little bit of a joking tone, but when he's fucking you, holding your leg up while he bullies his cock inside you from the side, he turns so needy and clingy, and you fucking love it.
"so pretty... so gorgeous... c'mon, i like it when you're close to me..."
âč àŁȘ Ë sylus qin ; the way he moves you gently by your waist
even though you're at a stage in your relationship where you're comfortable with everything sylus does, you still find your heart beat faster every time sylus gently moves you by your waist to get you out of his way.
"move, sweetheart." he'd speak so smoothly while he just moves you so gently, so . of course you'd be acting all shy and flustered. but oh, even when you two have sex, his touches just hold so much weight.
heâd be sitting on one of his elaborate chairs, with you propped up on his lap grinding against his cock before he could ever be inside you. then, even when you try to sink down on him, sylus would have his hands on your hips, slowly pushing you down and helping while you cried out.
âdonât cry, pretty girl. shhh, donât cryâŠâ youâd be clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him while you could feel him fill you upâand not even being able to take all of him. you would be struggling, but of course, heâd help you. he'd angle his own hips, slightly slouch while keeping the hold on you firm while slowly slamming you onto him. and then when you choose to move your hips all sensually in figure-8s, his light touches would continue and he would rub circles on your skinâa contrast to how he'd move you.
"shit...yeah, sweetheart. keep moving those hips like that."
âč àŁȘ Ë zayne li ; the way he lifts his sleeves up + holds eye contact
you know that zayne gets busy as a doctor. but you can't help but just stare at he way he lifts his sleeves up whenever he has a demanding task. you really can't help but stare at the way his arms. the way that the veins on his forearms would be more evident every time he flexed without even knowing how that affected you.
"you know, some people try to be more subtle when they stare." heâd say something like that, because of course zayne pays attention to how youâd stare. he'd notice how you'd look away or how your expression would falter every time he held eye contact with you. you just got flustered over everything.
oh and it's especially even hotter when he enacts on his observations.
"so impatient for me, aren't you?"
heâd roll up his sleeves, crouching down while youâd sit on his desk, panties pulled down while he played with your pussy. he would be rubbing on your clit with one hand and thrusting his pretty fingers with the other; a slightly flustered expression would grace his face. but god, every time he did so, every time he would do that, he would look up at you and hold eye contact, wanting to see your cute little reactions as he ruined you on his desk.
âč àŁȘ Ë xavier shen ; the way his voice gets when he wakes up
there's something about the way that xavier's voice gets every time he wakes up beside you. maybe it's the way that it's much quieter and deeper than usual, or that hot vocal fry that adds onto his usually meek voice. he can get quite clingy, especially in the morning, but the way he says things when he barely wakes upâthe way he speaks so gently, makes you so flustered.
"shh... just 3 more minutes. let me just hold you for a bit more." he'd snuggle up against you, muttering some weak pleas on how he doesn't want to get out of this position with you just yet. and same thing for morning sexâŠ
âdonât wanna get out of this positionâŠâ heâd have you in pronebone, with his arms caging you and yours wrapped around his neck while heâd slowly fuck you, his body and weight pressed against you. the both of you would still be half asleep, clinging onto each other under the covers.
maybe if you were in a hurry, youâd yelp a little âwe have to get up!â, but your pleas would fall upon deaf ears.
âmmm..not yet.â
âč àŁȘ Ë caleb xia ; the way he would condescendingly tease you
the nickname he's implaced upon you being 'pipsqueak' is teasing and condescending enough, but sometimes when he's feeling really sassy, caleb just keeps going with that. it's bad enough that he's taller than you, but he would just crouch downâa smile etched on his face and speak with a tone that was laced with playful malice.
"mhm? yeah? how nice." and of course, even with that dark tone and accompanying mocking smile, your heart just does a little leap in your chest; you can't help it, despite him doing so just to mess with you. something is too high up? he'd mess with you with a 'awh, can't reach up and get it?'
but when you have sex, that condescending tone gets worse; his teasing overall gets worse. "awh, pips. can't take it, huh? c'mon sweet girl... you can do it, can't you?"
even in the most basic position like missionary, it's hard to get away from whatever remarks he might make, but regardless, it was still hot. just the way he would slam into you, pressing your tummy bulge hard with his free hand while he held your hand with his other, tangling your fingers together.
oh god... he was mean. you would be crying and heâd have such a dark look on his face, relishing in the fact that heâs the only one to have you like this.
because he knows damn well you like that.
-
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a/n: first lads post ever... what do we think...? (i'm so fucking scared i'm a baby lads fan i'm not that seasoned yet...)
The room is dark and still, save for the silent fluttering of the curtain by the open window and the lone car passing by in the night. Rafayel's arms are wrapped around you, his shirtless body cool and comforting like a weighted blanket on your stomach. His face rests against your chest as he sleeps, curly hair sticking up awkwardly on one side. You can't help but smile at his peaceful expression, brushing your thumb over the beauty mark on his nose. You unwrap his arms from around your waist and wiggle out of his grip, gently adjusting him so that his body rests comfortably on its side with his head on a pillow.
You slip out of bed. Your steps are silent and careful as you tiptoe around the bedroom to get dressed, putting on your hunter's uniform. You walk back around to the nightstand to grab your phone when Rafayel's hand suddenly grasps your wrist.
"Where are you going?" Rafayel mumbles, voice groggy and eyes heavy with slumber. His face is half buried in the pillows, with a thin sheet draped over his body like silk gliding over a lovely sculpture. "Don't leaveâŠ"
You shift your hand to intertwine your fingers with his, leaning down. "I have an early shift today, remember? I'll be back in the afternoon, don't worry." You press a kiss to his forehead, the soft touch of lips like heaven against his soft skin. "Sleep well."
"Be safeâŠ"
"I will."
Your hand pulls away from his, drifting away from his grasp. Rafayel watches you leave through his drowsy gaze, hearing you quietly shut the bedroom door behind you. He tries his best to fall back asleep. He wraps the sheet tighter around his body, clinging to the fabric tightly. It's not enough to replace your warmth. Time passes. The sun peeks over the horizon, bright rays piercing the gap between the curtains and the window. Rafayel sits up in bed, groaning softly as he rubs his eyes. A thin strip of orange separates the land from the midnight sky like burning lava. He feels your absence like the night sky feeling the absence of the moon, evening tides with no push or pull there to guide them from the ocean to the shoreline.
It's not the same without you. Rafayel can't sleep. He supposes he can work on a painting until you get back. He'll wait just as he does every morning for your returnânervous and hoping, with the light of your love resting anxiously in his heart, for you to come back safely to him once more.
Synopsis: After Rafayel lets a rumor about him and another girl spread just to test you, the tension between you snaps once more. Between biting arguments and desperate kisses, he pushes you to admit what you both already knowâthat this is more than rivalry, more than sex, and neither of you can keep pretending otherwise.
Content warnings: College AU, Rivals to lovers, Jealousy, Heavy Sexual tension, Kissing, Making out in the closet, Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Possessiveness, Riding, Face fucking, Oral sex, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Overstimulation, Dirty talk, Manhandling, Marking/bruising, Jealousy-fueled intimacy, Consensual but rough dynamics, Rafayel gets jealous, mc wants to piss him off
Word count: 7.3k
Author's note: I'M BACK FROM MILAN GUYS arghhh i had this ready for posting but they nuked my acc so it just deleted itself from queue..........anywayyy here it is~ hope you enjoy, cuties MWAH
chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 â ao3
Chapter 3 - Sex & Feelings
Admitting the truth to yourself was always the hardest pill to swallow, especially when it came to feelings for the most infuriating, insufferable person you knew. And yet, there it was, lingering in the quiet corners of your chest: you had them. Feelings. For Rafayel. The thought alone was enough to make you grit your teeth, because if anyone in the world knew how to make those feelings unbearable, it was him. He seemed determined to push every button you had, as if he could sense exactly how close you were to cracking.
The first time you slept with him had been easy enough to dismiss. A slip. A mistake. Something that could be brushed off, shoved into the shadows of a drunken night and ignored until it rotted away. Pretending it never happened was almost fun in its own rightâwatching the way it ticked him off when you acted indifferent, as though his touch hadnât burned itself into your skin.
But then came the second time. And the second time destroyed any illusion that it was just coincidence. Because having sex with Rafayel wasnât forgettable. It was maddening and breathtaking all at once, infuriating in how much you wanted him and devastating in how much he gave.
But desire and feelings werenât the same thing. You told yourself that again and again.
For more than two years you had played this game with himâacademic rivals, relentless competitors, sparring back and forth in a rhythm that had become second nature. He challenged you, frustrated you, lit you up in ways no one else ever could. And you clung to that dynamic with everything you had, because it was safe. Because as long as it was rivalry, as long as it was just sharp words and bickering tension, it wasnât love.
To admit youâd fallen for Rafayel would be to admit defeat. And you werenât ready to lose. Not to him. Not like that.
After the second time you slept together, Rafayel wasnât the least bit surprised when you acted like it had never happened. You had been moaning for him, gripping him, trembling under his handsâsilently begging in every way except the one he wanted. Because of course you wouldnât beg him with words. Not when admitting it meant surrender, and surrender wasnât in your vocabulary.Â
So you played dumb. You acted like your body hadnât opened to him so sweetly, like you hadnât clung to him with every shuddering breath. And when the sheets cooled and morning came, you slipped back into that insufferable indifference, brushing him off like nothing more than a headache youâd outgrown. And Rafayel, infuriatingly smug as he was, let you play.
