valko pays for your claws nails so you'll scratch tf out of his back!
content: fem reader, scratching, blood from scratching, sex, piv, mating press, not proofread
wc: 860
a/n: there is no war in ba sing se. there is no valko cancellation. forget about him being nuked and read this.
your hands smooth over the muscular expanse of valko’s back, dull nails tracing the dips and curves. he shivers and pushes back into your fingers, purring slightly. he shuffles food around in the popping skillet, looking at you over his shoulder.
“i like your back.” you mumble and pepper kisses against it.
valko smirks and steps back, crowding you. “it’s looking a little bare, don’t you think?”
“mmm? looks fine to me.”
“it would look better than fine if someone marked it up.” he turns the skillet off and turns to face you, grabbing your hands and maneuvering them into a clawing gesture.
valko chuckles and ‘grrs’ for you, pretending like you’re some vicious predator.
you raise an eyebrow and look at your short nails. “won’t that hurt?”
he holds your nails in his palms and presses on the edge of them, feeling for the sharpness. “sweetheart, these wouldn’t even hurt a pup. you remember i’m a werewolf, riiight?” he smiles. “i’ve been scratched by newborns with longer claws.”
you hum and consider it. “well… even if i did want to scratch you, my nails would break before they got long enough.”
valko pats the tops of your hands and lets them go, going back to cooking. “i’ll pay for you to get acrylics. any shape, length, color you want- you could even get a design.”
“are you sure?” you ask skeptically. despite knowing that your boyfriend was rich rich, you still felt bad spending his money.
the very next day, you had long stiletto nails in a deep plum color.
valko was ecstatic when he saw them, but paused when he examined them further. you’d gotten his initials painted on your ring fingers- a suggestion from the nail artist. you’d been worried it was too much… what if valko didn’t like it?
…valko liked it. probably a little too much, considering how he was fucking you so deep into the memory foam mattress that you were sure your indentation would be there for years to come.
“nnghhhh!! ‘ko- shit!” you breathed out, gasping for air as his thick cock drilled against your cervix.
your nails pressed dully into his skin, not quite scratching or piercing the skin.
valko groaned and moved forward, pressing your knees fully beside your head into a deep mating press. “scratch me. dig your nails in- hmmmm.” he whined out.
you pressed down harder, raking your nails down the expanse of his back and raising the skin in red streaks.
“yes- fuck, perfect. harder, dig in harder, i know you’re strong. show me how strong you are.” valko’s breath hitched and he let out a pleased moan when you followed his instructions.
you whined and babbled incoherently about how good he felt, how deep he was in you while your nails left scratches on his back in every direction.
you mindlessly clawed at his skin, searching desperately for something to hold onto and he fucked you harder than you’d ever felt.
“s’ good.. such a good mate, so accommodating, scratching the shit out of me.” valko praises, voice gruff in your ear.
“mmhmmm.” you whine. he switches his angle ever so slightly, hitting upward and bullying the spot deep inside you that makes your vision white out.
you screech and dig your nails into his back hard, hard enough to make him groan and stutter.
“fuck! cumming- cu- shit, holy shit.” valko moans out, collapsing on top of you as he fills you the condom full of his thick cum.
you’re both in a hazy sort of bliss that only sex can give for a handful of minutes after. you’re only brought out of it when valko stands to go get a warm towel for you and your eyes meet his back- your canvas.
you gasp and sit up weakly. "valko!”
valko turns, on high alert and scanning the room. “what- what? fuck, don’t scare me like that-”
“your back is bleeding!” you interrupt, crawling towards him on shaky limbs.
valko pauses and reaches to touch his back, looking at his bloody fingers. “oh.”
“i’m so sorry- oh my god, i’m evil, i’m terrible!” you ramble, tears brimming your eyes.
when you look up at valko, he’s… smiling?! ear to ear, at that! “what the hell is the matter with you?! i injured you!” you yell, tossing a pillow at him in frustration.
valko smiles and walks to the edge of the bed, cradling your cheek with his clean hand. “you marked me up, just like every good mate should. here, take a picture for me.” he grabs his phone from the nightstand and hands it to you, turning around.
you open the camera and snap a picture, trying not to drool over it. you’d marked him up good- he had red streaks in all directions, blood trickling from most of them. weirdly, the sight made a new wetness form between your legs.
valko looked at the picture cleared his throat, a flush rising on his cheek. something else rose, right beside your face, thick and leaking pre again.
since that day, your nails were always done and valko’s back was always painted ruby red.
a/n: no one be sad!!!! everyone be happy!! valko lives on, i promiseeee yall everything will be okay. do you really think mama rhi would let anything happen to our valko? no!!
♡︎ synopsis: Jet-lagged and wide awake long past midnight, you let Valko invite himself over to keep you company. What starts as a friendly, playful hangout slowly turns into something much more intimate.
♡︎ pairing: Valko x fem!reader
♡︎ tags: friends to lovers, making out, dry humping, use of 'sweetheart' 'baby' 'pretty girl', cowgirl, creampie ofc
♡︎ word count: 8k
♡︎ a/n: After the announcement we got last week, I ofc had to write something for Valko. I hope you like how I wrote him.
It took me over 8 hours to edit this fic, so if you don't like something or if there are any errors, I don't wanna know <3
♡︎ I wanna thank @unintentionalseductress for helping, and my beta reader its-de who doesn't have an account anymore (🙄).
divider by @anitalenia
The glow of the television washes the living room in soft, shifting light, some familiar comfort show murmuring in the background as you sink deeper into the corner of the sofa. The apartment still carries that faint in-between feeling that always follows a trip, your half-unpacked suitcase sitting by the wall, your carry-on slouched near the entryway. You scroll through Moments without really seeing much of it, your thumb moving on autopilot as photos and captions blur together, and when your eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen, a quiet sigh leaves you – it’s past midnight. You only got back yesterday, but it annoys you that your body still refuses to remember what time zone it belongs to.
With a small frown, you toss your phone beside you, only to reach for it again a few seconds later. Sleep feels nowhere near, but so does doing anything useful. Your gaze drifts back to the screen, catching on the photo you posted from the trip a few hours ago. For a moment, you just stare at it, thumb hovering near the comments before you see a new notification at the top of your screen, and your breath catches.
Valko.
You stare at his name for a second before tapping on the message, your pulse giving one traitorous flutter as the chat opens.
‘Why are you still up??’
Your finger lingers above the keyboard, a smile already tugging at your lips, before you type back.
‘Why are you up?’
His reply comes quickly.
‘I asked you first.’
A quiet laugh slips out of you.
You shift further into the corner of the sofa, glancing toward the television even though you are no longer paying attention to whatever scene is playing out on the screen.
‘I’m still a little jet-lagged. Can’t sleep.’
For a few seconds, nothing happens.
Your thumb brushes the edge of your phone as you stare at the screen, suddenly wondering whether that sounded too flat. Maybe you should have added something else. Maybe –
Another message appears.
‘Then can I come over and keep you company?’
You sit up so quickly the blanket pooled over your legs slips halfway to the floor.
For a moment, you can only stare at the words – it’s such a simple message, but the thought of Valko here, in your apartment, at this hour, sends a rush through you that makes it impossible to stay curled up on the sofa like nothing happened.
You try to sound casual as you type back.
‘Sure.’
His answer appears almost immediately.
‘I’ll be there in twenty.’
Your eyes widen.
Twenty?
You glance down at yourself, at the pajamas you changed into after your shower. You push yourself off the sofa, hurrying to the bathroom to make yourself more presentable.
By the time you step back into the living room, changed into your new loungewear – an oversized sweater and a pair of shorts – and a light layer of makeup, your heartbeat has still not quite calmed down.
And then you nearly jump out of your skin.
There, just beyond the glass, Valko is already waiting outside on the balcony.
Your hand flies to your chest before you let out a quiet breath, your nerves settling almost as quickly as they spiked. What did you expect? Of course he used the balcony again, like it is a perfectly normal substitute for a front door.
You step closer and slide the door open. Before he can even get a word out, you point toward the entryway and try your best to sound serious.
“You need to immediately take off your shoes and put them by the front door like any other normal person would.”
A grin pulls at his mouth, and a soft chuckle slips from him as he steps inside. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” you say, with as much dignity as you can manage, even though you already feel far too giddy to properly stay in character. “Those are the rules.”
He does exactly as he’s told, walking over to the front door to slip off his shoes and leave them neatly where they should be.
You don’t really get a chance to say anything before he closes the distance between you and pulls you into a hug.
It’s warm and almost a little too tight, the kind of hug that steals your breath for a second, but you don’t care, not when his arms are around you like this. You tuck your face against his chest, breathing him in, and something in your chest loosens.
You missed this. Two weeks wasn’t even that long, but the moment his arms close around you, it hits you how much you’d been craving this exact feeling. The solid warmth of his body, the way he hugs like he means it, the faint familiar scent of his skin.
You squeeze him a little tighter, hoping he can’t feel how reluctant you are to let go.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against the top of your head.
A smile presses against his chest.
“I’m happy to hear that,” you say softly.
His arms loosen just enough for him to pull back and look at you, though his hands still linger at your waist.
“Only happy to hear that?” he asks, head tilting just a little. “You didn’t miss me at all?”
Your heart gives another hard, hopeless thud.
With the way he is looking at you, warm and teasing and still standing too close, it’s hard to hold onto any version of coolness for very long. So you say nothing, only glance away as if that will somehow hide the fact that your pulse is stumbling all over itself.
When he finally lets you go, the loss of his warmth feels immediate. His gaze flickers over you. It’s brief, almost nothing at all, but you catch it anyway – the quick dip of his eyes, the split-second pause that lingers just a touch too long before he looks back up.
Heat stirs low in your stomach.
If he noticed the bare stretch of your legs beneath the sweater, he does not say it.
Then his gaze drifts past you, over the living room.
You follow it, and only then do you properly take in the small signs of the last two days still scattered around the apartment. It’s not a mess, but it’s enough to make you realize, with a small jolt of horror, that while you had been busy changing, fixing your face, and deciding whether those shorts were too much, it had not once occurred to you to make the place look more presentable.
Valko glances back at you, amusement already tugging at his mouth. “You really made yourself at home.”
You stare at him.
Then at the open suitcase, then back at him.
“I – ” You stop, because there is truly no dignified recovery from this. “I just got back.”
His laugh is soft and boyish, bright with amusement, and before you can fumble your way into a proper defense, his hand comes up to rest lightly on your shoulder.
“I’m teasing,” he says. “Relax.”
Something in your chest loosens at once, though the embarrassment still lingers warm at your cheeks.
“You’re annoying,” you mutter, without much conviction.
He only grins and walks past you toward the sofa, entirely too pleased with himself, and drops down onto it, one arm spreading along the backrest.
You stand there for a second, trying not to think about the fact that he’s in your apartment, at almost one in the morning. Instead of sitting down beside him, you linger on your feet and start folding the few clothes left draped over the armchair, because you need something to do with your hands.
For a little while, the conversation comes easily – you ask him what he was doing up so late, and he tells you he got caught up researching something and lost track of time, and then he asks you how the trip was. As you smooth one of the shirts between your hands, you tell him that it was beautiful, that you enjoyed it more than you expected, that you and your friends managed to explore a few cities in between all the wedding preparations, though by the end of it you were exhausted from helping with everything. Even so, you admit that it had been worth it, because seeing your friend that happy, that deeply in love, had made all of it feel strangely tender and a little overwhelming in the best way.
The words trail off there for a second, because the memory rises too clearly, your friend smiling through tears, music drifting through warm evening air, the soft gold of the lights, the feeling of standing just outside someone else’s happiness and being moved by it anyway. You pause with the folded fabric still in your hands. When you look up, Valko is already watching you in that way of his that makes it seem like he notices more than he lets on.
So you shake yourself out of it before the moment can linger too long, and with a softer laugh, you steer the conversation somewhere lighter, telling him that the food alone had probably been worth the trip, and that you would have enjoyed it even more if you had not managed to spill some of it on your dress before the night was over.
“That’s a shame,” he says. “You looked beautiful.”
A soft flutter moves through your stomach, and for a brief second, you remember the small rush of giddiness you felt earlier when the notification popped up and you saw that he had liked the photo. Heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you murmur.
You clear your throat softly and glance toward the suitcase.
“Oh, right,” you say. “I almost forgot.”
His brows lift a little as you cross the room and crouch beside the half-open case, pushing aside a few last things until your fingers find what you had tucked in carefully. When you straighten again, you are holding a small sachet of dried flowers and a box of chocolates.
Valko watches you come back toward him, his expression shifting into mild confusion. “What’s that?”
You stop in front of him and hold the two things out. “A gift for you,” you say, “The flowers are from a little shop near where we stayed,” you explain. “They smelled really good, and they made me think of you. And the chocolates are from a local chocolaterie.”
A quiet breath leaves him, almost like a laugh, though there is something more touched than amused in it.
“That’s... really nice of you,” he says. “Thank you.”
You shrug. “It’s nothing.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not nothing.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for you.
His hand catches your wrist gently and tugs you closer, and the next thing you know, you are half stumbling onto the sofa as he pulls you down beside him and gathers you into another hug, and a startled little laugh slips out of you.
His cheek brushes your temple, and then his lips do too. “You’re sweet,” he murmurs.
For a moment, you simply let yourself stay there, tucked against him on the sofa.
“So,” he says, leaning back, “are you feeling sleepy yet?”
You shake your head. “Not at all. I’m wide awake.”
His gaze lifts toward the digital clock on the wall, and the faint crease that appears between his brows makes you want to laugh a little. “It’s past one,” he says, glancing back at you. “That’s a problem.”
You tilt your head. “Is it?”
“Yes,” he says, with enough seriousness to make the corners of your mouth twitch. “It is. We need to get you to sleep.”
Your lips pull into a small pout. “But you said you wanted to keep me company.”
His expression softens with amusement. “I do want to keep you company, but you should really get your sleep sorted out.”
The pout lingers, growing just enough to make him narrow his eyes at you like he already knows you are about to be difficult on purpose.
“So you said you missed me, and now you’re trying to get me to go to sleep. Rude.”
Valko looks ready to answer right away, but then he stops. His mouth closes again, and something shifts in his expression – a glint of mischief appears in his eyes so suddenly and so familiarly that you know you’re in trouble.
“Oh,” he says slowly, his grin beginning to spread, “so that’s what this is?”
Heat starts rising before you even know where he is going with it.
“Are you saying you missed me too?” His smile widens. “You just want to spend more time with me. Is that what you’re saying?”
Your whole face goes hot.
For a moment, you can only stare at him, feeling the burn spread across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes once, then again, with absolutely nothing useful coming out. Valko’s grin only widens at your silence, clearly delighted with himself, and before he can say anything worse, you reach up and grab his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them without mercy.
“Ow, ow, ow,” he protests, though the laugh in his voice ruins any real attempt at sounding injured. “No need for violence!”
You let go, trying to look far less flustered than you feel, while he rubs at his cheeks with both hands and gives you a faint little pout that does nothing to make him less smug.
“Well,” you say, refusing to let him have the last word so easily, “you’re awake at this hour too, so why don’t you go to sleep?”
He leans back into the sofa, still rubbing one cheek as if you have truly wounded him, and lets out a thoughtful hum. “You know,” he says after a moment, “you’re right. The research I was doing didn’t help. My brain is still working through it, so I should probably try to relax too.”
His gaze drifts around the apartment then, over the sofa, the blankets, the cushions, and when he looks back at you, there is something almost casual in the way he says, “I can stay here, if you want. I can sleep over and take the sofa. Your apartment is cozy, after all.”
Your heart gives a quick, sudden flutter.
Then he pauses, glances toward the half-open suitcase by the wall, and adds with a grin, “Even with all this mess around.”
You smack his shoulder and he only laughs, like he had been waiting for exactly that reaction.
“Well,” you say, trying, and failing, to hide your smile, “if you think the sofa will be comfortable enough, then sure. You can stay over.”
Before he can find something else to tease you about, you pat your hands against your thighs and start to stand up. “Okay, then,” you say sweetly, already turning away. “Goodnight.”
Valko’s hand catches your waist before you get more than halfway up, stopping you without any real effort. A soft, amused laugh escapes him, like he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“No, no, no,” he says, gently pulling you back down beside him. “Now we both have to help each other fall asleep.”
You glance at him, unable to keep your smile from slipping through. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”
“That’s exactly how it is.”
Valko grabs the blanket you’d been using and spreads it over both of you. “We can watch whatever you had on,” he says, nodding toward the TV.
You settle deeper into the sofa, close enough that your knee brushes his beneath the blanket. For a while, neither of you says much. Then, slowly, his arm slips along the back of the sofa and curls around your shoulders, drawing you gently against his side – and you can’t help but lean into him.
At one point, you see him nuzzle lightly into the blanket – that sweet, familiar habit of his that always made you smile.
The episode plays on. A few small comments pass between you, easy and low, but gradually his body grows heavier against yours. His head tips until it rests lightly on top of yours, and his breathing slows into deep, even breaths.
You go still, listening.
A smile tugs at your lips when you carefully tilt your head to glance up at him.
His eyes are closed.
So much for his very serious plan.
Carefully, so you do not jostle him too much, you lift a hand and give his arm a small nudge. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re gonna hurt your neck like that.”
He makes a soft sound first, then shifts against you, his cheek brushing against your hair before his eyes crack open only halfway. There is a moment where he looks thoroughly confused, caught between sleep and waking, and then his brows draw together faintly as if he is trying to remember where he is.
“Hey…” he mumbles, voice drowsy. “I’m supposed to be the one helping you sleep.”
“You’re doing a terrible job,” you whisper back, smiling as you say it.
He exhales a sleepy, half-formed laugh and instead of pulling away, sinks closer, his arm tightening around you.
You stay quiet for a moment, letting the comfortable silence settle between you. Then Valko’s voice breaks it, barely more than a murmur when he asks, “Did you miss me?”
The question is simple, stripped of any teasing. For a second, you just look at him – at his sleepy face, at the hopeful, searching look in his eyes.
“Yes,” you say softly. “I did.”
His arm tightens just slightly around you.
“I was really happy to see you tonight,” you add after a moment. “I know it was only two weeks, but it felt longer than that. And with everything getting busy again soon...” You trail off, then glance up at him. “I just wanted a little more time with you, I guess.”
Valko is quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing slowly against your side. Then he shifts slightly, turning more toward you. His gaze drops to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes, and the air between you feels suddenly heavier, sweeter.
His other hand lifts slowly, and when it settles against your upper back, the touch sends a small shiver through you. Then his hand slides higher, fingers spreading gently at the back of your head, cradling you there. You feel yourself drift closer, and he does the same.
Then his lips press against yours.
The kiss is soft and warm and careful. You melt into him. One of your hands holds onto the fabric of his hoodie, your body pressing closer of its own accord as happiness blooms through you so suddenly and so completely it almost feels unreal.
When your lips part, neither of you moves far.
Then he looks at you again, his gaze is softer than before but clearer too.
“I like you too much to pretend this is nothing,” he says, his voice soft and unguarded. He holds your gaze for another second. “Tell me if this is what you want too.”
Your answer comes easily. “I do.”
A small smile touches his mouth, sweet and a little disbelieving.
Then you lean in and kiss him again.
The hand at the back of your neck stays steady as he kisses you, and when your fingers slide from his chest to curl around the back of his neck, his breath catches softly against your mouth.
His mouth parts against yours, and when your tongues meet, the sensation is warm, slow, and so intimate it makes a deep shiver run through you. The slide is unhurried at first – soft, wet strokes that make heat bloom low in your belly. His tongue brushes against yours in ways that make your toes curl and your thoughts melt away. Then he gently catches your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a soft, teasing nibble before soothing it with another slow pass of his tongue.
You make a small, helpless sound into his mouth, pressing closer, and he answers with a low hum that vibrates through you. The kiss grows deeper, more consuming, but never rushed – every stroke of his tongue leaves you dizzy, aching in the best way, your body melting even further into his hold.
When the kiss finally breaks, you stay curled against him, forehead resting lightly against his, your breaths still uneven.
Neither of you moves for a long moment.
Then you pull back to look at him. “The sofa’s not that comfortable. You can… sleep in the bed with me. If you want.”
His eyes soften, that small smile returning. “I’d like that. A lot.”
While he heads to the bathroom, you slip into your bedroom and freeze for a second. The bed is still a mess from earlier – clothes scattered everywhere from when you’d frantically tried on different loungewear before he arrived – your cheeks burn at the evidence of how much you’d wanted to look nice for him.
You move fast, scooping everything up in armfuls and jamming the pile into your closet. Then you quickly change into your own pajamas: a loose shirt and flowy shorts. From the back of your closet, you pull out the biggest oversized t-shirt you own, with a goofy graphic and a band’s name splashed across the front.
By the time Valko returns from the bathroom, you’re already settled on the now-tidied bed, heart fluttering.
You hold the oversized shirt out to him. “Here. It’s the biggest one I have.”
He takes it from you, eyes crinkling with amusement as he reads the front. “Nice choice,” he teases. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up and just put it on.”
Instead of stepping out, Valko stays right there in front of you. With that easy confidence of his, he reaches back and tugs the hoodie off in one smooth motion. The movement pulls his t-shirt up slightly underneath, revealing a glimpse of his toned stomach and the sharp cut of his hips before the fabric falls back into place. He peels that off too, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.
Broad shoulders, the hard strength of his arms and chest that you’ve felt against you so many times, now fully on display in the soft glow of your bedroom lamp. Your gaze traces the lines of his body before you can stop yourself, lingering on the way his muscles shift as he unfolds the oversized shirt, then dipping lower to the faint trail of hair on his lower stomach.
Then he unbuttons his jeans.
The soft sound of the zipper feels impossibly loud in the quiet room. He pushes them down his hips and steps out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. The fabric clings to the firm lines of his thighs and the unmistakable outline underneath, and your face burns. You know you should look away, but you can’t.
Valko catches you staring.
A knowing smile curves his mouth, “Enjoying the show?”
You immediately avert your gaze. “No.”
You turn off the last light and climb into bed.
He chuckles softly and finally pulls the t-shirt over his head. A moment later he joins you, pulling the blanket over both of you as he settles on his side facing you.
For a second, you just look at each other in the low glow of moonlight from the window. Then he reaches out, sliding an arm around your waist and drawing you closer until your bodies press together again.
“You okay?” he asks softly, the same careful warmth in his voice from earlier.
You nod, tucking your face against his chest, breathing him in. “Yeah.”
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head… then another to your forehead… then, when you tilt your face up, to your lips.
This kiss starts slow and sweet, like the first one, but the closeness of the bed changes everything. Your hands find his chest again, sliding over the soft, worn fabric of your own shirt on him. He tastes like toothpaste, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours under the covers makes your head spin. One of your hands drifts up to the back of his neck, fingers threading gently into his hair, while his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer until your legs tangle together.
A soft sound escapes you when his hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, palm warm and broad against the bare skin of your lower back. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, but it sends a slow shiver through you all the same. He pauses there, thumb stroking small circles against your spine, as if checking whether you want him to stop.
When you press closer instead, he lets his hand explore further, sliding up the curve of your back, mapping the warmth of your skin like he’s been wanting to do this for just as long as you have.
The kiss breaks only so you can both catch your breath, but his mouth doesn’t go far. He trails soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his teeth graze there lightly, your breath hitches.
“Still okay?” he whispers, voice husky now, lips brushing your skin with every word.
“Yes,” you manage, a little breathless. “Don’t stop.”
Valko makes a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. His hands slide to your waist, and with gentle strength he rolls you both over so you’re on top. He helps you settle, guiding your legs until you’re straddling his hips.
For a moment you brace yourself on your hands, hovering just slightly above him. Your heart is racing – nervous, excited, and suddenly worried about settling your full weight on top of him.
Valko looks up at you. One of his hands stays on your hip while the other smooths slowly up your back.
“Come here…” he murmurs. “All of you.”
When you hesitate for half a second, he adds gently, “Just relax.”
Carefully, you lower yourself until your full weight rests on him. The moment your chest presses fully against his, a quiet sigh escapes both of you. He feels so solid beneath you – the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, the firm strength of his body supporting yours so easily. Your legs settle on either side of his hips, and the intimate press of him right between your thighs makes heat bloom low in your belly.
Valko’s arms wrap around you immediately, one hand splaying wide across your lower back, the other sliding up between your shoulder blades to hold you closer. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale, breathing you in.
For a long moment you just stay like that – bodies aligned, hearts beating against each other. Then he gently nudges your face with his, and you tilt your head down to meet him.
His lips move against yours, and when the kiss deepens, it happens gradually – tongues brushing, mouths opening wider, breaths growing a little heavier. The weight of you on top of him, the way your bodies fit together so completely, makes everything feel more intense. You can feel the hard line of him pressed right against your core, and the sensation sends little sparks of pleasure through you with every tiny movement.
Still a little shy, still a little uncertain, you roll your hips in one slow, experimental movement. The friction drags right where you need it most, pulling a soft, involuntary sound from your throat. Valko groans – low, rough, and completely unguarded – the sound vibrating against your mouth. His arms tighten around you instantly, and the way he pulls you down against him makes it clear just how much he felt that.
“Fuck…” he breathes against your lips. “Do that again.”
Emboldened by his reaction, you roll your hips again, grinding down against him. The pleasure sparks sharper, deeper. You can feel every inch of him through the thin layers of fabric separating you, and the way his body responds – the way he twitches underneath you – makes your stomach flutter.
Valko meets you on the next roll. He rocks his hips up into yours in a slow, deep rhythm, pressing firmly against your core with each movement. His hold on you never loosens – he keeps you flush against his chest, bodies moving together in a slow, rolling grind.
