You lock the last heavy metal chain around Caleb's torso and step back. Caleb sits on the floor. His wrists, ankles, neck, and torso are secured against the restraint system he built himself. It's the evening before the full moon.
You look at him concerned.
"It's okay, Pips," he says softly. "Trust me, it's better this way."
You glance at his half-naked body. He’s wearing nothing but ripped knee-length jean shorts.
“Won’t you be cold though?”
“I usually overheat because of the fur, so... no. At least I can fit in these pants after the transformation, so I won’t be fully naked,” Caleb looks away, as if disgusted with himself.
After months of secrecy, you followed Caleb to an abandoned hospital in the woods and discovered why he kept disappearing for days at a time. Someone connected to EVER injected Caleb with an experimental gene product, and ever since, he's been transforming into a werewolf every full moon.
“I still can’t imagine it, Caleb.”
“And it’s better if you don’t,” he says quietly. “Please… I want you to remember me as your Caleb, not the merciless beast I turn into.”
“But I—"
“You should go now,” he says as the sun is turning red on the horizon.
“Can’t I stay and watch over you? You’ll be so lonely”
“Absolutely not!” he snaps, “Go home...,” he adds softly, “please!”
Halfway through your walk back through the woods, the sun has fully set and the moon hangs high above the trees. The longer you think about Caleb being alone, the more your worry grows… so you turn around.
You make your way back to the room where Caleb was chained, and carefully step inside.
“Caleb?”
The chains lie shattered across the floor. The entire restraint mechanism hangs open and broken. You’re about to search the room for clues, but suddenly something slams into you from the side. A burning pain explodes through your ribs as you're thrown against the wall.
As you struggle to sit up, your body being now severely wounded, a low whimpering echoes from the shadows in the corner of the room that sounds like a frightened dog.
“Caleb... is that you?”
Two glowing purple eyes stare back at you.
He continues to whine and you feel the urge to comfort him. You take a cautious step forward.
“Caleb, it’s me. Don’t be afraid. I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’m okay. I was just so worried about you...”
As moonlight spills through the broken windows, you finally see him.
His face is still recognizably Caleb’s, but his frame is almost twice the size. He has thick sideburns, slightly fuller eyebrows, longer and messier hair, like an untamed mullet. A faint layer of dark hair covers his arms, legs, and chest, along with a very prominent happy trail that he usually shaves. He also has… a fluffy tail?
You crouch down.
“Don’t worry. It’s me. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to prote—” You can’t finish the sentence.
In an instant, you’re thrown onto your back with terrifying force, pain shoots through your body as you hit the ground.
“I TOLD YOU TO GO HOME!” Caleb growls loudly.
His massive body moves on top of yours now.
“I smelled you,” he says, his voice much deeper than usual, “kilometers away. Your scent lingered in this room.”
He aggressively sniffs at your neck, your hair, your clothes, as if trying to memorize every trace of your scent.
His gaze turns predatory, even his teeth seem sharper. His claws catch your dress and tear through the fabric with a single jerk, leaving your chest and body exposed.
With overwhelming strength, he spins you around, forcing you onto all fours.
He doesn’t hesitate which means he also doesn’t prepare you like he usually would. He slams his now enormous large cock inside you with full strength, almost tearing you apart. His thrusts are so forceful and so deep, he’s severely bruising your cervix, ramming himself into you roughly.
Caleb’s only acting with his animalistic instincts and those instincts tell him one thing and one thing only: To breed you.
“I'm going to keep you full and bred, full of my offsprings! Would you like that? To be filled?” he growls as he fucks you relentlessly from behind.
You endure the pain and fear as best you can and despite it, you moan out an eager “Ngh—p—please, yes—I’ll carry your pups,” while you come over and over again, your privates all swollen and pulsating.
But don't call for him to stop, because beneath it all, it's still Caleb — your Caleb.
He merciless fucks you around the clock the entire night and following days, filling you over and over again, not letting you catch a break, since he can go for hours at a time now.
He keeps your body in his embrace, rubs his scent on you, licks your wounds clean, growls at anything that isn’t you, he treats you like a possession.
The next days, he occasionally brings you water by carrying it in his mouth and then spitting it into yours, so you can drink. For food, he kills a deer and brings you the fresh meat, but you refuse and decide to fast.
You catch a glimpse of worry in his eyes when he sees you refuse to eat — moments when you can still see your Caleb in them, even though he chains you up whenever he’s out for the hunt.
You said you wanted to comfort him, that you didn’t want him to be alone during the full moon, so you stay (not like you have a chance). For the next three days and two nights, you bear the full moon’s curse until your Caleb will return to you.
Little do you know that by covering you in his werewolf scent and marking you as his own, he has made you impossible to lose. Every trace of his scent left on your skin only strengthens his claim. No matter where you go or how far you run, he will always find you, and he won’t stop until he does. And when the next full moon rises, he will come for you again — whether you're ready or not.
When your daughter's psychiatrist suggests you get in touch with your abusive ex-husband in prison for her sake, you're not thrilled. Fortunately for you, he's dead. Unfortunately for you, someone else is alive and very keen on playing the part of a doting father. wc: 3.1k
Anyone who saw the way you were glaring at the red envelope sitting on your kitchen counter would assume you were trying to vaporize it through thought alone.
When your daughter's recuring nightmares had made you consult a children's psychiatrist, she'd come to the conclusion that your daughter missed her deadbeat of a father.
"He's in jail" You'd deadpanned.
"Perhaps, she could visit?"
"Thank you"
You weren't interested in any suggestions the psychiatrist had to make that revolved around getting your daughter involved with your criminal of a husband. Not that you could even if you wanted to.
Hell didn't really have a visitors' policy.
As you absentmindedly braided her hair that night, you wondered if it was your bad luck or good grace that he'd been killed in a riot in jail. When the penitentiary had phoned for you to come and identify his body, you'd been scared.
Scared that it wouldn't be him and the bastard would've cheated death itself.
You decided there was no need for your daughter to ever know what kind of person her father was. But as she grew older and the neighbors' kids started talking, it was clearly affecting her more than you'd realized.
"Hey, Bun" You softly turned her to face you "Do you miss Daddy?"
Her eyes widened like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before she hid her hands behind her back, shoulders drooping "No.."
"It's okay if you do" You reassured her. You couldn't blame her for feeling left out when she watched all the little kids get picked up by both their parents. It was obvious she'd wonder why she didn't have that.
You weighed your options. If you played it right, you could satisfy her and also keep her in the dark at the same time.
"Would you like to write him a letter?"
Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw how instantly she bloomed in joy, nodding vigorously and trying to escape your hold so she could do it immediately. You stopped her, promised you'd help her write it the next day if she went to bed at once.
Three days after she posted her letter, you brought one home with a flourish, telling her that her father had written back after all!
If the little lie you told was the reason your daughter had the dopiest smile on her face, you'd never feel guilty for it ever again. Especially not as you tucked her into bed that night, her little fist still clutching the letter like it was her lifeline.
It was only a few days later that you felt your heartbeat nearly triple when she rushed into the house, clutching a blood red envelope "Mommy! Mommy look!" You'd been folding laundry when she barreled into your legs "Daddy wrote letter again!"
You didn't mean to, but you snatched the letter from between her hands so fast, it startled her. Lower lip wobbling, you saw the tears well up in her eyes and immediately decided to do damage control.
"Daddy said I should only give you this letter if you freshen up for dinner quickly!"
When your daughter turned and sprinted for the bathroom, you couldn't believe it had worked. Abandoning the laundry, you tore the envelope open and started reading.
You stared in disbelief. Sure, you had really posted the letter to the penitentiary when your daughter had insisted to take it all the way to the post office herself. You'd come up with a random serial number on the spot and figured they'd just toss the letter when they realized there was no one with that number on the roster.
My dearest Princess,
Daddy very much misses you as well. I'm always thinking of my precious daughter.
P.S You are very good at drawing! I'm proud of you.
Love,
Daddy
Not only had someone received her letter...they'd also written back? In character?
The obvious conclusion is that it's an accident. An obvious mix-up. But your daughter is so ecstatic, you can't possibly break her heart like this.
So, you let her write a letter back. Again going to the post office and posting it.
When the third letter comes back from the prison, you decide to take matters in your own hands. Writing a little letter of your own and enclosing it with your daughter's drawings.
I really appreciate you humoring my daughter, but this was just a way to cope since her father is dead. There is no need to keep up with the farce.
I don't mind it. I quite enjoy her little sketches of the three of us. Tell her that Daddy's hair is lighter in color (:
I will not be telling her anything of the sort.
So cutthroat. You wound me, darling.
Despite yourself, you found your lips lifting at his words, but you caught yourself in record time, shoving the little note in your jeans as you quickly skimmed over his letter to your daughter before you deemed it okay to hand it to her.
She squealed with delight, clutching her new bunny by the ear as she thundered down to her room to read her letter in "secret". You watched her go till she was out of sight, still staring after her and wondering if it really was a bad idea to exchange harmless letters. If some bored criminal wanted to play house with your daughter over some letters, was there really any real danger to it?
You'd always check the letter she'd write, illegible as it was, to see if she didn't accidentally reveal any information about herself. And after she'd go to sleep, you'd only change one little thing.