Because he knew you too well. Knew how naturally combative you were, how hard you pushed back against anything that felt too close to vulnerability. If there was one thing heâd learned from you, it was that your stubbornness was less armor and more coping mechanism. You ran. Always. And right now, you were running from this.
He wasnât above playing a little dirty. If you wanted to run, he would give you something to trip over.Â
It took almost nothing for him to find the perfect pawn. Aylinâcampus darling, social butterfly, and walking rumor mill. All it required was a handful of casual comments, a carefully staged smile, his hand brushing hers just long enough to be noticed. She did the rest for him, as eager as ever to spread the story of Rafayel and her tangled in his sheets.
Normally, Rafayel would have shut down talk like that with a disinterested scoff, letting everyone know just how little he cared about gossip. But not this time. No, this time he let it breathe. Let it spread like wildfire through the hallways, whispered between classes, giggled about at lunch tables. He let it crawl through campus until he was certain it would reach your ears. Because if he knew you at all, he knew one thing for sure. Your reaction would tell him everything he needed to know.
He was almost excited at the thought of pushing your buttons, of watching you squirm the way youâd made him at that party. Youâd let some guy press too close, his hands wandering where they didnât belong, and Rafayel had stood there and watchedâjaw tight, tongue bitten bloody behind a smirk. Hypocritical, maybe. He had no right to expect anything from you. But it didnât stop the burn in his chest, the twist in his gut at how easily youâd let someone else into that space he had already claimed a hundred different ways.
So yes, maybe it was petty, letting this rumor spread. Maybe it was reckless. But he would be damned if he let you dismiss him, dismiss this , like it hadnât happened at all. He wasnât going to be some forgettable slip in the dark, a mistake you could erase with a laugh.
Whatever this thing between you was, it was messy and complicated, tangled in rivalry and sharp words, but it was there. It pulsed in every glance, snapped in every fight, and more often than not lately, it broke wide open until you were in his bed, your body saying everything your mouth refused to.
And if rumors were what it took to see just how much it mattered to you, then so be it.
The audacity of this man truly baffled you. It didnât take long before the rumor reached your earsâRafayel and Aylin, tangled in his sheets. Supposedly the night after that party. The same night after you and him had torn into each other with teeth and hands, jealousy thick in the air, your bodies devouring each other until the line between rivalry and ruin had blurred completely.
You nearly laughed at the absurdity. The sheer prick really had a death wish, didnât he?
The thought followed you as you stormed across campus, your boots clipping hard against the pavement, intent only on caffeine before you lost your mind. The rumor shouldnât have mattered. He could sleep with whoever he wantedâit wasnât like you were exclusive, it wasnât like you were even together. But Aylin? And the day after? After heâd snarled against your neck that he was jealous, after heâd admitted in that ragged, unguarded voice that he couldnât stand seeing anyone else on you⊠only to turn around and give everyone the impression heâd happily taken someone else home?
Your blood boiled just thinking about it.
Petty. Thatâs what it was. Childishly, gloriously petty. And the worst part was you couldnât even bring yourself to blame him. Because it was exactly the sort of thing you would have done if the roles were reversed.
Still, if Rafayel thought this stunt would have you chasing after him, begging for an explanation, he had another thing coming. All it did was harden your resolve. Whatever happened between you that night, no matter how good, no matter how maddeningly addictiveâit meant nothing. And if he wanted to play games, then fine. You would play better.
You had your coffee clutched in hand, sitting in the shade near the building for your next class, scrolling absently through your phone. The caffeine did nothing to quiet the irritation still gnawing at you, the rumor running circles in your head like a song you couldnât shut off. You muttered under your breath as you texted a friend about meeting later that night, the words slipping out sharper than you intended. âCocky bastard.â
You didnât even notice the shadow until a familiar voice cut through, infuriatingly smooth and smug, carrying that mix of boredom and amusement only he could manage. âWho, me?â
Your eyes closed for half a second, more to stop yourself from throwing the coffee right at his head than anything else. You looked up at him with an expression carefully blank, your voice dropping to a cold hum. âIf the shoe fits.â
He only smiled, leaning down a fraction closer, the corner of his mouth curled in that insufferable way that said he knew exactly how to needle you.
âAw, whatâd I do now, cutie?â his tone was mock-sweet, like he was daring you to list the ways.
You gritted your teeth, the urge to upend your coffee over his perfectly styled hair almost irresistible. Instead, you forced a smile of your own, syrupy with sarcasm. âOpened your mouth, for one.â
He laughed, low and warm, tilting his head as if that was the answer heâd been expecting. You rolled your eyes, looking anywhere but him. Across the courtyard, you caught the stares already directed your wayâstudents whispering, curious as always when the two of you ended up in the same orbit. It was like waiting for an explosion, and everyone wanted front-row seats.
You scoffed and took a sip of your coffee, pretending their stares, and his nearness, didnât bother you in the slightest.
Rafayel slid into the seat beside you like he owned it, and your jaw immediately tightened. Of course heâd have the audacity to sit here, smug as ever, as if rumors werenât already crawling across campus with his name attached. He didnât even try to hide the amusement flickering in his eyesâif anything, he looked more pleased than usual, like your irritation was the highlight of his day.
You tried to ignore him, sipping your coffee, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but his shoulder brushed yours deliberately, his voice low and casual in your ear.
âBy the way,â he murmured, almost bored, âI think you left this at my place the other night.â
Something dangled in front of your faceâa necklace, glittering slightly in the sunlight. Pretty, delicate. And definitely not yours.
Your eyes flicked to it, then back to him with a stare as flat as your voice. âCute,â you said mock-sweetly, rising to your feet with a tight smile. âMust be your pretty little girlfriendâs .â
His smirk deepened, exactly as you knew it would, and he leaned back on the bench, twirling the chain around his finger like it was nothing. âJealous, cutie?â
The laugh that escaped you was sharp, humorless, as you grabbed your bag. âNot in the slightest. You couldnât pay me enough to deal with your ego outside of campus.â
Rafayel hummed, tilting his head, eyes glinting like heâd just heard the funniest thing all week. âStrange, considering how loudly you were dealing with me the other night.â
Heat flared at the memoryâat his smirk, at the eyes already watching from across the courtyardâand you forced yourself to keep your expression icy. You took another sip of coffee just to keep from snapping, your voice low and clipped when you finally replied.
âKeep talking, Rafayel. Maybe someone will actually start to believe your little bedtime stories.â
You turned around and left him on that bench, because if youâd stayed a second longer you might have poured your coffee straight over his perfectly styled hair and wiped that smug little grin off his face yourself.
That night, you went out with friends, slipping into something casualâa dress soft and simple, elegant without meaning to be. The evening started warm and bright, laughter tumbling across the table of the restaurant as wine glasses clinked and your friends celebrated their engagement. Later, the night carried you further downtown, swept up with more familiar faces, drinks and games stacking on top of one another until everything blurred into giggles and flushed cheeks. You were tipsy, leaning against the billiards table with a triumphant grin after sinking the final ball. Your friend groaned in defeat, and you couldnât stop laughing at the tiny victory.
It was nice. Simple. Youâd be graduating soon, stepping out into that so-called adult world too, and maybe it was the wineâbut a bittersweet ache wound through you at the thought that soon you wouldnât have to see him anymore. No more sharp words across lecture halls, no more smug smirks needling into your skin, no more heat curling in your stomach when you shouldâve been rolling your eyes. It should have felt like relief. Instead, it made you restless.
At some point you slipped away to the bathroom, splashing cool water against your wrists before leaning into the mirror. The flush of wine was still on your cheeks, but it was the kind that felt good, buoyant. You reapplied your lipstickâdeep red, sharp as a bladeâpressing your lips together until the color gleamed. A little armor, that was all it was.
When you stepped back into the hallway, the buzz of laughter and music hit first. Then your gaze slid instinctively toward the bar. Aylin. Your eyes narrowed before you could stop yourself. You didnât dislike her, not really, but something about her always put your teeth on edge. Especially now. Especially with the person standing beside her.
Rafayel was angled close, head tilted just enough to catch whatever she whispered in his ear. The corner of his mouth curled upward, that familiar smirk playing across his lips like a secret meant to be seen. And you hated the way it twisted something in your stomachâsharp, hot, bitter.
You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste copper. This fucking bastard. He really took her out? Was he that dedicated to his little rumor, putting on a show just to rub it in your face? Or worseâwas he actually into her? Into her enough to keep her close, maybe even into her enough to take her home. Again.
You didnât let yourself look twice. Not a second longer. You turned on your heel, your spine stiff as you crossed back to your friends.
âFinally,â one of them teased, handing you a fresh drink. âWe were about to play without you.â
You slipped back into your spot at the billiards table, taking the glass with a grin that felt sharp around the edges. âLike you could win without me,â you shot back, chalking your cue and lining up your shot.