The kiss grows sloppier, hotter – tongues slide deeper, mouths open wider, little wet sounds mixing with your shared breathing. You feel his heartbeat hammering against yours.
“You feel so good on top of me,” he murmurs. “Keep moving just like that, baby.”
Valko’s hands are everywhere. One stays anchored on your hip, guiding your movements, while the other slips under your pajama shirt, palming the soft skin of your back, then sliding down to squeeze your ass. He pulls you down harder against him on every roll, making sure you feel exactly how hard he is.
Then his hand moves between your bodies.
He presses two fingers against the front of your shorts, right over your core. The moment he touches you, you realize just how soaked you are. The fabric is warm and damp, clinging to you, and the pressure of his fingers makes the wetness even more obvious. A flush of embarrassed heat rushes through you, but it only makes you ache more.
Valko groans deeply into your mouth, the sound raw. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. He rubs slow circles over the soaked fabric, pressing just right against your clit through the layers. The sensation makes your hips jerk, a sharp little whimper escaping you.
He pulls back from the kiss just enough to look at you, breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but there’s a flicker of hesitation there too. His throat works as he swallows, and when he speaks, his voice has the slightest tremble in it.
“Still okay?” he asks, fingers still gently pressing against your soaked shorts. He pauses, searching your face. “Can I…?”
You nod quickly, cheeks burning. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Please.”
A soft, relieved breath escapes him.
He shifts just enough to reach between you. With one hand, he tugs his boxers down far enough to free himself, his cock springing up hot and heavy against your inner thigh. With the other, he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your pajama shorts and panties, tugging the soaked fabric to the side. The cool air hits your slick, exposed folds for only a second before the blunt, burning heat of his tip presses right against your entrance.
The slight sting of his girth against your sensitive opening makes you inhale sharply. Still, your thighs tremble as you fight the instinct to sink down all at once.
Valko’s eyes never leave your face. His breath is shaky, his grip on your hip almost bruising as he visibly holds himself back from thrusting up.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and strained. “Just relax… I’ve got you. Trust me.”
He rocks his hips up in the tiniest, careful movement, letting just the head slip inside you. The stretch is intense – a burning, aching fullness that makes your mouth fall open on a quiet, broken sound. You feel every thick inch as he slowly works you open, his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every flicker of sensation across your face.
Another shallow thrust, and he sinks a little deeper. His hand on your hip keeps guiding you down slowly, patiently, even as his own breath trembles and a low groan escapes his lips. You can feel how much he’s holding back – the tension in his arms, the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way his cock twitches inside you with the effort of going slow.
He presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling your nose, his voice dropping to a whisper between heavy breaths.
“Just a little more… that’s it. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
He keeps guiding you with those slow, shallow thrusts, working himself deeper. Each gentle push stretches you further, the thick heat of him dragging against your walls in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl against his shoulders. The slight sting is still there, but it’s slowly melting into something warmer, fuller, more overwhelming.
Finally, with one last careful roll of his hips, he bottoms out completely.
A soft, broken sound escapes you as he fills you to the hilt. Your walls flutter around him, clenching instinctively at the overwhelming sensation of being so completely taken.
Valko goes very still beneath you, breathing hard against your neck.
He whispers your name. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”
You take a shaky breath, then nod against his shoulder, melting a little more in his embrace. “I’m okay,” you murmur, voice soft and a little breathless.
The tension in his body eases at your words. He pulls you even closer, if that’s possible, until there isn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies. Your breasts press against his chest, your stomach against his, your thighs snug around his hips.
“Just stay like this for a moment,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Let me feel you… all of you.”
You melt into him completely.
He starts kissing you again – first pressing his lips to yours, tender and sweet. Then to your flushed cheek. Then along the line of your jaw. When he reaches your neck, he lingers there, nuzzling into the sensitive skin with a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of you as his lips trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat. Every kiss sends warm little sparks through your body, making you shiver and clench around him.
You feel completely surrounded by him. He makes you feel soft and safe and wanted in a way you’ve never quite felt before.
After a few long, still moments of just feeling each other, Valko starts to move.
He rolls his hips up in one slow thrust, pressing himself even deeper inside you. The drag of his thick length against your walls pulls a shaky moan from your throat. He does it again, and again – careful but steady, letting you feel every inch as he fills you completely with each roll.
You start moving with him.
Your hips begin to roll in a slow rhythm, grinding down to meet his upward thrusts. The pace is yours, and he lets you set it. Every time you sink down onto him, his cock grazes all the right spots inside you, sending sparks of sharp pleasure through your core. You can feel how wet you are – how your slick coats him completely, making every slide smoother, wetter, hotter. You angle your hips just right so that with every downward roll, your clit grinds against his pelvis. The added friction makes your thighs tremble. Pleasure builds fast and heavy, coiling tight in your belly with every movement.
You can’t stop looking at him.
Even in the low, dim light of your bedroom, he looks devastating. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with lust, but locked on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. His lips are parted and glistening, soft groans and quiet curses falling from them every time you sink down on him. His hair is slightly messy from your fingers, and the way his jaw clenches when you roll your hips harder makes your heart stutter.
You roll your hips faster, chasing that building pleasure with every grind of your clit against his pelvis and every deep stroke of his cock inside you. The slick sounds of your bodies meeting grow louder, wetter with every movement. Your walls flutter and clench around his thick length, coating him even more with your arousal as the pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter.
A broken moan of his name slips from your lips – “Valko...” – raw and needy. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn – you feel suddenly exposed like this, riding him so shamelessly, your voice sounding so desperate, your body moving on instinct. The wave of pleasure is cresting dangerously close, and the intensity of it makes you shy for a moment.
You duck your head, hiding your face in the warm crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you keep rolling your hips.
You know Valko notices. Instead of pulling you back, he cradles the back of your head with one large hand. His voice is full of affection as he murmurs against your ear.
“You can stay right here, sweetheart. Just feel it… That’s it. Come for me.”
His words, the steady praise mixed with the way he keeps thrusting up to meet your rolling hips, push you right over the edge.
With one more deep grind of your hips, your orgasm crashes through you. Pleasure surges hot and overwhelming, ripping a muffled, trembling cry from your throat against his neck. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering. Your thighs shake, slick gushing around him as you come hard, soaking his length and pelvis. Valko groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your chest, and holds you even tighter, his hips still moving with yours – slow, deep rolls that help you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.
Your hips gradually slow, then finally still as the last ripples of your orgasm fade into a warm, glowing haze. You stay draped over him, breathing hard against his neck, your heart still racing wildly in your chest.
After a few long seconds, you finally gather the courage to lift your head from its hiding place. Your face is glistening with sweat, your cheeks are burning, your hair slightly messy as you meet his gaze. You’re still catching your breath, lips parted, eyes a little dazed.
When your eyes lock, the intense heat in Valko’s gaze melts into something more tender. A small, gentle smile curves his lips as he looks up at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. The hand that had been cradling the back of your head slides forward to graze your cheek with his thumb, stroking it with slow affection.
“There you are…” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “Hi, pretty girl.”
He searches your face for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, thumb continuing its gentle caress. “Do you want to keep going?”
You feel a sheepish little smile tug at your lips. You nod, still a bit breathless, cheeks warming even more under his attentive gaze.
“Yes,” you whisper.
His smile deepens, soft and warm. “You want me to take over?”
You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, please.”
Valko’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, an almost reverent smile curving his lips as he takes in the sight of you in front of him.
“Just relax for me,” he whispers against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there. “Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”
After you nod, Valko doesn’t waste another second.
He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss as he begins to move beneath you. His hips roll up in long thrusts, driving his thick cock deeper into your soaked heat with every stroke. One arm stays locked around your back, pressing your chest flush against his, while his other hand keeps your shorts and underwear tugged to the side so he can fuck you properly.
He keeps kissing you through it – slow and messy, tongues sliding together as his pace gradually picks up. His breath grows heavier against your lips, and between kisses he whispers –
“Am I doing good? Tell me… fuck, I need to hear it.”
You’re already losing yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts, the way his cock stretches and fills you so perfectly. The answer slips out of you in a hazy, breathless mumble, half-coherent and soaked in pleasure.
“You feel so good…” you moan, voice breaking. “Fuck – you’re so big… filling me up so deep…”
Valko groans loudly at your words, the sound low and guttural. His grip on you tightens, and his thrusts grow a little harder, a little faster, driving up into you with more purpose. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder as he fucks you deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“Yeah? You like how deep I’m fucking you?” he rasps against your lips, voice thick with lust. “You’re taking me so well… so wet and tight around my cock. I could stay buried in you forever.”
You whimper at his filthy words, clenching hard around him. He keeps that perfect rhythm, holding you close, kissing you like he never wants to stop, while his cock drives into you again and again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more.
You can feel him starting to throb inside you, his rhythm beginning to falter as he gets closer to the edge. His thrusts grow a little rougher, a little more desperate.
He must feel how you’re close too, because your hips have started moving on their own, grinding down to meet every thrust. His breath stutters against your mouth.
“You close again, baby?” he groans, voice strained and low. “Fuck… I can feel you squeezing me so tight.”
You nod frantically, whimpering as another wave of pleasure builds fast and hot. “Yes – I’m close… please, Valko, go faster – ”
He clenches his jaw, a deep, guttural sound escaping him as he tries to hold back. His hips snap up harder, but you can tell he’s right on the edge.
“I’m too close,” he rasps, almost apologetic, still fucking you deep and steady. “If I go faster, I’m not gonna last – ”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, voice trembling with need as you roll your hips down to take him even deeper. “It’s fine, just – don’t stop. Please.”
Valko lets out a wrecked moan, his grip on you tightening almost painfully. He buries his face in your neck for a second, breathing you in, then pulls back just enough to look at you with dark, desperate eyes.
“Where can I finish?” he asks, voice hoarse and filthy. “Where do you want me?”
Without hesitation, still grinding down on his cock, you whisper against his lips –
“Inside. I want you to come inside me.”
Valko’s control finally snaps.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt in a few hard, fast thrusts. You feel every powerful spurt as he fills you up, warm and wet, his cock twitching deep in your pussy while he keeps rolling his hips in sloppy thrusts, pushing his release even deeper.
The sensation of him coming inside you sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You’re right on the edge again, but you stay still for him, letting him use you however he needs, your body soft and pliant on top of his as he rides out the last pulses of his orgasm.
Then he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, voice wrecked and breathless.
“Move, baby… don’t stop. Chase it. I want to feel you come on my cock again.”
You hesitate for half a second, worried it might be too much for him, but he doesn’t let you overthink it. His hands grip your hips firmly and start guiding you, encouraging you to roll and grind on him again.
You nod, eyes locked with his, and start moving.
You ride him through the mess, feeling his warm cum leak out of you with every roll of your hips, slick and obscene, coating both of you. His cock is still hard inside you, but you can feel how oversensitive he is now – the way he twitches and throbs helplessly with every movement, like it’s almost too much.
He meets your rhythm with shallow, desperate thrusts, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. His eyes stay locked on yours, heavy-lidded and burning, even as his breath turns ragged and broken.
Valko groans, low and wrecked. “That’s it… fuck, just like that,” he rasps, voice tight and strained. “Come on my cock, baby – you’re squeezing me so fucking tight… Good girl, so fucking good…”
It doesn’t take long.
Pleasure slams into you harder this time. You come with a trembling, broken cry, your walls clamping down around his oversensitive cock as another orgasm rips through you. The feeling of his cum leaking out around him with every pulse makes everything wetter, filthier, messier. Slick and cum mix between you as you grind down on him, thighs shaking violently.
This time you don’t hide your face. You stay right there, eyes locked with his, letting him see every second of it – the way your lips part on a silent gasp, the way your whole body shudders and tightens around him.
“Fuck – yes, baby… look at you,” he groans, voice slurred and desperate. “So fucking pretty when you come… good girl…”
His wrecked praise sends a fresh wave of heat through you, drawing out the pleasure for a few more trembling seconds. Then the intense peak of your orgasm slowly fades, leaving you utterly spent. You collapse completely on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest as you try to catch your breath. Your body feels heavy, hot, and spent in the best possible way. Valko’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as he stays buried deep inside you, his cock still twitching with the last aftershocks. Neither of you makes any move to separate.
You nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, breathing in the comforting mix of his skin, sweat, and your own scent on him. His hands move slowly over your back in long, soothing strokes, fingertips tracing gentle patterns along your spine.
For a long while, you simply rest like that – tangled together, hearts slowing down, his warmth surrounding you completely.
Eventually, his voice breaks the comfortable silence, low and gentle against your ear.
“You okay?” he asks, still stroking your back. “Feeling alright?”
You manage a small nod against his neck, too tired and floaty to form proper words. A tiny, satisfied hum is all you can offer.
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath you.
After a few more quiet, peaceful minutes, you finally shift. You slowly push yourself up on shaky arms and lift your hips. The moment he slips out of you, a low, disappointed groan escapes Valko’s throat. The sound is so genuine that you can’t help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle.
“We should probably clean up,” you murmur, still smiling.
He nods, but there’s a playful pout in his expression. Before you can move away, he cups your face with both hands and pulls you down into a slow, sweet kiss. It’s softer than anything that came before – gentle, lingering, and full of affection. When he pulls back, his thumbs brush over your cheeks, and his eyes are warm and tender in the afterglow.
“You feeling sleepy now?” he asks, a hint of playful teasing in his tone.
You let out a soft, embarrassed little laugh. The reality of everything that just happened is starting to settle in, making your cheeks warm all over again.
“Yeah… I think I am,” you admit.
He chuckles quietly, but then that familiar warm smile returns as he pulls you back down into his embrace. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“I never want to let you go.” He whispers.
You melt into him again, letting yourself stay there for a moment longer, tucked safely in his arms. As his fingers keep moving gently over your skin, all you can think is that you want more of this – more nights that end with him holding you close, more stolen hours together, more of his laughter, to feel his warm hands, to see his eyes that always soften when they find yours.
valko has a habit of nuzzling you whenever he can ♡
he just cannot help himself, the moment you’re within reach, he’s leaning in.
he’ll rest his forehead on your shoulder for a second before rubbing his nose against you with the tiniest sigh, like he’s exactly where he wants to be.
“valko..?”
he only hums in response, nose now buried against the side of your neck, taking a deep breath in.
“…are you listening?” you try again.
he nuzzles you again, with a little more energy, smiling when you laugh and try to push his face away.
“ughh.. stop it!” you playfully whine.
but you lying in bed is always his favorite.
he’ll curl his arms around you, hiding his face against your hair or the crook of your neck, breathing you in like it’s the most comforting thing in the world.
his wolf ears relax the instant he settles against you, giving a content flick as you absentmindedly scratch behind one.
“…mm.” it’s barely a sound— more of a pleased rumble from him.
you smile, continuing to rub slow circles behind his ear.
behind him, his tail gives a slow, lazy swish across the bed.
“aww! your tail is wagging, you’re like a real puppy!” you say in complete awe.
the fluffy thing gives another thump against the mattress.
“…traitor,” he almost growls, but he isn’t talking to you— he’s talking to his tail.
his ears pin back with embarrassment while the traitorous thing keeps swaying behind him anyway, picking up speed the more you laugh.
“i can’t control it..” he huffs. “stop looking at it.”
he lets out the smallest groan before hiding his face even deeper against your neck.
a little silence passes, and after a bit he mumbles something into your skin.
“what was that?” you ask.
“…makes me feel better.” his ears lower slightly with embarrassment once again. “when you smell like me.”
you reach up to smooth a hand over one fluffy ear, smiling when it flicks happily beneath your fingers.
“then i guess i don’t mind.”
his tail, which had finally calmed down, immediately starts wagging again— faster this time, sweeping happily back and forth against the blankets.
summary: in which you’re injured and the lads boys find out about it (kinda).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb & valko
notes: suggestive content so MDNI / NSFW, xavier’s a little evil, zayne’s a little silly, rafayel is losing it, sylus is #upset, caleb is caleb, valko is a little dumb but he has the spirit! fem reader (!!!), minor suggestive comments and allusions to violence (is anyone surprised) that’s it (i think).
p.s. first time doing valko i like him as a loser do we also like him or should i delete my account just lmk!
a/n: GULP i rlly hope you guys like this it was fun to make so I Enjoy it but it’d also be lovely if you did too okok…valko my silly nerd…ty for reading (- -)(_ _)
Something feels wrong, but you just can't quite put your finger on it. You're close to tearing your hair out at the sensation, your body filled with adrenaline for an unknown reason that just won't fade.
You thought things were finally going fine for once, but it only takes a moment for that good inertia to flip and send you spiraling. You don't even know what it was.
Sylus told you to find him when this happens. ... You can't remember if Sylus is supposed to be home. Is he out on a deal?
Which room does he hang out in the most again?
Where did you leave your phone?
…
Frustrated at the information you need so easily slipping out of your grasp, the only thing left for you to do is get out of here.
And so you do. You set out into the hallway, disoriented and barely recognizing what should have felt like home. You're too dizzy with unease, your ears ringing, unable to orient yourself in the colossal mansion that feels more akin to a maze. You clutch at your sleeves as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to calm a racing mind that just won't listen to logic.
You slump against the wall of the hallway after a few minutes of searching, your head spinning and your heart picking up speed in your chest. What's wrong with you? What's going on? Where is Sylus?
"Sy," you call out softly, your eyes blurring with tears. "Sylus? R'you there?"
You're met with silence. Of course, stupid, stupid, he wouldn't hear you in this giant house. You must look really foolish, calling out to no one. You press the heels of your palms into your dampening eyes, letting out a little whimper followed by a soft hiccup.
You sink down the wall, your knees against your chest, and your torso slumped against them. You should've just stayed in your room. You resign yourself to your fate of sleeping against the wall tonight, since you doubt you can get up.
... Though, not much time passes before a voice pierces the fog surrounding your mind. You look up, your vision blurry, and are met with concerned red eyes and soft grey hair, the figure slightly out of breath. He's never out of breath.
"There you are," Sylus murmurs once your eyes focus on him, relief softening his features. "Sweetheart, what happened?" His breath hitches slightly when he sees the wetness in your eyes and the wobble in your lip. "Oh, shhh, it's alright. You don't have to tell me now. Come here."
"Sylus," You sniffle, reaching up for him and allowing him to pull you up into his arms. You hide in the crook of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut and blocking out the world around you. "My head hurts,"
Sylus hums in response, holding you steady against him to avoid jostling you too much as he begins to walk. "I'll make sure to grab you some pain medication. Have you eaten?" When you shake your head no, he doesn't scold you; he just holds you a bit tighter against his chest. "Some food too, then."
You're not sure how long it takes, but you eventually feel him shift you in his grasp, sitting down with you safely cradled in his lap. You feel his thumb brush against your cheek in an attempt to coax you from his neck, but you shake your head no, tightly wrapping your arms around his waist to ensure that you stay right where you are.
"I feel really dizzy," you mumble against his skin, the soft, familiar texture comforting against your lips. You clench the fabric of his sweater in your fists, trying to steady yourself. "Got lost in our own home, Sy, I don't know what's wrong with me… Everything feels so far away except for you."
"Focus on me, then." You feel the vibration of his voice in his chest against yours, his arms adjusting to hold you more firmly against him as he contemplates his next words. One of his hands is pressed against the middle of your back, underneath your shirt, the other against the base of your neck. You rise and fall with his broad ribcage as he breathes slowly, his exhales brushing against your hair. You let yourself melt into him, your hands relaxing their hold on his shirt.
You can't feel anything, but maybe that's okay for now. Maybe this faraway, empty feeling is okay, since you have someone to ground you. Someone to hold your string, so you don't float too far into the atmosphere. You trust Sylus; you know he won't ever let you go.
"Okay," you whisper, pliant in his hold. "I will,"
He hums, satisfied, and you let your mind go until all you can feel is his touch, his body against yours, the soft sound of his breaths, his thumb slowly rubbing back and forth against the skin of your back.
"Sleepy?" he asks quietly, and you nod, only just realizing it. Now that you're relaxed, your mind can finally recognize how truly exhausted you are. "Rest, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere. We'll still be here when you wake up."
You nod again, letting your eyes droop closed as you finally drift off. You're safe here.
tags: drabble, alcohol, sfw, fluff, drunk! sylus, clingy! sylus, love confessions, sylus cries (he’s being a little dramatic), basically you babying sylus for the entire fic
you’re not quite sure how it ended up like this.
you know that sylus’s alcohol tolerance is average (he had told you so himself), but you didn’t imagine that it’d be anything lower than yours. it had started as a joke, while the both of you were slightly tipsy; you had said something about wanting to see him drunk, curious about if he was sleepy, clingy, or whatever else while in that state.
and now, you’re here with your giant, six-foot-three boyfriend who is hanging his head over your shoulder and clinging to you like a weighted blanket.
“sy, baby, you’ve got to get up,” you rub his shoulder, “i think you need some water, honey.”
sylus grumbles in that low, frustrated tone that you only ever really hear when he fails to get a plushie for you at the claw machine.
“no,” he says, stubbornly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as if he can avoid responsibility by hiding there.
you have seen sylus tipsy before, but not quite as drunk as he is now. he’s flushed from the tips of his ears and down to his chest, mumbling and groaning like a tired kid after a full day at the amusement park. not only has he been stubbornly sitting on your lap for the past two minutes, but he’s been leaving little wine-stained kisses all over you face.
“i’m serious, sylus. i think you’re a little too far gone.”
“ ’m right here, kitten,” he slurs. “how can i be far?”
“exactly my point, my love.”
with a heavy head, sylus looks up at you, gaze a little unfocused from the buzz. there’s an almost youthful innocence to him, his eyes round like a big cat; the complete opposite of the internationally-wanted criminal the world knows him as. you’re tempted to call him adorable.
“i could never be far away from you, ever. it’d kill me, kitten.”
you raise a brow at him, “that was quite dramatic there, sy. are you sure you don’t need the water?”
sylus frowns, “don’t.”
you laugh, “don’t what? give you water?”
he purses his lips in a way that looks like you’ve offended him. soon, unsteady, large hands come up to cup your face, staring into your eyes with a softness.
“my feelings are real. i belong with you in every lifetime.”
sylus has always had a habit of confessing his love to you at the most random time of day–you like to call it his shakespearian impulse–but you didn’t think it’d stay while he was intoxicated.
“oh gosh,” you laugh, truly taken aback. “even when you’re drunk, you’re a romantic! this is so cute.”
sylus, however, does not find this situation to be cute at all and frowns at you, his brows squished in frustration. at first, you think that he’s just pouting, the way drunk people tend to. but when you see the watery shine in his eyes, you soon realize that you are completely wrong.
“oh my god, sylus, are you crying?” you panic, grabbing a small napkin from amongst the mess of half-eaten steak and sticky wine glasses and bringing it to his face.
“no… it’s the sun. it hurts my eyes,” he mumbles, despite the fact that you are, in fact, wiping away the tears running down his cheek.
“the sun, right…” he is way, way too far gone. “why are you upset, my love?”
sylus stares at you in an almost accusing way. you’re sitting there in silence for an awkward five seconds before he leans in, pressing his face into your chest.
“yudisayit.”
you blink, “say that again for me, baby?”
he sighs as he pulls back, just enough to look you straight in the eyes. there’s a very determined look on his face, though you still feel like you can’t quite figure out what’s going on in his mind.
“you didn’t say it,” he repeats, “say you belong with me.”
the serious tone of his voice makes it near impossible to stifle the laugh that comes out of you. that’s what he was so upset about? thank goodness no one has ever seen him drunk but you.
“oh, sylus,” you coo, tilting your head so that you can plant a soft kiss to his cheek. “of course i belong with you. i’m sorry i didn’t say it back quickly enough.”
“in every lifetime,” he insists, “together.”
he’s so terribly cute.
you pull him in for a hug, kissing his forehead, then nose, then lips. he stares at you in awe, like you put the stars in the sky and the ocean on earth, full of love for you, like he always is.
I hope Sylus isn't home.
wc: 1.6k | gn reader, hurt/comfort
Those are the only words that come to your mind as you walk back to your apartment, a place that had also become one of your boyfriend's frequent haunts. These days, as long as Sylus didn't have a meeting or other prior engagement to attend to, he would pack up his paperwork and take it to your place. While most of the time, his presence is a very welcome intrusion into your space, today you're just hoping for some time alone.
You just had one of the worst days you've had in a long while. Your head is laden with exhaustion, and you can feel the twitching, exposed nerves of your senses, still raw from being completely overloaded and trampled over. You feel humiliated, inadequate, lonely, and a throbbing, inwardly-directed anger and hatred that only seems to be getting worse the longer you think about it. And the absolute last thing you want to do is talk about it. You'd rather rip your own hair out than relive what just happened, especially in front of someone you admire so greatly.
You keep your hands in your pockets as you trek through strong wind and freezing drizzle, knowingly ignoring all the messages that came through your phone over the past couple of hours. You know at least a few of them are from Sylus, but the dread of seeing what you possibly missed, combined with the flaming ball of frustration lodged in your chest, keeps you from checking them.
You arrive at your apartment building's front door quicker than you'd like, but you're grateful to be away from strangers or acquaintances who could see you like this. You've gotten enough stares today already; if you get any more eye contact, you think you're going to throw up.
Pushing the door open, you keep both earbuds lodged firmly in your ears and your eyes trained on the ground as you make your way to the elevators. It's late, so there's no wait to access them this time. A small mercy. The elevator ride is short, and it seems as if you blink and you're in front of your apartment door. Taking a deep breath, you scan your thumbprint and push open the door.