Erasing her name at the bottom, you used your non-dominant hand to sign a pet name. Not once had you let your daughter's letters carry her real name over to a criminal. For the sake of her mental health, you'd allowed the letters, but this was non-negotiable to you.
Like clockwork, every Tuesday his letter arrives, you skim the contents before re-sealing it and handing it over to your daughter when she comes home from pre-school. Subsequently, you post her letter every Wednesday evening, using an address that was four blocks away from yours, belonging to the sweetest old lady who lived by herself and had dementia. You felt horrible taking advantage of the fact that she never checked her mail so you could always just conveniently swipe out the letters from her mailbox, but you brought her enough baked goods to make up for it. The letters you sent were just addressed to the penitentiary; with the serial number of an inmate you'd never know the owner of.
He signed his letters Skye but after having lived a life in hiding with a criminal, you'd learned not to trust the lot. If your daughter's deteriorating mental state hadn't been in question, the first letter would've never gone out.
One Tuesday evening, your daughter pulls at your pants to grab your attention and gives you a tiny note that she says is from Daddy. Your senses immediately go on high alert, wondering how you could've missed it, worrying he's said something inexcusable and you would have to stop this little pen pal relationship.
Am I not allowed to know what my daughter looks like?
You feel a vein throbbing in your forehead, smiling at your daughter as she stares at you with her big doe-like eyes before you distract her with a snack.
If he wants to know what your daughter looked like, he would do something crazy like wanting to meet her if he ever got out. And if that wasn't bad, he'd probably kidnap her or do something inane, maybe he was already plotting it. Feeling your heart drop to your chest, you decide it really was the end.
That week, you don't send your daughter's letter. It remains in an unmarked envelope, hidden on the top shelf of your closet in a big box at the very back. The Wednesday of the week after, you wake up in cold sweat wondering if he sent a letter anyway. The morning of, you drop by the old lady's mailbox and quickly look through her mail just in case and sigh in relief when there's nothing in it.
The next week, you can't help the dread as you're swiping through the mailbox again, realizing how stupid you'd been. Not only had you probably endangered your daughter, but also the sweet old lady who always babysat for you whenever you had to pull extra shifts at work.
You can't keep the guilt off your face when you run into her at the grocery store that weekend, paying for her share as well when you realize she didn't remember to bring her wallet with her, heart pinching in agony at having taken advantage of her situation. Your daughter is skipping in front as you carry all the grocery bags, dropping the old lady off at her place with her stuff. She insists you stay for tea and you're about to decline but she's already bribed your daughter with cake and it's too late to retreat.
The sun is setting in streaks of orange and blue when you finally wave goodbye to her, adjusting the beanie on your daughter's head before she runs off again. You cross the mailbox, your stomach dropping as you backtrack and decide to doubly check.
Your hands are sweaty, forehead perspiring as you pluck out the blood red envelope, gulping as the dread overwhelms you, like hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing squeezing squeezing to see how long you'd last.
You quickly shove the letter inside your purse before your daughter can catch sight of it. There was no way she was going to read it- if at all- without you proofreading it first.
The entire walk home, you cannot keep your eyes off her. Heart palpitating like any minute you expect someone to pick her off the street and run away where you could never find her again.
Your mind is on the contents of the letter throughout preparing dinner, watching your daughter's favorite show, her bath time, reading her a story to bed and finally, like all the other nights for the past week reassuring her that her Daddy does love her even if he's not written back in a while.
By the time you're finally alone, you're about ready to rip off your hair from its roots as you hastily open the envelope and pluck the letter out.
You skim the letter, it is inconspicuous, nothing suggesting that he never received another letter, keeping the conversation going like always. Asked her about school, her best friend Kara (who was a plushie, but he'd never know) and what kind of cake she liked. Totally innocent. Picking up where they'd previously left off.
You checked for another note, and sure enough there was one. Hands trembling, you opened the twofold and started reading.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
You'd have appreciated the sarcasm if your knees weren't fighting the urge to buckle and give in from the dread.
I suppose I have scared you with my little request. Thus, the lack of letters from your end for the past couple weeks. I apologize for the same, I only realized the implications of my request afterwards. I meant no harm and would understand if you would like to stop completely.
You trusted the man as far as you could throw him. Considering you knew nothing about him; you decided even that was unreliable.
But once in a while, with your permission of course, if the little bunny draws any more pictures, I'd be very much interested in seeing them.
You huffed out a laugh at his audacity, feeling your chest deflate. Years spent trusting your instinct to protect your daughter had wound you so tight that feeling even a single knot loosen was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
In sickness and in health,
Daddy
As you posted your daughter's letter that Wednesday, you couldn't help but laugh at your inside joke, wondering how he'd take it. If his previous demeanor was anything to go by, you were guessing it'd be in stride.
"Mail!"
Complete silence filled the yard, all the inmates stopping where they were, at odds with how they'd usually be clawing over each other to get their mail first.
Because no one touched their letters till he had taken his.
The crowd parted like the red sea, hordes of men in orange clearing a path till the mailman who, for all the brave face he put on, was trembling in his pants as well. He could feel the bead of sweat on his back, lining his forehead as he watched him approach, praying to all the Gods up in Heaven that someone- anyone had written this man a letter.
When he'd realized there was no letter for him, yet again, no one had been allowed to take theirs. Not because he forbade them, but because they were scared of what he'd do.
He'd not raised his voice, barely bothered looking intimidating and yet no one stood in his vicinity as he carded through the envelopes, not finding one for himself before asking in a saccharine tone "Are you sure you didn't misplace any?"
The first week, the mailman had been cocky, confident. He'd tched as he snatched the mail back, wondering why no one else was stepping forward "Don't blame me just 'cuz there ain't a letter for you in here ya bloke"
But when no one else stepped forward to take their mail, all that confidence had wavered as he looked around at downcast eyes, no one willing to risk upsetting him any more than he already was.
For the past two weeks, inmates had been avoiding him like the plague. He wasn't amiable on any day but if he didn't receive his letters on Friday, it was a long weekend for all of them.
Especially the ones who challenged him in the ring on Saturday nights.
The second week, it was a similar outcome. The mailman didn't understand what exactly was going on but the nervous, fidgety energy of the inmates was making him nervous as he watched him go through the envelopes and come up empty.
This time he'd just raised an eyebrow, making the mailman sweat "I didn't misplace any!" The desperation and fear ringing clear in his voice.
He'd smiled, crimson eyes glimmering in the sunlight "No one's blaming you" He'd turned around but the wind still carried over the last word "Yet"
The mailman had found himself rechecking for any lost envelopes thrice. He didn't know what would become of him if he returned another week without a letter.
Everyone waited with bated breath as he flipped through the stack of mail the mailman had just handed over and a collective sigh of relief escaped when he plucked out a measly white envelope, lips lifting in a sinister smirk as he handed the rest of the stack back, uncaring of the crowd descending on the poor mailman now that they had the green signal.
He returned to his cell, littered with drawings lining the walls surrounding a single bed, desk and chair. His fingers were twitching with excitement as he tore open the envelope and three things fell out.
He picked up the one on the top first. His daughter had written back to him finally, describing in great detail that she had won a finger-painting competition in school, that Kara came second, her favorite cake was "stroubery". A wry smile lifted his lips at the little sketch of the cake next to the text with cherries lining the top.
Like always, she'd signed it
He admired your resolute, truly. Your daughter's writing was so dark that it would leave indents behind the paper and yet, you'd erase her name so cleanly every time that despite multiple attempts at shading over the lines of the pencil indents, he was yet to figure out her name.
Luv u forehver
Princess Bunny
Picking up the second letter, he couldn't help the smirk spreading over his lips when he saw what you'd addressed it.
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
God, he wanted to see you mouth off to him in person so bad.
I've attached a picture of her.
He was so surprised that he immediately dropped your letter to look at the polaroid you'd sent him. One he stared at for all of two seconds before throwing his head back and barking with laughter, unable to help himself as his shoulders shook with mirth.
Resting his forehead on the letter, he could faintly smell the perfume lingering on it and wondered what you looked like. He'd spent almost every day since your first letter wondering who you could possibly be. Sure, he had no reason to lie here and actually complete his sentence, he could get out whenever he wanted but he looked forward to his daughter's letters. There was no fun in finding out who you were through Luke and Keiran when he was sure he could get you to come to him. And you would. Slowly but surely.
Beautiful, isn't she?
She looks forward to your letters so I suppose you can keep sending them.
In happiness and in sorrow,
Mommy
As he pinned up the latest letter next to the others, he also pinned the polaroid next to it, unable to escape the huff of laughter escaping him when he gazed at the ultrasound.
Sylus would make you his. There was simply no other option.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
She is, indeed the most beautiful little princess I've ever seen. She takes after her mother, I'm sure. For research purposes, would you be willing to provide evidence I can submit?
To have and to hold,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Do you want my ultrasound too?
For better or for worse,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
I don't mind. Although, I'll admit I usually save the ultrasounds for a third date.
For richer or for poorer,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Unfortunately for you, I don't have those ultrasounds or a third date for you.
To love and to cherish,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Why don't we start at a first one then? I would like to know the color of your eyes.