They laughed, the conversation flowing easily, but your mind buzzed elsewhere, restless. You laughed louder than you needed to, sipped deeper than you should have, smiling until your cheeks ached. Anything to ignore the memory of that smirk. Anything to proveâto them, to him, to yourselfâthat you werenât rattled at all.
You refused to let your eyes wander, refused to give yourself even the chance of catching sight of them again. If Rafayel wanted to sit at the bar with Aylin draped over him like some prize, fine. He could do that. You werenât going to waste another second looking.
But a few more rounds in, with laughter ringing too loudly in your ears and your glass emptied one too many times, your stomach twistedânot just from the alcohol, though that was certainly part of it. No, this was sharper. More dangerous than any burn sliding down your throat.
You hated him. God, you hated him. Hated the smugness in his eyes when he got under your skin. Hated that youâd let him take you to his bedâtwice. And most of all, you hated that it bothered you this much, seeing him with her tonight. After the whispers. After the rumor. After you had proof, seared into your skin, that heâd admitted to being jealous.
It wasnât supposed to matter. He wasnât supposed to matter. And yet, the thought of his hands on Aylin, his lips curving into that same smirk as she leaned into himâyour blood ran hot with something ugly. Something you wanted to tear off him piece by piece, if only to prove he was still yours to provoke.
Your cue slipped in your hand, clattering lightly against the billiards table. Your friends laughed, brushing it off, already distracted by another joke, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Dangerous. Infuriating. Because if teaching Rafayel a lesson meant dragging him somewhere private, pressing him against the wall, kissing him until your lipstick smeared red across his smug mouthâtearing at his shirt until buttons scatteredâthen yes. You wanted to teach him a lesson. And you hated yourself for wanting it.
Your friends were already half-gone, flushed and laughing, leaning on each other as you all spilled out into the night. The cold hit instantly, a sharp bite against your flushed skin, goosebumps prickling across your arms. You wrapped yourself tighter in your jacket, giggling as you stumbled a little with them, exchanging sloppy goodbyes under the buzz of neon signs and streetlamps.
âSure you donât want me to wait with you?â one of them asked, eyes glassy with alcohol.
You gave him a reassuring smile, lighthearted enough to hide the buzz still racing through your veins. âIâve got this. Go home, sleep it off before you regret everything in the morning.â
He laughed, hugged you once more, and then you were alone, the sound of their voices fading as they disappeared down the block.
You made your way to the corner of the club, phone already in hand as you ordered an Uber. The cold seeped into you fast, a stark contrast to the heat of the bar, and you shifted on your feet, rubbing your arms as you waited. Your head buzzed, the alcohol humming through your bloodstream, making the streetlights seem a little brighter, the air a little sharper.
You just wanted to get home. To take a long shower, wash off the smell of smoke and liquor clinging to your hair, crawl into bed andâmaybeâlet yourself give in to the other ache humming low in your stomach. Alcohol always did that to you, loosening your guard until you were restless with it. And the fact that youâd seen Rafayel tonightâhis smirk, his lips tilted close to someone elseâs earâit didnât help. If anything, it only made it worse.
You huffed out a laugh to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek as you crossed your legs against the cold. God, you hated him. And still, his face was the one you couldnât shake.
You nearly jumped when a hand pressed against the small of your back. Spinning on your heel, ready to slap whatever creep thought they could get away with touching you, you stopped shortâof course, it was him.
Rafayelâs chuckle was low, lazy, the sound of someone thoroughly enjoying himself. His face was flushed with alcohol, his grin insufferably smug as he steadied you with that same offending hand.
âWhoa, princess,â he drawled, amethyst eyes glinting under the neon glow. âAlthough I like it rough, maybe spare the face, yeah?â
Your jaw tightened until it ached. You wriggled out of his hold, hissing under your breath, âJesus, Rafayel.â a step back gave you breathing room, though not nearly enough. You bit out the words before you could stop yourself. âWhy is it that you think youâre allowed to put your hands on me whenever you please?â
He only chuckled, unfazed, his arm sliding right back around your waist. You pushed at him again, but his grip tightened like iron, his voice still soft and smug but edged with something firmer. âEasy, cutie. Youâre drunk, and clearly barely standing.â
âI can stand just fine, thanks,â you snapped, tilting your chin up at him, refusing to let him look down at you like that. Your eyes flicked around, sharp and unsubtle, searching for her. No sign of Aylin anywhere. Still, the irritation crawled through your tone like fire as you muttered, âTake care of your little girlfriend instead, why donât you?â
The words tasted bitter on your tongue, and you hated how obvious it sounded. His smirk curved deeper, his amethyst eyes gleaming with something you didnât want to name. He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed your mouth, laced with alcohol and heat, his whisper almost sing-song. âDonât tell me youâre jealousââ
âAs if.â you cut him off, sharp as glass, though the denial landed weak when your chest pressed against his with every shallow breath. His hair, normally so carefully styled, was mussed across his forehead, his cheeks flushed from drinking, and the sight of him looking just as reckless as you felt only made your blood boil hotter.
âAre you waiting for an Uber?â he asked casually, as if he hadnât just cornered you with his hand still warm at your waist. The ease in his tone made you want to tear him off youâor drag him closer and kiss him until that smugness finally broke.
Instead, you shoved at his chest with more force this time, making him stumble a step back. Your voice came out raw, frayed with equal parts irritation and heat. âClearly.â
âYouâre more irritated than usual, cutie. Did something happen, or are you just very drunk?â his voice was smooth, smug as ever, but there was a spark beneath itâyou knew he already had a damn good guess why you were acting this way.
You scoffed, eyes narrowing like daggers as you closed the distance again, too far gone to keep your composure. His face, his stupid grinâit made you want to slap him right here in the middle of the sidewalk.
âWhy are you all up in my business instead of minding your own?â you shot back, finger jabbing against his chest with every word. Your chuckle came sharp, edged with venom. âBeing all over me, baiting me, getting jealous when another guy puts his hands on meâŠâ you dragged it out, each word harsher than the last, your voice dipping lower, tighter. âOnly to fuck her the next day after I was in your bed.â
The words left your lips like spit, hitting their mark. His face flickeredâfirst surprise, then a curl of something dark and delightedâand the mix only set your blood boiling hotter.
âFor fuckâs sake, Rafayel.â your voice cracked sharp with irritation, and your palms shoved hard against his chest. He let you push him, step after step, until his back thudded against the brick wall of the club. The noise of the city blurred around youâcars honking, drunk laughter spilling from the doorâbut all you saw was him.
âYou got pissed at me for brushing off what happened between us, pushed and pushed until you had me in your bed againâand for what, exactly?â your voice was ragged now, breathless with more than alcohol. âSo you could put your hands all over her right after?â
Your chest heaved, every word tumbling out before you could stop yourself, your pulse racing as though your body was picking a fight your head wasnât sober enough to finish. âFine,â you spat, the word sharp as glass. âThen so be it.â
His eyes stayed fixed on you, unflinching even as you burned in front of him. Amethyst gleamed under the streetlight, something equal parts mocking and unreadable.
You were burning upâpartly from the alcohol in your veins, but mostly from the rage knotted deep in your chest. Feelings for Rafayel were the one truth you refused to name, and now, knowing heâd been with her tonight, drinking in that bar, it made you want to claw the smug look off his face. Somehow, you always ended up like this with himâteeth bared, circling one another until the tension snapped.
This time, it snapped with his hand cupping your face, dragging you into a kiss so rough it stole your breath. You gasped into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as his body turned around and pinned yours to the wall. He hissed against your lips like the taste of you frustrated him as much as it thrilled him.
âYouâre so damn stubborn, princess.â his words rasped between kisses, his voice roughened by liquor and something darker.
Your fingers fisted in his half-buttoned shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed to push him away. His hand found your waist, grip punishing, forcing a gasp that let his tongue slip past your lips, hot and insistent. He tasted like whiskey and recklessness, and it infuriated you how fast your body melted against him.
You could already feel how damp your panties were, and you hated it, hated him, hated that this was the only way you seemed to release whatever was burning between you. His mouth trailed lower, biting at the column of your throat, leaving the kind of marks you couldnât ignore in the morning.
A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. âYou wonât admit youâre jealous if it killed you, would you?â his teeth grazed your neck, and your soft moan betrayed you.
âIâm not jealous,â you ground out, voice trembling despite the steel in your words.
âMm,â he hummed, clearly unconvinced. His lips sucked another bruise into your skin, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass until you gasped.Â
âYouâre infuriating,â he muttered, his mouth claiming yours again, swallowing your sharp inhale. The kiss was hot, bruising, all teeth and stubbornness, until he pulled back just far enough to breathe against your lips. âBut thatâs what I like about you.â
His thumb brushed along your lower lip, slow and deliberate, while his amethyst eyes drank in every flicker of irritation still painted across your face. His voice slid low, teasing, taunting, and edged with that cocky lilt that always drove you insane. âItâs not that fun the other way around, is it?â his tongue swept across his own lips, the gleam in his gaze daring you to chase after him.
You almost chased his mouth, but you caught yourself, gritting your teeth as the words hissed out instead. âGo to hell.â you spat, though the heat in your chest screamed for the oppositeâscreamed to pull him closer, to stop fighting, to admit that the taste of him was already addictive.