The first thing you smell when you open the door is the subtle scent of Sylus's cologne. Of course, he's here. Of course, of all days, he had to show up today. This is just the world spitting in your face on top of everything else that it's thrown at you already. Fortunately, he seems to be relatively focused on his work, merely sparing you a glance as you shed your shoes and jacket before washing your hands and storming to your room, slamming the door shut quite a bit louder than you intended to.
Though you've been with him for quite a while, you haven't shown Sylus this ugly side of you before. You don't frequently get agitated enough to have an outburst like this, and even if you do get angry, it's easy enough to suppress it until it fades. This feels like the culmination of everything that's been building up in your psyche for months, your experiences today having stabbed directly into the heart of your insecurities and deepened them much further. If he pushes you too much, you're likely going to blow up on him.
You shuck off your fancier clothes for an oversized t-shirt you stole from Sylus and underwear, leaving the discarded garments and your bag on the floor, then make a beeline for your bed, curling up in a tight ball facing the wall. Your cheeks heat as your eyes well up with tears, and you bury your face in your pillow, a soft, shuddering sob escaping you. You feel so childish and dramatic, stomping around and slamming doors instead of sucking it up and treating your partner with human decency. At least he seemed to get the message. You can apologize later.
Your hopes to be left to wallow in your self-loathing alone are soon dashed. After what feels like twenty minutes has passed, you hear a firm rhythm being knocked on your door, causing you to tense up. Why can't he just leave you alone? Haven't you already been through enough humiliation today? You stay quiet, hoping that if you keep your breaths even enough, he'll think you're asleep. No dice. You clench your jaw as he speaks, his voice muffled from behind the closed door.
"I'm coming in, alright?"
You don't respond, instead pulling your legs tighter to your chest and burying your face in the crook of your elbow, eliminating the possibility of him seeing your anguished expression. You hear the click of your doorknob, then the soft pads of his footsteps on the wood of your floor. You hold back your tears the best you can, using your body language to try and deter him, like a cat stubbornly puffing up beneath a table.
The mattress shifts beneath you as Sylus takes a seat by your side. You can feel his gaze on your back, the tender concern that you don't deserve. Despite your best efforts, you begin to tremble, and unbidden tears return to sting your eyes again.
You startle as you feel a gentle touch, but you allow yourself to relax as a warm, heavy hand begins to stroke your back, rubbing slow, steady circles along your spine. Gradually, your tense posture begins to unfurl, and with relaxation comes a lowered guard, allowing your tears to escape and roll down your cheeks. Another shuddering sob bubbles up and escapes your lips. You taste salt. You hate this feeling so much.
Sylus doesn't ask questions; he doesn't push. He just stays, offering his presence and physical comfort, assuring you without words that you're not alone any longer. You're not sure how long the two of you remain like this, but he never grows tired or bored, his greatest priority being your well-being.
Eventually, you timidly turn to face him, his hand pulling away as he takes in your expression, his eyes widening just a touch as his brows furrow with concern.
"Sylus," you whisper, not able to expend the energy it takes to speak properly. "Hold me?"
He hears you; he always hears you. "Of course," he murmurs, climbing into bed beside you and allowing you to nestle against his chest. Once you're settled, he molds his body to yours, holding you close as his hand returns to its place on your back. His fingers gently trace the notches of your spine, his touch reverent, as if he's handling a delicate work of art.
Your hands fist into his sweater as you shudder again, hiccuping as your tears soak the soft, expensive cashmere.
"I c-can't do it anymore," Your voice comes out wobbly and cracked. Sylus's hold around you tightens just the slightest bit. "I didn't do enough and I'm not good enough and it's all my fault, I d-deserve it, but it still h-hurts,"
He stays quiet as you sob, his hand moving to your hair in order to thread his fingers through it, deftly scratching at your scalp. His body is so warm compared to yours, which is still chilled from the harsh weather. You press closer.
"All I have is r-regrets and I hate myself so much. All of this hurt is m-my own fault and that's what makes it so much worse. It's embarrassing." You sniffle, wiping your runny nose on the back of your hand.
You pull away just slightly to look up at him, finding aching worry lying in his ruby-red eyes as he moves his hand from your scalp to gently cup your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
"I'll always be here, sweetheart." He speaks in a low murmur, his voice soothingly familiar as it rumbles through his chest. "No matter what happens, no matter how much you believe you deserve this pain. I will never let you endure it alone. My love for you is stronger than anything I ever believed possible." Your eyes widen, still glistening with tears. He leans forward, tenderly pressing his lips to your forehead for a long while, his slow breaths brushing against your skin. When he pulls back, the wetness in his eyes mirrors yours as he takes time to admire your face. Even like this, you're beautiful to him.
"Everything's going to be okay." His voice is a heartfelt whisper now, and though his words come slowly, you can tell that each one of them has been carefully handpicked to ease your suffering. "You don't need to earn my presence in your life. You have it. You will always have it."
You let out a soft whimper, burying your face back into his sweater and wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly. He shushes you gently, his arms returning to hold you as well.
"Rest, my love." He envelops you in warmth and comfort, and you let yourself fully ease into him, your tears dried and a seedling of hope now planted in your heart. You begin to doze, the exhaustion from everything that happened seeming to hit you all at once.
"I'm not going anywhere. Sleep well for me, sweetie. I love you."
"Love you too," you murmur, and you fall asleep with a soft kiss pressed to your hair, safe in the arms of your dragon.
when sylus, the strongest warrior of the grasslands, chooses you as his mate, you're forced to consummate your union in front of the entire clan.
━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot, porn with feelings
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.4k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, public sex, voyeurism, outdoor sex, people watching you have sex, missionary, cumming inside, medieval bedding ceremony vibes, NOT continuation off grassland romance (though inspired by it), NOT based off any real world clan, completely made up clan & traditions, implied virgin mc, implied first time sex, use of y/n, dom!sylus, dirty talking sylus, talks of marriage, mating, and some political play.
━ ✧.˖ A/N: hello! short fic since i was so heavily inspired by the new sylus memory. this is NOT a continuation of ‘grassland romance’ though it is heavily inspired by the overall theme of the memory. i began furiously writing this when they released the trailer oof i was so hooked. inspired by @/yuchanpaws_ quote tweet linked above!
please note that the clan and traditions mentioned in this fic are completely fictional. however the tradition is based loosely off of the “bedding ceremony” that medieval europe used to partake in!
i will NOT be writing fics for the new xavier or raf memories! i may write for zayne but that is up in the air. i only wrote for this one because i was super inspired by the memory and the fan discourse about it on twitter and tumblr <3
this was actually so fun to write. i might find myself writing more bite sized fics like this, that inspire me rather than feel like me forcing myself to finish them :’) unfortunately that probably means less xavier and raf from now on and only zayne & sylus…
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”
You can hardly hear Sylus through the deafening chants and cheers of the people around you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be caught in this situation. The Mating Rite.
Actually, it was customary for the most esteemed members of your clan to partake in the Mating Rite, those of the Elder Tribunal, the high ranking commanders of the various military societies, really any of the most respected members of the community had to participate in the Rite. To prove their bond with their chosen to the rest of the clan, committing themselves not only to each other, but to the clan.
But you didn’t fall into any of those criteria. While you were under the strict and often suffocating protection of the clan’s most skilled warriors, for reasons they’d refused to share with you, you weren’t someone of the necessary stature needed to be required to partake in the Rite.
But Sylus was.
The youngest warrior to be sworn into the clan’s most elite and ruthless military society. The youngest to be considered for a commanding position in the militia, a position he turned down many times. He was the most formidable and respected gladiator of your entire clan, and even that of the opposing clans of the Grasslands.
There wasn’t a soul in all the Grasslands that didn’t know his name. You either envied him, feared him, or wanted to share a bed with him. Maybe all of the above.
You knew the day would come when Sylus would have to choose a suitable partner, and the thought of it inexplicably sent painful pangs down your very soul. The fear of losing him, when you didn’t even have him, was so utterly heartbreaking, you didn’t know how you’d bear it when the time came.
And yet…Sylus wanted you. He chose you.
You’d never forget the way he sought you out after returning from a mission he told you little of, under the massive acacia you’d often lain under, with the silver haired man in question holding you dearly. How you’d flown into his arms upon seeing his distinct form approaching you, his strong hands gripping your waist as he spun you around, whispering into your ear about how he’d missed you in his time away.
Or when he threw you over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the underside of your rear, a clear mission in his mind as he traversed the Grasslands to the Elder Tribunal’s square.
“I need to show them I already have a lover.”
The Elder Tribunal had been pushing Sylus’s hand for years now, wanting to see their most esteemed warrior mated, securing his future progeny to that of the clan. He’d been able to hold them off for as long as possible, his responsibility as a warrior and as your key protector keeping him far too busy to find a suitable mate.
You weren’t exactly sure what changed, what exactly had caused Sylus’s hand to be forced. What had caused him to finally give in, choosing a partner to share the rest of his life with.
In any case, you found yourself under Sylus’s very naked body, his thick erection nestled firmly inside your quivering walls. He was naked from the waist down, but still wore the traditional garb of the warrior ensemble’s chest harness, the bone embellishments rattling against the coarse leather. There were countless eyes around you, watching the way Sylus slid in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.
Sylus did his best to use his much larger body to shield yours from the hungry stares surrounding you, wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of your obvious discomfort. You were entirely naked, as was required of women partaking in the Rite, bare and vulnerable before the many spectators. And while the thought of showing off your magnificent naked body off to others excited Sylus, as he knew that it was a sight others could behold but never have like he could, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible.
The warm air breezed against your naked body, only a canvas ceiling protecting you from the elements. It was a tent of sorts, without any walls, to give the crowd the best view of the Mating Rite. Of you and Sylus.
Even though the air is warm, the, almost muggy, Grassland breeze against your bare skin makes you shiver.
“I’m sorry,” he grits, his jaw slack as you sucked him in so tightly, trying to focus on comforting you and not the way you nearly choked the orgasm out of him, “I’m sorry. I never wanted our first time…to be like this.”
His words make your mind sober up, your eyes focusing on his and not those around you. He used his thick thumb to rub the tears out of the corner of your eyes.
“It’s’okay Sylus,” you gasp, the pain of his thick cock making it difficult to speak, “I-I’m’okay.”
Sylus grimaces, hearing the choke of discomfort in your soft voice. The way your cunt felt around him was so completely and wholly blissful, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel.
“Just focus on me, alright my dove?” he murmurs, his voice gruff with desire. As he continues to rock into you, unbearably gently and loving, he leans down until his lips are a mere inch from yours.
“Let me take the pain away, hm?”
He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your gasp as he kisses you for the first time. You’d daydreamed about the way his lips would feel on yours, when you watched him train with his fellow warriors, when you’d wash fresh fruit in the brook by the clearing, when he’d watch over you, protecting you from a danger that everyone refused to tell you the truth of.
But your silly little daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared you for how warm and commanding his lips would be when they took yours. How his tongue, gentle yet insistent as they traced the opening of your mouth, would slip into your mouth, exploring you like he owned you.
You never could have imagined the way he’d literally take your breath away, kissing you like he’d been waiting just as long to taste you, to have you.
It’s so wonderfully dizzying that you don’t even notice the pain of his member inside you ebbing into a burning pleasure. You don’t notice the way people holler when Sylus kisses you, the way they cheer at the scene unfolding before them.
You squeak, a mix of a moan and a squeal when Sylus pushes so deeply into you that you briefly see warm white stars clouding your vision. Sylus groans, ripping his lips from yours to breathe out a throaty moan of pained pleasure.
“Not so tight,” he all but seethes at you. You wince at his harsh tone, doing your best to relax your squirming muscles and obey his words. Sylus instantly softens at your reaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.
“You’re so tight down here, sweetheart,” he grits, fingers coming down to press on your bare tummy, “It’s making it difficult for me to…control myself.”
“I-Is that…” you whimper, confused by the way he’s making your body burn with an unfamiliar pleasure, “Ngh – bad?”
Sylus chuckles, despite the tortured plea that shines in his carmine eyes, “Bad? Far from it…You feel unbelievable.”
Your heart clenches at his praises, cheeks heating at the sounds his body makes against yours. Flushed at the way people are watching Sylus claim every inch of you, your virtue.
He continues, stroking your cheek gently, pleadingly, “But it would be embarrassing if you made me…end the Rite so quickly. In front of all these people.”
The implications of his words dawn on you and your eyes widen in a mix of surprise and disbelief. He doesn’t stop his movements even as he explains himself to you, your nails digging into his thick biceps that cage you, blocking your modesty from the spectators.
“I have an image to uphold, after all,” he smirks only half-joking, a well deserved arrogant confidence playing behind his beautiful features, “Only you would make it so difficult for me, little bird.”
“M’not trying to Sy –” you choke out, looking down and trying to focus on the way his impossible girth splits you open, and not the jeering of the crowd. You’re briefly hypnotized by the shiny ring of something filthy that encircles his base, the way his abdomen clenches with every movement he makes.
You’re snapped out of your trance at the distinct and familiar voices, some distance behind your head. You’re acutely reminded of just how exposed you are, your thighs trying to clench shut on instinct. But Sylus’s body holds them open, his fingers gripping your chin to bring your face back to his.
“Don’t worry about them.”
“I-I just –” you whine, not even knowing what you want to say, unable to stop your eyes from darting around. You squirm when you make eye contact with the hungry eyes around you, recoiling into yourself.
“I can tell you exactly what each and every one of them are thinking,” Sylus purrs into your ear as he leans down to press his weight deliciously onto you, which only earns more hooping and hollering from the crowd, “They’re thinking about what it would be like…to be in my place.”
Sylus smirks when you shiver at his lewd words, his filthy whisperings making you inexplicably and embarrassingly excited. His voice is impossibly heated, a dangerous ferality behind them, “Thinking about what it would be like to be the one inside of you right now.”
You whine at his words, hitting his shoulder weakly, “Sylus d-don’t say that. I only want to think about you.”
Sylus groans, a beautifully deep and erotic moan of satisfaction, “Damn right. You are mine.”
He continues on, so lost in the feeling of your tight wet walls that he begins to ramble uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry, my love. I will make it up to you.”
Before you can even ask for what, Sylus is driving right back into your deepest parts, making your toes curl as you squeal unabashedly, not even registering how people cheer at the way you he fucks you.
He whispers, not paying any mind to the way people applaud the way Sylus makes your body keen, encouraging him to take you harder, “After this, little bird, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel. Just you and me. I promise.”
As inexperienced as you were, you knew the way Sylus fucked you was otherwordly. His thrusts, both dominating and tender, his hands gentle as they squeeze your breasts, his lips as they caress yours. The way he so quickly blurred the pain to a blinding pleasure, you knew Sylus knew exactly how to use his body.
Beyond that, you knew Sylus was well acquainted with the female body. The way he fucked you was unreal, quite literally making magic with your joined bodies. The pain had faded away, replaced with an ecstasy that nearly blocked everything else out.
Nearly.
As the whooping gets louder, Sylus only fucks you harder, trying to distract you from the crowd around you, “It’s just you and me, sweeheart.”
Despite Sylus’s comforting words, he himself was still profoundly aware of the eyes on your joined bodies. But it only served to excite him, make him harder. The way all eyes were on you, the beautiful woman he’d chosen for himself, his mate. Something they could stare at but never indulge in. It drove him insane.
You nod, losing yourself as Sylus’s rhythmic pounding makes your nerves burn with pleasure, in a way that makes you confused and alarmed. You felt lightheaded, the pressure in your stomach overwhelming. It felt like you were losing control of your body, like you might have an accident all over him.
“Sy-Sylus, I think something’s – nghn – happening!” you wail, “I think maybe we should – ahngh – stop.”
Sylus groans, acutely aware, even if you aren’t, that you’re nearing your very first orgasm. You squeeze him so tightly that he can’t help but meet you at the peak of that blinding pleasure.
“Let it happen, Y/N,” he soothes, trying to mask the fact that he’s about to lose his own mind from how perfectly you’re clamping down on his cock, “You’re close aren’t you?”
Your eyes widen at the realization of what this sensation is, having heard stories from the other women in the clan, almost scared of how explosive you know it’s going to be. Your fingers furiously grapple at the thick ropes of muscles on his back, scratching deep red welts into him.
“Cum for me in front of all these people, my dove,” he coos, almost condescendingly, “Let’s show them exactly who you belong to now, hm?”
His words drip with absolute filth and it only makes the tension grow tauter, almost like a balloon being stretched to its limits before it pops. You don’t even notice when Sylus’s large hands find the area where your bodies meet.
Your eyes, screwed shut at the new sensations of mind and bodily bliss, fly open when he touches your most sensitive parts, rubbing furiously at the crest of your lips. The feeling is so overwhelming your back arches off the thick mat of straw and blankets that you rest on, chasing the sharp pleasure that his fingers bring onto your intimate regions.
“So responsive,” Sylus murmurs gruffly, “Just like that, my heart. Let yourself feel it, hm? For me.”
You’re honestly at a loss at how Sylus can speak to you coherently right now, if he feels even a fraction of the ecstasy he’s bestowing upon your body.
As your eyes roll back, your mouth parted in a symphony of the most beautiful moans and whimpers, Sylus feels himself being pushed to release. The sharp claps of applause are muted as his ears ring with the overwhelming pressure of how badly his cock wants to release inside you.
For the first time, Sylus stutters, “I-I need to cum inside you. I’m sorry, my love.”
The Mating Rite required the participating parties to unify in the most intimate ways possible, and that included the sharing of essences. And the idea of that…as new as you were to the pleasures of skinship, drove you to madness.
The thought of him filling you so deeply with him, all of him. You couldn’t explain it but you wanted it more than anything you’d ever wished for.
You can’t stop yourself from begging pathetically, “I-I want it. I want you Sy. Please.”
Your voice is practically drowned out by the intensifying cheers of the crowd, but Sylus hears your pleas loud and clear. In fact it’s the only thing he can hear, his brain drowning out anything that wasn’t you.
“Do you?” Sylus smirks, trying to maintain control despite how royally fucked your words rendered him, “So filthy for such an innocent little bird.”
“Then you’d better take it all, my love.”
With frenzied fingers, Sylus sends you careening down the unfamiliar ledge of orgasmic bliss. His thrusts grow increasingly frantic, your cunt convulsing so violently that Sylus nearly wants to black out. You were so unbearably tight that his climax was forced out of him, the warm splash of milky hot seed coating every centimeter of your perfect little hole.
As he spews into you, he feverishly takes your lips into his, desperate to taste you as his body gave you every ounce of himself. His tongue furiously finds yours, a fierce gnashing of teeth, flesh, and raw unadulterated passion. Your entire body vibrates as he moans into you, his body rocking both of you through a transcendent euphoria that will undoubtedly change your life forever.
Neither of you can even hear the screams or the toast of applause that erupts all around you, clan members quite literally celebrating at the union of their most prized warrior.
Sylus doesn’t still, biting the inside of his mouth as he ruts himself into a painful overstimulation. Yet, he can’t get enough of you, not wanting to pull out and be without your warmth, without you.
“The rite has been completed!”
As your body begins to come down from its dizzying heights, your senses start to return, your consciousness becoming vaguely aware of people crowding closer.
One of the clan elders saunters over, wanting to congratulate Sylus, parade him around like a prize the clan had secured for themselves. Sylus’s body blocks his as he approaches, his head snapping back forcefully when he feels an unwanted presence encroaching on your space, intruding on his brief moment of bliss with you.
“Sy?” you murmur wearily, your body drained of every last drop of energy, replacing your body with a heavy contentment that weighed you down.
Sylus doesn’t respond, snapping something at the clan elder, and the other important clan members that had begun to slowly approach. Though you couldn’t hear what he said, you can make out his snarky and forceful tone, a tone you’d never heard him take, especially not with you. It was filled with an authority that would normally never be taken with those of the Elder Tribunal.
But of course, he was Sylus.
Just like that, everyone is clearing out of the small meadow in which the Rite had taken place, heading back to the central square of the Grassland. The serenity left behind blankets you and Sylus, as he returns his attention back to you.
His manhood is still snug inside you, thick and throbbing again despite the copious amounts of slick dripping from where he still plugs you. Your legs are lazily clung to his sides, his thick body slotted between your shaking thighs.
“Hey…” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face.
Your eyes flutter open, twinkling when they catch the way Sylus drinks you in. His lips are quirked in a smirk, a classic display of Sylus-esque arrogance, but his crimson eyes are so tender, the sharp lines of his face softened.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your clammy forehead, wrapping his arms behind your back and cradling you in his arms. He hoists you onto his lap, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, his erection still nestled into your sore walls.
“For what?” you whisper, resting your head on his chest, trying to control the shivers that rack your body involuntarily.
“For doing this. For me.”
You glance up at him, unsure of what to say. You hardly felt like you did him a favor, between the indescribable pleasure he’d just given you and the feelings for him you’d buried deep down.
“You don’t need to thank me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever, even though the two of you finally had some privacy.
Sylus doesn’t speak, holding you dearly as he gazes off into the flat plains of the Grassland, a few large acacia trees littered in the open fields.
“It was…incredible,” you admit, “You’re incredible.”
Sylus looks down at you, the usual cockiness and arrogance faded, letting you really see into the soft and warm soul of the Grassland’s most revered warrior.
He bends down to kiss you, his lips impossibly soft and patient as opposed to the violent way he’d kissed you earlier. Every touch is a caress, every second precious and fleeting.
Sylus bites back his groan as he feels himself stirring back to life inside you. He tries to focus instead on how it feels to hold you, to have you.
He fully intended to make good on his earlier promise, showing you just how thoroughly he could love you. But for now, he just wanted to feel your lips on his, your skin against his. The way he’d always wanted. The way he’d always intended.
A warm gust of wind sweeps through the meadow, making the foliage dance lazily. For over two decades, you’d lived between these very same blades of grass. Yet as you kissed Sylus, the Grassland had never felt quite so alive.
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
． paring: Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel x bratty fem!reader
．summary: how they react when you squirt for the first time!
．warnings: nsfw/smut, creampie, tit fucking, cum-play, rough s*x, cow girl, mirror s*x, spanking, hair pulling, Caleb is a switch (sub to dom), pussy slapping, fingering, nipple sucking and biting.
．note : not proof read also the art is by : rororo_mg on X. Also dunno if this is ooc for them! Also zayne’s part is very long. ^_^
＠ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ；
Caleb always had that cocky little smirk when he looked at you, all charm and mischief, like he knew exactly what you were up to before you even opened your mouth. And right now, that smirk was stretched wide as he laid beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs while you rocked against his cock, taking him deeper with every bounce.
“God, babe,” he groaned, breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself up just enough to mouth at your tits, teasing one nipple between his lips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”
You rolled your hips a little harder just to hear him moan, just to feel the way his cock twitched inside you. “Yeah?” You panted, fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair, tugging just enough to make him look up at you. “I thought pilots were supposed to have more stamina than this.”
His eyes darkened at that, something shifting in the way he gripped you—less playful, more possessive. “Oh, you wanna play like that, pipsqueak?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, one that made your stomach clench with anticipation.
Before you could get another smart remark out, he bucked his hips up, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A gasp caught in your throat as your clit rubbed right up against his abs, the pressure sparking something electric inside you.
“Shit—” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders.
Caleb smirked, hands sliding up your waist before one gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”
You should’ve been annoyed—maybe even fought back a little—but the way he was fucking up into you, the way his cock stretched you just right, made it impossible to do anything but whimper. His abs were slick with sweat, flexing beneath you every time he moved, and that friction against your clit was too much.
“Baby—” your voice cracked, body tensing. “Fuck, I—”
Caleb groaned at the way your walls fluttered around him, at the way you trembled in his hold. “Gonna come for me?” He muttered, dragging his thumb over your clit, slow and deliberate. “Go on, pipsqueak, make a mess.”
The coil in your stomach snapped all at once, white-hot pleasure ripping through you as you came harder than you ever had before. Your entire body shook, legs squeezing tight around his waist as the pressure inside you exploded—soaking his cock, his abs, everything beneath you.
“Holy fuck.” His voice was thick with awe and something even deeper, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through it, prolonging every second of your high. “Did you just—”
You couldn’t even answer, gasping for air as aftershocks shuddered through you. Caleb swore under his breath, hands roaming up your back before he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion. His cock was still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing.
“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he rolled his hips, slow and teasing, making you whimper. “Guess I’ll have to make you do it again, huh?”
Caleb let out a breathless laugh, brushing his fingers over the slick mess coating his abs. His smirk was cocky as ever, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, more ravenous.
“Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice husky as he rocked his hips forward again, making you gasp. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Your whole body was still trembling, oversensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your walls, still so deep, had heat pooling in your stomach all over again.
“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to sound confident, but your voice was wrecked, breathy.
He just grinned, leaning in so close his lips brushed against your ear. “Oh? Thought you liked mouthing off.” His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and you whined at the way your clit dragged against his abs again. “What happened, babe? Already fucked dumb?”
You clenched around him, hands gripping his biceps, trying to push him away just to get a second to breathe. But Caleb wasn’t having it.
“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His strength was effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”
Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, that teasing lilt still in his voice, but there was something serious underneath—something that made your pulse stutter.
“Y’know,” he mused, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, pressing just hard enough to make you squirm, “I think I like you better like this. All messy and fucked out.”
You glared at him, trying to get some control back. “I can still—”
He didn’t let you finish. One sharp thrust sent you keening, your back arching as his cock hit that spot deep inside you, sending sparks dancing up your spine.
“What was that, babe?” Caleb’s voice was thick with amusement, but his breathing was rough now, too, his control starting to slip. “Didn’t catch that.”
You couldn’t even answer, too lost in the way he was moving—deep and precise, grinding against your clit just enough to keep you on edge.
“Yeah,” he muttered, nipping at your jaw, “that’s what I thought.”