Till' death do us part,
Daddy
A/N: This has been marinating in my drafts for two months now. Time to unlock multiple chapter fics<3
When your daughter's psychiatrist suggests you get in touch with your abusive ex-husband in prison for her sake, you're not thrilled. Fortunately for you, he's dead. Unfortunately for you, someone else is alive and very keen on playing the part of a doting father. wc: 3.1k
Anyone who saw the way you were glaring at the red envelope sitting on your kitchen counter would assume you were trying to vaporize it through thought alone.
When your daughter's recuring nightmares had made you consult a children's psychiatrist, she'd come to the conclusion that your daughter missed her deadbeat of a father.
"He's in jail" You'd deadpanned.
"Perhaps, she could visit?"
"Thank you"
You weren't interested in any suggestions the psychiatrist had to make that revolved around getting your daughter involved with your criminal of a husband. Not that you could even if you wanted to.
Hell didn't really have a visitors' policy.
As you absentmindedly braided her hair that night, you wondered if it was your bad luck or good grace that he'd been killed in a riot in jail. When the penitentiary had phoned for you to come and identify his body, you'd been scared.
Scared that it wouldn't be him and the bastard would've cheated death itself.
You decided there was no need for your daughter to ever know what kind of person her father was. But as she grew older and the neighbors' kids started talking, it was clearly affecting her more than you'd realized.
"Hey, Bun" You softly turned her to face you "Do you miss Daddy?"
Her eyes widened like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before she hid her hands behind her back, shoulders drooping "No.."
"It's okay if you do" You reassured her. You couldn't blame her for feeling left out when she watched all the little kids get picked up by both their parents. It was obvious she'd wonder why she didn't have that.
You weighed your options. If you played it right, you could satisfy her and also keep her in the dark at the same time.
"Would you like to write him a letter?"
Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw how instantly she bloomed in joy, nodding vigorously and trying to escape your hold so she could do it immediately. You stopped her, promised you'd help her write it the next day if she went to bed at once.
Three days after she posted her letter, you brought one home with a flourish, telling her that her father had written back after all!
If the little lie you told was the reason your daughter had the dopiest smile on her face, you'd never feel guilty for it ever again. Especially not as you tucked her into bed that night, her little fist still clutching the letter like it was her lifeline.
It was only a few days later that you felt your heartbeat nearly triple when she rushed into the house, clutching a blood red envelope "Mommy! Mommy look!" You'd been folding laundry when she barreled into your legs "Daddy wrote letter again!"
You didn't mean to, but you snatched the letter from between her hands so fast, it startled her. Lower lip wobbling, you saw the tears well up in her eyes and immediately decided to do damage control.
"Daddy said I should only give you this letter if you freshen up for dinner quickly!"
When your daughter turned and sprinted for the bathroom, you couldn't believe it had worked. Abandoning the laundry, you tore the envelope open and started reading.
You stared in disbelief. Sure, you had really posted the letter to the penitentiary when your daughter had insisted to take it all the way to the post office herself. You'd come up with a random serial number on the spot and figured they'd just toss the letter when they realized there was no one with that number on the roster.
My dearest Princess,
Daddy very much misses you as well. I'm always thinking of my precious daughter.
P.S You are very good at drawing! I'm proud of you.
Love,
Daddy
Not only had someone received her letter...they'd also written back? In character?
The obvious conclusion is that it's an accident. An obvious mix-up. But your daughter is so ecstatic, you can't possibly break her heart like this.
So, you let her write a letter back. Again going to the post office and posting it.
When the third letter comes back from the prison, you decide to take matters in your own hands. Writing a little letter of your own and enclosing it with your daughter's drawings.
I really appreciate you humoring my daughter, but this was just a way to cope since her father is dead. There is no need to keep up with the farce.
I don't mind it. I quite enjoy her little sketches of the three of us. Tell her that Daddy's hair is lighter in color (:
I will not be telling her anything of the sort.
So cutthroat. You wound me, darling.
Despite yourself, you found your lips lifting at his words, but you caught yourself in record time, shoving the little note in your jeans as you quickly skimmed over his letter to your daughter before you deemed it okay to hand it to her.
She squealed with delight, clutching her new bunny by the ear as she thundered down to her room to read her letter in "secret". You watched her go till she was out of sight, still staring after her and wondering if it really was a bad idea to exchange harmless letters. If some bored criminal wanted to play house with your daughter over some letters, was there really any real danger to it?
You'd always check the letter she'd write, illegible as it was, to see if she didn't accidentally reveal any information about herself. And after she'd go to sleep, you'd only change one little thing.
Erasing her name at the bottom, you used your non-dominant hand to sign a pet name. Not once had you let your daughter's letters carry her real name over to a criminal. For the sake of her mental health, you'd allowed the letters, but this was non-negotiable to you.
Like clockwork, every Tuesday his letter arrives, you skim the contents before re-sealing it and handing it over to your daughter when she comes home from pre-school. Subsequently, you post her letter every Wednesday evening, using an address that was four blocks away from yours, belonging to the sweetest old lady who lived by herself and had dementia. You felt horrible taking advantage of the fact that she never checked her mail so you could always just conveniently swipe out the letters from her mailbox, but you brought her enough baked goods to make up for it. The letters you sent were just addressed to the penitentiary; with the serial number of an inmate you'd never know the owner of.
He signed his letters Skye but after having lived a life in hiding with a criminal, you'd learned not to trust the lot. If your daughter's deteriorating mental state hadn't been in question, the first letter would've never gone out.
One Tuesday evening, your daughter pulls at your pants to grab your attention and gives you a tiny note that she says is from Daddy. Your senses immediately go on high alert, wondering how you could've missed it, worrying he's said something inexcusable and you would have to stop this little pen pal relationship.
Am I not allowed to know what my daughter looks like?
You feel a vein throbbing in your forehead, smiling at your daughter as she stares at you with her big doe-like eyes before you distract her with a snack.
If he wants to know what your daughter looked like, he would do something crazy like wanting to meet her if he ever got out. And if that wasn't bad, he'd probably kidnap her or do something inane, maybe he was already plotting it. Feeling your heart drop to your chest, you decide it really was the end.
That week, you don't send your daughter's letter. It remains in an unmarked envelope, hidden on the top shelf of your closet in a big box at the very back. The Wednesday of the week after, you wake up in cold sweat wondering if he sent a letter anyway. The morning of, you drop by the old lady's mailbox and quickly look through her mail just in case and sigh in relief when there's nothing in it.
The next week, you can't help the dread as you're swiping through the mailbox again, realizing how stupid you'd been. Not only had you probably endangered your daughter, but also the sweet old lady who always babysat for you whenever you had to pull extra shifts at work.
You can't keep the guilt off your face when you run into her at the grocery store that weekend, paying for her share as well when you realize she didn't remember to bring her wallet with her, heart pinching in agony at having taken advantage of her situation. Your daughter is skipping in front as you carry all the grocery bags, dropping the old lady off at her place with her stuff. She insists you stay for tea and you're about to decline but she's already bribed your daughter with cake and it's too late to retreat.
The sun is setting in streaks of orange and blue when you finally wave goodbye to her, adjusting the beanie on your daughter's head before she runs off again. You cross the mailbox, your stomach dropping as you backtrack and decide to doubly check.
Your hands are sweaty, forehead perspiring as you pluck out the blood red envelope, gulping as the dread overwhelms you, like hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing squeezing squeezing to see how long you'd last.
You quickly shove the letter inside your purse before your daughter can catch sight of it. There was no way she was going to read it- if at all- without you proofreading it first.
The entire walk home, you cannot keep your eyes off her. Heart palpitating like any minute you expect someone to pick her off the street and run away where you could never find her again.
Your mind is on the contents of the letter throughout preparing dinner, watching your daughter's favorite show, her bath time, reading her a story to bed and finally, like all the other nights for the past week reassuring her that her Daddy does love her even if he's not written back in a while.
By the time you're finally alone, you're about ready to rip off your hair from its roots as you hastily open the envelope and pluck the letter out.
You skim the letter, it is inconspicuous, nothing suggesting that he never received another letter, keeping the conversation going like always. Asked her about school, her best friend Kara (who was a plushie, but he'd never know) and what kind of cake she liked. Totally innocent. Picking up where they'd previously left off.
You checked for another note, and sure enough there was one. Hands trembling, you opened the twofold and started reading.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
You'd have appreciated the sarcasm if your knees weren't fighting the urge to buckle and give in from the dread.
I suppose I have scared you with my little request. Thus, the lack of letters from your end for the past couple weeks. I apologize for the same, I only realized the implications of my request afterwards. I meant no harm and would understand if you would like to stop completely.
You trusted the man as far as you could throw him. Considering you knew nothing about him; you decided even that was unreliable.
But once in a while, with your permission of course, if the little bunny draws any more pictures, I'd be very much interested in seeing them.
You huffed out a laugh at his audacity, feeling your chest deflate. Years spent trusting your instinct to protect your daughter had wound you so tight that feeling even a single knot loosen was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
In sickness and in health,
Daddy
As you posted your daughter's letter that Wednesday, you couldn't help but laugh at your inside joke, wondering how he'd take it. If his previous demeanor was anything to go by, you were guessing it'd be in stride.
"Mail!"