He smirked, darker now, like he could hear the truth tangled in your defiance. His mouth dropped to your throat, lips dragging across the sensitive skin until you shivered. Then came the sharp scrape of his teeth, his tongue soothing over the sting as your thighs betrayed you, pressing tighter around the solid muscle of his leg wedged between yours.
âAdmit it,â he whispered, biting the shell of your ear, his voice a slow drag meant to unravel you. You moaned, weakly muffling the sound against his shoulder. His grin curved into your skin, smug and pleased, before his words spilled hot against your ear, âAdmit youâre jealous⊠admit you want me.â
You refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer, your lips parting only in a ragged moan against his throat as his knee pressed higher between your thighs. The pressure made you shiver, your whole body aching to close the gap you swore you didnât want. His mouth dragged down the column of your neck, biting and soothing until your pulse thrummed wildly beneath his lips. Fingers dug into your waist, sliding lower to grip your ass, urging you closer still, and you hated how easily you obeyed, arching into him, tipsy and dazed and craving more than youâd ever admit out loud.
Rafayelâs voice was low, rough with desire but still laced with that insufferable amusement. âShould I back off and let you get home?â he whispered into your skin, his breath hot where it ghosted over your collarbone.
You groaned, frustration and want tangling into one, your hand yanking at his hair hard enough to make him hiss. Your teeth clenched around the words, like forcing them out physically hurt. âWe both know my bed is not where Iâll end up tonight,â you bit out, your eyes glassy with a mix of anger and hunger as you dragged him into a kiss that was all heat and defiance.
He chuckled into your mouth, smug even as his breath came ragged, kissing you back like he wanted to consume you whole. Between the clash of lips and the scrape of teeth, he murmured against your mouth, âOh, I know.â
â
Rafayel had you stripped down to nothing but a lacy pink bra and panties before either of you had the sense to breathe. The delicate fabric clung damp to your skin, already ruined, as you straddled his hips with reckless urgency. Your mouth was on his throat, biting and sucking hard enough to leave your fury branded on his skin, your lips bruising as your hands tore at his shirt in impatient tugs, like the very idea of fabric separating you made you want to scream.
He only leaned back against the pillows, lips parted in a low groan as though relishing the way you tried to devour him. His head tipped back, exposing his throat, his amethyst eyes hooded with hunger as your hips rolled shamelessly against his thigh. The friction sent sparks through your body, drawing curses from your lips that you tried to swallow into his skin.
Your voice was ragged, slurred with alcohol and irritation, but he heard it for what it wasâdesire, laid bare. âI hate you,â you hissed, the words little more than a gasp as your hand palmed the bulge straining against his pants. He groaned, the sound rough, almost pleased, before his own voice slid back to youâsilky and smug despite the tremor in it.
âDoes hating me get you this wet, princess?â his fingers slipped under the damp lace, teasing you slowly from back to front, circling until your hips buckled helplessly against his hand. You bit your lower lip so hard it almost hurt, a whimper catching in your throat as he dragged the pads of his fingers through the slick heat of you.
He pulled you closer until your nose brushed his, voice rasping between your panting breaths, âSoaked, yet still denying you want me.â his grin curved smug and sharp, but there was heat beneath itâheat that burned through every deliberate stroke of his fingers, every groan he let you swallow when your lips found his again.
You bit down on the curve of his neck, teeth scraping against flushed skin before your hands dragged his pants and boxers down, letting him kick free with an impatient wiggle. In the next breath, your mouth was already wrapped around his leaking tip, tongue circling before you sank deeper, taking him in until your throat ached with the stretch.
His fingers instantly tangled in your hair, grip tightening as his hips bucked up into your mouth, rough and unrestrained. You moaned around him, the vibration making him groan, your frustration pouring into every drag of your lips down his length. You wanted to ruin himâwanted to wipe that smug grin clean off his face, even if it meant doing it like this, with your lips stretched around his cock and your pride nowhere in sight.
âF-fuckâprincessâŠâ he gasped, voice breaking into curses as his thighs trembled beneath your hands, his chest heaving. His hips stuttered and you knew he was close, twitching against your tongue, desperate to release inside you. But you didnât give him the satisfaction of control. You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks, dragging him to the edge again and again until he was unraveling completely, groaning your name like he couldnât hold it back.
When he spilled hot down your throat, his head fell back against the pillows, a hoarse sound tearing from his chest. His grip in your hair trembled, tugging like he wasnât sure whether to pull you off or keep you there. The taste coated your tongue, and instead of shame, all you felt was sharp, biting satisfactionâyour panties soaking further as you swallowed him down, victorious in the way you had him trembling for once, his cock twitching helplessly against your tongue.
You didnât even notice the shift until your back hit the mattress, his weight pressing down, pinning you there. One moment you were tasting his release, the next you were trembling under him, gasping as his fingers slid beneath the lace of your panties and slipped inside you without hesitation. The intrusion was sharp, wet, perfect, and you cursed as your body betrayed you, arching into his hand.
His lips were everywhereâdragging over your jaw, sucking hard at your neck until your skin burnedâwhile his hair fell damp against your temple, sweat beading at his hairline. His voice was low, rough, frayed at the edges when it finally broke against your ear.
âWe both know this is more than sex,â he rasped, curling his fingers just right, dragging across that spot that made you shudder and clench around him. His mouth grazed your ear as your hips bucked helplessly into his palm. âSo admit it. Admit you want me, not just a warm body in your bed.â
There was no smirk in his tone this time, no smug satisfaction. It came out ragged, clouded in want, in something dangerously close to need.
Your pride twisted inside you, clawing for air. Vulnerability burned like fire under your skin, and you couldnât bear the thought of laying yourself open to him, of giving him that win. Even when your body pulsed, trembling around his fingers, even when your breath hitched so sharp it broke into a whimper, you bit back hard, shaking your head against the pillow.
âF-fuckâwhyâŠâ you gasped, teeth sinking into your lip until it almost hurt, âwhy do you keep pushing this?â
It sounded like a plea and you hated that. Hated how desperate you sounded when you wanted to sound strong. But he didnât stop. If anything, the tension in his touch grew, his fingers stroking deeper, firmer, determined to unravel you until you had no choice but to admit something.
His mouth crushed yours again, swallowing the shaky moans spilling from your throat as his fingers curled deep inside you. The wet drag of his thumb found your clit, circling mercilessly until your hips bucked against his hand. He rasped against your lips, voice low and steady, each word brushing fire into your skin.
âI know you, cutie. You donât want to âloseâ to me, whatever this isââ his mouth lingered, smirking against your parted lips as you trembled beneath him, ââam I right?â
Your moan cut into his words, body betraying you as you clenched hard around his fingers.
He groaned into the sound, forehead pressed to yours, eyes burning down into your half-lidded gaze. âFine. If you wonât say it, then Iâll say it for us.â his teeth grazed your lower lip, his thumb working harder, dragging circles that made your thighs quiver. âI want you. And yeah, sex with you is fucking insaneâŠâ he punctuated it with a curl of his fingers that made you choke on a gasp, the smug tilt of his mouth betraying his pleasure in your unraveling.
ââŠbut I think you need to hear it spelled out. Straight to your petty, stubborn face. â he bit hard at the column of your neck, sucking until your skin bloomed red, taking you right to the brink before his voice cracked raw into your ear. âIâm in love with you.â
The words slammed through you harder than his fingers, shattering every wall you tried to keep up. A ragged gasp tore from your throat, your nails clawing down his back as your body gave out, eyes rolling as he pressed you over the edge.
âNow come for me, baby,â he whispered, almost a growl, pumping faster, deeper, until your release spilled hard around his fingers. Your cry broke against his mouth, sweet and wrecked, the confession ringing in your ears as your body trembled under him, undone.
Your head spun, chest heaving, every nerve still pulsing from release. His fingers slowed their rhythm inside you, leaving you trembling, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to catch your breath. But even with your lashes pressed tight, his words clung to you, stubborn and impossible to ignore. Iâm in love with you.
You could lie to yourself. Pretend, play stupid, shove it all back under the same reckless label you both used when you clawed at each other in dark corners and tangled in his sheets. You could have sex and then walk away, call it nothing, keep your pride intact. But your chest ached. And the longer you lay there beneath him, the harder it became to deny that heâd ripped a piece of armor off you, leaving you bare.
When you opened your eyes, Rafayel was already watching. Not smug, not infuriatingly cockyâbut steady, unreadable, a faint smirk tugging at his lips like muscle memory he couldnât suppress.
You almost rolled your eyes. Almost. Instead, a groan slipped out, your hands fumbling with your soaked panties, tugging them down your legs with sharp impatience. It was an answer in itselfâmessy, wordless, but enough. But when you reached for your bra, his hand stopped you, pinning your wrist with an easy strength that made you freeze. His mouth caught yours againâhungry, needy, the taste of him dizzyingâbut beneath it you felt the question, the pause, the weight of what he wanted from you.
You hated that you knew what it was. Hated more that he wouldnât let it go.
âWould it hurt your pride if I told you Iâm not in love with you?â you deflected, voice hoarse, breaking against the heat of his mouth. Your thighs hooked tighter around his waist when he pushed you back against the mattress, his chest pressing you into the sheets.