And then he really started fucking you.
The slow, teasing pace was gone. He set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged moans. His grip on your wrists tightened, keeping you pinned beneath him as he chased his own pleasure, his abs flexing against your clit with every thrust.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can’t believe you were holding out on me, pipsqueak.”
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and Caleb cursed, his cock twitching inside you.
“Shit—‘m close,” he gritted out, voice strained. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Hm?”
The way he said it sent you spiraling, your orgasm slamming into you so hard your vision blurred. Your whole body clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out, barely aware of anything but the white-hot pleasure consuming you.
Caleb swore, hips stuttering, before he buried himself deep with a rough groan, spilling inside you, heat flooding your core. His grip on your wrists loosened, and he slumped forward, breathless, his forehead pressing against yours.
For a second, neither of you moved, just panting, your bodies still tangled together. Then, Caleb let out a breathless chuckle.
“Well, damn,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. “First time for everything, huh?”
＠ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ；
The soft hum of the med bay was comforting, a backdrop to the electrifying tension building between you and Zayne. He leaned against the counter, a playful grin spreading across his face as he watched you with those piercing eyes, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race.
“You know, I’m technically on duty,” he said, amusement lacing his voice as he crossed his arms.
You smirked, leaning back against the examination table. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your patients, Doctor?”
Zayne stepped closer, the playful edge in his demeanor sharpening. “Oh, trust me, I have my hands full with you.”
With a swift movement, he caught your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. The contact sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
“Just a little ache,” you replied, biting your lip as you glanced down at his firm body. “Right here.” You pressed your thighs together, the heat pooling in your core making it hard to concentrate.
“Let me see if I can help with that.” Zayne's hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing over your tits before he leaned in, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. The way his mouth moved against yours ignited something deep within you, and you responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair.
Zayne pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “You’re gonna need to be more specific.”
With a determined glint in your eye, you gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want you to make me feel good, Doctor.”
He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Well, I do love a challenge.”
In an instant, he had you pinned against the table, his hands exploring your body with expert precision. His mouth found its way to your tits, hot and wet as he sucked and teased, his hands trailing down your sides. Every flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.
“Zayne,” you gasped, arching into him as pleasure coursed through you.
He pulled back, eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Zayne knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs apart, his breath hot against your core. “Let’s see just how responsive you are.”
His fingers slid between your folds, teasing your clit with gentle strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. You gasped, arching your back as he worked you closer to the edge.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So responsive, so eager.”
You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. “Zayne, please,” you begged, unable to control the desperate need building inside you.
“Please what?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“More,” you gasped, your hips rolling against his hand. “I want to come—please!”
With a wicked grin, he obliged, quickening the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. The pressure built rapidly, the heat spreading through you until it consumed every thought.
“Come for me,” he commanded, voice low and sultry. “I want to see you fall apart.”
That was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you squirted all over him, soaking his fingers and the floor beneath you. You cried out, your body trembling as Zayne worked you through it, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and hunger.
“Damn,” he breathed, wiping his fingers on his shirt, clearly enjoying the mess you’d made. “You really know how to make a doctor’s day.”
You shot him a playful glare, breathless but eager for more. “Don’t think you’re done with me yet.”
Zayne chuckled, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
In one swift motion, he pulled you upright, his hands gripping your hair as he pressed you back against the table, his gaze intense and commanding. “Now, let’s see just how far we can push your limits.”
Zayne's grip on your hair tightened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “You made quite the mess, babe. I hope you’re ready for round two.”
You felt a rush of excitement at his words, your body still buzzing from the intense release. “I can take it,” you replied, trying to sound confident even as your heart raced in anticipation.
“Good,” he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Because I’m just getting started.”
Zayne positioned himself between your legs, his hands roaming down your thighs as he leaned in to plant teasing kisses along your stomach. You squirmed beneath him, your skin alive with sensitivity, every touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“Let’s make sure those lovely tits get the attention they deserve,” he murmured, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.
You gasped, arching your back as waves of pleasure radiated from your chest. “Zayne, that feels so good,” you breathed, fingers digging into the table as you pushed against him, craving more.
He glanced up at you, eyes dark with desire. “I love hearing you say that,” he said, switching to your other nipple, giving it the same attention while his fingers trailed down your stomach to your slick folds.
With deft fingers, he teased your clit again, circling and pressing just right as he continued to suckle your breast. The combination of sensations had your head spinning, your body responding eagerly to his every touch.
“Z—Zayne, pleaseeee,” you whimpered, feeling the familiar tension building once more.
“Please what?” he taunted, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Just… don’t stop,” you managed to gasp, urgency creeping into your voice.
“Good answer,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he increased the pressure, fingers moving faster as he thrust two of them deep inside you. The sudden stretch made you moan loudly, your hips grinding against his hand instinctively.
“Look at you, baby,” he teased, his voice low and sultry. “So fucking desperate for my cock.”
“Zayne, I need you,” you breathed, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. “Please.”
“Alright, but first…” He pulled back slightly, positioning himself between your thighs again. “I want you to try something new.”
Before you could process what he meant, he guided your hands to your breasts, encouraging you to squeeze and play with them while he pumped his cock in front of you. The sight of him, so hard and ready, made your mouth water.
“Tit fuck me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding. “Show me how much you want it.”
You nodded eagerly, wrapping your hands around your tits and pressing them together, creating a perfect valley for his cock. The warmth of your body against him made Zayne groan, and you felt a thrill at the power you held over him, even as he watched you with a hungry gaze.
“Just like that, babe. Perfect,” he encouraged, guiding his cock between your tits, the sensation driving you wild.
You could hardly believe how good it felt, his cock sliding between your flesh as you pushed your chest together tighter, looking up at him through your lashes. “You like this, huh?”
“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his hands gripping your wrists as he pushed himself deeper between your tits. “You’re so good at this, baby.”
The heat in your core grew as you continued, each thrust of his cock making you wetter, slickness pooling between your legs. Zayne was losing himself in the pleasure, eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper, each movement sending waves of satisfaction through both of you.
“Damn, I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained, as he watched you with pure lust.
“Do it,” you urged, the thrill of it all pushing you closer to your own edge. “I want to feel you.”
With a deep groan, Zayne thrust forward one last time, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he spilled himself between your breasts, warm ropes of cum painting your skin.
“Oh my God,” you gasped, watching the sight of him losing control over you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
“Now, that’s a mess,” he chuckled, looking down at the sticky fluid covering your chest. “You’re lucky I like it messy.”
You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence at the way he watched you. “I think I might have to return the favor, Doctor.”
Zayne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh really? And how do you plan on doing that?”
With a mischievous grin, you slid off the table, dropping to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Let me show you.”
He let out a low laugh, clearly impressed by your boldness. “I’m all yours, baby.”
Zayne leaned down, his fingers sliding into your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp. His smirk was wicked, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re still feeling bold, huh? Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Before you could fire back, he flipped you over, pressing your chest flat against the examination table. His large hands gripped your ass, spreading you open as he dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit until you squirmed beneath him.
“Look at you, so fucking wet,” he murmured, his free hand coming down hard on your ass. The sharp sting made you jolt, a needy whimper escaping you. “You act like a brat, but your body tells me exactly what you want.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” you bit out, pushing back against him.
Zayne chuckled darkly. “Still mouthing off?” He didn’t wait for an answer—he thrust into you in one smooth motion, stretching you open as his cock filled you completely.
Your fingers clawed at the table as a strangled moan left your lips. “Fuck—Zayne!”
“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you,” he groaned, setting a brutal pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the med bay, mixed with the filthy wet sounds of him fucking you deep.
His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock harder. The angle had him slamming against your g-spot with every thrust, sending pleasure surging through your body.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed firm, tight circles, making your legs shake. “I can feel you squeezing me—getting close, aren’t you?”
You were falling apart too fast, the heat coiling in your stomach, the relentless pace of his cock driving you straight to the edge. “Z-Zayne, I—”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something dark and commanding. “Come for me. I want to feel you gush all over my cock.”
His fingers pressed harder against your clit, and just like that, the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. Your body locked up, back arching as you came hard, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as you squirted all over him.
“Fuck yes,” Zayne groaned, watching you soak him. “That’s my good girl.”
Your body trembled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled out just long enough to spread your slickness all over his cock, smearing your wetness against your folds before thrusting back into you with a deep, guttural moan.
The overstimulation had you whimpering, but the pleasure was addicting, your walls fluttering around him as he chased his own release.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasped, his thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up—”
With one last deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning as he spilled inside you, hot cum flooding your pussy. He rocked his hips a few more times, letting you feel every drop before slowly pulling out.
A filthy wet sound followed, his cum oozing from your used hole. Zayne hummed in approval, dragging his fingers through the mess before pushing some of it back inside you, his smirk downright sinful.
“Can’t let it go to waste,” he murmured, watching as you twitched beneath him, body still sensitive. “You look so damn pretty like this, baby.”
You shuddered, still trying to catch your breath, but managed to shoot him a glare. “You’re a menace.”
Zayne only chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you into his lap, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “And yet, you keep coming back.”
You sighed, leaning into him, exhaustion and satisfaction settling over you. “…Shut up.”
His grin widened. “Whatever you say, babe.”
＠ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ；
Xavier had you sprawled out beneath him, his toned body hovering over yours as his fingers ghosted over your skin, teasing, taunting, driving you insane. His sharp blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he trailed his hand between your thighs, brushing over your already swollen clit.
“Mm, look at you,” he mused, voice smooth, dripping with arrogance. “So desperate for me, and yet you were acting like a little brat just a few minutes ago.”
You huffed, shifting beneath him, trying to grind against his hand. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, I wouldn’t have to be.”
Xavier chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes darkened, something more dangerous lurking beneath. “Oh? Is that right?”
Before you could process it, his palm cracked against your thigh, then your ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
“Ah—Xavier!” you yelped, the sound melting into a moan as he smoothed his hand over the heated skin.
“Now, that’s better,” he murmured, fingers dipping back between your folds, slipping through the wetness there. “God, you’re soaked, babe. You really do like being put in your place, don’t you?”
You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but a sharp slap to your ass had you gasping.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice all silk and steel.
“…Maybe,” you muttered, face burning.
He tsked, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” Another sharp slap made you whimper. “But you’re my pain in the ass.”
You shivered at that, but before you could say anything else, Xavier finally gave in, pushing two fingers into your pussy, stretching you open. The pleasure was immediate, your back arching as he curled them just right, finding that spot that made you tremble.
“Xavier—”
“I know, baby,” he purred, working his fingers faster, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re taking me so well.”
Your breath hitched as the pleasure built fast, the coil in your stomach tightening with every stroke. “I-I need more—”
He smirked. “More?” He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your whine of protest as he leaned back, positioning himself between your legs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you properly then.”
You barely had a second to react before he was pushing inside, stretching you open with his cock. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, a low groan slipping from his lips.
“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he murmured, rolling his hips, making you whimper. “So damn tight, baby.”
His hands gripped your hips, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust hitting deep, rubbing against that spot that had you seeing stars. The pleasure was dizzying, your tits bouncing with every movement, heat building in your stomach at an alarming pace.
Xavier watched you, a smug smirk curling his lips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
You could barely think, barely breathe, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. “X-Xavier, I—”
“I want to see you lose control,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit, pushing you over the edge. “Come for me, babe.”
And just like that, the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your whole body shuddered as you came, the force of it so intense that you felt yourself squirt all over his abs.
A strangled moan left your lips, your mind hazy as you collapsed beneath him, body twitching from the aftershocks.
Xavier stilled for a moment, glancing down at the mess you’d made, before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, running a hand over his slick-covered abs before bringing it to his lips, licking it off with a satisfied hum. “That was fucking hot.”
Your face burned, embarrassment creeping in, but before you could protest, he thrust into you again, making you gasp.
“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly. “We’re not done yet. I need to see you do that again.”
And with the way he was looking at you—hungry, insatiable—you knew you were in for a long night.
＠ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ；
Sylus sat with his back against the headboard, his toned arms resting lazily on the pillows, watching you with those piercing red eyes. His expression was unreadable—calm, controlled—but the way his fingers kneaded into your thighs told you everything. He was holding back. Letting you set the pace. But for how long?
You were straddling his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that had your whole body trembling. Your hands were planted on his chest, nails pressing into his skin as you struggled to move, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him.
“Look at you,” Sylus murmured, voice smooth, laced with amusement. “Acting all shy now.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “Didn’t seem so shy when you were teasing me earlier, baby.”
Your face burned, but you still mustered up a glare. “I wasn’t teasing,” you muttered, shifting slightly, gasping when the movement made his cock press even deeper.
His lips quirked, but his patience was wearing thin. “No? Then what do you call sitting in my lap, grinding against me, acting like you weren’t desperate to be fucked?”
Your breath hitched, and you looked away, refusing to answer.
Sylus hummed, his hands sliding up to your waist, his grip steady but firm. “That’s what I thought.” He guided you up, just enough for the tip of his cock to nearly slip out before dragging you back down onto him. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your nails raking over his chest as pleasure shot up your spine.
The stretch was too much, the sensation unbearable in the best way. You wanted to move, to fuck yourself on his cock properly, but your body was weak, trembling from how deep he reached inside you.
A whimper escaped your lips, and Sylus groaned at the sound, his composure slipping. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. “You feel so fucking good.”
Your thighs burned, struggling to keep up with the pace you wanted, and he noticed. The second you faltered, Sylus’s control snapped.
“Can’t do it yourself, huh?” he mused, though his voice was rougher now, his patience long gone. “That’s fine. I’ve got you.”
Before you could react, he gripped your ass, holding you still as he rolled his hips up into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. Then he did it again. And again.
The pace was brutal, his cock hitting spots that had you gripping onto him for dear life, pleasure mounting too fast to control. Your clit throbbed, the friction driving you higher, pushing you toward a peak that felt different—more intense, more overwhelming than anything you’d ever felt.
“S-Sylus—”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your throat. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”
You could only nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
“Then let go,” he rasped, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit, his thrusts never slowing. “Come for me.”
The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you with a force that left you gasping, your whole body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you. A sharp cry tore from your lips as you felt it—felt yourself squirt, the rush of liquid soaking Sylus’s cock, dripping down onto his thighs.
A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his red eyes dark with something primal as he watched you tremble in his lap, completely wrecked.
“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Didn’t know you could do that.”
You barely had the energy to respond, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks, but Sylus wasn’t finished. His hands flexed on your waist before he thrust up into you again, burying himself deep as his own release hit, warmth flooding your insides as he came.
Your body slumped against his, breathless, skin slick with sweat. Sylus ran a hand through your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his other hand lazily trailing over your thigh, brushing against the mess between your legs.
“Looks like I fucked you stupid,” he murmured, smug.
Your weak glare didn’t faze Sylus in the slightest. If anything, it made him smirk, that lazy, knowing expression that only made your stomach tighten all over again. His fingers traced over your thigh, slipping dangerously close to the mess between your legs, deliberately teasing.
“You made a mess, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t expect you to squirt like that.” His thumb brushed your swollen clit, making your body jolt against him.
Your breath hitched, still sensitive from your orgasm, but Sylus didn’t care. He spread his fingers, rubbing your pink and creamy slick over your inner thighs, then over his cock, still buried inside you, his release mixing with the wetness between your legs.
“Feel that?” His voice dropped lower, more deliberate. “You’re still drippin’ all over me.”
A whimper escaped your lips as he pressed down on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, your thighs trembling on either side of him.
“S-Sylus—”
“Hmm?” His free hand slid up your body, fingers curling around your tits, kneading the soft flesh. “Something wrong?”
You shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily against his touch. “Too much—”
He only chuckled, rolling a nipple between his fingers while keeping steady pressure on your clit. “Too much, huh?” He tilted his head, eyes burning into yours. “That’s funny, baby, ’cause your pussy is still clenching around me like you want more.”
Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, torn between sensitivity and the sharp need still buzzing under your skin. He was pushing you past your limit, and he knew it.
Sylus shifted, pressing you down against his chest, trapping you against his heat. His lips brushed over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “Be good for me,” he murmured, a sharp contrast to the way his fingers slid between your folds, spreading your slick. “Let me have one more.”
You whimpered, body tensing, but when he thrust up into you—slow, deep, filling you all over again—the last of your resistance crumbled.
＠ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ；
Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, that intense pink and blue gaze igniting a fire inside you. He stepped closer, his smirk teasing as he caught the challenge in your expression. “Feeling mean today, huh?”
“Maybe I am,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye. “What are you going to do about it?”
Without warning, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the bed. You felt your heart race as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading your legs apart.
“You know I love it when you act like this,” he said, a low growl in his voice as his fingers slid between your wet folds, teasing your pussy. “But let’s see how long you can keep up that attitude.”
His fingers worked expertly, stroking your clit and plunging deep into your slick heat. “You’re already soaked, baby. Can’t resist me, can you?”
You gasped, trying to maintain your defiance but quickly losing your resolve. “Shut up, Raf.”
“Make me,” he challenged, his smirk growing wider as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that spot inside you. Your breath hitched, and your back arched as pleasure coursed through you.
“Raf, please,” you whimpered, squirming against his touch, desperate for more.
He didn’t waste any time; with one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing and ready. “Tell me how bad you want it.”
“I want it,” you begged, feeling the need building inside you. “Please!”
“Good girl,” he said, and in one powerful thrust, he filled you completely. You gasped at the stretch, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Look at you, so fuckin’ needy.”
He set a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, his body slamming into yours as he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. The pressure built inside you, the familiar tension coiling tighter with each thrust.
“Raf, I’m so close!” you cried, feeling your body ready to explode.
“Just a little more, baby. Let it happen,” he urged, his pace relentless, driving you closer to the edge.
With one final thrust, everything snapped. You felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash over you as you squirted for the first time, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. Your body trembled, and cries escaped your lips as pleasure washed over you in waves.
Rafayel grunted, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he watched you come undone. “That’s it! Just like that!” he growled, losing himself in the sensation.
“Raf!” you screamed, unable to contain the intense pleasure coursing through you.
“Fuck, I’m right there!” he grunted, thrusting deep as he chased his own release, filling you with his warmth as you both rode the wave together.
Breathless, he collapsed against you, the heat of your bodies mingling as you came down from the high. “You really know how to make things wild,” he panted, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.
Rafayel's grin returned as he caught his breath, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Damn, babe, you really squirted everywhere,” he said, looking down at the mess you both made. “Guess I really know how to get you going.”
You laughed breathlessly, the tension from earlier still buzzing in your body. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get used to it.”
“Oh, I plan to,” he shot back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he playfully nudged you with his knee. “Ready for round two?”
With a quick movement, he turned you around, positioning you on all fours. “Time to show you how fun mirror sex can be,” he teased, guiding himself back inside you from behind.
“Just look at those tits bouncing,” he remarked, his voice light and teasing. “I could watch this all day.”
You felt the familiar mix of pleasure and irritation bubbling up, but the way he kept his tone silly made it hard to stay mad. “You’re ridiculous,” you replied, pushing back against him, wanting more of that delicious friction.
“Ridiculously good at this, right?” he quipped, thrusting harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the air. “Feel that, babe? You like it when I hit you like this?”
“God, yes!” you cried, loving the way his cock filled you up, the way he perfectly mirrored your movements, matching your pace with every thrust.
“Then let’s make a mess again,” he grinned, his tone dripping with playful confidence. With each thrust, he picked up speed, pushing you closer to that familiar edge.
“Raf, I’m close!” you gasped, your clit rubbing against the bed as he drove deeper.
“Let it go, babe,” he urged, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you both built toward that climax again. “I want to see you squirt again.”
With his words igniting something primal within you, you surrendered to the pleasure, feeling the tension build until it burst. You squirted again, moaning as pleasure washed over you, the sensation more intense this time as he continued to thrust, sending you spiraling into ecstasy.
“Fuck yes! That’s my girl!” he shouted, his own release following closely as he filled you up, both of you lost in the bliss of the moment.
As you both caught your breath, Rafayel leaned down, his playful demeanor returning, pulling you back against his chest. “You ready for round three? I think we can make an even bigger mess this time.”
You smiled, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel alive. “Bring it on, babe. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”
How could he when you come to him crying big crocodile tears, sobbing how no matter what you do you can’t seem to cum, how you think you must be broken, how no one would ever want such a hard-to-please woman in their bed.
As if he hasn’t spent years watching you, waiting for you, knowing damn well that the problem isn’t you.
So of course Caleb, being such a kind and thoughtful gege, has to prove you wrong, right?
He does. Over. And over. And over again. That is, until you’re crying in overstimulation, writhing away from his punishing thrusts, clawing against the sheets as you try to run from the pleasure-turned-pain.
Or, tried to.
“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?”
You’re running? No, no you can’t run away, not when he’s already spent his entire fucking life chasing you.
Caleb’s voice is teasing, raspy and sweet, but there’s nothing playful about the way his Evol surges to life with a mere crook of his finger, dragging you back along the mattress and pinning you down as he takes his sweet time crawling back to you.
Trapped, your breath hitches as you feel the weight of him settle over you, his intimidating frame caging you in, tracing featherlight kisses along your spine in such a stark contrast to how ruthlessly he was fucking you earlier. His hands roam, slow and deliberate, kneading your ass as he repositions himself behind you.
"If I let you go," he murmurs, "you promise not to run?"
Run? Why did you even want to run? You can’t remember now, not as you viciously nodding your head as much as is allowed under the control of his Evol, already arching your back into his touch as Caleb nips and marks your sticky inner thighs.
“Good girl.” The pressure disappears.
Immediately, Caleb replaces it, his entire body pressing you down before you can so much as take a proper breath. His arm snakes around your throat, flexing just enough to remind you who’s in control, the bulging, thick mass of his bicep choking you deliciously when you attempt to squirm or beg.
He’s got you in a headlock, the rest of his corded body pressing down atop you until your chest is squished to the mattress, ass pressed against Caleb’s pelvis, the combined pressure enough for you to be seeing stars. A drooling, overstimulated mess.
It doesn’t help that he’s practically panting like a dog in your ear, whining as he already begins thrusting himself back into your cunt, delirious moans of your name and filthy praises cooed right into your ear, words barely distinguishable with how hard he’s breathing.
“Aww p-poor thing.” Caleb pants, voice wrecked, whiny with need as he grinds himself against you. His pace is already brutal, his thrusts sharp and unforgiving, every desperate snap of his hips forcing a cry from your throat as his grip tightens, choking you deliciously every time you so much as try to squirm.“Can you be good for me? Be my sweet little girl and cum for daddy.”
It shouldn’t be hot, Caleb, your gege, calling himself daddy, it shouldn’t have you sobbing out an unintelligible plea as another orgasm builds, seizing up your body in tight, aching waves. And yet here you are, loosing your fucking mind at it.
“Please,” you gasp, voice muffled as you sink your teeth into his bicep, embarrassed by the desperate sound of your own voice. “Please, daddy.”
For the first time in thirty minutes, you feel Caleb stop.
He’s frozen entirely, dick hot and throbbing with need within you, each shaky breath hitting your ear as he pressed down closer, flattening, suffocating you into the mattress as you feel the growl come from his throat. You can hear the way his lips curl into a grin.
“You wanna say that again, princess?”
Whining, you try and arch your back further, wiggling your hips up as you try and bait Caleb into continuing, into giving you that release that was only just out of reach. But he wasn’t having any of that bratty attitude tonight.
“Behave.” Caleb’s arm tightens, and your vision swims. ”I asked you a question. You need daddy to—ah shit you tightened, dirty girl— fuck you nice and full, hmm? Fuck you stupid?”
A fresh wave of humiliation burns down your spine, but it doesn't matter. You’ll say whatever he wants if it means he moves, if it means he chokes you more, if it means he finally gives you what you need one more time.
“Yes, m’close, please daddy! Please—ah—let me cum one more time.”
Caleb just snaps.
His grip tightens instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it, enough to make your breath stutter, your body jolt like the sweet little thing you are under his grasp. His entire frame tenses above you, muscles coiling so tightly it’s like he’s holding himself together with sheer willpower alone. But it’s already slipping.
"Fucking," His voice breaks, dissolving into a strangled groan as he buries his face against your neck, breathing you in like a man starved. "Fuck that shouldn’t be so hot, it really shouldn’t—"
Like you haven't already wrecked him beyond repair.
Caleb’s Evol comes back full force, pushing you prone against the mattress so you can’t feel anything but him, the arm around your throat dropping so his hand can press against your belly instead, pinning you down as he fucks into you so deep, so hard, you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to smash onto yours, sloppy, desperate, sucking at your bottom lip as the two of you jolt with each thrust.
"You have no fucking idea," Caleb laughs against your lips, the words a feverish, choked-out confession, "how long I've wanted to do this to you."
It’s almost like he’s hammering that truth into you, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin nearly drowned out by your own sobs of pleasure.
"Caleb—"
"Say it again," he demands, not even trying to keep his composure anymore. "Say it for me, princess. Say it like you mean it."
"Daddy—"
"Fuck."
Caleb really didn't need another kink, he really didn't need to imagine you calling him all these filthy things on top of every other sinful thing he's already imagined you doing. It must be divine punishment, because god was he into it.
Practically collapsing on top of you, Caleb's barely pulling out before grinding right back in as deep as he can get, like he can barely think to part from you even for a moment, like he needs to feel every twitch, every squeeze, every shudder of your overstimulated body. His hands roam wildly, equally greedy, kneading and groping every tender curve like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he’s claiming you in ways he’s never let himself before. And fuck, you’re close.
Caleb notices, of course he notices, nibbling the shell of your ear as the arm around your throat tightens, the other going right back to abusing your clit as you squirt all over him with a scream.