Complete silence filled the yard, all the inmates stopping where they were, at odds with how they'd usually be clawing over each other to get their mail first.
Because no one touched their letters till he had taken his.
The crowd parted like the red sea, hordes of men in orange clearing a path till the mailman who, for all the brave face he put on, was trembling in his pants as well. He could feel the bead of sweat on his back, lining his forehead as he watched him approach, praying to all the Gods up in Heaven that someone- anyone had written this man a letter.
When he'd realized there was no letter for him, yet again, no one had been allowed to take theirs. Not because he forbade them, but because they were scared of what he'd do.
He'd not raised his voice, barely bothered looking intimidating and yet no one stood in his vicinity as he carded through the envelopes, not finding one for himself before asking in a saccharine tone "Are you sure you didn't misplace any?"
The first week, the mailman had been cocky, confident. He'd tched as he snatched the mail back, wondering why no one else was stepping forward "Don't blame me just 'cuz there ain't a letter for you in here ya bloke"
But when no one else stepped forward to take their mail, all that confidence had wavered as he looked around at downcast eyes, no one willing to risk upsetting him any more than he already was.
For the past two weeks, inmates had been avoiding him like the plague. He wasn't amiable on any day but if he didn't receive his letters on Friday, it was a long weekend for all of them.
Especially the ones who challenged him in the ring on Saturday nights.
The second week, it was a similar outcome. The mailman didn't understand what exactly was going on but the nervous, fidgety energy of the inmates was making him nervous as he watched him go through the envelopes and come up empty.
This time he'd just raised an eyebrow, making the mailman sweat "I didn't misplace any!" The desperation and fear ringing clear in his voice.
He'd smiled, crimson eyes glimmering in the sunlight "No one's blaming you" He'd turned around but the wind still carried over the last word "Yet"
The mailman had found himself rechecking for any lost envelopes thrice. He didn't know what would become of him if he returned another week without a letter.
Everyone waited with bated breath as he flipped through the stack of mail the mailman had just handed over and a collective sigh of relief escaped when he plucked out a measly white envelope, lips lifting in a sinister smirk as he handed the rest of the stack back, uncaring of the crowd descending on the poor mailman now that they had the green signal.
He returned to his cell, littered with drawings lining the walls surrounding a single bed, desk and chair. His fingers were twitching with excitement as he tore open the envelope and three things fell out.
He picked up the one on the top first. His daughter had written back to him finally, describing in great detail that she had won a finger-painting competition in school, that Kara came second, her favorite cake was "stroubery". A wry smile lifted his lips at the little sketch of the cake next to the text with cherries lining the top.
Like always, she'd signed it
He admired your resolute, truly. Your daughter's writing was so dark that it would leave indents behind the paper and yet, you'd erase her name so cleanly every time that despite multiple attempts at shading over the lines of the pencil indents, he was yet to figure out her name.
Luv u forehver
Princess Bunny
Picking up the second letter, he couldn't help the smirk spreading over his lips when he saw what you'd addressed it.
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
God, he wanted to see you mouth off to him in person so bad.
I've attached a picture of her.
He was so surprised that he immediately dropped your letter to look at the polaroid you'd sent him. One he stared at for all of two seconds before throwing his head back and barking with laughter, unable to help himself as his shoulders shook with mirth.
Resting his forehead on the letter, he could faintly smell the perfume lingering on it and wondered what you looked like. He'd spent almost every day since your first letter wondering who you could possibly be. Sure, he had no reason to lie here and actually complete his sentence, he could get out whenever he wanted but he looked forward to his daughter's letters. There was no fun in finding out who you were through Luke and Keiran when he was sure he could get you to come to him. And you would. Slowly but surely.
Beautiful, isn't she?
She looks forward to your letters so I suppose you can keep sending them.
In happiness and in sorrow,
Mommy
As he pinned up the latest letter next to the others, he also pinned the polaroid next to it, unable to escape the huff of laughter escaping him when he gazed at the ultrasound.
Sylus would make you his. There was simply no other option.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
She is, indeed the most beautiful little princess I've ever seen. She takes after her mother, I'm sure. For research purposes, would you be willing to provide evidence I can submit?
To have and to hold,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Do you want my ultrasound too?
For better or for worse,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
I don't mind. Although, I'll admit I usually save the ultrasounds for a third date.
For richer or for poorer,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Unfortunately for you, I don't have those ultrasounds or a third date for you.
To love and to cherish,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Why don't we start at a first one then? I would like to know the color of your eyes.
Till' death do us part,
Daddy
A/N: This has been marinating in my drafts for two months now. Time to unlock multiple chapter fics<3
Can I request how the boys would react to accidentally overhearing you saying how you love him but there's no way he would love you back please? MC is frustrated because she knows it's mutual but both of them made her promise not to let the other person know!
we can't be friends
tags : zayne , caleb , sylus , xavier , rafayel x NON MC (separate) , the lads are NOT in love with MC (they in love with you, aka NON MC) , mutual feelings but no confessions , not HC , modern AU , not proofread
zayne
i'm really sorry to say this, but zayne would NOT reach out to you. doesn't matter iif he knows later on that you actually had feelings for him, he's not crossing that line
why ? very simple. you didn't cross the line for a reason (whether it be a boundary, a promise), and he's going to respect that (consent king)
the only way to make him fold and initiate first is if MC (who isn't you) or his entourage encourage zayne to cross the line and go for it
even then, he won't full on confess his love for you -- he'll drop hints and clues. just to gauge your reactions (he needs to make sure that you'll be 110% comfortable with the idea that he might actually be in love with you)
once he knows for certainty that you want him just as much, he's crossing the line no hesitation. his way to confess is clear, simple, raw, vulnerable. no games, no guessing -- very honest and straight to the point
caleb
this man is crossing the fucking line between friends to lovers asap once he hears that you love him just as much
he already waited and controlled himself long enough, he's not wasting any more time
sylus
also sorry to say this, but i think sylus would use this chance to see who's going to break first and confess
it's not even out of ego / pride that he's doing this game, it's like a roleplay for him
he's not even being subtle too, because he doesn't care if people see him as down bad for you, he wants to see how long it takes before you catch the hint and jump on him
xavier
fucking frustrated out of all the lads. not fun at all for him
i also believe that out of the lads, xavier is the most emotionally sensitive and accurate one. he can feel your emotions and intentions quicker than everyone
probably knows that you have feelings for him, but like zayne, won't cross that line until he is sure that you are ready (ready for that dick, sorry)
he believes in love that both should choose each other, without any burden / pressure ; like zayne, only then does it become true love
while zayne might be more controlled in his ... hints, xavier might not. he'll use passive aggressive language to convey that you're already his without explicitly stating
rafayel
why did it take you so long to fall for him ?
why is it taking you so long to confess your mutual feelings for him ?
i don't think rafayel would wait to confess his love for you ; screw this promise to keep it secret
Hello! This is my first fanfic on Tumblr ever! I am new to Tumblr, so please bear with me as I learn how to use it <3
Enjoy!
Rafayel laid on the sofa pinching his nose in frustration. Thomas has been pressuring him to finish a painting for a gallery, but Rafayel simply cannot find the inspiration to paint. It’s not that he lacks inspiration, it’s quite the opposite actually. Whenever Rafayel starts to paint, the same face appears, always. It’s never the same painting, however it is the same person each time. Five paintings have been made, and all of them are of a woman. A woman he has never seen before.
Rafayel gets up from the sofa and goes to the studio to begin painting, perhaps he can channel his frustration into the painting, but what if Rafayel uses one of the paintings of the woman for the gallery?
It’s not like the woman actually exists… right? But, something about the paintings makes Rafayel hesitant to share it with the world. Something about it feels so… intimate? Whenever he looks at the painting, he feels longing and aching in his heart, almost as if his heart recognizes her. The way her long hair strands flow freely around her face, the way her eyes are scrunched up along with her smile. Rafayel can’t understand how he can’t understand his own paintings. How can a painter not know what or who he is drawing? How can a painter become a spectator of his own artwork?
Rafayel begins to think to himself, has he seen this woman somewhere? He taps his forehead to think of where he could have seen this woman before sighing in frustration and giving up. His mind was coming up blank, and Thomas had just texted him asking for an update. Should he just use one of the painting? He takes a picture of one of the paintings and sends it to Thomas. If Thomas accepts it, well he’ll take it as a sign.
“Perfect! It’s great! Who is she?”
Rafayel groans at Thomas’s text and put his phone away.
Who is she…
She haunts, no, not haunt Rafayel quite enjoys the dreams of her, perhaps persistent subject of his dreams, She is the ache in his heart when he wakes up and realizes she is not there, and lastly she is the muse of his paintings.
Rafayel may not know who this woman is, but he realizes he now looks forward to bedtime.
The day for the art gallery has came. Rafayel had made some new paintings for the gallery once he heard it was a charity event. At least that’s what he tells himself, Rafayel secretly hoped that by creating more paintings, people would less likely buy the one of the woman.