Rafayel didnât answer at first. His hand slid to stroke himself, his cock flushed and leaking as he teased against your folds, making you shiver and arch impatiently. A whine almost broke loose, your body betraying you, pleading for him even as your mouth tried to keep the upper hand.
His smirk curved, softer this time, though it still burned with that familiar sting of arrogance. He pinned both your wrists above your head with one hand, his other guiding himself into you with one deep thrust that knocked the air right out of your lungs.
You gasped, back bowing, nails clawing at his grip as his hips sank flush to yours. His voice broke against your mouth, low and certain, âNo⊠because I already know you are.â
And sex with Rafayel was always goodâheated, rough, something that left you dizzy and achingâbut sex with Rafayel when feelings were tangled in every kiss, every touch, was something else entirely. It was overwhelming. Addictive. Out of this world.
He kept you in his bed until morning, relentless in the way he took you apart and put you back together again. Under him, spread out and trembling, moaning his name until your throat went raw. Bent over, taken from behind as his hand pressed into your back, your body arching as he groaned your name. His mouth between your thighs until you were shaking, too sensitive, tears slipping down your temples as you beggedânot for him to stop, but for him to keep going, to keep proving the point he never said out loud before but always left you feeling.
You got tangled in his sheets because neither of you could get enough, and then ended up in the shower, steam curling around your damp skin as he pinned you against the slick tiles. He kissed you through your gasps, made you come again with the water rushing down your bodies, laughing low when your knees buckled against his.
By morning, you thought the storm had calmedâbut then you found him in the kitchen, shirtless, hair messy, sliding a tray of breakfast into your hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. Youâd never seen him like that before. Rafayel, who usually greeted you with smug remarks and biting comments, was just⊠calm. Sweet, even. Especially to you.
It almost made you laugh, how easily youâd gone from throwing insults across lecture halls to sitting cross-legged in his bed, eating pancakes while he teased you for getting syrup on your lip.
And to top it off, you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his faceâbecause now, without the haze of alcohol or the heat of jealousy driving you both wild, there was no excuse. Last night, tangled in his sheets, you both admitted it, breathless and raw, that you were in love with each other.
Now the sun was streaming through his blinds, and he was sitting there smirking like he had won the war. You hated it. Hated how he always managed to look at you like he had figured you out first. You glared at him over the rim of your coffee mug, hoping heâd choke on his pancakes. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard with that insufferable little curve of his lips, watching you too closely.
âDonât,â you muttered, setting your mug down a little too hard on his nightstand.
âDonât what?â his tone was light, teasing, like you hadnât dropped the single most vulnerable truth of your life just hours ago.
âDonât look at me like Iâm your trophy, Rafayel.â you crossed your arms, but it didnât help how warm your cheeks felt.
His laugh was low, unbothered, infuriatingly fond. âCutie, if you were my trophy, Iâd keep you on display where everyone could see.â he tilted his head, gaze narrowing slightly. âBut thatâs not it, is it? Youâre not a prize. Youâre the only one who ever kept me on my toes.â
Your throat tightened at that, but you rolled your eyes to cover it, muttering, âYouâre freaking impossible.â
âYeah, yeahâŠâ he tipped his head, eyes glinting, voice dropping into something softer that still held its playful edge, âbut youâd rather have impossible me than no me at all.â
You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face as he laughed again, reaching to pull it away so he could see your expression. His hand lingered at your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that made your stomach twist.
And that was when it hit youâthrough all the irritation, the sharp remarks, the smugness that drove you crazyâyouâd rather never go without him. No matter how insufferable he was, no matter how much he pushed your buttons, Rafayel had wound himself so tightly into your life that the thought of being without him felt unbearable.
â
The smug look plastered across Rafayelâs face as he strolled through campus with his arm slung firmly around your waist was almost too much to stomach. He moved with that effortless arrogance he always carried, the kind that drew stares even without you tucked against him, but today it was worseâbecause his hand rested possessively on your hip like heâd won some unspoken war.
You wanted to wipe the grin off his face. Or maybe kiss it away until he was breathless, though youâd never admit that to his face right now.
Students were definitely watchingâwhispering, snickering, maybe even glaringâbut Rafayel only seemed to revel in it, smugness radiating off him like sunlight. He glanced down at you, amethyst eyes glinting as he bent to steal a slow, unhurried kiss right there in front of everyone, making sure the sight left no room for rumor or doubt. The bastard was proud, so damn proud of having you like this, and he didnât care who knew it.
When he finally pulled back, lips curved in victory, you couldnât stop the small smile tugging at your own mouth, no matter how hard you tried. You rolled your eyes, shoving lightly at his chest, but he only smirked wider.
âWipe that smug look off your face before I do it for you,â you muttered, trying for annoyance but sounding softer than you intended.
âBy all means, cutie,â he teased, leaning closer as though daring you. âPreferably with another kiss. You seem to like shutting me up that way.â
Your jaw tightened, but the laugh that escaped gave you away. And he knew it, because his grin only grew sharper, triumphant as ever. And damn him for itâyou hated how right he looked with you in his arms.
.á⧠translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!
My tiktok is full of the Jester guy so my mind came up with a small thing with my favourite guy.
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As he puts on the jester hat, Rafayel thinks of all the things that led him to this moment.
Essentially, he wanted to have fun; just because he had a King to kill that didnât mean he couldnât shake his own routine a little bit.
Also, he was tired of doing things in the dark, to slither in and out of castle walls like he was nothing but a mere shadow, there ought to be some fun in daylight murder.
He wanted ligths, he wanted praise, he wanted flare.
And surprisingly, the role of jester gave him all of this things.
Initially, he didnât think at all about the Queen, she was just a mere piece on the board, someone who he had no interest in, a bit of collateral damage but then he saw you.
And seeing you, the simple act of turning his eyes in your direction changed everything.
At first, he couldnât take his eyes off of you: he must have seen you somewhere else, must have known you. Thatâs the only way he could reason with the ache in his chest that you created, as if youâve carved him open.
But you, you never looked at him.
The King, who now shouldered all of Rafayelâs hatred, laughed at his jokes, at his circus antics, but you.
You never laughed, never looked at him, never smiled.
And even at night, when Rafayelâs could hear the Kingâs grunt of pleasure, no sound ever came that resembled your voice, which he only ever heard when you were asking something from a servant, quietly, politely, as of you were a lonely bird inside a cage who could't even bear small graces.
Your presence resembled a shadow wrapped in fear, and it was maddening because something inside him told his that you were so much more than that.
And in that moment, a new plan started to form in his head: they payed him to kill the King, but how it would happen was completely up to him.
And as his plan took form, the dreams began: of you, seemingly in another life, a happier one, arm in arm and hand in hand with him, your smile blinding, the sound of your laughter ringing in his ears like gentle bells.
And all of that, he could make it happen, one drop of poison at a time.
Especially at night.
Oh, how he wanted to strangle that man and sit in his place, but you, you would be the one everyone would turn to, point their fingers and accuse.
And he couldnât have that.
But the poison, slow and reckless, would resemble a simple sickness, and the old age of the King would do the rest.
On the third day of Rafayels gentle administrations, the King falls asleep as Rafayel pulls strands and strands of colour from his sleeve; the Kingâs hand drops from your tigh and the look of pure relief from your face could make him cry.
On the fourth day, the King is asleep before you enter, and Rafayel sees you take in the room as if youâve never seen it before, and him, nervously shaking on his feet, waiting for you to look at him,
and you do.
He feels like heâs drowning, but he needs to make you laugh.
As he tries and fails, he slowly but surely see a small smile bloom upon your face, which you hide behind your hand.
He immediately pouts, his features exagerated by the makeup, and you laugh.
He closes his eyes in bliss, the sound exactly as he dreamt it.
And at night, there are no sounds.
It doesnât take you much time to move out of that room, to finally have a room of your own.
He thinks how easy it would be for him now to enter that room, wrap his hands around the Kingâs neck and squeeze.
But he doesnât, he wants to give you as much freedom as he can.
One morning, he brings you flower, your favourites; he has no rational way of knowing they are your favourite flowers, but he does.
You look at him, you smile at him, your face a petal among the flowers.
âDo you like them, Your Majesty?â he asks, hoping to mask the trembling in his voice.
You nod, âI do.â
You have never looked more youthful than in that moment, not a Queen or a Wife to a deadman, but a happy young woman, and to know he was the cause of said happiness made his spine straigten with pride.
One day, he saw you walk into the garden; it was the first time he saw you outside of the castle, your skin glowing under the sun.
He didnât even try to fight the urge to be near you, he skipped and hopped, bells announcing his arrival.
And you smiled at him.
âJester.â you said, lovingly, or so he liked to imagine.
âYour Majesty,â he answered, offering you his elbow, âmay this simple Jester have the pleasure of walking you around this precious gardens?â he asked, thinking that he would throw himself to the ground if you were to decline his offer.
But you nodded, took his elbow, and he could feel his heart soar; that was your rightful place, next to him: him, who would do anything to make you happy.
Him, who knows you how he knows the bones in his body, who has certainly held you before and will hold you again.
Slowly, your little walks become a habit, and as the King got sicker and sicker, he started to think about your inevitable future: will they force you to remarry? He would never let that happen, heâd paint the castle in red before that happened.