“Aw that’s it, keep cumming sweet thing.” Caleb’s voice is the only thing grounding you, your entire body, your vision trembling as you begin to lose consciousness. The only thing you can think of is Caleb. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!
You don’t even realize you’re screaming his name over and over again as you squirt down both of your thighs, making a mess against the already ruined sweat-slicked sheets beneath the two of you. You’re so damn messy. He loves it.
Convulsing, walls fluttering around him like you’re made for him, a sweet temptation Caleb is so laughably weak against as he follows, humping against you like a mad dog as his breath shatters into desperate, shaky moans of your name, spilling inside you with a force that has you sobbing with pleasure.
“Oh, princess,” he rasped, his tongue tracing over the tear-streaked path down your cheek before pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your jaw. “Shh, it’s alright, don’t cry. Your gege is here, your daddy will take good care of you, promise.”
Rafayel ♱⋅ ── the desperate
You’re going to have to call in sick for the week.
Every year with the return of the tide, with the return of ebb-and-flow day, Rafayel becomes insatiable. You’ve barely been able to be able to escape Rafayel’s grasp for long enough to go to the bathroom, let alone escape enough from his insatiable fucking to walk well enough to fight.
It’s never been this bad. And it’s all your fault. Being back in your arms after eight hundred years, finally remembering the way your voice sounds when it says his name and the way you fit oh so perfectly in his arms. It’s borderline painful to spend even a minute in your absence. His very body violently rejects the notion of it as spasms of violent heat and need drives him right back into your arms again and again and again.
“Please, please let me fuck you. I can’t come like this, you know that.”
Rafayel’s voice is muffled against your thigh, breath hot as he presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. His hands are clenched into the sheets beside him, trembling with the effort of keeping them off you, as you ordered. It’s the only rule you’ve given him tonight, and yet it’s breaking him.
"Rafayel," you warn, fingers buried between your thighs, working yourself open as his desperate, pleading gaze follows your every movement.
He whimpers, nodding frantically, his cock throbbing angrily where it rests against the mattress, one hand coming back to violently fist the swollen head as it leaks all over his palm and sheets. "I know, I know," his voice cracks as he drags his hand around its base, rutting into his own palm like it’s not enough, like it hasn’t been enough for hours now. "But please I—fuck—I can’t."
“You can.” You spread your legs wider, letting him see, letting him watch your fingers disappear into your fluttering cunt with a slick, wet sound that has his jaw going slack, his own hips grind into the bed helplessly. “I told you what would happen if you forgot to use a condom, again.”
Rafayel’s eyes plead up into yours, big fat tears slipping down his cheeks, his head shaking against your leg as he kisses the trembling flesh. "You don't understand," he sobs, nuzzling into the crook of your knee like he can smell the orgasm building inside you, like he can taste it on his tongue already. “I need- I need—”
"You need to learn control, Rafayel."
Your voice is less strict than you’d like it to be, already embarrassingly close considering all the times you’ve come earlier today. And the way Rafayel’s looking up at you, begging, pleading, is really not helping.
Tilting your hips slightly, you circle your clit in a way that makes your eyes roll back, making sure he sees the way your poor cunt flutters all empty, the way your body clenches, desperate for something more, something bigger.
Rafayel groans, his grip on himself tightening. Still, it’s useless, his Lemurian biology physically won’t let him cum unless it’s inside his pretty little mate, his cock swollen and weeping with how much he’s holding back, the pleasure that spikes through him now nothing but a cruel, agonizing echo of the real thing.
"My love," he chokes, head falling back against the mattress, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe past the desperate hunger clawing at his insides. "My muse, my sweet darling, please. Taste you, touch you, anything, please!”
You hum, considering, rolling your hips against your own fingers as he moans, watching with wild, fevered eyes. "You wanna clean me up?"
"Yes."
The word is instant, sharp, like Rafayel’s been waiting for you to say it since the moment he first laid his hands on you tonight. Before you can even think of teasing or denying him any further, his grip snaps—both arms wrapping around your thighs, dragging you down the mattress in one swift, fluid motion.
"Rafayel—"
Too late.
His mouth is on you before you can protest, his tongue filthy as he sucks at your clit, licking up everything you’ve given yourself, drinking in the mess between your thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Slapping your own hands away, Rafayel pauses briefly to suck them clean before diving right back into the source, moaning into your cunt, making your body seize with another orgasm before you can even process the first.
"Fuck, fuck," Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, but it only makes him groan, rutting against the mattress, his own pleasure reigniting just from the taste of you.
You try to pull away, squirming and kicking at Rafayel’s sides, his shoulders, but he doesn't even budge. His arms lock tight around your hips, keeping you there, keeping you spread for him as he eats you out like a man possessed.
And then he's begging again, voice wrecked, slurred with delirious pleasure, licking at your clit between words as though he really can’t get enough. “Please, please let me fuck you. I promise, mhm, promise I won’t cum inside you again.”
Rafayel is still begging for permission even as he manhandles you beneath him, hesitantly parting with your cunt as he kisses up your stomach, sucking at one of your breasts as you feel the nudge of his cock against your entrance before you can even think. “Promise I’ll be good. I’ll be such a good boy.”
Fuck, you really are weak against him.
Using the last of your strength, you flip the both of you around, grinding down against his cock as you feel it throb, violently jumping between your thighs, the sloppy, wet sound of each movement sending shivers down both your spines. Poor thing is already ruined, body extra sensitive due to his heat, cock swollen and leaking as it begs to be inside you.
"You promise?" Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you drag your soaked folds along the length of him, feeling him tremble beneath you.
Rafayel nods frantically, breath hitching, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to grab you, wants to force you down onto him, but he knows better. Knows he wouldn’t survive the punishment. His lips are red, glossy with your slick, parted around little choked-off whimpers as he fights against the desperate urge to rut up into you.
"I promise," he gasps, "Please, I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”
You hum, dragging your fingertips down his chest, nails scraping lightly over sweat-slicked skin, enjoying the way his breath shudders at the contact. The pain. "You say that, but you've already come inside me, what, three times now?"
You rock your hips again, coating his cock in your arousal, watching the way his abs twitch with the effort of keeping still. Gods, he’s so pretty like this, neglected and crying underneath you, muscles strained and glistening with sweat and cum, watercolor eyes bleary as his tears collect on the mattress as dusky pink pearls. The same rosy shade of blush that burns across his cheeks, ears, and throbbing tip of his swollen cock.
“That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”
Rafayel all but whines at that, head tilting back against the pillow, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe, tries to hold on to the last fragile thread of control he has left. "I—I won't this time, I swear, I’ll be good, I just need you."
"You need me?" You lean down, pressing your lips just below his ear, letting your voice drop to a sinful whisper. "Or do you just need to fuck something, sweetheart?"
"You." Rafayel’s answer is immediate, desperate, his hands finally snapping up to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. "It’s always you. Only you, my mate."
The admission makes your stomach tighten, heat pooling low as you let yourself sink down, just enough for the swollen head of his cock to catch at your entrance. Rafayel jerks, eyes wide, mouth dropping open around a silent moan, his grip on you tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
"Oh, fuck."
"You need me, you need your mate?" You tease, rolling your hips, letting him feel the wet heat of you without giving him what he really needs.
"Yes, please, please, please—"
And then, because you’re cruel, because you love seeing him like this, you lift yourself off him entirely.
Rafayel practically cries at that, and you let him plead, let him beg, until his whole body is shaking with the need to be inside you, until his voice is raw and wrecked from crying out your name. Then, finally, finally, you sink down, dropping the entirety of your weight onto him as you both moan at the sudden pressure as your ass smacks his pelvis with a lewd slap.
Rafayel’s body aches up off the mattress, a wrecked, strangled moan tearing from his throat as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. His head tilts back, chest heaving, eyes glassy and unfocused, dilated almost like a cat’s, as if the feeling of being inside you after so long is too much for his mind to comprehend.
"Fucking finally."
You barely have a moment to adjust before Rafayel thrusts.
Whatever fragile restraint he had is gone, obliterated the second your walls squeeze around him. His hips jerk up in a desperate, instinctual rut, shoving himself deeper, harder, until the thick length of him is buried to the hilt inside you, and then pulled all the way out before ramming back in again. You choke on a gasp, nails digging into his chest, but he doesn’t even seem to register the pain.
"More." Some inhumane warble distorts Rafayel’s voice, nails turning clawed and sharp as he thrusts up into you with more strength than any human should possess. “Perfect, perfect mate.”
Your head spins, the force of each snap of his hips making your whole body jolt. His desperation is relentless, dragging you closer to the edge far too fast, too intense, gripping onto his shoulders just to keep you from falling over as your thighs begin trembling once again.
"Rafayel—Raf, slow down!"
"No," he whimpers, shaking his head wildly, hands tightening on your waist as if letting go isn’t an option. "No, please, sorry, need this." Rafayel’s voice breaks into a sort of trill, something like whalesong, eyes fluttering shut as he drives himself up into you, starved for more, cock throbbing desperately inside you. "Don’t leave me again, please.”
Your heart clenches. "I’m here," you whisper, leaning down, pressing your forehead to his as your body moves with his, rolling your hips as you try to stay in time with his brutal pace. "I’m right here, Rafayel."
He moans, high and broken, clutching you so tightly against him, feeling every inch of you pressed into his skin. His pace turns frantic, sloppy, body shaking beneath you as pleasure racks through him in violent waves. He’s close, but he won’t let himself fall over the edge alone.
"Come with me," he begs, his lips brushing over yours as he pleads for it. "Please.”
And you do.
The orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, stealing every breath from your lungs as your entire body clenches around him. Rafayel keens, hips jerking wildly as he follows, his cock pulsing inside you as he fucks his cum deep inside you yet again, stuffing you full until you’re both shaking with overstimulation.
But it still doesn’t stop.
Rafayel can’t stop.
Even as his body trembles beneath you, even as his whimpers turn into sobs, he keeps moving, his hips rolling into you in slow, messy grinds. His cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, sending violent aftershocks through you both.
"Mhh sorry," he moans, lips dragging down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin as if marking you will somehow keep you tethered to him. "Did it again, can’t help it. Pussy feels so nice, wants me too, always so desperate for me. Made to worship me."
You let out a wrecked, exhausted laugh, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his arms snap tight around your waist, keeping you anchored to him.
"No," he pleads, voice cracking, nuzzling into your neck as he breathes in your scent. "No, please, just—just a little more. You owe it to me for being so mean before."
Your head falls into the crook of his neck as yet another orgasm crashes through you, ripping a moan from your throat. Rafayel shudders, gasping against your skin, completely gone, his hips jerking helplessly, overstimulated beyond the point of caring. His body is moving on instinct now, neither of you fully conscious as he keeps moving on his own, chasing another high even as it breaks him.
"Fuck, Raf...”
"One more," he’s licking into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, too tired and uncoordinated to properly kiss you. "One more, one more."
You don’t even know how many times you’ve both come. The world is a haze of heat and pleasure, of wet, messy grinds and deep, instinctual thrusts, of Rafayel’s loud, unashamed moans directly in your ear between kisses, of the desperate way he clings to you, unable to bear even a second, an inch of separation.
You ride him through another, and another, until your body finally gives out, completely limp against his chest, your limbs trembling too hard to keep yourself upright any longer. Rafayel follows soon after, his movements slowing, stuttering, until he’s finally, finally still beneath you, panting raggedly, body wracked with aftershocks.
The room is finally silent except for your heavy breathing, the two of you floating between sleep and reality for what seems like an eternity.
"I think I might die," Rafayel croaks, voice hoarse.
You huff a weak, breathless laugh as you grumble into his shoulder. "Good, you stupid horny fish."
Sylus ♱⋅ ── the sweetheart (liar)
You’re going insane.
Sylus promised he would finally fuck you, promised he’d finally give you what you’ve practically been begging him for all week. “Just the tip,” you’d beg, whining into his neck or suckling gently against his fingers in attempts to bait him, “Please, Sy, just the tip and I’ll stop asking.”
Technically speaking, he’s held up his end of the deal. After all, you’ve already cum four times. Not that it’s ever stopped you from wanting more.
“What’s this? Are you even listening to me, sweetie?” Something jerks your head up, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts at the same time as Sylus grinds forward, humming as he pulls you closer on his lap, your thighs spread wide atop of his. “Tch, first all that whining and now you’re not even paying attention to me. I’m hurt, kitten.”
You shake your head as best you can with his thumb and forefinger still squishing your cheeks, tears from the sheer overstimulation blurring your vision as you bury your face into Sylus’s chest, chasing the mere friction.
The fat head of his cock slips right back out of your cunt, tapping once, twice, on your swollen clit before grinding back in with a lewd pop. One inch, two, just enough for you to feel the delicious stretch of the tip of his cock, before Sylus lifts you up higher on his lap, pulling out as the torture begins all over again.
You swear you can take more. It doesn’t matter than everytime Sylus lines up his cock it hits your bellybutton from the outside, it doesn’t matter that your hands can barely wrap around his base, it doesn’t matter that even when you suck him off your jaw throbs and he can barely thrust it in halfway without you gagging.
“Sylus, please, please just—” you whine, rutting your hips down to no avail as his firm hands render you immobile. Watching you squirm with thinly veiled amusement. “Just fuck me already!”
Your breath comes out in short, stuttered gasps, frustration bubbling over into pitiful little sobs against Sylus’s skin. He shushes you, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your hips as if he’s offering you comfort. But you know better. The bastard lives for this, the way your body trembles, how your cunt clenches down hard every time he pulls out, desperate for more than what he’s giving.
“Please.” A broken cry rips from your throat as he nudges forward again, pushing the tip back inside like he hasn’t already driven you half-mad. “I can take it. Ah, I swear, I can take it.”
And yet, he’s still so fucking mean.
“Hmm,” Sylus’s voice drips with amusement, low and tinged with laughter as his lips graze the shell of your ear as though lost in thought. “No.”
You whine, digging your nails into Sylus’s back with more force than necessary as you hiss out curses, “Cruel, stubborn, self-assured asshole. I told you I can take it Syl—ah!”
Sylus pushes himself upward, roughly fucking his swollen tip against you, ramming that delicious spot within you as your curses dissolve into mindless babbles of his name, another orgasm ripping through you as you try and match Sylus’s rhythm by grinding yourself on the rest of his cock.
“That’s it,” He hums, dragging his tongue along your pulse, relishing the way it hammers beneath his mouth. He can feel how fast it beats, erratic and needy, the way your breath catches in your throat. “You’re gonna be good and take what I give you. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already fucked stupid. And I’ve barely even given you anything, kitten.”
It’s humiliating how right he is.
Your thighs tremble violently on either side of his, the ache in your muscles a dull, distant thing compared to the unbearable need twisting in your core. Desperate, you try to grind down, to force him deeper, to make him give you what you need. But Sylus just clicks his tongue, unimpressed, fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still, keeping you right where he wants you.
Sylus shifts back on the couch, pulling you down, controlling your movements with an infuriating ease, guiding you along the few inches he’s deemed fit to give you. It’s barely anything, nowhere near enough, but even that—just that slow, teasing roll of his hips—and the unbearable pressure of the thick, insistent tip of his cock is enough to make your back arch violently against him.
“There we go,” he murmurs, cooing as he watches you, helpless and pliant in his lap. “No more complaining.”
A desperate nod. Another broken whine.
You can feel it building again, the pressure coiling deep inside you, sharp and unbearable. Sobbing, you drop your head into Sylus’s shoulder, biting into the curve of his neck to muffle your cries, nails digging into his shoulders, chest, clawing violent red marks as Sylus shudders, eyes rolling back at the pain. Your legs are shaking too hard to do much of anything anymore, giving out as Sylus is the only thing left guiding you, dragging you toward yet another orgasm.
Or rather, he would have.
But you feel Sylus chuckle, the sound deep and sinful as it rumbles down his chest and into yours, and fear prickles along your spine. Then, with excruciating patience, he pulls out, leaving you empty all over again before tapping his throbbing cock against your clit—slow, deliberate, taunting.
“You wanted just the tip, sweetheart.” He grins, voice a low, cruel purr as he kisses your forehead. “So don’t start crying now that it’s all you’re getting.”
Xavier ♱⋅ ── the munch
“Then sit on my face.”
You stare, dumbfounded, as Xavier already begins leaning back against the cushions of your bed, those big, blue eyes begging up at you in ways that make it hard to breathe.
Xavier’s hands tighten around your waist, fingers flexing like he’s barely restraining himself from yanking you down then and there. The heat of his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making your pulse stammer, making every inch of you ache with want.
“Xavier, I didn’t actually mean…”
“You want me to prove it, right? Then I’ll do what I can to serve you well.” He’s dead serious, you realize, still staring down at him in shock as Xavier frowns, sitting up just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and haul you toward him, seating you on his chest as protests die in your throat. “Sit.”
Biting your lip, you still find yourself hesitating. What if you’re too heavy? Or if he doesn’t actually like it? You still have your underwear on, shouldn’t you take it off, or does he plan on eating you through it? What if—
"You're thinking too much again." His voice is firm, but gentle, cutting straight through your spiraling thoughts. Before you can get another word in, he lifts you up from the backs of your thighs, guiding you forward until your knees are bracketing his head and you're hovering just above his waiting mouth.
Xavier groans, this is already better than his dreams—just having you above him, so close, so warm—is enough to make him lose his damn mind. His hands are keeping you steady, and when he tilts his head back to look at you again, you almost drown in the sheer hunger in his gaze.
"Please," he murmurs, breathless, sucking and kissing into your thighs like he can't believe you're making him wait so long for something he so, so desperately needs. "I really don’t think I can wait much longer."
A shudder racks through you, thighs trembling as the heat between your legs grows unbearable. Xavier’s so serious, so patient, despite the raw hunger in his voice, despite the way his chest rises and falls in uneven pants beneath you. You’d have to be cruel to deny him.
Slowly, you lower yourself the rest of the way, bracing your hands against the headboard as Xavier immediately pulls you the last few inches down, shoving his face up into you like he’s starving.
He might as well be because the first swipe of his tongue is so hot, so eager, that you nearly jerk away from the sudden pleasure. Not that Xavier would let you. His fingers dig into the marked-up plush of your thighs, keeping you right there as he groans into your pussy like you’re the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted.
“Wait—” Your voice is already breaking, a gasp caught in your throat as he licks into you again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. He doesn’t even bother pulling your underwear aside, just mouths at the fabric, dampening it further, teasing you through the barrier until it sticks to your folds and you’re a whimpering mess, gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles ache.
Then he shifts, hooking a single finger under the waistband, dragging it aside just enough to give himself proper access.
The first real flick of Xavier’s tongue against your clit is devastating.
A high, broken moan rips from your throat as pleasure jolts up your spine, your thighs snapping shut around his head, suffocating him as Xavier feels like the happiest man in the world. Moaning into your cunt, Xavier pulls you down harder against his mouth like he wouldn’t mind drowning in your pleasure if it meant he got to taste you for just a few seconds longer.
You’re already cumming. Head falling backward, your lips part in a silent scream as Xavier’s tongue continues circling around your clit in that same, devastating rhythm, only letting go once you’ve come all over his face. But he doesn’t stop for long.
His tongue flicks and curls and fucks into you with the kind of dedication that makes your vision blur, that makes your whole body burn as you become more and more sensitive. And when you grind down against his mouth, desperate and trembling, he just groans in approval, encouraging you to ride his face like you need this just as much as he does.
"That's it," Xavier mumbles between licks, inaudible between your wet, sinful noises. "Don't hold back. Use me."
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard, but it only makes him grin against you, only makes him suck harder, making you gasp and sob as your thighs start to shake once more around his head. Still, he devours you, no teasing, no hesitation. Just raw, ravenous hunger.
"Xavier—"
He hums in response, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through you. Then he finally fucks his tongue deep into your cunt, curling against your walls as you clench around the hot muscle, Xavier’s nose grinding deliciously into your clit as his hands begin guiding you back and forth once your rhythm falls apart.
You come hard, a choked cry ripping from your throat as your body locks up, pleasure searing through every nerve. Xavier doesn’t stop—doesn’t let you escape—licking and sucking you through your orgasm like he needs every drop, like he won’t be satisfied until you’re a writhing, overstimulated mess above him.
“Ah, Xavier, seriously,” you whine, every suck against your clit now tender and overstimulated as you try and squirm away to no avail. “Can’t, Xavier, can’t come again!”
Crying, you finally manage to wrestle his head out from underneath you—body still shaking, pleasure crackling under your skin like a live wire—realizing something that makes your stomach flip.
Xavier is panting, eyes half-lidded and hazy with bliss, hair fisted in your hands as the rest sticks to his forehead and pillow with sweat, letting you inch off of him as he finally breathes, heaving in deep breaths through swollen, wet lips. His whole body shudders beneath you, and when you shift, you feel it—the sticky warmth against his stomach, the evidence of his release.
He came. Just from eating you out.
And the worst part?
He’s still hard.
“One more time, please?”
Zayne ♱⋅ ── the addicted
Uh oh.
This was bad.
Zayne has always considered himself a beacon of self-control, having grown up under the concept of restraint and caution when it came to everything from his Evol to his life’s work as a surgeon.
But even he could get addicted to having you spread out underneath him like this.
It had started innocently. Zayne had forgotten his lunch today, probably due to his consecutive sleepless nights, thanks to being on call for not two or three but four surgeries this week. So when you delivered his lunch to his private office like any sweet girlfriend would do, it was only natural that you’d want to see if you could help him feel more relaxed and maybe help relieve the stress that was so clearly fogging up his mind.
This, however, was not what you had in mind.
"Zayne, someone is going to hear us," you hiss, voice trembling, but make no move to stop him.
Zayne only hums, two fingers rubbing right up against your clit with expert precision even with your jeans still unzipped around your waist. His other hand shucks them just barely down your thigh, pressing his fingers right back in, curling against that spot that has your legs jerking against the polished wood of his desk before dragging his fingers out of you agonizingly slow.
"You should’ve locked the door when you came in, then." He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand presses against your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you open with his fingers, movements slow, deliberate. "You know I don’t like being interrupted."
Your head tilts back against the desk as your cries are muffles into your palm. "Zayne!"
"You were the one who wanted to help relieve my stress, weren’t you?" His voice is calm, collected, like he isn’t knuckle-deep inside you with his fingers glistening from how wet he’s made you already. "So be a good girl and take it."
Your breath stutters, thighs twitching as you clench around his fingers, already embarrassingly close with how well he knows your body, how pent up you’ve been after not having Zayne in over a week. Meanwhile, Zayne watches you come undone with sharp, almost clinical eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained, a predator biding his time.
"Mhm, close, I can’t—"
"Yes, you can," he cuts you off smoothly, pressing his fingers deeper, rubbing firm, steady circles over your clit. His expression doesn’t change, but his voice dips lower, smiling ever so slightly as he watches you. "Come for me."
You shudder violently, hands gripping the edges of the desk as another orgasm threatens to crash over you, your body far too weak to resist the relentless pleasure.
"Zayne," you cry out, hips jerking.
He clicks his tongue, allowing you to ride out your orgasm, but not before ripping his tie off, deft, scarred hands looping through the expensive silk before balling it up and pushing it into your open mouth.
“What did I say about staying quiet?”
Your response is stifled around his tie, and Zayne feels his traitorous cock throb at the sound of your fucked out, inaudible voice, the very picture of debauchery with the slight drool smearing your lipstick, your eyes hazy with post-orgasm glow, your office button-down skewed across your breasts just enough so be can squeeze your breast right under your lacy bra.
He wants to ruin you even more.
Zayne has barely even zipped down his pants, holding up his own shirt as he bites it to keep his leaking cock from smearing pre-cum all over the cotton, before he’s desperately fucking his own fist with one hand, the other still circling your clit.
When the sound of voices echo from right outside his office door.
Your body jerks under him at the sudden noise, but Zayne doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, pressing his slick fingers harder against your clit, wrenching another broken sob from your throat, muffled by the tie still shoved between your lips.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispers, voice low, dangerous. His free hand tightens around his cock, stroking faster, more desperate, more sloppy than you’ve ever seen him. The sight alone has your walls clenching down around nothing, a fresh wave of arousal making a mess of his desk and the scattered papers on top.
The voices outside the door grow louder, and Zayne’s entire body tenses. Not with fear. Not with hesitation. But something that he thinks might ruin him forever.
“I should stop,” he murmurs, though his fingers never leave you, still rubbing circles into your overstimulated clit, dragging you higher, forcing you to ride that unbearable edge of pleasure. His teeth clench, brows furrowed as his pace on his own cock stutters, his restraint cracking with every second that passes. “I really should stop.”
You whimper, body trembling beneath him, a plea barely audible around the silk in your mouth.
“But you love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, rasping, guttural. “You love making me a mess, love knowing that the only thing keeping us from getting caught is how good you are for me.”
Zayne never talks like this, but god, now you wish he’d never stop. His mere voice is enough to send you over the edge once again. Your moan is strangled, raw, hips lifting weakly into his touch despite the overstimulation.
The door handle rattles.
Zayne snaps, one arm shooting out as ice surrounds the handle, spears of it crawling over the wooden frame of the door, across the tiled floor as he loses control.
He barely spares it a glance. Pulling the tie from your mouth, Zayne immediately replaces it with his lips, swallowing your gasp as he shoves two fingers back inside you, curling them deep, his strokes ruthless, relentless. His other hand leaves his cock only long enough to drag you forward, forcing your legs around his waist, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he moans into your mouth.
"Zayne, your Evol—"
"Don’t worry about me," he hums, kissing you one more time before his gaze drops, watching where the two of you meet. “You’ve done more than enough for me. You’ve always been enough for me.” And he pushes in inch by inch, stretching you open around his thick length, your body still pulsing and greedy from your last orgasm.