Rafayel decided to walk around the gallery as Thomas had walked off to talk to collectors. There were many exhibits, some of paintings and some interactable games and lectures. Apparently, the charity event teamed up with the Hunter’s Association to raise funds for a children’s charity. Money from the paintings goes to the children's charity, and the Hunters from the Hunter’s association will encourage children to work and study hard and potentially encourage them to be Hunters. After some walking around and dodging collectors, Rafayel began to start looking for the exit when he heard a bit of a commotion from Hunterers gathered at a painting. “See guys! I am telling you, doesn’t that look a bit like MC!” A chirpy voice shouted. A murmurs of “oh my” and “it does!” ensues. Curious, Rafayel decided to head towards the gallery. As he is walking, he sees her next to the painting.
The Sea Witch is brewing a potion and is finding her Lemurian visitor more of an annoyance than usual.
When did she start thinking of him as her Lemurian…?
Tags: Femdom, Yandere!MC, Octopus mermaid sea witch, tentacles, Lemurian!Rafayel, double lemurian dick, merman slit (or mermussy, if you will), LOTS of suction hickeys
Read on Ao3 or under the cut!
The bottle jets across the room, smashing into the shelf. The contents disperse in the water with a puff before settling to the floor of the cavern. Irate grumbles echo down the entry to the cavern as the Sea Witch inspects and discards her reagents and ingredients.
Rafayel peeks his head into the cavern tentatively, dodging a preserved sea cucumber as it torpedoes past his nose. It continues in a line all the way out of the cavern, trailing bubbles in its wake. He watches it for a moment before turning his head back towards the woman in the cave.
She mutters under her breath, using her tentacles to pull herself along the shelves and hold bottles up for comparison as she ransacks her own materials in search of something specific. The elastic textured skin on her lower half flares fuchsia in frustration, the colour rippling down her body from her waist to the tips of each tentacle arm.
Rafayel smiles as he watches her, fondness beating in his heart. He swishes his tail to propel himself into the room. As he swims, she turns and throws another bottle at the entry to the cavern. This one Rafayel catches neatly against his chest, spinning in a small spiral before coming to a stop against the other side of the cave. He holds the bottle up to his eye to examine the contents; deep red sediment rests at the bottom of the bottle, glimmering in the faint bio-luminescent light in the cavern.
"You don't need to come back until the potion is done, you know," she shoots over her shoulder, expression stormy as she crosses her arms.
He hums in acknowledgement but doesn't defend himself. He shakes the bottle, making the sediment swirl before his eyes before placing it down on a nearby shelf.
"It doesn't go there." She glares at him, and a tentacle snakes towards him, curling expectantly. Instead of handing it to her, he picks it back up and swims over to her. He leans over her shoulder; his long hair tickles down her back and makes her shiver involuntarily.
His hand braces on her shoulder as he floats slightly above her, surveying the shelf of ingredients with an impish smile. He places the bottle down on an empty space between a jar of abalone and a large chunk of quartz crystal. She sighs, reaching up with her hand to grab it and move it to the correct place.
Rafayel intercepts her, snatching the bottle back and ducking around to her other side with the bottle.
"Your system stinks; you should colour code everything so it's easy to find." Playfulness glints in the magenta of his eyes. She stares at him blankly.
"Maybe you Lemurians can discern colour well enough at this depth, but my current system works just fine for my less advanced eyes," she states matter-of-factually. He lifts his chin and quirks his head to the side, preening at the backhanded compliment.
She rolls her eyes at him, billowing out her tentacle arms to approach him and holding out her hand for the bottle. He stretches his arm out behind him, out of her reach. She fixes him with a stare, tentacles curling in frustration beneath her. His smirk doesn't budge as his hip fins flutter him closer to her, until they're nose to nose in the small space. Her eyes narrow to challenging slits. He meets her gaze evenly, unwavering.
One of her tentacle arms sidles up to his arm, encircling his bicep and twining up to his elbow. His muscles flex, trying to pull away as another two tentacles anchor themselves against the wall behind him, pinning him in place. His expression flashes with uncertainty as he realizes he's been trapped. She quirks her head to the side, eyebrow raised, letting him take in the full situation.
Two of her tentacles encircle his body, holding tight to the cavern wall to hold them both in place. Another stretches along his arm, the tip nudging open his closed hand to fetch the stolen bottle from his grasp. Rafayel thrashes his body once, but in the small space he can't get enough leverage to disentangle himself from the roiling mass of the Sea Witch's body.
He swallows hard, a flush creeping over his cheeks and making the fins on his ears flutter. Her tentacle forces open his hand and curls around the bottle, knocking it towards her body. She plucks it out of the water with her hand and inspects it, shooting a chastising look at Rafayel who remains entrapped.
She leans in, pressing her chest into his face as she places the bottle on the shelf behind him. She feels him freeze and stop struggling as her breasts graze his nose through the gauzy fabric draped over her body. She smirks in self-satisfaction, watching the sediments settle in the bottle and using a taloned finger to push it safely to the back of the shelf. She backs off, still holding him against the wall as she looks down on him.
His expression sends a thrill through her: pupils blown wide and glinting with flashes of blue, cheeks flushed making the aquamarine scales on his cheekbones shimmer even more fiercely in the low light. A shiver of sunset hued coral flits over her skin, mottling her camouflage with a ruddy blush. She wants to see more of that look on him.
Her free tentacles curl around themselves in anticipation and her hand finds its way into his long purple hair. Her fingernail scratches a spiral against his scalp as she twirls his silky tresses around her finger. Rafayel swallows hard, eyelashes fluttering.
"I knew the Sea Witch of the Abyssal Rift was feared by many, but I didn't think she captured poor unfortunate souls for the mere crime of incorrectly sorting potion ingredients." His voice is low, holding onto that playful lilt but with an undercurrent of trepidation. This is new; the tension between them is taut, like the rigging of a ship in a gale.
Her suckers squeeze along his arm, detaching and leaving behind a spiralling tattoo of circular marks. The tip of her tentacle teases along the inside of his palm, making his fingers twitch together. His gills flare, pushing water out in warm bursts that swirl between their bodies. His long tongue darts out, licking his lips. Her eyes are fixed on his plush lips as they part, and the bob of his throat as he swallows.
She had admired his beauty from the first day she had met him, when he had come to her with that request to become human. When he had left to fetch the ingredients, she had felt a sense of loss: if he succeeded, this beautiful Lemurian would be gone. No more shimmering tail sparkling with bioluminescence, no more glinting scales in the deep sea depths glowing like stars in the sky, no more gauzy fins draped like translucent silk floating in the water, no more shining aquamarine eyes that flash with mischief.
That alone seems like a crime worth punishing: taking away this beauty from the sea for what? Some human girl? That doesn't seem fair. Lemurians are ruled by love, but it makes them foolish.
Her hand slides down to cup his cheek, caressing the side of his face. The pad of her finger smears the glowing paint that adorns his cheekbone, bleeding down from the corner of his eye like a glistening tear. His eyelashes are so long and dark as they bat against her skin, tickling the back of her thumb.
"This Sea Witch has several reasons to punish naughty Lemurians." She meets his eye, tentacles blooming between them as they crawl up his abdomen. Suckers latch onto his chest, the tips of her tentacles swirl across his skin, tracing along the glowing paint and tugging against the chains of his body jewellery. A tentacle wraps around the meat of his pectoral and squeezes, suckers latching onto his nipple. He gasps in surprise, sharp teeth biting down on his lower lip.
He looks back up at her through his lashes, eyes full of desire. A single droplet of crimson blood dissipates from his lip where his teeth broke through the skin. Her siphons flare at her hips, pushing warm water saturated with the scent of him through her gills. A shiver of icy blue ripples down her body as she takes a deep breath.
"Your Magnificence," he starts to protest, the words thick on his tongue, "I already have a lover."
A sobering shock washes through her emotions, like the chill of descending through a thermocline. Her skin darkens, clouding over with a deep, roiling burgundy. Her lips twitch into a sneer. That human girl is ungrateful. She doesn't deserve this immortal life, she doesn't know what Rafayel is giving up for her, and how could she? She's only a human.
Her gaze turns cruel as she looks down on her prey; a wriggling sardine caught in the tangled web of her tentacles. She should show him what he's giving up by confining himself to land in the name of this love.
She doesn't say anything to him. Keeping him firmly ensnared in her tentacle arms, she drops her hand from his face and turns her upper body to the shelf beside her. This jar is kept tightly sealed; within lies a single frond of bitter, fermented sea grass. Rafayel watches her, chest still heaving as he struggles futilely against her grasp. She shoots him one more sidelong look before encircling the jar with a tentacle and unscrewing the lid beneath his nose.
Her brow is set with determination as she wafts the jar beneath his nose, permeating the water with the diffused scent of the herb. Rafayel's eyes flash with momentary betrayal before he closes them, turning his head to the side away from the jar. Her heart twists with guilt for a moment, but she steels herself and forces the jar beneath his nose. It's for his own benefit.
After a moment, his struggles weaken, lacking any heat as his skin heats beneath her. Scorching heat radiates from his skin as his eyes blink open; his pupils eclipse the sunset hues of his eyes and absorb all the light in the room. He angles his jaw and light flashes at the back of his eye, predatory.
A slow smile creeps up her lips. Her Lemurian toy is finally ready to play with.