You were a Queen, after all.
But you- the moon to his tides, what did you want?
And as he pulls his hat in each direction, this Jester attire that became like a second skin, he thinks that while he has more than enough blood on his hands to last him a lifetime, he is so scared to ask what weighs on his heart, so scared to know that you donât see him in your future, not even as a masked baffoon.
But then, he does.
âYour Majesty, may I ask you a question?â he asks, quietly, trying to fight the urge to entwine your fingers with his.
His hand moves closer to yours; he really canât reign himself in when it comes to you.
You look up at him, bright eyes and utter trust.
âOf course.â
You move your hand closer to his, play with his fingertips, which his when he decides that King will wake up for the last time in his life coughing up blood.
âWhat will you do after the unfortunate Kingâs passing?â
Now he doesnât look at you, looks at your hands entwined together, ponders the lengths he would go to keep them so.
But you get nervous, get closer, grab his hand.
âI want to go away.â you whisper, face inches away from his.
âI donât want to get wed again, please.â
Rafayelâs face breaks into a wide, wide smile.
âCome with me, then, Your Majesty.â he takes off his hat, and bows.
She takes her gown up in her hands, ready to run, not thinking, and he too isnât thinking when heâs kissing her, and a small, pleased sound escapes her lips, the promise of eternity.
a/n: wanted to finish some drafts to get out of writer's block before starting two recent requests!
headcanons masterlist
Zayne â Light sleeper. He always takes a shower before going to bed; he can't fall asleep otherwise. Has plain pajamas in cool tones, but in summer, he can sleep shirtless (đ«Š). Doesn't move much during the night and breathes softly, letting soft sighs pass through his lips when he's fully asleep. As a doctor, he is aware of the rule of no screens before bedtime, but 1) sometimes he goes straight to bed after typing reports, and 2) he likes to chat with you before going to sleep, so he doesn't follow it that much. When you're sleeping by his side, he either lets his arm open so you can cuddle beside him or he fully spoons you.
Rafayel â Heavy sleeper, but he wakes up at random noises, yet NEVER the alarm. He doesn't set alarms unless he has plans with you, and yes, he goes 5:50, 6:00, 6:10, 6:20- it's a nightmare. Can sleep very still and stiff when he finally rests after overworking himself (meaning he doesn't fully rest, but sleep is sleep), or in starfish mode. He has a huge bed for a reason, y'know? Gets tangled in the sheets, his pillows get all messy, and he can sleep in the weirdest positions when he's sleeping by himself. If you're with him, he needs to hug you or touch you in any kind of way.
Xavier â HEAVY SLEEPER. I don't think there's much I can say about him. We know he can sleep on the sofa, the bed, his bean bag... and he's definitely a pretty sleeper most of the time. Key word: most. When he's been sleeping for over 12 hours, his face gets all smushed on the pillows, his lips a little puckered, and cheeks squished oh so cutely, you have to take a photo! If you tease him too much, he won't wake up, but will start mumbling and bury his face in the pillows. Cuteness aggression goes hard with him. Rewarding of his clothes... whatever is comfy and warm will do. If you're sharing a bed, ditch one of the pillows; you're either sleeping on top or underneath him, so no more than one pillow is needed at this point.
Sylus â Oh, he's big. He's taking up a lot of space on the bed, that's why he has a custom-made mattress: perfect size, perfect cushioning. Wears fancy pajamas/robes or sleeps straight up naked/in underwear, on his stomach and face smushed on the pillows too... but he's too handsome, even his smushed face looks handsome, and kissable, too kissable... Don't kill me, but I think he snores a little bit, but it's more like a low grumble. He's a heavy sleeper, but his senses are too sharp; he will wake up if he perceives any weird noise. Most likely to sleep on top of you and bury his face in your neck. Sleeping on your bed will force you to snuggle closer, but oh well... can you reaaaally complain?
Caleb â My poor baby is a light sleeper :( I think it's rare if he gets to the REM phase, so he's always alert and frustrated because he can't fully rest. When he was younger, even if he had nightmares, he could sleep a bit more soundly. Of course, his sleep quality goes exponentially up when you sleep by his side. Spooning you is enough for him, and he likes it when you cling to his arm or put a hand on his chest. He feels like he can finally relax.
Tag list: @hirayalia @totallyuniquenut @foxfairylights @cherrysherryblossom @hilliserose @emowitchwithatwist @violasepals @animegamerfox
I hope that tagging you for headcanons is also okay !! If you don't want to be tagged, just tell me :)
When THEY accidentally send you (p)đœ link... (part 2)
When YOU accidentally send him a (p) đœ link....Here (part 1)
CW: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh fucking. Deep throating. Breeding kink. Masturbation. Praise kink. đ MDNI đ
There are about 20 open tabs on your phone and a half finished list of new plushies youâve been eyeing. Itâs a problem. Your collection is already getting a bit out of hand, but thereâs something about a new squishy companion that just makes the stress of your last mission melt away.
Youâre scrolling through your favorite site, debating between a pastel jellyfish or a round, grumpy cat, when your phone buzzes with a text from Xavier.
Xavier:Â Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.
You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. Youâre already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.
The link loads. You blink.
Then you blink again.
Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.
Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, itâs a frantic succession of messages.
Xavier:Â Wait, did that go through?
Xavier:Â The link?
Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.
You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.
The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because youâve only been intimate for a few weeks, thereâs still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.
Heâs behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But itâs what heâs doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.
He isn't fucking you. Not yet.
He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. Heâs sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.
"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.
"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."
He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"
You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, youâre close, aren't you?"
His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. Heâs always known exactly where you are, even when youâre too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.
You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, itâs an admission. Itâs the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.
His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you canât squirm away.
He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.
"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.
"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.
The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."
His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.
The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. Youâre gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.
"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.
When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz
Caleb [14:22]:Â Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.
Youâre supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but heâs been rambling about dinner for the past hour.
Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.â€ïž
A link follows.
You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.
A VIDEO loads instantly. Itâs not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and thereâs a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.
"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.
Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?
Bzzzz
Caleb [14:26]:Â Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.
You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.
But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.
You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.
âThe recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?đ"
The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. Heâs hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.
His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"
He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."
The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.
"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."
His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.
"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"
He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.
The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."
The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.
A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.
"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."
He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. Itâs messy but itâs exactly what he wants.
"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."
Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you donât care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that heâd never show anyone else.
Heâs on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.
Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.
The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.
You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.
"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.
When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.
 "You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."
Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like itâs been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if youâre lucky getting a moment of peace.
Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but itâs a text from Rafayel.
Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yetâ the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. âRemember I have an exhibition today! Itâs a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. Itâs going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" đ
LINK
You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. Heâs so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.
Instead, your screen loads a video.
You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.
You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.
Did he... did he just send you a porn link?
Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.
Rafayel:Â âDid you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?â
Rafayel:Â âThe composition of the colors is quite striking.â
Rafayel:Â âWait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"
Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."
Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "
You canât help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.
You:Â âThe lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.â
The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.
Rafayel:Â âI am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.â
The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.
But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. Youâre the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.
Youâre perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. Heâd used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.
His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"
You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.
He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "Iâve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. Itâs always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."
He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve heâs forced you to present to him.
"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."
He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. Heâs not just looking at a lover, heâs looking at his salvation.
"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."
His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.
"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."
You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."
You canât look away. You wouldn't even if you could.
A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.
He looks beautiful.
Heâs close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him.Â
Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."
The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.
The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.
He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.
His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.
When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.
His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.
"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."
The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. Youâve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.
Sylus
[Sylus]:Â Thereâs a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. Iâve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.
[Sylus] :Â Iâll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.
You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.
The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.
It isn't a protocore.
It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, sheâs looking at him.
The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.
You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way heâd probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.
With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.
You:Â Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.
The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. Youâve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but youâve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.
The little bubbles appear. Heâs typing.
Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?
A moment later, the notification pings.
Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.
A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.
Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.
Youâve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.
There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. Heâs right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think heâs about to break, you pull away.
Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. Heâs using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he canât reach out and grab you. Heâs forcing himself to endure the torture youâre inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.
He also looks wrecked. Itâs a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.
You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.
You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.
His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.
âPlease... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.
You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.
The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.
âYouâve been so good, Sy,â you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. âDo you think you deserve to cum?â
âPlease, sweetie,â he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands âIâve been... so good...â
Heâs lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.
"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"
He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.
âI wonât, though,â you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. âBecause you've been such a good boy.â
The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.
Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.
The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.
The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.
Heâs over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."
His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.
"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."
Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned heâd send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.
"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"
LINK
You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.
It was not a muffin.
It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.
You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!
Zayne:Â ...
Zayne:Â Oh.
You:Â âOhâ? Thatâs all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!
Zayne:Â Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.
You:Â [Sends a laughing emoji]
Zayne:Â I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.
You:Â Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!
The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.
Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.
"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"
His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because youâre on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. Itâs... fuck... it's about risk management."
"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."
He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that heâd never say in the hospital halls told a different story.
"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."
He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."
"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! Itâs just us, isn't it?
You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.
Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.
"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "
He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.
He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.
The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.
"Â Fuck!" you breathed out.
"God, finally," he growled back.
The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.
He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.
When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.
"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."
more thoughts with dragon!sylus and merman!rafayel...