Zayne exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, buried inside you. His fingers flex against your waist, grounding himself, keeping himself from completely unraveling.
“That’s it, breathe,” he murmurs, voice back to the soft, low tone you know so well, the urgency melting into something reverent. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw, as if to soothe you through the stretch. “You’re perfect.”
Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you grind upward, coaxing him into going faster, into actually fucking you.
Zayne groans, his control fraying as he clutches you tighter, nose brushing against yours. “You're going to be the death of me,” he whispers, lips ghosting yours in a kiss, the intimacy making your heart clench.
You can still hear muffled voices beyond the door, a stark reminder of the risk, of how dangerously close you are to being caught. But it only makes you cling to him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you whisper, “Then let me take care of you, Doctor.”
Just thinking about Sylus giving you attitude when he mimics your words during the event, but he really hates when you flip it back on him... especially when it means you stop begging/talking to him next time you have sex as revenge.
Best believe he's pounding you deep into the mattress as soon as he realized what you're doing, nonstop filth coming out of his mouth as he begs you to forgive him and let him hear you once more as you fight nearly to tears to keep your sounds muffled just to torture him a little longer.
♱⋅── a/n: 2.4k of filth and Sylus being absolutely whipped for you, doing anything you ask just to earn your forgiveness.
He’s insufferable.
The way he mimics you—voice pitched high in a cruel, sing-song lilt—makes your blood boil.
"Sylus, Sylus," he taunts, leaning down to moan into the shell of your ear, "Please, Sylus, slow down. Too big, too much. Sylus!"
You shove him hard, your frustration met only with his low, infuriating chuckle as you storm away.
But later, when Sylus coaxes you back into bed as if nothing happened, as if his little stunt is already forgotten, you remind yourself that you haven’t forgotten.
And you certainly won’t let him go unpunished.
Sylus always fucks you like he loves you. Like he’s obsessed with you. Every hulking inch of his six-foot-something body pressed down onto yours in devotion only the vulnerability of skin on skin could provide. Every slow, languid thrust jostling your entire body, inching the two of you up the mattress until he drags you back down by the grip on your leg, leaving a kiss on your ankle as he does so.
And god, he feels good. Always does. Hot and heavy, rambling praises and sweet promises into your neck as your nails dig bloody lines into every rigid plane of muscle across Sylus’s back.
One of his hands cups the eternity of your waist, pulling your hips flush against his, the other gently tugging your chin up to his gaze, brows furrowed as his eyes dart between yours, clouded in confusion and concern.
Because despite his efforts, you haven't made a single sound for the past twenty minutes.
Good, he deserved to feel guilty.
You huff, pouting, jerking your chin out from his palm as you swat his arm away.
“You… Are you alright?” Sylus stops moving completely, cock throbbing against your walls, and the sudden lack of stimulation has you writhing.
Before he can pull out entirely, you grab his shoulder as leverage, shooting him one last glare before beginning to fuck yourself against him.
The man is merely stunned into silence, unsure whether to stop or continue as you continue grinding your hips up, chasing your own pleasure as you use him as little more than a toy—refusing to let even a whimper past your teeth as your thighs begin to shake.
Still chasing your own orgasm, you’re too busy to see the concern melt off Sylus’s face, quickly replaced with a wicked grin as he realizes what you’re playing at.
Oh, so you’re still mad? Did he hit a nerve earlier?
Sylus sighs, feigning disappointment as he watches you fight to keep quiet, poor hands clawing and grappling against him as you struggle to take him on your own. Effort straining your muscles, his cock a tight fit without his help. What a fussy little kitten he has.
Sitting back on his heels, you hiss in frustration as the new angle forces his cock to slip right out, smacking against his abs with a lewd sound as your combined slick drips down his heaving stomach.
“Are you still upset about what I said earlier?”
You huff, turning your head to the side as you prop yourself up on your elbows, about to climb onto Sylus’s lap to finish yourself off something stops you halfway. A hand pushes against your chest, forcing you back down onto the mattress with an angry groan, already missing the feeling of him filling you.
Struggling is pointless, Sylus’s entire weight trained on keeping you pinned beneath him, palm large enough to encircle your neck as it travels up, squeezing ever so lightly.
“Not even going to respond?” You bare your teeth in a mock snarl and Sylus laughs, that annoyingly arrogant grin back on his face. ”Where did all your manners go? This kitten sure knows how to hold a grudge.”
You know he’s baiting you, trying to get a rise out of you, goading you into talking.
And it nearly damn works, having to bite your tongue as you glare up at him with all the ferocity you can muster when he begins kissing around your knee and inner thigh, depriving you of his cock as he gets on his knees, leaning down onto his stomach.
“Mhm, I’m sorry. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” Sylus asks, sweeter than honey, words muffled into your inner thigh, each one coming out in between shaky breaths as he inhales deeply against you. “Please, let me hear you again.” another kiss, “Please let me hear your voice.”
He takes a moment to enjoy the view of you, spread open and desperate even as you stubbornly deny him his favorite thing in the world—your moans. He smiles, squeezing your hips and dragging you closer until your thighs are draped over his shoulders, knees bent. You shiver as his breath ghosts over your core, his thumbs pulling apart your lips.
The combined mess from earlier is still splattered across your skin, and Sylus wastes no time before dragging his tongue across it. He can’t help it, you taste so good. Sound even better, if only you’d stop this ridiculous game.
Nipping and kissing into your thighs, Sylus never breaks eye contact as he works his way down to your poor fluttering pussy, blowing cool air just to watch you shiver. And when he suddenly latches his lips onto your clit, flicking his tongue up, you nearly forget about revenge. A moan rips from your throat, and only by slapping a palm over your mouth do you manage to muffle it, shaking into Sylus’s mouth as he growls between board strokes of his tongue.
“Don’t. Do not hide them from me.”
Sylus’s hand immediately comes up, forcing your palm off your mouth. Still eating you out, his hand encircles both your wrists for good measure, pinning them to the mattress.
Sylus knows how to play your body too well, hot tongue circling your clit in slow, devoted motions until breaking away, fucking into your cunt as he watches in smug victory as you grind against the perfect arch of his nose in ways you know will bring you over the edge far too quickly. His usual patience is gone, only desperation remains. Desperation to prove himself, desperation to break you.
You swear you nearly taste blood with how hard you’re biting your lip.
He's making out with your pussy like a man starved, the way he refuses to part even long enough to breathe, the way his fingers are still lovingly laced together with yours, the way he's still fucking begging you to let him hear your voice. You’re coming before you can help it, forcing your head to the side as you bite into the pillow, muffling your cries as you barely stop yourself from saying his name.
Sylus doesn't miss it. He lets out a noise that's half whine, half groan, before sitting back on his heels, pulling his tongue out of your pussy and replacing it with two thick fingers.
"That hardly counts, I could barely hear you." You try to ignore the way he crawls back over you, swollen lips glistening with your release, his entire body trembling at the mere sight of you coming undone. "Was my apology not enough? I'll do more. I'd do anything to earn your forgiveness."
Sylus kisses your bruised thighs again, above your womb, your stomach, chest. It's a trail of fire up your body, worshiping every inch he can reach as the pads of his fingers curling to push against that spongy spot inside of you. It's so hard not to make a sound, especially when Sylus has the gall to press his forehead against your temple, whispering pleas in your ear as he continues fucking you with his fingers.
"I just need to hear your voice again, pretty thing, just a little. I want to hear how good I make you feel. Please."
“Sy—” Fuck. You barely stopped yourself, shaking your head violently as you claw at Sylus's biceps, pulling his arm in closer, faster.
Sylus all but whines at the denial of his name.
He lowers himself entirely, each ragged breath hot against your skin just like his neglected cock, twitching and leaking against your stomach.
“Please, let me make it up to you. I’d give you anything, everything you could ever want.” His fingers curl, hitting your g-spot with cruel accuracy even as he continues begging so, so sweetly. “I’ll be—“ a lick across your ear, “such—" sucking the sensitive lobe, “—a good boy."
Your moan is strangled, barely audible, breaking through your clenched jaw, but the way your whole body convulses lets Sylus know you're close. Again. He kisses you hard, swallowing every sound, his hand never ceasing between your legs.
"You're going to forgive me now, won't you, sweetie?" He coos, and when you nod desperately, Sylus pulls back to watch your face. "Say my name, say it, please. Please, talk to me. You know I can’t even cum anymore without hearing your voice. Hearing you ask for me, my cum."
The confession is filthy, and does horrible, terrible things to you.
“You—” you growl, frustration thick in your voice, hating how easily you gave in. “You’re disgusting. Mean.”
Sylus’s eyes nearly roll back at that—at the sound of your voice after so long. You sound divine, even when you're furious. He groans, rutting his hips against you, the underside of his cock dragging along your stomach as you hiss in faux disgust.
“Oh? So you are talking to me finally?” he moans, reveling in the feel of your heat wrapped around his fingers, your slick on his lips, the way your glare flickers between hatred and something far more dangerous.
"Again,” he pants, “call me that again."
"Disgusting."
Sylus bites his lip, moaning low into your ear as he grinds against you, his touch relentless.
"Mean," you sneer, trying to shove him away, but you are powerless against his hulking body, every inch pressing close enough to have you gasping for breath.
"Awful."
"You’re,” Your breath catches as his fingers quicken, thumb circling your clit with devastating precision. You’re going to come again. “Fucking evil.”
"Yeah,” Sylus repeats, chuckling, eyes half-lidded and dazed as he watches you convulse around his fingers with a smile. “I’m the big, bad, evil villain.”
So mean isn’t he? Cooing sweetly as you come undone, violently squirting as your cum drips down his wrist and forearm. If you want evil, then he can do that. He can earn your forgiveness and have you beg for it too.
It's all too much. The man is a demon, a monster, an angel, and his fingers are working you up to the highest heavens, the way he looks down at you in reverence as his hair falls in a messy curtain, a look of utter adoration on his face. And the way his cock, red and throbbing, presses against the juncture of your hip and thigh, dripping precum down the length as he neglects it all for you.
But you want him. All of him.
"Sylus."
He moans, loud and deep, like the sound of his name on your lips is enough to undo him. You can’t help it, you’re crying now, hot tears burning at the corners of your eyes as you gasp for air.
"Sylus, Sylus. Sylus." Your voice cracks, raw with need. "M’sorry. Please, I want—ah fuck—I need you, fuck. Want all of you. Sylus."
He’s on you before you can finish, mouth crashing into yours, kissing you with a feverish intensity that would bruise any other's lips. He kisses you like he’s starving, swallowing every syllable, every whimper, like he’s terrified you’ll take it all back.
And then, you feel it. The sudden, hot spray of his cum between your bodies, painting your stomach and chest with thick, copious amounts of it as he whines into the kiss. Untouched, undone just from your voice, from the way you’re finally his again.
"Thank you, thank you," Sylus groans against your lips, voice wrecked, relief pouring out of him like he’s been waiting an eternity just to hear you say those words. He’s still cumming.
He keeps his fingers moving, edging you dangerously close to another orgasm, until you're practically squirming in his grip. Even then, he doesn't stop, he doesn't remove his fingers. He pulls back just far enough to watch your face, eyes wide and searching.
"Again, kitten, again. Please, keep saying my name."
"Sylus."
Your body is trembling, and his hand doesn't stop until you're squirming away, the stimulation too much. Only then does Sylus finally pull his fingers out, licking them clean, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he kisses you again.
"Forgive me?"
You nod, and Sylus grins, fanged and fucked-out.
"Say it out loud for me."
You scoff, "Yes. I forgive you."
"Perfect. Then I might have to ask for your forgiveness again."
And just as he finishes his confession, your knees are pressed up to your ears, folding you in half as Sylus slides back into your dripping cunt. Without any resistance the entirety of his length thrusts deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth, your mind blanking as you’re spread wide against the muscular jut of Sylus’s hips. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, squeezing your neck, grabbing at your waist and hips, pulling you up into every thrust.
"Forgive me, you're so perfect. So beautiful." He kisses along your neck, whispering his praises and compliments, forcing his thumb into your mouth as he pries your lips open to hear you better. "Never keep these sounds from me again, understand?"
You moan a yes around his thumb, and Sylus growls.
"That's a good girl."
He doesn’t relent. Sylus effortlessly begins guiding you to meet his thrusts with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, stroking at the outline of his dick pressing through with every rock forward. Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is him.
“Forgive me.” Your breasts jolt with each thrust and before he can stop himself Sylus leans down and bites, nipping and licking into the sensitive peak as you sob from the pain and pleasure. It makes you dizzy, the gentle licks and kisses over your skin in mock apology until he bites down again. And again.
There’s no remorse in Sylus’s voice anymore, only pussydrunk and obsessed. “Please, forgive me.” Utterly obsessed.
━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, LOTS of filthy dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!sylus, dom!zayne, dom!xavier, dom!rafayel, don!caleb, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics
━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3
━ .ᐟ✧ A/N: haiiii guys it’s been a while since i wrote for all the guys. now FIVEEEEE guys, call it a burger joint.. .. sorry this is a day late. i know i’ve done a jealous fic before but i wanted to kinda do it again when they’re not drunk + include caleb.
caleb will still get his jealous and drunk fic tho! i’m also working on some stuff for caleb still. if ur a caleb girly u will eat
enjoy friends <3
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
sylus 秦彻
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,213
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight voyeurism, mentions of xavier, mating press, sylus on top, furniture breaks, lots of loud sex, sylus makes reader scream, praising
In the time you’d known Sylus, you’ve had to replace your mattress frame exactly three times.
It had gotten to the point where you refused to let him stay over. Not that that mattered, as you found yourself staying at his base—his home—far more than your own.
But for whatever reason, Sylus had asked to stay at your apartment tonight—insisting that the base was unsuitable to sleep at tonight. Some unconvincing excuse about renovations. You were suspicious, but he wore you down.
And so you found yourself being absolutely fucked into your mattress, thinking about how you’d need to buy yet another frame tomorrow, when this one inevitably shattered.
“Syluus,” you moan breathlessly, “S-Slow—mmngh—slow down. Bed’s going to break.” You wince when you hear it creak, knocking against your bedroom wall.
“You don’t want that, dove,” Sylus purrs, “She doesn’t want that.” He rolls his hips harder, squeezing the plush of your ass so hard that he leaves indents in the shape of his fingers.
“You know I can’t deny her, not when she wraps around me so fucking perfectly,” he groans, hiking your thigh up against his hip so he can angle deeper.
“You’re impossible. W-What’s gotten into you?” you force the words out, your nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles of his shoulders, whimpering when he purposely drags his pelvis against your clit.
Sylus kisses your forehead, the tender gesture nearly enough to make you forget that he was knee deep in your guts trying to imprint his name into you.
“I haven’t seen you in a week. You’ve been so busy saving the world from Wanderers,” Sylus says simply, his voice calm and steady as if he wasn’t buried inside of you.
Your lips curl, and you tease, “You missed me?”
Sylus scoffs, his rhythm slowing for a brief moment, “Yes, terribly so. I’m not afraid to admit that.”
Your heart skips a beat, looking away shyly. But Sylus brings your face back to his, his grip on your chin gentle.
“What, getting shy on me now, little bird?” Sylus chuckles, almost condescendingly.
”That partner of yours gets to see this beautiful face more than I do. Don’t look away,” Sylus murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. He drags his pelvis intentionally along you, the coarse hair along the base of his cock working literal magic against your sensitive bud.
It’s not enough for you to miss the whiny undertone in his words though.
“You mean Xavier?”
Sylus’s pace falters, but he smirks still, raising an eyebrow at you, “Tch, you should only be thinking of me right now.”
”Y-You’re the one who—o-oh god—brought him up!” you say incredulously, finding the strength to gently smack his solid marbled chest. He catches your wrist before you can make content, bringing your fingertips up to his lips.
He nips at your hand in warning, his pace growing more forceful, as if telling you to watch yourself. His increased vigor makes your bed knock more violently against the wall, your eyes widening in fear.
”Sy, the neighbors are going to hear,” you whisper, knowing he wont listen to you anyway. He’d been forever trying to convince you to move in with him anyways.
“Hm, right. They will.”
You’re about to question his cryptic words when Sylus hoists your legs up, folding you in half. At this angle, he can quite literally hammer into you with an entirely renewed enthusiasm, reaching parts of you that he knew were your absolute weaknesses.
Your eyes roll back with a pleasured squeal, crying his name repeatedly.
Sylus smirks, praising you, your own name sounding like honey as it dripped off his tongue.
“That’s it, my love,” he coos, “Think you can get louder for me?”
You physically can’t respond, eyes squeezed shut as Sylus drives into your g-spot repeatedly and unrelentingly. He’s big enough where the head of his cock brushes against your cervix, a pleasure mixed with just the slightest pain that makes you delirious.
“Sy-lus,” you moan brokenly, unable to stop from practically screaming, “So deep—can’t…”
”You’re doing perfect,” he praises, whispering your name in a way that makes your stomach coil tightly, on the verge of exploding.
“Sh-shit. All you have to do is focus on screaming my name, hm? I’ll take care of the rest.”
You whine at the thought of your neighbors hearing you, knowing first hand just how thin the walls were. Biting the inside of your cheek, you do your best to keep your sounds down.
And of course Sylus notices instantly. But instead of scolding you, he only fucks you harder–physically pulling the sounds out of you. The screams of ecstasy that he wants.
Screams that would undoubtedly be heard across the walls. And the ceiling,
“Just like that,” Sylus grunts, his crimson eyes nearly glowing with approval, “Think he can hear you, sweetheart?”
Your eyes, previously screwed shut in sheer pleasure, fly open as you register the implication of his words—his actions.
Sylus seems to anticipate your reaction, simultaneously bringing his lips over your nipple and his thumb to your clit—rendering you a wordless, squealing mess.
You can’t see the way Sylus smirks against your breast with a dangerous satisfaction, his ruby eyes glowing with adoration and possession.
“He might get to see you every day, but I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. So drunk off my cock that you can’t even open your eyes.”
His thumb moves faster, in perfect tandem with his claiming thrusts.
”He might get to hear them, but these screams are for me, and only me. Right, my love?”
You find yourself nodding obediently, willing to do anything to get him to shut up and give you the orgasm he’s holding just out of your reach.
”Syluuus,” you plead shamelessly, words slurring, “F-Feels s’goood. Please!” Any attempt at being quiet had long been abandoned, your brain clouded only with thoughts of Sylus and the filthy mating press he had you folded into.
Sylus was a man of fierce passion, but this was entirely different. His beautiful eyes held a swirl of dangerous emotions, nearly as intense as the vigor in which his body pounding down into yours. Your nearing climax rings in your ears, blocking out the sounds of your mattress frame snapping, his thrusts masking the feeling of the wood smashing into the ground.
He revels in your cries of pure ecstasy, satisfaction blooming in his chest as you grow louder with every thrust towards your release. Sylus’s vermillion eyes flicker to the ceiling of the bedroom, intrusive thoughts clouding his own building pleasure.
It’d be easier if he lived next to you as opposed to the unit atop yours.
With his lips at your neck, his thick body presses down onto you, angling himself deeper. As he brings your body to unprecedented heights, he whispers into the shell of your ear, voice husky and rough.
”Can feel how close you are” he groans, your cunt attempting to wring his cock absolutely dry, “Want him to hear you cum for me?”
You whine, weakly shaking your head ‘no.’ Sylus only grins, his hips snapping into the plush of your thighs.
”That’s too bad, kitten. Your dear partner is going to have to hear it anyway.”
xavier 沈星回
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,165
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dark!xavier, mentions of sylus, standing sex, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of cum marking, hitting it from the back, sex against the window, slight choking
“You’ve been at the N109 Zone a lot this week.”
You can hardly comprehend Xavier’s words over the sheer intensity at which he’s driving himself into you, as if trying to carve you perfectly into the shape of him.
“Wh-What?” you pant, your voice pathetically shaky as your palms desperately steady yourself against the window he has you pressed against.
The city lights twinkle beneath you, and you find yourself grateful that you’re more than ten floors up. Because the way Xavier had your naked body pressed into the cool glass pane, his chin digging into your shoulder as his hips snapped harshly into your ass?
If you were on a lower floor, anyone outside would undoubtedly see everything.
But you’re starting to think that’s exactly what he wants.
“The N109 Zone. You’ve been there almost every day this last week,” Xavier says, his words simple but his tone almost threatening. Not enough to scare you, but just enough to have your toes curling in excitement.
“And?” is all you manage, your back arching against his abdomen when he presses you deeper into the window. In response, Xavier’s thrusts slow to a near stop, his hand gently wrapping around the base of your throat. You whine in protest, desperately rolling your own hips backward against him, chasing the pleasure
His tender fingers stroke the sides of your neck, so softly and adoringly. It gives you whiplash when you see how dark his eyes have gotten, almost sinister.
Gripping you gently, he pulls you toward him by your neck until your head rests on his shoulder and you can really see the intensity of his shadowy azure eyes.
“Have you been working with the Onichynus leader?” he asks, his thrusts unbearably slow and shallow.
“Sylus?”
At that, Xavier snaps, his grip tightening and his pace quickening. Except it’s much more violent this time around–enough to have your body pounding into the glass and your head swimming with delirious ecstasy.
The sound of another man’s name on your tongue while his cock was nestled against your g-spot? That fueled Xavier with a jealousy that bordered on insanity.
“You did that on purpose,” he grunts unhappily against your ear. It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the sound of his pelvis pounding into your ass, the wet slaps resounding throughout the room.
“Mnngh…W-What did I do?” you ask, struggling to speak.
Xavier’s breath is heavy against your shoulder, his fingers abandoning your neck and instead cupping your jaw, turning your face towards him, so he can really look at you.
Wordlessly, he pulls your face to his, taking your lips into his–bruisingly and possessively. As his tongue claims every inch of your mouth, his cock does the same, filling you out so completely that you find it difficult to breathe.
“Do I need to be rougher?” Xavier grunts as he reluctantly pulls away from you, his lips shiny and cheeks flushed red. You squeak when his hand roughly cups your breast, kneading just how he knew you liked, but just a tad bit harder to make you scream.
“Do I need to remind you just how much you need me?”
He punctuates his words with a pointed thrust, his cockhead stroking roughly against your most sensitive spots.
“How much you need this?”
The intensity and passion in which Xavier takes you against the window is enough to render you a wordless, moaning mess. The glass is nice and cool against your burning skin, fogging up as Xavier presses you deeper into it.
He maneuvers your chin so that you’re facing the reflection again. He kisses your shoulder, deceptively tender, as he murmurs your name. The push and pull between tenderness and roughness confuses your brain, only making your body more receptive, more pliant, to him.
“Oh god—Xavier!” you moan unabashedly, your forehead falling forward to lean against the window. Xavier smiles, thoroughly pleased at the sound of his name leaving your beautiful lips.
But he was a greedy man and he wanted more.
“Look at me,” he commands gently, saying your name with so much conviction and possession that you're wracked with a violent shiver. He tilts your chin up again, so that you come face to face with him in the reflection, the city lights outside blurring. His fingers are soft against your skin, his grip demanding.
Xavier’s glassy cerulean eyes bore into yours through the reflection, misted with a dark and raw possession that you’d been seeing more and more of lately as Xavier opened his heart to you. A look that made your instincts tingle with the need to escape.
And yet your body only tightens with excitement, sucking Xavier further into you, wanting him harder–deeper.
But it’s still so effortlessly Xavier–pure and soft. It made your heart clench with adoration while your core tightened with desperation.
His intense eyes burn into your naked form, fingers forcing you to watch him, as he speaks again, “The next time you go to the N109 Zone, I’m coming too.”
You’re about to protest but Xavier cuts you off, “I know you’re perfectly capable. That’s not why.” His words come out shaky and soft as you get painfully tighter, inexplicably turned on by his possessive nature.
“If you’re going to be walking around the N109 zone with him, you’re going to do it with my cum dripping down your thighs.”
You gasp, your stomach tightening at his filthy–completely serious–words. Xavier smiles into the mirrored window that’s now fogging up with your combined torrid breaths.
“Do you like the sound of that? It feels like you do, angel.”
Xavier glances at you again, looking absolutely ethereal with the city lights twinkling behind his reflection. But he’s starting to look just as disheveled as you, his blonde hair strewn messily, his pale cheeks dusted pink, beads of sweat trailing down his muscles.
As you get distracted in the way his burning cock literally reshapes your gummy walls around him, Xavier grabs a gentle fistful of your hair, forcing you to level with him.
“Tell me you want it, please.”
His commanding words are tinged with just an inkling of insecurity, his blue eyes nearly begging with yours through the damp glass.
You push yourself off the glass, leaning back against him, knees buckling when he gets deeper.
Xavier wraps a secure arm around your chest, holding you effortlessly in place. In this position, he buries his face into your shoulder, his eyes still peeking over, trained on you.
Laying your head back against him, you cradle the back of his head with your hand. Maintaining eye contact, you somehow find the coherence to appease him, knowing he’d go insane without your reassurance, no matter how ridiculous what he was asking was.
“W-Wan’ it Xav,” you moan through the force of his thrusts, “Anything you give me, anything you want.
Xavier noticeably falters, his breaths becoming alarmingly ragged, azure eyes darkening to a deep navy instead.
“Then, let’s start right now.”
zayne 黎深
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,120
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking + hickeys, improper evol use, dry humping, mentions of caleb, zayne on top, praising
Zayne wasn’t a jealous man.
At least that’s what you’d thought—what he’d made you and everyone who knew him believe.
He was wildly successful in his career, self-assured in himself, and secure in your relationship.
And yet, the way he was sucking bruises into every inch of your burning skin, with the clear intent to mark and claim–where everyone could see, said otherwise.