Tentacles unfurl as she slides over his body, teasing and touching wherever she pleases. Rafayel protests weakly, soft sounds bubbling from his lips as she lingers on sensitive spots with her suckers. His body becomes tattooed with red suction marks. His gills work overtime, sucking in violent breaths and forcing hot water against her skin. She slides her fingers gingerly through his gills, letting the soft skin close over the digits and seeing him spasm at the sensation.
Her siphons flare with arousal and she spares a tentacle to rim the opening to her own gills. She shivers, goosebumps prickling over her upper body as a shock of deep aquamarine flares down her lower body. One of her hands draws back to her own body as well, circling at her breast through the thin fabric that covers her chest. Her lips part and she swallows hard, watching Rafayel stop fighting the sensations and start to lean into her touch.
Feeling triumphant, she grasps his chin with her hand, pulling him back to face her.
"Are you sure you want to give this up for some human girl?" She goads him, thumb and forefinger squishing his cheeks together.
He blinks up at her, eyes fighting for lucidity as he answers, "She has a temper like a storm…just like you, Your Magnificence…"
Indignant, green jealousy flashes through her, and her fingernails dig into his cheeks as she stares at him.
"I don't need to hear what you have to say, after all. Let me show you the pleasures that you're forfeiting so you can make an educated decision."
One of her tentacles unfurls up his neck, tip teasing across his plush lips. He looks up at her with wide eyes as it pushes into his mouth and slides to the back of his throat. She groans as she feels the warmth of his hot mouth enveloping her tentacle arm. She thrusts further, compressing and filling the space in his mouth. He gurgles but doesn't fight, a small stream of bubbles escaping the side of his mouth as his lips are stretched to accommodate. He groans around the intrusion, swallowing and sucking obediently.
Seeing his body loosen, she maneouvres to his side. Both of his hands are pinned behind him, pushing his chest forward. His tail fin flutters uselessly at the floor of the cave, gossamer hip fins chasing the warmth of her body. Following the line of his body chains, those soft scales just below where skin becomes scale begin to part. Beads of arousal drip down his tail as his cocks begin to emerge.
She slides the tips of two tentacles down his body, playing at those soft, sensitive scales, and watching as his whole body jerks in response. Drool escapes the corner of his mouth, dissipating in the water between them. Her hand releases his face and scrapes a line down his throat and chest, leaving a red trail of raised skin. The pads of her fingers catch on those first few scales but continue downwards to the slowly opening slit.
She leans in, perching her lips below his ear to whisper, "A human body doesn't have this."
Her fingers slip down and part the scales fully, tentacles slipping past the opening to wrap around the concealed cocks. Rafayel groans, the sound muffled to her ears but vibrating against her senses as she thrusts her tentacle into his mouth shallowly. Her breath shudders out of her, body flashing with myriad colours. Her tentacles squeeze and squirm as they retrieve his two cocks from their protective encasement.
She uses her fingers to part the scales before bringing them together and sliding into the now empty slit. Rafayel bucks into her hand, pushing her fingers deeper against his sensitive walls. She curls her fingers, beckoning inside him as her tentacles continue to pump and squeeze his cocks. Her other hand wraps around him to tease at his nipples. He whines and squirms, eyes squeezed shut. Glimmering pearls form at the corners of his eyes and fall to the floor with soft taps.
"Shhh, see how beautiful you are? A gorgeous creature, with the most lovely scales," she coos in his ear, tongue darting out to lick his quivering ear fins. "A human can't even see all the colours that shine on your magnificent tail."
"Tell me," her voice is commanding, "what's the name of your lover? Maybe I should visit her, see why you're so enraptured by her. A human that earned the undying love of a Lemurian, to make him forfeit his people, his body, his self. She must be very special."
She withdraws from his mouth, her suckers pulling his lower lips down into a pout as she gives him a chance to speak. Rafayel blinks heavy eyelids as he looks at her, skin flushed and completely covered in scratches and blooms of hickeys.
"My love, she's captivating like the sea… her laugh is like the dancing sea spray," he gasps the words out, brow furrowing as she continues to play with him. Her tentacles squeeze and pump the slick lengths of his cocks, pointed tips slipping into the slit at the top of each. He bucks against her hand again, forcing her fingers deeper into himself as he humps against her.
"That's not what I asked for." She stops moving. Everything stops. The grip on his cocks loosens to a teasing graze, the suckers on his chest unlatch and tickle over his skin, her fingers withdraw from his slit trailing arousal fluid in a sticky bridge between her hand and his body.
He whines, as she repositions to hold him in place. A tentacle wraps around his throat, teasing at his lips.
"Tell me." Her voice is firm as her grip tightens on his neck. He looks up at her, pathetic, ruined, mind bleary from the fragrant herbs.
The word that spills from his lips is so unexpected, so joyous that her whole body shivers and squeezes around him. It's her name.
Every inch of her bunches and tenses, squeezing and swirling and sucking and sticking. The suddenness of it all makes him throw his head back, baring his throat as he comes. Glistening milt spurts between them as Rafayel moans. She tenses in elation as her own pleasure bursts within her, colours rippling over her skin as ecstasy shivers up her spine.
So overtaken, she grasps him, lips pressing over his and encompassing his mouth in a hungry kiss. He moans against her lips, long tongue snaking into her mouth and exploring her teeth. Her fingers knot in his long hair, tugging at the root as she latches onto him.
She feels the pearls of his tears fall against her nose and cheeks. Confused, she withdraws and searches his eyes. Rafayel looks up at her with wet eyes full of guilt, she doesn't even notice that he's freed his hand until it presses a bottle to her lips. She swallows in surprise and balloons across the room away from him.
"You can't remember yet. It's for the best." He watches her and more pearls litter the floor.
She flashes magenta, furious, but her movements are lethargic, slow. Her eyes blink and fall heavily.
"I'll sing to you tomorrow, my beloved bride."
dividers by @/cafekitsune
A/N
HIHIIIIII!!! I banged this out in one day to try to make it for Mermay, and I DID! but i forgot to post to tumblr until after midnight D:
In any case, i know this isn't everyone's cup of tea and I expect that! But i think that their relationship in this iteration is so gorgeous.... I also was incredibly inspired by this art by RelmOfNope on twitter!!!
https://x.com/RelmOfNope/status/2059724298407886852?s=20
rafayel took you to the aquarium for your special anniversary. he’s booked the entire place out just for the two of you, and it’s magical... until, he’s spinning you around and rushing you towards the exit. he says something about seeing an ex, but you mention how no one was around, so how was that possible?
“nah, remember that octopus we just saw? yeah, i used to have a thing with her. crazy suction… not as good as you though, cutie.”
a/n: not proofread yet, probably messed up with times big time, ZAYNE IS OOC!!
kinktober 2025 masterlist
The sun had ducked behind the horizon hours ago, giving way first to mysterious twilight and then to comfortable darkness. This and the atmosphere of an emptying hospital had led Zayne into feeling rather sensitive, nervous. Or maybe the ambience wasn't one to blame, and the true reason was his schedule with one last, very important appointment: your after-hours check up.
And even though he had an hour to prepare for it - or just to relax after his overbooked and hectic schedule- he hadn't moved an inch since the last client left. The only thing he was doing was checking repeatedly some app on his phone, like he didn't memorize the content by heart already. Zayne had never claimed himself to be forgettable, but the risk today was too high for him to fuck this up.
You were late today, you usually were, mostly because wanderers didn't ask whether you had plans, and usually Zayne was patient, filling up extra time with extra work. Tonight he couldn't do anything other than meticulously checking whether his calculations were right. They, obviously, were.
Today was the day you were most fertile.
The abrupt knocking made him jump a little, fingers fumbling to lock the screen.
"Come in!" he called, voice smooth, unbetraying of his true emotions.
The door opened, revealing you, smiling sweetly while apologizing, and his heart started beating a bit faster. So cute, so breathtaking, even after a hard day of fighting. There were some bruises here and there that dimmed his mood a little, an annoyed cough escaping his lips. It didn't take long for you to catch his gaze.
"Yeah, some things were pretty rough. But it's okay, I dealt with them! Don't worry, bruises would disappear soon enough."
"You should be more careful," he scorned, motioning you to sit down.
You are going to be a mother soon. He added internally. Zayne knew you'd be a great mom: doting, caring, kind. As for your recklessness and line of work, he was confident it would change eventually, when you'd realise how great it would be to be a housewife. His housewife.
"The hospital is so empty, are you not scared to be here alone this late?" you chatted naively, hand diving into a bawl with your favorite candies that always met you on the corner of his desk.
"I'm not alone, there's a hospital wing with patients right next to ours," Zayne pushed the bawl closer to your hand.
"Yeah, but what about ghosts? Don't you believe in ghosts?"
If you noticed that the taste was weird, you didn't mention it. Maybe you were too tired, maybe they were tasty enough for you to not mind the change at all. Either way, when you finished the fifth one, Zayne considered it enough for him to finally stand up.
"Let's do a quick check-up."
His had office always smelled like fruits, chocolates and medicine: the first two were always gifted to him by grateful patients and the latter was self-explanatory. Tonight though he went out to buy special green tea scented decorative sticks, because he was told they have a very relaxing effect. And he really wanted you to relax.
"You sure you're not hurt anywhere?" his professional tone was a drastic contrast to the gentle touch of his palms moving and pressing around your body.