â±â ââ nearly 2k of absolute monsterfucking filth
â±â ââ MDNI WARNINGS: pwp, cw monsterfucking, overstimulation, oral, uhh eggs mentioned, sylus (double d, marking, fighting as foreplay, somnophilia, freakishly long tongue,) rafayel (double d, thalassophobia, dubious consent, cw breeding). inspiration from this post by @mintmatcha, photo credit to @xxsyluslittlecrowxx
dragon!sylus
what is a dragon if not power incarnated? as such their mate needs to hold that same fire within them.
as it gets closer to the rare season when dragons can actually mate, you find that your little arguments and snappy comebacks make sylus pause, wings twitching as he simply watches you with a crooked, fanged smile. a worthy mate snarls, pushes back, bares their teeth despite knowing they are smaller. a good sign indeed.
sylus brings back larger and larger kills, watching you roast them over the fire as he looms behind you, purring in contentment when you lean back against him, nestled perfectly underneath his bulky, scaled form.Â
you have been saying yes for months. your raised chin. your easy sleep against his warmth. Your exposed throat, your racing pulse, the way you reach for him without thinking, the way your heart rate climbs in his presence and you do not run from it. he knows your body is not deceiving him, he knows that you are ready.
sylus doesnât want to scare his poor human mate, but if youâre to take his clutch and raise his brood, then youâll need to be prepped. no worries, heâs more than happy to make sure your body is able to withstand the mating ritual, even if you havenât realized what youâve agreed to. but surely you want this right? all of your preening, your increased heart rate around him, you willingness to show him your neck and exposed belly. you want this.
during the late hours of the night when youâre already half asleep youâll sometimes feel his fangs biteâever so gently, just enough to leave an indent for nowâinto the crook of your shoulder or plush of your hips or thighs, something deep and ancient rumbling in sylusâ chest as he pulls away, letting his rough, forked tongue lave over the raw marks.
not even a week after it turns possessive, sylus pinning your sleeping body to the floor of your shared nest as his massive wings surround the two of you, rutting the swollen heads of both his cocks between your ass as you whine in your sleep, unaware of the way sylus begins to lick and nip at the back of your neck, practically drooling at the thought of finally sinking his teeth there. soon.
heâs not as careful as he could have been, sloppy in his desperation, and one night you wake to him above you, his clawed hand pinning down the small of your back as the other is four knuckles deep in your soaked pussy.
âsy-â a moan, and you thrash despite yourself, completely immobile under his weight. âsylus, what the fuck are y-oooh- you doing?âÂ
youâre gasping, keening as youâre feeling yourself regain consciousness and rise towards another orgasm.Â
sylus doesnât even act like heâs noticed youâve awoken, narrow-slitted gaze completely focused on the stretch of your cunt as he forces his clawed thumb in as well, spreading you wide despite your protests.Â
god, you have no idea how long heâs been at this, but youâre soaked enough to have already cum twice, pussy throbbing and sore from his relentless ministrations.Â
in a flash of anger and embarrassment, you blindly kick out behind you. your heel strikes sylusâ shoulder, and he freezes with a low, thunderous growl, glowing red eyes locking with yours. he doesnt budge.
his tongue briefly flashes across the wide expanse of his fangs.
âagain.â
his nose drags along the back of your neck, inhaling deeply, the pinpricks of his teeth gliding against the delicate skin making your skin crawl. âmy feisty little human, always fighting back, always demanding.â
a pleased growl vibrates through him.
âgood mate.â
before you can even question what he means, his fingers pry you apart with more force than before, allowing your juices to trickle down his scaled arm as they stretch you out just enough so he can lean down, licking a long, wet strip up your pussy. Circling your clit once, twice, before dragging all the way up until his draconic tongue curls inside your cunt.Â
You buck against sylusâ face despite yourself, sleep drained from you as your back arches violently at the intrusion, screaming at the delicious press of the long, long muscle writhing against your gummy, sensitive walls. too much, too much!
too bad the sight of you fighting him only makes it worse.
the dragonâs instincts completely take over, and your refusal to take sylusâ eggs unless he proves himself worthy isn't the resistance you think it is. it speaks to the fire raging in every dragonâs heart, a wordless acceptance of his ritual as you challenge him, and you force him to show you he deserves it.
and he will show you.Â
sylusâ wings spread. his fanged smile does too.
the clawed apex of his wings comes to your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body against the floor as he drags your ass further up, giving him even easier access as he rips the rest of your nightgown, burying his face into your open, sloppy pussy. your struggle is futile against your dragon, and as soon as your whines turn into moans sylus knows you are ready.
his fingers thrust back in, careful so his claws don't scratch you even as all five spread you out, knuckle deep, tongue now flicking against the entrance of your cervix, leaving his saliva's natural relaxant until he feels your cunt loosen around him. your poor pussy is drooling around his tongue, sylus greedily swallowing everything he can as his claws force you into a deeper arch, tongue somehow getting longer as you babble incoherently into the floor.
"good girl," sylus purrs, the low sound humming from his lips and into you, deep and loud enough to echo up your spine as you sob from the vibrations. "good mate, accepting me. accepting my brood, my eggs."
you panic despite yourself, shaking your head and bucking your hips even though you could barely feel anything between your thighs except for overwhelming, numbing pleasure. "e-eggs? no, no..."
"shhh, fight and i'll make it hurt more than you want it to."
sylus' tongue finally curls out of you and you moan, the rough length tracing the sweat-slicked arch of your spine as he mounts you, wings cocooning the two of you in as you feel the unmistakable pressure of both his cock heads press against your numb entrance.
his fangs bite into the back of your neck, claiming you as he breaks skin, feeling the sweet scent of your blood coat his fangs as he purrs.
"you've fought well, now take everything I give you."
merman!rafayel
rafayel is the storm, all tempest and raging waters, ancient as the ocean itself, so his choice in bride is not one heâs taken lightly. after all, that would make you a goddess, and your heirs next to rule the sea.Â
heâs already brought you to lemuria in preparation for your betrothal ceremony, merfolk blessing this brave human vessel who will bear their future, all while you laughed and swam among them with a smile rafayel will paint again and again in reverence. the merfolk never ask if youâre staying. they ask what you need, what youâd like, as if the staying is already settled and only the comfort remains to be arranged.
thereâs no need to worry you with the specifics of the ceremony. after all, he is now your god, your mate, it is his duty to worry about the specifics of consummation while you simply enjoy connecting with his world, his people. your people now.Â
it complicates things when you begin asking to go back to the surface, but rafayel is always gentle with you, taking you back to your old world when you ask, never quite letting you out of his sight before coaxing you back into the ocean.Â
and when you hesitate? he sings. a siren song, his webbed hand outstretched as he draws you to the beach again, cold water splashing at your ankles but your body unaffected as the lullaby weaves into your brain, soothing, loving, drawing you closer and closer still. you walk into the water smiling and he is already there, waiting, like he knew the exact moment your feet would find the shore.
after all, rafayel canât have you running away again. you are lemuriaâs queen now. you were their goddess the moment he decided you were, which was long before this ceremony, which was perhaps before you were born, which is the sort of thing he will tell you gently, later, when the permanence of it has had time to feel like home.
you donât remember swimming out to the middle of the ocean. the waves are calm, a deep endless blue all around you as your kicking limbs all disappear into their depths. something brushes up against you. first, a scrape on your calf, circling you, but there is nowhere to hide. scales, rough and cold, wind against your legs, an even colder pair of arms wrapping around your waist as your body is completely ensnared in his tail. âshhh, I wonât hurt you cutie.â and then the song starts, and you forget once again.
you awake with sand under your skin and the soft lapping of waves, but there is no beach in sight.Â
no, it is just you and jagged rocks surrounding you. the waves are only the calm lapping of the pool in the center of the gilded cave, the one and only exit leading deep into the water, and lemurian territory.Â
your mating cove has been in preparation for months. the merfolk decorate it as they would a temple, soft things dragged in from shipwrecks, sea glass worn smooth, bioluminescent moss cultivated specifically for warmth and light. every piece chosen with the future queen in mind, and their future heirs. for your stay here is mandatory until the sea godâs brood takes. but surely you already knew this when you agreed to be his mate?
âwhat do you think, cutie?â a splash, and rafayel surfaces into your cove, razor-thin fangs gleaming up at you as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before the altar of his people. ânot bad for a species of artists.â
ârafayel,â your voice is trembling, and he immediately coos at you. âplease, take me back to shore. to land.â
you keep pleading, but the sea god ignores your cries. that isnât what you want anymore silly, canât you see? youâre the bride of the sea god, the next mother of tides, what your body and mind crave now is him. fully, completely. your poor human biology wants to stop you from fulfilling your role, but itâs okay. rafayel is more than happy to mate you as many times as you need for it to take.
he sings, hauling himself up to the sandy bank of the cave as his voice coaxes you into the water, bare legs splashing into the pool beside him as the first few feet of his enormous tail drag up onto the sand. soft, pillowy, a good bed to take you without risk of injury.Â
rafayel has done all your human rites of marriage, now it is time for you to do his.Â
once again you find yourself restrained underneath his powerful tail, your upper body still thankfully resting on the solid ground, but hips and under dragged into the pool as rafayel looms above you, squeezing and coiling his tail around your legs.