“Zayne—!” you cry out as he bites a particularly mind-numbing hickey into your collar, his skilled tongue soothing the sensitive skin as his teeth graze against the forming bruise.
“Hm?” is all he murmurs. But he doesn’t let you continue or clarify, because the next thing you know, he’s rolling his bare erection against your moist slit, purposely letting his own leaking tip rub against your throbbing bundle of nerves.
With your eyes squeezed shut in burning anticipation, you can’t see him, but you can hear the faint smirk in his voice.
“What is it, sweetheart?” his lips are suddenly at the skin under your ear, pressing soft kisses into the spot he plans to mark you next.
“You know what,” you whine, “Not so high up.” Even you can hear how half-hearted your plea is. You loved the rare occasion Zayne made it known exactly what he did to his favorite hunter, his most crucial patient, behind closed doors.
But you’d gotten so familiar with Zayne’s straight-edged professionalism that you were used to him leaving signs of himself on your body that only you’d be able to see. Areas that only the two of you would know he’d been. Where his lips had been.
“And why is that?” he chuckles, letting his lips ghost along your pulse, as if warning you what was to come if you didn’t plead your case.
You gasp when he grabs the base of his cock, purposely letting himself brush against your soaked entrance, but not letting himself enter–much to your dismay.
“H-Have to go to—ngh—go to Skyhaven tomorrow,” you whimper, “Meeting with Caleb and the F-Fleet to discuss Wanderer activity.”
Zayne pauses at your words, his entire body tensing ever so slightly as he presses himself forcefully into you, his muscles twitching against you.
Ah.
He collects himself instantly, his teeth nipping at your pulse in warning.
“Oh?” he says, as if he didn’t already know you’d be seeing Caleb tomorrow, likely having gotten your mission schedule from the Association. Doctors often had access to the files of all Hunters that were under their care.
“Even more reason to send you off with a few gifts for the Colonel.”
If his jealous possession didn’t turn you on so damn thoroughly you might’ve rolled your eyes and teased him. Tease him that he’d said the childhood rivalry between him and Caleb was one-sided. That he’d said he was above that petty jealousy.
But with Zayne’s cock wedged so tortuously between your legs, a burning path of love bites trailing from your neck to your breasts, his warm breath at your ear–you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but moan for more.
“You sound beautiful,” Zayne whispers thickly into your ear, before his lips descend and latch onto the soft skin above your nipple, “So perfect like this. Spread out for me, begging for more.”
He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your heaving chest, his mouth pulling into a faint smirk at the pretty little marks he’s left all over your soft skin. The sense of satisfaction he feels from watching your quivering form, chanting his name like a prayer. The satisfaction he got from knowing that he’d be the only one to see you like this, feel you like this. Now and forever.
The satisfaction from knowing that anyone who saw you would see exactly how thoroughly you belonged to him.
He shifts to give himself better access to you. To the spot between your legs that was reserved only for him.
Zayne positions himself, his tip at your aching entrance, his body coming down to hover over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes bore into yours, the gold flecks shining as he takes in your flushed features. His magnificent woman.
His fingers trace your jaw, carving an icy path down every beautiful mark, every searing claim. You yelp at the feeling of his Evol laced fingertips, body arching at the hypersensitivity of his frosty digits. But Zayne only presses you back down into the mattress.
“Tell me, love,” he whispers, his voice husky and gravelly with need, “Who’s the only one who gets to see you like this?”
Feeling rebellious, you refuse, “I’m not feeding into this ridiculous del–” You’re cut off by your own scream as Zayne’s fingertips close over your nipple, using his Evol to make his skin colder than it normally was. He repeats his demand, saying your name so tenderly–a stark contrast to his unforgiving touch that your body yearned for.
“Tell me.”
“Y-You!” you squeal as Zayne rolls your sensitive tip in his skillful torturous fingers.
“Who’s the only one who gets to hear you make these perfect little noises?” This time he punctuates his question by bringing his frozen fingers to your clit, pressing down, simultaneously holding your body down as it arches.
“Anngh–you. Only you! P-Please–!” you beg, not able to take the hypersensitivity, but not wanting him to pull away.
“So good for me,” Zayne murmurs, pressing his cock into you, just barely stretching you out, “And only me, right beautiful?”
Your eyes widen at the feeling of just his thick tip inside you. Your body arches, trying to receive more of him. He gently pushes you back down, his palm flat against your stomach.
You whine at his blatant denial, using your legs to try to trap his body against yours, pulling him closer so he had no choice but to push deeper.
“Oh g-god, yes!”
But Zayne remains steadfast, his strong muscled body unmoving. Instead, he gently grips your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.
“Say my name.”
Zayne thrusts shallowly, forcefully pulling the words from your lips and making you spill exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Nnngh–only yours, Zayne!” His name rolls off your tongue like music, earning you a low growl of approval from the man just barely inside you.
As if to reward you, he pushes himself fully inside of you, all the way to the hilt. He falls onto his elbows, rolling his hips with a passionate intensity that has you calling his name–over and over. With a torrid groan of your name, he desperately presses another blossoming bruise into your pulse. Right where everyone could see it.
“That’s right sweetheart. And everyone will know it.”
rafayel 祁煜
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,190
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking, spanking, kinda mentions of voyerism, raf on top but from the back, messy make out
You were a relatively flexible person.
By no means did you have the range of a gymnast or a professional dancer, but all things considered, you were decently limber for the average woman—dabbling in the occasional yoga and pilates.
But that did little to prepare you for the arch Rafayel was forcing you into, his hand gently gripping your hair for leverage, the other pushing you down lower.
He’d purposely put his massive ornate gold-rimmed mirror in front of his bed, forcing you to watch as he mounted you savagely from behind, his hips desperate to paint pretty flowering bruises into the plush of your ass.
Rafayel normally punished you with the silent treatment, or overt sass. But now?
He was punishing you with his insatiable body.
“You better not do that again,” the purple-haired artist groans from behind you, his voice much more demanding than you normally ever heard from him. His hips snap into you, your combined arousal dripping down the back of your thighs.
You can only moan back, every nerve end in your body burning with the pleasure delivered from Rafayel’s thick length inside of you, rendering you unable to think or speak clearly.
Unsatisfied with your lack of response, Rafayel tugs gently at your hair, forcing you to level with him in the reflection in the mirror. He looks devastatingly handsome, his purple wavy hair tousled, like he’d run his hair through it several times. His soft, blemish free, skin a beautiful shade of coral. The sapphire in his eyes eclipses the soft pinkish corals, as he gives into primitive instinct, making them nearly entirely blue.
“Tell me you won’t do that again.”
You whine, even in your cock-drunk state, you know exactly what he wants you to say.
Rafayel was just wrapping up a guest lecture circuit for the local universities, particularly their fine arts departments. He’d asked you to be his “assistant” to the last one, claiming he needed his precious bodyguard there if any of the students tried to kidnap him for ransom.
During a portrait exploration exercise, a student had asked you to model for his sketch. It seemed innocent enough, and you didn’t want to make Rafayel look bad by denying a student’s genuine request–being his guest on campus.
And apparently Rafayel did not like that.
“Raf–!” you rasp, doing your best to speak through the torrent of passionate thrusts, your broken voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours.
“S-Slow down,” you whimper, unable to speak coherently, answer his demand, if he was fucking you this passionately.
“That’s not what I asked for, pretty girl,” Rafayel murmurs, his own voice nearly broken over how perfect your gummy walls convulse around him.
You squeal when he presses his palm harder down on the small over your back, making your ass arch even higher for him.
“You’re in no position to be making demands,” he pants, the hand in your hair abandoning your head to grab a fistful of your soft ass. He kneads it tenderly, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you, before releasing it.
Thwack!
Your eyes widen, a squeal erupting from your lips as Rafayel’s hand comes down to meet your rear in a harsh spank.
“Come on, baby,” he groans your name, halfway between a growl and a whine.
“W-Was jus’ a portrait sketch,” you reason, catching his heated gaze in the mirror. His perfectly arched eyebrow raises at you.
“You think I care?” Rafayel mutters, smacking your ass again, only this time it’s softer. Not punishing, but rather claiming. With the sole intent to mark you up. His.
“Unngh–you asked me t’come!” you slur, your entire body jolting with the force of his body pounding against yours.
“Yeah, to be my pretty little TA,” Rafayel protests, “Not someone else’s fucking inspiration!”
He slumps over you, forcing you deeper, his chest lightly pressed against your upper back, his lips pressed into your shoulder, nipping gently.
“Ngh–knew I should’ve kept you under my podium,” he grumbles, only half joking.
You give him a pointed look in the mirror, your face covered in sweaty strands of hair. Rafayel props himself above you with one arm, the other tenderly sweeping your hair out of your face. So he can see you properly.
You were his. Only his.
Even if it was just some unsuspecting university student.
Rafayel grabs your chin, turning your face so he can kiss you. You crane your neck towards him, letting him capture your lips aggressively, possessively.
It’s anything but a gentle tender kiss, but rather a dark claiming one. One where his tongue explores every inch of you, his teeth nipping your lips, swallowing your exquisite cries of pleasure.
When he pulls away, a string of saliva connects you to him. His fingers still gripping your chin, he turns you back to the mirror.
“You’re my muse. No one else gets to use you, innocent sketch or not.”
You nod submissively, inexplicably turned on by his jealous and possessive demeanor. Rafayel smiles at you through the reflection, a heated promise in his bi-colored eyes.
“Fuck—just like that, need to memorize every inch of you like this,” he moans, stroking your hair unbearably gently. As if he wasn’t rutting into you so viciously that his entire bed shook, the expensive wood legs of the frame scraping against the silk rug.
“You—mmmf—always say that,” you tease him, “Surprised you haven’t—ngh—haven’t created an entire map yet.”
Rafayel gives you an unamused look, his bottom lip jutting out in that adorable Rafayel grimace.
”A map? No,” he lowers himself back to your shoulder, letting his warm breath tickle your neck. He leans his head against yours, his hips rolling like the tides of the ocean. Except maybe during a tsunami.
He laughs when you nearly collapse, his angry tip hitting your g-spot. He catches you, hooking his arm under your stomach before you can lose that beautiful arch.
“Raf—!” you moan, “Can’t…Can’t take much more.”
“Easy, cutie,” he kisses your ear, slowing his movements much to your dismay. It stifles your impending orgasm, making you whine in frustration.
“D-Don’t tease Rafayel!”
He lets out a breathy laugh, giving you a single languid thrust before slowing again.
“Well I can’t have you tapping out juuuust yet,” he smiles into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your pheromones, the left side of his chest burns as your scent clouds his brain.
“I need more time, if I’m going to commit this image to memory,” he whispers predatorily into your ear, directing your face back to the massive mirror. The image reflected is so unbearably lewd.
Rafayel’s muscles ripple as he quite literally mounts you. You look so filthily undone beneath him, your skin flushed and shining with sweat, lips swollen and slick.
”Going to make a mural of you, exactly like this,” Rafayel grins wickedly, delighted by the way your eyes widen with horror, before rolling back into themselves. “Cheeks flushed, perfect ass up, hair disheveled…All for me.”
He gives you another gentle spank, your poor cheek reddened and marked.
“Think that will inspire him?”
caleb 夏以昼
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,417
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight improper evol use, mentions of zayne, against the wall sex, kinda leash use, caleb puts his dogtag in reader’s mouth, hickeys, brat taming
Against the setting sun, Caleb’s silver dog tag casts dancing flashes of light on the wall of his bedroom. Sunsets in Skyhaven have always been so much more magnificent. The floor to ceiling windows allow the waning sun to paint the entire room in a brilliant orange glow, the light bouncing off the necklace he never took off.
The necklace that was now swinging wildly against your own naked chest with the force of Caleb’s desperate, forceful movements.
”C-Caleb, o-oh god,” you cry, nails digging painfully into him, an angry trail of red welts already littering his muscled back. He hisses at the sting, but it only makes him more feral, his pelvis slamming so violently into yours that the wall behind you nearly tremors with his raw strength.
“Yeah? Finally being sensible, princess? Ready to be a good girl for me?” Caleb grins, his words lacking any real bite, balancing you in one hand as he moves your hair to one shoulder.
You whine in indignation, knowing exactly what brought about his sudden attitude.
A certain raven haired surgeon you both knew all too well.
It would be adorable if it wasn’t making him so damn animalistic right now. But who were you kidding—you loved it. Loved him like this.
“Y-You were in important Fleet briefings all day,” you pant through the moans, his cock spearing up into you as he holds you firmly to the wall.
He presses ravenous kisses to your jaw, his fist balling as it propped himself against the wall. “And? All you have to do is ask and I’ll have someone stand in for me.”
“You’re the Colonel–mmngh–you can’t just drop your duties every time I n-need someone to pick me up!”
“Fuck– so damn tight,” Caleb groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he ruts into you savagely, “and who says I can’t?”
There’s a childish and challenging lilt to his gravelly voice, squeezing your ass with his right hand, leaving flourishing bruises behind. If that arm couldn’t feel you, it’d sure as hell leave reminders he was there.
Your eyes roll back, from the pleasure or Caleb’s ridiculousness, you’re unsure.
“It was right next to the hospital,” you whine, squealing when Caleb takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth, “Mmngh–Zayne was a-already there!”
Caleb’s rhythm doesn’t falter for a second at the sound of that name rolling off your tongue. In fact, it seems to only make him more determined. More feral.
He holds your jaw in his fingers, his violet eyes glowing with a cautionary sparkle. The cool metal of his dog tag rattles against your bodies, pressed together and slick with sweat.
“I would’ve been there too. If you called me,” he murmurs petulantly, his face transforming into that classic wet-puppy face that Caleb so expertly used to get his way with you.
But the contrast of his adorable face to his downright filthy thrusts helps you stay clear-minded against his charms. Well, as clear-minded as you could be when he was being like this.
“Caleb, you’re being unrea—oh god!” you whimper, his fingers meanly pinching your clit, purposely trying to make you lose your train of thought, “U-Unreasonable!”
He pulls your chin to him, enveloping you in a feverish kiss, no doubt trying to get you to give in to his jealous little whims. When he pulls away, he tilts your chin up to look into the burning galaxy in his irises.
“You’re my girl. Call me next time, okay baby?” His tone, commanding–nearly a growl, betrays his deceptively sweet words.
You continue trying to reason with him, clawing desperately at the thick ropes of muscles in his back, “You w-were in Skyhaven! Would’ve been—angghh—been waiting for hours!”
Caleb presses warning kisses into your neck, his teeth nipping hard enough to leave marks. He takes one of your hands into his, intertwining your fingers slowly.
”Personal aircraft. Did you forget? Even after you rode me that one t–”
You whine in embarrassment, cutting him off with a poignant roll of your hips, “Ngh–Caleb! Y-You can't possibly fly a whole ass plane to Linkon every time Zayne tries to–”
Caleb interrupts your words with a growl, hips slowing down tortuously. His fingers wrap gently around your neck, his head tilted as he stares down at you.
“Really? You’re going to keep saying his name when you’re crying out for me? For this?”
To punctuate his lightly veiled threat, he ruts particularly viciously, your entire body sliding up the wall. He presses against you so tightly that you shudder, the cool metal of his necklace like ice against your singed skin. His hand brushes along your naval, where he can feel his cock hammering in and out. He presses down, eliciting a beautiful scream from you.
“God, you’re such a brat today,” he growls heatedly in your ear, his hand abandoning your stomach, threading with your fingers again. He raises your joined palms above your head, pushing them into the wall, giving him a bit more leverage as he tries to use his cock to make you forget anyone’s name but his.
Particularly that of your beloved doctor.
“I’m the brat?!” you say incredulously. He cuts you off, hammering until you can nearly feel him in your throat, but you don’t stop, “Y-You’re the brat! Still letting Zayne get under y–mmmf!”
Irritated at your unending talk of Zayne, his dog tag still swinging annoyingly with the force of his thrusts, Caleb cuts you off again. Using one hand to balance you, his free fingers place the tag of his bouncing silver necklace in between your lips. The cool metal brushes against your tongue and you whine as he squeezes your jaw, making it difficult to release it.
“Only name I want to hear from you is mine,” he murmurs, voice deceptively soft. He smirks when your eyes roll back, his tag still between your pouty lips. Something about the sight of you, his claim in your mouth, your eyes nearly white with the sheer force of pleasure only he can give you? It sends him dangerously close to losing all control.
Caleb’s fist slams into the wall next to your head, gasping out a string of expletives, his hips stuttering with the overwhelming emotions he feels when he looks at you. Taking a deep breath, he tries to collect himself, not quite ready to give you your release. His fist softens, stroking the chain of the necklace as it dangles from your mouth toward his chest.
“You gonna be good?” he coos your name, his smooth, heated voice doing little to betray how dangerously close he is to coming undone into your impossibly tight heat.
You give him a rebellious glare, your eyes saying no. You were this close to being cock drunk and giving in to enabling his possessive behavior, but you did your damned best to hold onto your pride.
Caleb chuckles darkly, freeing your chin which lets you drop the metal tag from between your teeth. He catches it in his fingertips, stroking the damp steel, his wordlessness feeling almost sinister.
You yelp when your neck is yanked towards him, close enough that you can feel his threatening breath against your lips, a dangerous glint in his eyebrow-shadowed eyes.
At first you think it’s his Evol, both his hands still occupied–one gripping the dog tag and the other gripping your ass. But at the slight sting at your nape, you realize you’d completely missed him slipping the gifted necklace over your neck. That he probably with his Evol.
And now he was using it like a leash, pulling you toward him like he owned you.
You gasp when he tilts his head, still gripping the necklace gently, your back slamming into the wall as he fucked into you with renewed vigor. He inhales your choked breath as his own, wanting to consume you entirely.
With his Evol, he holds you flush against the wall, using one hand to guide you with the pull of the silver jewelry, the other cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw.
“I hope you don’t have any more plans this weekend. Especially not with Zayne.”
His hand slides from your jaw to your neck again, squeezing in a way that has not only your throat constricting but also your cunt, in pure thrill.
“We’re going to be here until the only name you remember is mine. Now be a good girl and be quiet, yeah?”
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
SYNOPSIS. When you committed to your university, you never expected to reunite with your childhood best friend, Caleb. When your mom urges you to help him move in, your friendship seems to take a turn.
WARNINGS. Profanity, Alcohol Consumption, NSFW, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (receiving), Breeding Kink, Obsessive themes
WORD COUNT. 7.4k
PART 1 - PART 2 - ?
if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3
(I've returned with an obsession for LADS LMAO enjoy <3)
“That’s the last one,” Caleb mumbled, kicking his heel out to prop his dorm door open for you. You nodded curtly at his gesture, holding your breath while you carried in the last box of his belongings. You let out a soft pant, setting down the heavy bin of God knows what.
“It’s no problem! Really,” you insisted, your gaze shifting up to meet his soft lavender eyes.
🍎
The day before your mother had pulled you aside after dinner, scolding you for being a bad friend and not keeping in touch with Caleb.
“I mean, how do you not realize the boy you’ve grown up with is attending the same college as you?” She chided, aggressively scrubbing the dishes that had piled up in your kitchen sink.
“I don’t know, Mom,” you groaned, propping yourself up against the kitchen counter. “Don’t get me wrong, Caleb and I are friendly with one another, but I guess the topic of college never came up?” You cringed your shoulders. Sure, you and Caleb exchanged a few pleasantries here and there, but there was never too much the two of you had to talk about; not like there was any unsettled business or sour feelings.
“Well, you're lucky his mother and I keep in frequent contact hm?” Your mom hummed, the ceramic clinking of plates filling the air as she shut the now-filled dishwasher. “You should help him move into the dorms tomorrow, his poor mother has knee problems and you’re young and spry.”
You slumped over, your shoulders hanging heavy in the air. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up early and be on campus before school even started, but your mom seemed pretty insistent that you help the poor boy and spare his mother’s aching joints.
“Okay, okay. I’ll find my way over there and see what I can do, alright?” You let out a sigh as your mom shoots you a grateful smile.
🍎
“So,” you feign a cough to break the silence. “Did you want help unpacking?” You found yourself leaning against the bare metal bed frame, scanning the room around you. Somehow, this man had managed to score a single – and a pretty spacious one at that. Although the room was bare now, knowing Caleb it’d probably be properly unpacked and prim in a few hours.
“You don’t have to do all that, pipsqueak. I can handle it,” He assured with a smile, his eyes crinkled into small half-mooned crescents. He was knelt down beside a bin, popping the lid open and beginning the search for his packed bedding. He stood up with a simple gray sheet in his hand, turning toward your direction.
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping,” you reached a hand outward, grabbing onto the sheet and beginning to spread it along the expanse of the oh-so-small twin bed. Neatly tucking the sheet beneath the corner of the mattress, you snuck a glance at Caleb. You could tell he was a bit surprised at your forwardness but nonetheless appreciated it and followed suit in your movements.
The two of you spent the next few hours unpacking and organizing his dorm – from making the bed to helping him hang his clothes.
“Wait (Y/N), don’t open that one –” too late. Your hands had already opened the box and there they were: neatly stacked and folded and in all of their glory were several pairs of boxers. Ranging from plain colors to some mixed plaids and finally on top – a pair of them with little apples scattered across the fabric.
“Oh,” was all you could muster out. You shut the lid promptly, scooting it out of the way and going to grab a different one. You peeked at him through your lashes. A hand covered half his face, and his eyes were screwed shut, a light pink color flushed against his cheeks.
“I’ll have to go through that one later,” He mused, his hand moving to rest against the back of his neck. The rest of the unpacking, much to your surprise, went smoothly. By the time you finished, his room looked as if he’d lived there the whole time.
“Thank you, (Y/N), really, I don’t think I would’ve been able to move in so quickly without your help,” he rested his weight against the edge of his now-made bed. “Can I maybe treat you to dinner?” His lips drew themselves into a thin line, his eyes meeting yours – almost as if praying to the universe that you’d accept his offer. You blinked, unsure if you had heard him right.
“Dinner?” you repeated, trying—and failing—to mask the surprise in your voice. Your gaze dropped to his hands, which were absentmindedly fiddling with a corner of the bed sheet you'd just tucked in. Caleb had always been polite, maybe even a little old-school in how he treated people. But this felt like... something else. It didn’t feel the same as that once-innocent younger boy you grew up with.
“If you want,” he clarified quickly at the end of his statement, brushing imaginary lint off his jeans and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought it’d be nice since you helped me out, and I haven’t really had a chance to thank you properly or catch up with you. There’s this little sushi place down on Main Street—I heard it’s good?”
Your lips curled slightly into a smile. “You remembered I like sushi?”
Caleb looked up at you then, the corner of his mouth twitching. “(Y/N), you used to talk about getting sushi and miso soup all the time. That’s not something I could easily forget.”
The tension cracked a bit between you both, just enough for you to exhale a laugh. “Fine, I’ll let you treat me.”
“Done.”
🍎
Main Street was just starting to buzz with the early evening crowd when the two of you made it there. The walk from campus was short but filled with odd spurts of conversation—mostly about upcoming classes, shared childhood memories, and how you’d managed to not know you were going to the same university until your mothers brought it up.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t know,” Caleb said, nudging your elbow as you stepped into the cozy restaurant. “I mean, we literally follow each other on Instagram.”
You gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, and you only post pictures of planes and clouds. Not exactly a location update.”
He chuckled, brushing a hand through his thick layered hair.
“Fair enough.”
After many sushi rolls were consumed, something shifted. Maybe it was the home-y comfort food or the nostalgic laughter, but you started to feel less like acquaintances and more like... (Y/N) and Caleb again. The way you’d been before high school and moving vans and awkward teenage silences.
“So, graphic design, huh?” Caleb asked as he leaned back in his seat. “That tracks. You used to doodle all over your homework.”
You shrugged, twirling a straw in your drink. “Yeah, well... what can I say. I have a passion for creating, I love the nature of art.”
He grinned. “I think it suits you. You’ve always had an eye for stuff like that. Colors, symmetry.”
“And you?” you raised a brow. “Aerospace engineering? Trying to fly away from all your responsibilities?”
“Obviously,” he deadpanned. “But mostly, I just want to build something that ends up out there.” He motioned toward the sky, as if you could see the stars from the restaurant booth. “It’s... grounding, in a weird way.”
The table fell quiet for a moment. You were watching him now, not just the boy you used to ride bikes with, but the person he’d become. Grounded and lofty all at once.
🍎
The weeks that followed passed in a blur of syllabi, campus events, and more run-ins with Caleb than you could count. Which was odd, considering he practically made a home for himself in the campus library.
He texted you after class the next day.
[CALEB]: Can I borrow your notes from Design Theory? I think I slept through half of it with my eyes open.
You replied with a smirking emoji and a PDF of your notes.
[(Y/N)]: don’t thank me too much :p
Later that week, you knocked lightly on his dorm door, a physics textbook hugged to your chest.
“I know this is your thing sooo,” you said, wincing slightly as you walked through his doorway. “If I have to look at one more vector diagram without understanding it, I might combust.”
“Come in,” he grinned, stepping aside. “Let’s trade. Physics help for some sketching practice and coaching?”
Before long, helping each other became second nature—him hunched over your Laptop, poking at your Illustrator file, while you scribbled equations on a whiteboard in his room. You teased him for his weirdly good eye for visual hierarchy; he claimed your physics doodles were actually better than some of the diagrams in his textbook.
And somewhere in the midst of study sessions and late-night diner runs, you realized you didn’t dread waking up for early campus mornings anymore. Especially if they meant seeing Caleb—your not-so-new, not-so-distant friend.