While he was actually checking up on your condition, frowning at each of your bruises or scratches, his fingers weren't doing much of probing but rather massaging, stimulating. Your calves, under your knees, thighs, arms, fingers. When he craned your face upwards by the jaw, he could see your eyes roaming around the room awkwardly. Not because you were in discomfort, but because it was becoming too sensual.
When his fingers ghosted over your collarbones, your breath hitched.
"You alright? Did I hurt you?" tone professional and clinical, a perfect picture of a doting doctor, even if said in a half-whisper to not ruin the atmosphere.
"N-no! It's fine!" you chuckled, deflecting.
You probably thought you were being such a pervert: your friend, your doctor is checking up on you, caring for you, and you're getting squirmy, because he's too attractive (and, well, you're ovulating).
For a second Zayne wondered if he should have just seduced you normally, organically, but quickly dropped the idea: you wouldn't let him finish inside on your first night together and you particularly mentioned not wanting kids in a foreseeable future. He could potentially talk you out of this but you were risking life every day. Each day was more dangerous than the last, so the time was running out and he couldn't waste it.
He sat you down on the sofa, your shaking arms raising your shirt to let him listen to your fastened heartbeat. What for you was an embarrassment, for him felt like a small victory. He was warming up your body, potentially, so if you saw any residual fluids on your underwear, you'd assume it was from this: from this intimate checkup that looked more like a massage than actual medical procedure. He even went as far as splaying palms over your chest, forefingers and pinkies touching the upper side of your boobs. Your thighs twitched, and Zayne actually couldn't supress a little smirk, embarrassing you even further.
He saw the exact moment the drugs kicked in: your eyelids started to drop, gaze became less focused. You weren't even fighting it, assuming it was just natural tiderness. He didn't comment on that either.
"Lay down on your stomach for me, please," he whispered.
It took you less than 5 minutes to actually dose off. Good, of course, but he still was concerned a little: he told you repeatedly not to overconsume anything and here you were, eating 5 of the candies. Another one and he would have stopped you because it was too dangerous.
He called out your name softly, then louder. You were dead asleep.
Carefully Zayne turned your body over. The dark brown old leather sofa was big enough for you to stretch your legs, so he didn't have to worry about you being uncomfortable. One leg he left as it is, another placed on his lap, sliding sideways between them, his back to the sofa back. It was an unnatural position and his body strained but he still was cautious for you to wake up.
Looking at your relaxed face, massaging your calf slightly he couldn't believe this was actually happening.
You were going to be mad. Maybe you'd even try to cut him off from your life. Sometimes you were naive but not stupid: if your GP didn't tell you about your pregnancy he was very much guilty. Or even the father.
Zayne hummed thoughtfully. He didn't know exactly how he'd manage to keep you docile and accepting. Maybe he'd give you some depressant stimuli, something to make you slow. It would inevitably interfere with your work and he'd ask you to take a sick leave. Normally you wouldn't obey but there's nothing some dark market pills couldn't do. And then, when you'd come to your senses, it would be way past abort due. Perhaps, you'd even already come to terms with it.
It was a quick train of thought, a vivid picture - you with rounded baby snuggling up to him in his home. He would have taken of you, don't you worry.
Kiss came the first. A cautious and tender press of his lips to yours. It was one way, obviously, but he still felt like fucking you without a kiss was wrong. Then his hands hiked up your shirt more, tugging bra caps down and sucking on your nipples. Apart from him enjoying it - a feeling of your tits under his mouth instantly giving him a raging boner - he was doing it as part of his professional approach. This would have made you even wetter.
He didn't have much time though. Because he wanted your sleep to feel natural, he didn't give you anything too harsh that would have had nasty side effects. Zayne had always prioritized your health after all.
He stood up. Your uniform pants were too tight, so he had to tug off your shoes, sock and them, cursing mentally and reminding himself that he had to do it quicker now. Explaining why you were half-naked would have been tremendously complicated.
Your underwear stayed though. The first thing Zayne noted was that you were soaked. Was it from him sucking your nipples or were you just attracted to him this hard as well? He entertained himself with the idea that it was latter.
He still used the lube he prepared before. Absolutely nothing could have indicated there was an intercourse. So, at first, he prepared you with one finger, then adding the second, never forgetting about the clit that started to swell. You were so warm inside, so slippery, so welcoming, that he couldn't refrain from licking you a bit too.
"You drive me crazy," he admitted breathlessly into your folds even if you couldn't hear him.
But the time was running out. It wasn't sex, he reminded himself, It was a necessity. He had to put a baby inside you. Had to breed you. It was natural. It was your mission. And he wanted to be the one to share it with you.
Because of both, natural and artificial, lube his cock slid in you without much of resistance. You were ready, accepting, even bucked your hips, chasing the pleasure. Oh, how much he wished to fuck you properly.
One thrust, another. He was trying to be deliberate, purposeful, but the way your pussy was clumping around him made him lose his composure at all. Your body was supposed to be relaxed, why were you to desperate to milk him as soon as possible.
"You're so...beautiful," he was grunting, rutting into you more demandingly.
He leaned over, kissing you again even if you couldn't reciprocate at the moment. His heart was so full of love towards you, so full of excitement at the prospect of having a baby together. Just nine months and then some more and maybe he'd impregnate you again.
That idea, that thought of you belonging to him forever, of giving him children, of walking today with his seed inside of you, as you were going to see that colleague of yours, or the artist, or that mafia boss, or, hell, what if you were meeting your brother today? While Zayne's cum was lodged deep into your womb.
His vision went white, hips jerked and he spilled inside you with a barely contained moan.
He stayed like that for a moment, caressing your lower belly, before finally pulling out.
He cleaned you with tissues, put back your clothes, then, before returning to his desk, he crouched by your head:
"You'll be such a beautiful mommy," and kissed you again.
It was another twenty minutes when you finally stirred away. The office was still dimly lit, scented sticks burned out, and the only sound being Zayne's hypnotizing typing.
"Did I dose off?" you murmured, sitting up.
"Yes, but I don't mind it. At least, I wasn't alone with the ghosts, right?"
You gave him a little smile. He was too endearing like this, whenever he played into your jokes. It was rare but heartfelt moments.
As you bid him goodbye, you were feeling refreshed. Sleeping for apparently an hour or so really helped against your fatigue.
Though you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was a little bit wrong...
Desc: One summer day, his instincts skyrocket over a thousand, and all he can think about is keeping you for himself.
Warnings: smut, age gap (reader’s 24-26), friends/enemies to ??? , dubcon bordering noncon (kinda nervous), yandere traits and tendencies, cowgirl, p in v, oral, mating press, bulldog doggystyle, bondage, monsterfucking (rafayel), spanking, hypnosis (rafayel), breeding kink, I suck at buildup, proceed with caution ⚠️
A/n: I coulda made raf a cat, but I’m liking LSG more AGHH.
A/n 2: I wrote this Thursday, but I’m releasing it today cuz it’s my birthday, so just a lil self-indulgent :-)
W/c: yes
Zayne
Having two evols was strange. On one hand, he could cool himself with the ice during the piping hot days, but on the other, he struggled getting into his clothes with the two sticks on his head.
Yes, his antlers were a daily issue, sometimes causing a strain in his neck when going to bed or accidentally bumping into things.
He was a temporary medic for a mission with the Hunters Association when he inhaled with an aroma— one that alters your anatomy and biology.
Luckily, it was just antlers, a small tail that could be hidden beneath his waistband, and deer instincts. Thankfully, he didn’t have hooves, or else work would be impossible, but man, was being around you a pain. He didn’t think the feelings he quietly hid away would put him out there anytime you were near, but they did. Still, he did his best to keep his composure, which meant keeping some distance from you.
Zayne was going through some paperwork when he heard a knock at the front door. He got up and scratched the base of his right antler as he walked out his office and headed for the door. He opened it, and saw you standing there, stopping himself from widening his eyes like he was in front of headlights.
“Hey, Zayne! I was nearby, and stopped at a cafe for some snacks. They had these new flavors of maracons and I was reminded of you, so I got you some!” You smile.
He clears his throat, feeling his body warming up, and nods slightly. “Thank you.”
He steps aside, and you’re a bit surprised, but you walk in anyway. He had been avoiding you for the last week, and you weren’t sure why, but some of his colleagues had mentioned he was also avoiding them, so you knew it wasn’t in your head. Everyone knew he got hit with the evol, but nobody suspected his behavior was because of that.
You stand off to the side and look straight at his kitchen as he closes the door. “You can just set them on the counter. I was looking at some paperwork from the hospital.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway. I’m hanging out with one of my coworkers in a couple minutes, but I just wanted to drop these off and check in on you.” You lightly shrug.
“Is it Tara?”
“Andrew.” you took your phone out to text him.
You were going to hang out with another man instead of him?
He ignores the jealousy fueling up, and nods. “Well I’m doing alright, thanks for asking.”
You softly step toward the counter, and set the bag of treats down. “Alright, well I’ll get going then.”
You nod, and turn back to the door when he calls out to you.
“Hey–” Your hand lifts and goes to grab the knob but stops.
“I know I’ve been… off… I’m not doing it because I want to, but because I need to.” You turn to him, and your gaze softens.