ât-tight, youâre squeezing me rafââ your legs thrash, however in doing so you only end up straddling the thick expanse of his tail, a low chirping sound echoing from deep within rafayelâs throat as he feels your wet, soft heat grind against him.Â
as soon as he feels you rub against the slit of his tail he keens, thrusting forward as the weight of all ten feet of him pins you down onto the sand.
âimpatient,â rafayel laughs, and you tremble despite yourself at the sudden sharpness of his teeth. âdonât worry cutie, iâm impatient too.â
you feel it then, something protruding out from the slit as he continues to grind against you, the rhythm of the waves helping him forward and back, reaching a webbed hand down as you feel something curve and grow against the entire length of your stomach.Â
panic, red-hot and violent, seizes you as you look down to see his cock-no, two of them-lying side by side against your sternum, one already leaking copious amounts of slime-like substance on your skin while the other appears almost barbed, swollen and impossibly heavy at the shaft.Â
âshh, itâs okay.â rafayel is already soothing you, voice a melodic lullaby as he gently guides your chin up to look at him, just focus on him, donât worry your pretty little head about making them fit. thatâs his job. âthatâs it baby, relax. sweet thing, beautiful mate, youâll be the perfect host for my clutch, wonât you?â
you can only nod.Â
rafayel preps you for one at a time, his bigger cock already drooling relaxant all over your thighs and cunt as he grinds it over your little clit, allowing the head to hit it several times, your body becoming more and more pliant as he spreads the gentle venom. as soon as your soft breaths turn to moans he knows youâre ready, and drags you just a bit further into the water, enough so one powerful thrust is enough to have his first cock rammed right into your sweet spot.Â
itâs white-hot pleasure, your cries broken by a sob as rafayel speeds up, restless as he feels you tighten around him, cunt sucking him in further, accepting his first knot, driving him fucking insane with the way your moans sing to him like a mating song.
youâre perfect, already cumming around him as he feels his second knot swell, the pressure of his eggs rising as his instincts beg him to finish claiming you as his own. soon. soon, he canât rush your poor, delicate human body, he can't risk breaking you.
the slight prick of fangs against your nipple makes you arch off the sand. itâs all too much, the feeling of being so impossibly full, rafayelâs tongue laving and squeezing your chest, his fingers thumbing at your clit and prodding at your already-full entrance, it all has you dizzy with need.
âmore,â youâre begging in spite of yourself and your fear. âplease, more.â
of course your god will provide.Â
the muscle relaxant his first cock has been pumping out has swelled within you, and with his spare hand he can begin to finger you open alongside his knot, curling against all the spots he knows make you sing. he then lines his second cock up with your entrance, and begins to push.Â
you whine, fighting it, hips bucking wildly, but the sheer weight of his tail keeps you pinned. the second cock is thicker than the first, rigid as it catches onto your fluttering entrance and squeezes past the first knot, copious amounts of his relaxant and your juices squirting onto your thighs and into the ocean. rafayel hums sweet nothings, petting you to soothe you, lips going back to swirl and bite at your nipples as you cum for him once more. he squeezes your breasts and wonders if youâll still produce milk if you donât have human babies. he hopes you do.
âpretty mate,â a low clicking sound, almost like whalesong fills the cave. heâs close. âwife, all mine. mine, all mine again.â rafayel gasps as his cock bullies yet another inch in, his egg sack bloated and heavy, waiting to be given to a worthy mate, and yet stuck until he can force the last few inches of his knot inside you.Â
desperate, a powerful slap of his tail drives him forward, slamming his hips into yours as both knots force their way into your cunt. the waves roar, spraying against the cave's walls as your vision whites out.
the pressure and stretch are overwhelming as you sob into the sand, cries turning into moans as rafayelâs fingers never ease up on your clit, numbness seizing your lower half as rafayelâs entire body begins to convulse with the press of the first egg into your womb.Â
When the teasing goes too far and he decides itâs time for payback đ
Image taken somewhere from X âš
Warning tags: NSFW, MDNI, teasing, mirror play, p in v, c in v, (WC: +/- 900)
âCome ooon~ eyes on the mirror, cutie~ đâ
Long fingers trace your jaw, stops at your chin, directing your gaze back to the massive mirror on the wall. The painted flame lily on your abdomen dances, rippling with every thrust from behind. His head rests on your shoulder, sweat dripping down his flushed cheek. He smirks, locking eyes with you through the glass.
âI-I really canâtâRafayel, pleaseâŠ!â
âWhat do you mean, âpleaseâ?â He slams his length inside your core. âYouâve been distracting me the whole day for this, right?â Another brutal slam. âWearing nothing but that⊠apron?â A sharp lunge, teeth sinking into your neck. You jolt and gasp. âTheyâre see-through, for fuck's sake. Made me smear the wrong color on my canvasâŠâ Another drive. âSo I painted on your belly instead⊠fuckâŠ! You look mesmerizing with all my colors on you. Donât you agree?â
âHah⊠umhânnghâŠ!â
He releases his bruising grip, pulling your thighs apart before accelerating the pace.
âRafââ you close your eyes, embarrassed by the sight of your body bare on the mirror like a youâre in a goddamn amateur porn.
âNuh-uh. Donât look away.â Rafayel grins, lifting your hips upward, showing you to watch the exact point where he rams into your cunt. âFuck⊠can I paint this? Can I? Please tell me youâd let me canvas you like this.â
âNooo⊠people will see⊠ahâŠ!!â
âCanât say no, baby. Not after this gorgeous view. What a divine inspiration. Buuutt, if you say noâŠâ He suddenly pulls out, leaving your throbbing cunt empty. ââŠI wonât force you. You know that.â
âWhâput it backâŠ!â
âCanât do that, cutie. You canât force me either~â That melodic, infuriating tune again. He is torturing you on purpose. He knows you are ovulating. He knows this is the absolute worst time to deny you, leaving you desperate and empty. Fuck.
âPleaseâŠâ you bite your lower lip, closing your eyes again, feeling the heat rush to your face.
âWhatâs that? Canât hear you, cutie.â He leans close, dragging his tongue from the column of your neck up to the sensitive spot behind your ear, then pulling back again to see how effectively he drives you crazy. âTell me again.â
âRafayel⊠donât stopâŠâ You twist around, staring back at him over your shoulder. âYou can paint me after, but please put it back inside andâŠâ you swallow hard, âand let me⊠cum.â The last word is more of a whisper.
His cock twitch looking at your fluttering lashes and trembling lips, his eyes dark as he grins. He leans closer, whispering in your ears that sends another shiver to your spine.
âMy muse, will I ever be able to say no?â
He grips your hips, lifting your entire weight into the air to realign your slit with his tip. Without your feet touching the floor, your legs flail wildly in midair. Your hands scramble for a place to hold, locking down on his shoulder and the back of his neck to anchor yourself against him just as he slams his cock to the hilt.
âMmâŠ! NnnâŠ!!â
The pace turns relentless. As he drives his cock faster and harder, the speed sends your suspended legs into an unstable frenzy. The sound of his hips slapping against your rippling cheeks are driving you crazy. Through the glass, everything is exposed: his smirk, the way he deliverately parts your thighs to keep the penetration fully visible, and your own shattered expression as you are taken by him.
âCâmon, princess, sing louder!â He drives harder, his tip mercilessly hitting your sweet spot. Your hand claws at his back. As the pleasure coils tighter and youâre getting to the edge of a massive climax, your toes curl tight and your feet begin jerking helplessly, twitching in the air with every slam he delivers.
âAhhâŠ! Ah-ah-ahââ
âThaaatâs it. Sing for me, my love.â
When the climax hits, your eyes roll back, your voice dying from broken cries into silent gasps as your walls milk him tightly, your feet giving one final jerk before hanging loose.
âFuck, too tight⊠babyâŠ!â Rafayel mutters against your skin, delivering one last thrust as his hot fluids filing your insides.
He keeps you suspended right there, both of you gasping, waiting for the heavy panting to subside. Your hands slowly lose their grip, sliding weakly from his neck and shoulders, falling down as you realize you have almost no energy left to hold yourself up.
âNo. Put your hands back.â
And you do, wrapping your arms around him, shifting your weight to his frame. Your front is completely turned toward the glass. The outline of his length creates a visible bulge beneath your lower abdomen, warping the painted petals of the flame lily. Keeping your thighs spread wide to ensure the view remains entirely unobstructed, he slowly pulls out.
Like a cork popped from an upside-down wine bottle, the mixed fluid of his release and your arousal drips down toward the floor. Your insides clench instinctively at the visual, the sudden contraction sending the rest of the liquid inside falling down even more.
âFuck⊠look at you, cutie. I donât think one canvas is enough to capture you.â
Beneath the dripping mess, his length springs back to full attention, twitching hard against your soaked thigh. He rubs his reawakened cock directly against your folds, drawing a needy whine from your lips.
Rafayel's eyes darken as he catches your desperate expression in the mirror. He doesn't wait. With a groan, he hooks your thighs even wider and puts himself back up inside you in one thrust, burying his cock right into your sensitive cunt.
"Round two.â
Canâtâwonâtâugh I need toânvm imma go bother the man. đđ
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