🍎
The hum of the fluorescent lights in the academic building were steady, almost comforting as you sat hunched over a large spread of design theory notes. You’d tucked yourself into one of the small study pods, surrounded by empty tables and soft chatter from other students who passed by in a hurry.
The walls were lined with modern art—colorful abstract pieces and intricate geometric designs—and, despite the chill in the air, the room had a familiar warmth to it. It was a place where you could focus. A place where you could get lost in your work and forget the looming deadlines of projects and exams.
But even in this quiet corner, you found it hard to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to the conversation you’d had with Caleb the night before. He’d called to ask for a quick study session for his upcoming art examination, which had caught you a bit off guard. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a hard worker, but you hadn’t expected him to reach out for something like that.
Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced down at the screen, half-expecting a random notification, but no—there it was. A text from Caleb.
[CALEB]: Be there in 5. Save me a seat :)
A soft smile pulled at the corner of your lips, and you quickly rearranged your things to make room for him. It was almost second nature how he could slide back into your life without much effort at all.
🍎
Five minutes passed, then ten. You were just beginning to wonder if maybe something had come up when you finally saw him.
Caleb’s unmistakable figure appeared at the entrance, his tall frame easily cutting through the crowd of students. As he stepped into the study space, his eyes scanned the room, and then, as if he had a built-in radar for where you were sitting, they found yours.
He smiled that familiar little smile, the one that always made you feel like you were home. He began walking toward you, his steps light, but just as he was about to reach the table, a girl approached him.
She was holding a stack of papers, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her eyes were wide, too wide, almost as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Caleb stopped in his tracks, his hand still halfway to his back pocket.
“Hey,” the girl said, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile. “Are you Caleb? I’m in your thermodynamics class, and—um, I was wondering if you could maybe give me your number? I’m trying to form a study group and... I thought it’d be great to have you be a part of it – I mean, you’re like the smartest guy in class.”
You watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Caleb was silent for a moment, his posture stiffening slightly as if he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. But when his gaze flickered back toward you, the tension in his shoulders eased, and his lips curled into a soft, almost apologetic smile toward the girl.
“Sorry,” Caleb said, his tone polite but firm. “I don’t think I’m the best person to study with right now. I’m actually going to study with my girlfriend right now.”
The girl seemed momentarily taken aback but didn’t push further. She forced a smile, awkwardly nodded, and then turned on her heel, leaving Caleb free to make his way over to you.
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped as he finally sat down across from you, his expression a mixture of bemusement and relief.
“Girlfriend, huh?” you teased, folding your arms over your chest.
He grinned, shaking his head as he unpacked his own materials. “I figured it was a pretty good excuse to get out of whatever she was trying to rope me into,” he admitted with a small smile.
You raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, and what’s wrong with her wanting your number?”
Caleb shot you a sheepish glance. “Well, I’m just not interested in giving my number to people who ask.”
Your gaze softened, and you met his eyes. For a moment, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Caleb had always been popular amongst his peers, or so you heard from your mother. He never had a girlfriend, though, ever. could tell it wasn’t just about the number. It was about his priorities—about what mattered to him right now.
“Alright,” you said, tapping your pencil on the table. “So... about that study session?”
He nodded, settling into his chair and pulling out a notebook from his bag. “Right. I’m actually kind of freaking out about this art exam. I know it’s not physics or anything, but I just... I don’t know. I guess I haven’t done a ton of art since high school, and now it feels like I’m starting from scratch.”
You tilted your head, considering his words. “You’ve always had an eye for it, Caleb. You’ve just... gotta remember how to channel it. Let me see what you’ve got so far.”
He hesitated for a second but then slid his sketchbook over to you. The pages were filled with rough sketches—abstract patterns, geometric designs, and some minimalist ideas that had potential. As you flipped through, you could tell there was talent there, but it needed focus. Toward the last page, however, you lingered. There had been a few rough sketches scattered across the parchment of…. Your face?
Caleb cleared his throat, reaching a hand over the page and quickly snatching the book out of your grasp. When you looked up at him, he shot you a sheepish grin, tucking the book away.
“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, jotting down a few notes in your own notebook. “Let’s start with these basic shapes. You’ve got the right idea, but you need to play with the proportions and scale a bit more. Add some layers. Make it breathe.”
Caleb nodded, leaning forward as you helped walk him through how to refine his sketches. The two of you got into a rhythm, bouncing ideas back and forth, and by the time the sun was beginning to set, you’d worked through most of the exam material.
As you closed the last notebook, Caleb sat back and stretched. “Thanks, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a little more relaxed. “I think I actually feel ready for this now. Seriously, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without your help.”
You smiled at him, but before you could respond, Caleb’s tone shifted slightly. He glanced at his watch and then at you, his eyes brightening.
“So, I know we’ve been working hard... but how about a little reward?” he said, his voice low enough to almost sound like a secret. “How about you come over to my place tonight? I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” You asked, intrigued but also cautious. “What kind of surprise?”
“Trust me,” Caleb said with a mischievous grin, “I’m sure you’ll like where it’s going.”
You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help feeling curious. “Alright, I’m intrigued. I’ll meet you there after dinner.”
Caleb smiled and gave you a nod. “It’s a deal. Later, pipsqueak.”
As he packed up his things and left, you found yourself trying to push away the small flutter in your stomach. A surprise? What could it be?
But whatever it was, you knew Caleb wouldn’t let you down.
🍎
“Caleb?” Your knuckles rapped against his dorm door, awaiting his presence. A muffled voice interrupts your train of thought.
“Coming, coming.” You hear a few sounds of rustling before footsteps, and an open door greets you. “You’re early, pipsqueak.” His hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, soon after traveling down to your lower back, where he ushers you inside his room.
“I couldn’t keep my best friend waiting, could I?” You found yourself kicking off your shoes, hopping onto his made bed, and propping yourself up amongst his pillows.
Caleb shut the door behind you, giving you a look you couldn’t quite read—something between amused and nervous.
“So…” you began, stretching your legs across his mattress, “what’s this big surprise? You’re not secretly making me tutor you for another hour, are you?”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, no physics tonight. I swear.”
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then what?”
He walked over to his desk, where a neatly folded outfit—a casual button-down and his nicer jeans—lay waiting. “We’re going out.”
You blinked. “Out? Like... out out?”
“To the frat party,” he said, shooting you a grin. “It’s supposed to be huge tonight. And,” he added quickly, “I figured you deserved a night off for basically saving my academic life.”
You stared at him, momentarily stunned. “You want to go to a frat party?”
“Okay, I know, I’m not exactly the party guy,” Caleb admitted with a smirk. “But hey—first semester of college, right? Why not make a few fun memories?”
You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “You better not make me regret this.”
Caleb raised his hand in mock solemnity. “I would never.”
🍎
The Delt party was exactly what you expected—loud, chaotic, pulsing with music, and crowded with students dressed just a little too nicely for a night of spilled drinks and uncoordinated dancing. The backyard was strung with fairy lights, a small fire crackling in the distance, the scent of cheap beer and woodsmoke clinging to the air.
You stuck close to Caleb’s side as you navigated through the crowd. He handed you a drink, his fingers brushing yours for a split second longer than necessary. You tried not to read too much into it.
“Alright,” he said over the music, raising his cup. “To passing art exams and not dying in physics.”
You clinked your cup to his. “I’ll drink to that.”
As the night wore on, Caleb grew a little... different. Not bad—just looser. His words started to slur slightly, and his usual guarded posture gave way to easier smiles and more frequent touches. A hand on your shoulder here, a lingering glance there.
“You know, (Y/N),” he said, leaning in close as you both sat near the fire, the flickering light dancing in his eyes. “You’re kind of amazing.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “You’re drunk.”
He laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “A little. But I still mean it.”
You looked at him, unsure how to respond. You’d never seen Caleb like this before—unguarded, open. A little vulnerable.
“You’ve always been this... bright thing in my life, (Y/N). Even when we weren’t talking much in high school. I always remembered stuff about you. Like how you hate pencils that are too sharp. Or how you hum when you draw, even if you don’t realize it. I noticed.”
You stared at him, lips slightly parted.
“I didn’t forget you,” he continued, voice quieter now, eyes fully on you. “Not once. Not ever. You never left my mind.”
The world around you blurred—the music, the laughter, the distant cheer of someone winning a drinking game—and all you could hear was your heartbeat and Caleb’s words.
“Caleb I –,” You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re drunk, we should get you back to your room.” Your hand latched onto his wrist, attempting to flee the scene of the party but his arm pulled taught; he didn’t budge.
“Caleb? Come on,” You yanked against his arm again, only to be tugged inward toward his chest. His movement was sloppy, tucking his arm to his side to bring you back in his vicinity.
“I’m being serious (Y/N),” he leaned down over you, his breath tickling your face; he reeked of alcohol.
You could feel your pulse flutter in your throat. The smell of cheap beer clung to him, the flush in his cheeks stark under the dim party lights. This wasn’t the version of him you were used to—the composed, quiet Caleb from your childhood. This one was raw, unfiltered, and very, very honest.
But drunk. Way too drunk.
“You’re not thinking straight,” you whispered, pushing gently against his chest. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
He didn’t fight it this time. Just let you guide him out the door, his body swaying as he leaned into you more than necessary, like your presence alone was grounding him. A couple of times, you felt his chin bump into the back of your head. He had been leaning over you, drinking in your scent as you walked him back to his dorm.
The cold night air hit hard, sobering your thoughts if not his. You kept a firm grip on his wrist as you led him across campus, trying not to focus on how his fingers crept up and subtly intertwined with yours.
By the time you reached his dorm, Caleb was quiet—too quiet. You helped him fumble with the keycard and finally shoved his dorm door open.
“Sit down,” you instructed, guiding him to the bed. “I’ll get you water.”
But the moment you turned toward the tiny dorm fridge, a hand reached out and caught your forearm.
“Why do you think I’m lying?” his words were slower now, but clear. “Why does everyone think drunk people can’t tell the truth?”
You met his gaze over your shoulder. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, one elbow on his knee, head tilted up to look at you with those sharp lilac eyes.
“It’s not about lying, Caleb,” you said softly. “It’s just… this might not be something you feel tomorrow. And I don’t want to be a mistake you regret.”
He stood then, slowly, like he was trying to keep his balance in more ways than one. “You think I wouldn’t remember wanting you?”
Your breath caught.
He gently pulled you closer to where he sat, carefully, almost reverently. His hand released your arm and crept up toward your face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wanted you since high school, (Y/N). Ever since we met and bonded over that stupid Pokémon game.”
You tried to laugh. Failed. Your heart caught in your throat.
“Caleb…”
“I’m not trying to push you,” he said, though the way his hand lingered against your cheek made it hard to believe – his thumb swiping gentle strokes across your skin. “But if I don’t do this now, I’m scared I’ll never do it.”
Before you could respond, his lips were on yours.
It was soft, surprisingly gentle. A question, not a demand.
His mouth tasted of that sour alcohol aftertaste and desperation, but there was something else under it: warmth, sincerity.
It would’ve been easy to give in.
But you pulled back, your heart practically pounding out of your ribcage. “Caleb, you’re drunk,” you reminded him, more to yourself than him.
His forehead leaned against yours. “I know,” he whispered. “But I’m not wrong. And I’m not a liar.”
You stood there in the quiet hum of the dorm room, the distance between you barely inches, your brain mush.
“Please, (Y/N)?” His head still tilted upward to meet your gaze, his eyes pleading; full of desperation and raw need.
“Caleb I –,” you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment of frustration. “You’re drunk – like what if you don’t actually want this? What if you regret something?”
He cut you off, gently taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your face back to his. “(Y/N),” he paused, a beat passed as his eyes bore into yours. “If you would just believe me, and allow me, I could be fucking you on this bed right now.” His voice was low and rough with desire, his gaze never once leaving yours as he spoke.
“And if you think this is just a drunk man talking, then fuck,” He reached his other arm out to cup both your cheeks, leaning up toward you to get impossibly closer. “Id fuck you ten times harder tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his lips grazing yours for just a second.
You swallowed hard, bottom lip twitching as you held yourself back from the urge to leap into his grasp right then and there. “Caleb,” you sighed into his grasp, your hand brushing against the back of his. You could feel your resolve practically crumbling at his gestures and sweet words. Maybe, he really did mean it?
“Are you positive?” You pulled away, your eyes pierced him with a sudden seriousness as if there was a shift in the atmosphere.
“(Y/N),” His eyes searched your face for your expression, his breathing stalled for a moment before he took a deep breath in. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” Before you could get your bearings, he sat up straighter, leaning up and crashing his lips against yours. His lips were soft and plush, gently molding along yours with tenderness. Behind the sweet kiss, however, was a hunger in the way his hands slowly raked down your body. From your face, down to tracing over your shoulders and finally where his hands found purchase at the top of your hips. His fingers dug into your skin greedily, pulling you closer and between his legs that hung off the twin bed. You felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, his teeth sinking into your skin. You blinked in surprise, eyes quickly screwing shut and melding into his touch. Your lips parted, allowing him to slip past your teeth and into your mouth. His tongue swirled along yours and you felt him melt, a soft groan escaping from him as he furthered his motions. You inevitably pulled away to take in a breath, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you firmly onto his lap - your legs straddled his hips. He exhaled sharply, pulling you down harder against him. You could practically feel his hardening length growing - pressing against your inner thigh.
“Caleb-” Your statement was cut short, feeling his hands slide up from your hips, his finger tips inching under the hem of your shirt until his hands lay flush against your skin. His eyes trailed up your body, eventually settling on yours steadily as his fingers crept higher and higher. He held the stare, his eyes filled with longing; with absolute need.
“Please,” Caleb’s voice sounded shaky, his breathing turned ragged. His fingers stopped just beneath the wire of your bra, tracing along the curve of your breast. “Can I?” He spoke softly, almost as if you’d shatter if he raised his voice any louder. His hand had wrapped around your back, the tips of his fingers running along the clasp of the undergarment.
When you gave him a silent nod of understanding, he wasted no time pinching at the metal clasps, unhooking each one skillfully. The piece of clothing slumped off your shoulders, settling loosely at the bottom of your waist. His hands drifted down your spine, his fingers fiddling with the back of your shirt. His thumbs hooked under your garment, beginning to push the fabric up and over your head. Once your shirt was completely off, he wasted no time tossing it somewhere across his room without a second thought. His gaze darkened, drinking in the sight of your bare chest. His eyes dragged across your skin, to your lips, back to your half-lidded eyes.
“You’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He breathed, a hand cradling the side of your face and pulling you into another kiss. Unlike the first time, this felt different. His lips were hungry; biting and sucking at your lips as if trying to consume you on the spot. As he cradled your face close, his other hand had crept up from your hips, cupping your breast between his fingers. His index finger met his thumb, pinching and rolling your now hardened nipple. You let out a gasp, mouth slightly agape as he continued his ministrations. His lips eventually left yours, moving along your jawline and sucking softly on the skin just below your ear. He hummed against your skin, the soft peppering of kisses turned to more aggressive and needy biting, surely leaving marks of pleasure in his wake. You felt yourself turn to putty in his hands, your eyes fluttering shut.
He seemed to be growing impatient, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His hands left you for a moment, before suddenly gripping your thighs that hugged him. You opened your mouth to comment, and found yourself mid-air before being set back down onto his mattress.
“What are you-?” You felt Caleb shove you down onto the expanse of his bed, your back falling into the plush of his blankets. He crawled between your legs, his fingers dragging down your navel to the band of your pants. “Shut up and just… let me,” He mumbled, his hands tugging down the fabric of your bottoms hastily. He gripped your thighs roughly, spreading them as he bent himself forward, nestling his face between your legs. “I need you, (Y/N). Right fucking now.” He breathed, his breath fanning over your inner thighs. He pressed kisses along your thigh and over your clothed core, hovering just a moment longer over the wet spot that had begun to grow on your panties. You could feel him take a deep breath before his fingers hooked into the sides of the flimsy fabric, tearing it down your thighs roughly.
“Fuck Caleb,” you exhaled, looking down at the boy nuzzled up between your now naked bottom half. His jaw was tight as he looked back up at you through his dark lashes, his hands spreading your thighs wider. He repositioned himself slightly, a visible tent in his pants making it quite obvious of his desire. He realized he had never seen you in such a position before - so vulnerable, bare, delicate. He, of course, had imagined this scenario countless times in his head but the reality of the situation was so much sweeter than he could’ve ever dreamt of.
“(Y/N),” he breathed, inching his face closer to your arousal. His fingers danced closer to your inner thighs, tracing small patterns along the sensitive skin. “Are you…” The pad of his thumb brushed against your wet folds for just a brief moment, making you shiver. “Are you absolutely sure you want this? ‘Cause once I start,” he paused, his voice dropping into a low and husky tone. “Once I taste you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”
You shuddered at his words, the growing need between your thighs growing hotter with each passing moment. “Caleb, I need you.” You reached down to tangle your fingers into Caleb’s head of hair. Your words edged him on, and you felt as if a switch had flicked on inside his mind. He leaned forward without another word, pressing a soft kiss to your center before opening you up with his thumbs. He dragged his tongue up your folds, a groan eliciting out of him and rumbling against you. His tongue flicked up and down before pulling away briefly to take a breath.
“Fuck (Y/N)…” He drawled, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip and lapping up any juices that had remained on his mouth. You looked down briefly, your eyes meeting his for a second. “You taste divine,” he mumbled before diving back between your legs, his tongue beginning a reckless assault on your core. You twitched, feeling his tongue swipe over your most intimate parts. You let out a strained gasp when you felt him tease a finger over your hole. He hummed in response - you could feel his lips curve into a smile as they vibrated against your delicate skin. He pressed the pad of his index finger to your clit, rubbing small circles to the sensitive bud. “Look at my pretty girl, so wet.” He muses before dipping his finger down and into your sopping cunt. His finger pumps in and out of you with precision, as if he had known exactly what your body needed.
“Caleb,” you let out a muffled cry, feeling yourself clench around his single digit. His lips press kisses to your pussy before his tongue finds itself attached to your clit - his lips engulfing you whole as lewd sounds of slurping filled his dorm room.
“I love it when you say my name, baby. Say it again.” You could barely understand the sentence that left his mouth, his lips too focused on tasting you. His one hand gripped onto your thigh tightly, his nails digging into your skin, surely to leave crescent indents. His dominant hand, however, was ever so busy curling his finger into you. You felt him nudge a second finger toward your entrance, quickly adding it between pumps. He scissored and stretched out your hole, his tongue gliding down to kitten lick your walls. When he pushed his fat, wet muscle into you, you swore you could see stars.
“Fuck Caleb-,” you swore silently. His ever-so-soft tongue slid in and out with ease, pushing itself along your insides and feasting upon you as if you were his last meal. He loved how responsive you were to his touch: he could feel every little twitch, every shiver, every moan you fought to hold back. He spread you wider with his fingers, trying to shove his tongue impossibly deeper into you.
“You’re so sensitive, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” He said between long licks, his breath tickling your lower half as he spoke.
Your face felt hot. As if you were drunk on the sight of Caleb. How perfectly he seemed to know your body, how well he took care of you. You would be lying to yourself if you said you’d never imagined having sex with Caleb before, but never did you imagine he would feel this good.
You were snapped back to reality when Caleb pressed a harsh kiss to your pussy, his fingers now pumping in and out of you desperately. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, his tongue running swirls over the sensitive nub as he fingered you.
You let out a shaky exhale, “Caleb.” You warned, feeling yourself clench around his fingers, and that familiar feeling of a coil waiting to snap was building in your stomach.
“Yeah, baby? Are you gonna be a good girl?” His fingers did a delicious twist inside of you, making you clench your thighs around his head. You felt your body arch into his touch, wanting to feel his fingers deeper within. You panted, your hands gripping the blanket beneath you as you felt him reach knuckle deep into your walls. Your breathing became more and more ragged with each thrust of his fingers, his tongue working deep circles into your clit - it was all so much at once. You could feel him saying something, the deep vibrations from his voice shaking you to your core, but the thoughts in your head had turned off; hearing nothing but white noise as he mercilessly pumped his fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace.
“You’re mine, (Y/N).” He breathed, feeling your body begin to tremble under his touch. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” He urged, his tongue messily swiping along your folds.
“I’m yours, - God Caleb, please.” Your hand gripped his hair, fingers digging into his scalp desperately. Your thighs clamped around his face, your head lying backward into the pillows as you stared up at the ceiling with a half-lidded gaze. You were getting so close, and he could tell.
“You’re taking my fingers so well baby, won’t you cum around my fingers? Please?” His pleading words are music to your ears, lulling you into your high. You feel your legs begin to violently shake; Caleb’s hand pinning your thigh down as he ate you through your climax, groaning in his own enjoyment. Eventually, after you’ve ridden out your high he tilts his head up, his chin slick with your juices. He wipes the wetness off himself with his thumb, popping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.
“Look at you, my pretty girl.” He sits himself up between your legs, his eyes traveling up your body.
“Caleb I-,” you propped yourself up onto your elbows, your hand reaching greedily past his face and down to his belt. “I need you,” you said in a hushed tone, your chest rising and falling with each word.
A darkness filled his eyes as a smile graced his lips, the corners eagerly twitching up into a cocked smirk. “As you wish,” His fingers fiddled with the buttons of his jeans, pushing them down in one fluid motion, taking his boxers with them as well. When you looked down you saw his thick cock poke out from the confines of his pants. His hand wrapped around the root of his cock, giving himself slow pumps as his eyes met yours from above. Something had shifted in him, his expression more hungry. Animalistic. You feel him lean over you, his free hand resting beside your head and caging you in his grasp. You feel the tip of his cock press against your soaked folds, sliding up and down your slit in a slow teasing manner.
“Caleb,” you whined, scooting yourself down toward him to try and relieve the pressure building between your legs.
“Don’t,” he warned, his hand moving from himself to grip your hip, pressing you against the mattress firmly. He took his time teasing himself against you before nudging himself inside of you, bottoming out with a muffled groan. You inhaled sharply, feeling him stretch you out all at once.
“Fuck (Y/N), you feel so good,” He panted above you, both his arms now pressed against the mattress on either side of you. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. His body betrayed him, as he felt his hips begin to move on their own. He pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward, the loud sound of skin on skin rang out in the air. You let out a surprised yelp, feeling him re-enter your swollen tunnel. You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to contain the noises that threatened to spill from your lips.
“Oh no no no,” Caleb’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling your hand off your face and pressing it above your head. “I wanna hear you say my name. Over and over and over again.” He rolled his hips into you, leaning his head down to press a kiss to your jaw. His lips parted, beginning to suck on the tender skin.
“Caleb, fuck-.” You breathed heavily, exhaling as he pleased you in all the right places.
“That's it, baby, say it again.” He urges you, his hips rolling into yours faster, picking up his pace. He began pistoning in and out of you, small pants and moans as his hips smacked into yours. You reached up around his neck, pulling him back into you for a fervent kiss. Your lips melded together, tongues roaming into each other's mouths as he pounded into you. Your nails clawed into him as he rammed into you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You felt his pace become faster and more erratic the more you clenched around his length. He knew you were getting close. He broke the kiss for a second, his head dropping down in earshot.
“You’re being such a good girl (Y/N),” he exhaled, his breath hot and tickling against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, who do you belong to?” His thrusts slowed into a tantalizing pace, the force behind each motion growing.
You gripped the sheets beneath you, whining as he slowly ruined you. “You, Caleb,” you paused, a choked noise escaping your throat as he bottomed out in you. “Caleb I’m yours- Fuck,” you moaned, your lower half arching into his cock.
“Yeah?” Caleb picked up his pace slightly, his hand reaching down to caress your face. He cupped your cheek before his fingertips trailed down to the valley between your breasts. “Should I fill you up with my seed? Make you full with my kids?” His hips began mercilessly slamming into you, both your moans drowned out by the overwhelming sound of skin on skin. His brows furrowed as he threw his head back, feeling you engulf him completely. His hands both found your waist, gripping onto your soft flesh for stability as he chased his high. The more you clenched around him, approaching your own climax, the faster his hips snapped into yours.
“Caleb I’m gonna-,” Your voice cracked, the coil snapping in your stomach as you came hard around his cock.
“Fuck (Y/N), I’m gonna- fill you up so good. Gonna make you pregnant with my children.” His thrusts became sloppy and desperate, his body tensing as you gripped him impossibly tighter. With a final thrust, he came undone, spilling his fluids inside of you; pumping you full of himself. You could feel his cock twitch with every rope of cum he shot inside of you, you’d never felt so full before. He was breathless for a moment, his eyes bore into yours with a deep flash of desire and something more primal, more possessive. When he eventually separated himself from you, he let out a small exhale of satisfaction. You twitched at his exit, feeling his fluid begin to leak out of your sensitive hole.
“Don’t let it go to waste now, hm?” Calebs fingers ghosted along your folds, swiping up any escaping cum and stuffing it back into your pussy. You shuddered and let out a soft whine, feeling his fingers penetrate you briefly. “So sensitive,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay, pipsqueak?” His hand moved up to settle on your thigh, pulling you close to him.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pressing a peck to his lips.
“Let me go grab you some water, alright? Just give me a second.” He slowly sat up and out of bed, reaching over you to pull his bed cover over your bare body. He fussed with your hair like he always did, and grabbed his pants from the foot of the bed. Once he was fully dressed and made presentable, he grabbed his water bottle off his desk and headed outside his dorm. He paused in the door frame, leaving it open a crack. “It’s right down the hall, I won’t be long.” He gave you a soft smile before disappearing down the hallway, his door slowly closing shut with a soft click.
Hello everyone im back xd !! After years of taking a break of writing I have found a love for LADS,, I initially wrote this fic for a friend but thought I'd post so others may indulge <3 hope you enjoy