You look up at his head, the two bones sticking out in different directions then back at his face. “Does it… have to do with that?”
He hums, and gives a light nod. “Let’s just say my senses have heightened. I’m still me, but…”
You watch his eyes shift away, and his face slowly reddens. “Aw, Zayne! You’re blushing!”
He blinks and looks in the direction of his office. Anywhere, but you.
You step toward his couch, and sit down next to the arm rest. “Tell me what’s on your mind, doc.”
“I don’t want to waste your time. Your coworker will think you ditched him.” He fidgets with his fingers.
“You can never waste my time, Z. Come talk to me,” you whisper, and it makes his heart do backflips.
His eyes move down to the ground then back at you. He doesn’t want to ruin this— ruin the platonic connection between you two, but his urges were becoming hard to control, and all he could think about was mating with you.
Making you take his seed. Making you his.
He walks over to the couch and sits on the opposite side, far from you.
“Why are you all the way over there?” You blink.
He doesn’t look at you. He can’t. But he carefully scoots closer to you, and you watch him get increasingly awkward.
“Zayne?” His ears perk up, and his heart beats faster.
His eyes slowly move to their corners and look at you, and the gesture gives off an uncanny feeling.
“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well,” he whispers, moving closer to you.
You look at him surprised, and don’t move as he gets closer.
Fuck it.
“I’ve… been thinking… about you. A lot, lately…” he whispers, keeping his eyes on the table.
You feel your chest warm up, and look down shyly. “Why?”
He lets out a soft sigh, and glances at you. “You mean a lot to me, you know? I’m not used to feeling these things… when I was feeling these emotions the first time, I forced them down, locked them away. But now that I have these… urges…” he moves closer, and your eyes widen a fraction.
“If I asked… would you let me touch you?” He stares deep into your soul, and your face warms.
“In that way…?” your eyes widen and you quickly catch sight of his hand lifting and pressing on your shoulder.
“I know it seems sudden but, believe me when I say that, I’ve had these feelings long before I got hit with this evol… it just made then come to light and I’ve been struggling to keep my distance…”
The Zayne you knew was no longer present, but a man with a burning desire; a man who was tired of being a gentleman.
“Zayne…” you whisper, and the little rope of restraint holding him back, just snaps.
~
The couch squeaks quietly from the rigorous movement on it. Clothes scatter around the coffee table, and on it, with their owners interlocked nearby. You bite your lip and grip the pillow as Zayne thrusts into you at a hurried pace.
“So warm… you’re perfect, my love,” he whispers against your back.
Your pussy squelches as his dick slides in and out, the juices building up and dripping at the gesture. Your sweet moans fill his minimalistic living room, uncharacteristic to the area. His hands slide down from your ass to your waist, and he arches your back more, needing to get deeper.
You yelp out and bite down on the couch’s armrest, whining and mewling as his length strangely thickens and elongates.
“Z-Zayne! Oh god, y-you’re so deep!!” Your cry muffles with the fabric in between your teeth.
His pace becomes sloppy, and before you know it, he harshly pushes into you, letting you take in the heat of his seed as it fill your womb that aches for him. He groans loudly against your shoulder and bites down on it— not too hard, but hard enough to leave his teeth markings.
Your eyes roll back, and your legs shake as you cum with him, squeezing his dick impossibly tight. The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breaths, but Zayne isn’t Zayne if his stamina runs out. After his short break, he changes your positions so you’re straddling his waist, and slides back in, holding you up by your ass.
You whimper, and grip the thickness of his antlers, peeking over your shoulder and watching him fuck your filled cunt. He tilts his head down and attacks your neck, kissing, licking, biting all on it. You’re surprised at how he hasn’t broken into a sweat, let alone slowed even a bit.
“When you told me you’d be with that man… I-I tried not to get jealous…” your tightness suffocates him, and he feels like he’s about to pass out. “But fuck, I don’t want any man around you except me… I’m… s-sorry for my selfishness, love…”
Hearing Zayne curse makes your body heat up more, and you moan against his lips. Your hips move on their own, going up and down his length before stopping and grinding against him. His arms tightly hug your waist, wanting no space between you two.
“Stay with me tonight… tomorrow, forever… stay by my side…” you gently bounce up and down, staring in his eyes after his hands cup your face.
“Be mine…” and who were you to deny your crush of nearly 14 years?
Caleb
He sat in his office on Base, watching you from a few cameras somewhere in Skyhaven. You came up to visit him for the weekend, and were going around the city to find stuff to do, stuff to see. A guy got a little too close for Caleb’s liking, and he was forced to watch you smile and laugh with the stranger.
His jaw and fist clenches.
The summer heat had been doing numbers on this animal evol he accidentally got a few weeks ago, and it was making sll the feelings he tried to force down, come bsck up and show themselves. He had a primal urge to just… breed you. Scent you, make everyone in this fucking world kneo you were his, and his alone.
He wanted a wall— no, a room— of nothing but pictures you fucked out because of him; covered and filled to the brim of his cum and nothing else.
It was his way of marking his territory.
He watches you write something down, he’s assuming your number, for the loser, and hears a knock at the door.
“Enter.” An officer steps in, informing him the vehicle is ready.
Looks he’ll be paying you and your little friend a visit.
~
You head for the park after stopping by the cafe for a cup of coffee. It was your first day on vacation in Skyhaven, and you wanted to take your time setting in. You turn the corner and bump into a stranger, nearly spilling the latte onto him.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” Your words rush out as you stare at him.
“I’m all right. Thanks,” he softly smiles when he looks at you.
You take in his features, including that smile, and feel a bit shy. You move to walk around him, but he follows your direction and calls out to you.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee some time? Not now of course because you already have one, but… you’re really pretty and I’d like to get to knoe you.” His words flutter your heart, and you awkwardly laugh.
“Oh, thank you, but I’m not from here, and I’m only here for a week before I head back home.”
He nods his head understandingly. “So, is that a no?”
You blink. “I mean, I can go on a date with you, but it won’t be this week because I’m on vacation and would like the alone time.”
He takes out a piece of paper and pen from his shirt pocket and slowly hands it to you. “Could I have your number then?”
You look at him a bit surprised, then think how this is your first time being asked out without Caleb lingering around or ruining things for you. You stuff your coffee between your arm and breast, and quickly write your number down, then hand him back the pen.
“Thank you… I’ll text you later, yeah?” You nod and bid him farewell before you two part ways.
You weren’t aware that a few street cams had been watching the interaction closely, with the person behind them calmly seething and calculating his next kill.
~
You sat on the bench, and drink the coffee, watching the birds fly around and kids playing with each other. The cherry blossom trees bloomed beautifully, stretching up to the sky in a bushy and perfect shape.
Your ear catches the sound of footsteps approaching, and you don’t bother looking at the person until they stand in front of you. You stop midway of taking a sip and slowly move your eyes up from their boots to their face.
“Caleb?”
“Where’s your friend?” His calm yet cold voice brings shivers to your shoulders.
“My… friend?” Your hand lowers the coffee from your lips.
“The one you were just chatting with.”
“He’s not my friend. Just some stranger I bumped into.” He hums.
“You give him your number?” You freeze.
“How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess.” He shrugs before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.
“What the hell, Caleb?!—”
“It’s Colonel. Watch your tongue.” He hisses as you get dragged to his vehicle.
“Ugh, let go of me!” You thrash under his grasp, forcing yourself to not look around at the bystanders watching.
You get pushed into his sleek black SUV before he climbs in after, and the cars jerks forward.
~
Your coffee was long cold and tasted gross by the time you two got home. You set it down on the counter and stomp to the guest bedroom.
“Where are you going?” His tone from earlier was replaced with a softer and curious one.
“Don’t fucking talk to me.” You don’t bother to look st him, and walk into the toom, slamming the door.
He sighs, and closes the front door, taking his shoes off. He stares at the hallway you were just in, like he’s contemplating what to do next. His tall figure slowly creeps down the path, before making it in front of your door.
“Pips—”
“Shut up! I’m so fucking annoyed right now. I don’t wanna talk to you!” You yell from the other side, getting undressed.
His jaw clenches and he huffs. “Don’t be like that, please. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
You stomp over and rip the door open. He looks down at you wide and sad puppy eyes then takes his hat off. The pointy, hairy ears immediately pop up then flatten back against his head. His eyes quickly trail your figure, seeing the previous outfit had been replaced with a t-shirt and shorts. He tries hard to keep the growing boner at bay.
“You’re protecting me from getting a date? Protecting me by embarrassing me in public?”
“You know it’s just an act. I never willingly want to hurt you—”
“Bullshit, Caleb! Every single time I’m talking to a guy, you’re there, being weird and totally unsupportive!”
“Because none of those guys deserve you!”
“You say that about every guy I’ve talked to! And that’s more than I can count on both hands!!” Your arms cross. “How did you even know I was there?!”
“I was watching the cameras, pipsqueak.”
“Well, stop doing that.” You go to slam the door but his hand presses on it.
“You know I can’t do that. I have to make sure that you’re safe.” He barely uses strength to push the door open.
You turn to stomp away, but he reaches out and wraps his arms around you.
“Let go of me.”
“No… I miss this.”
“You don’t deserve this. You ruin everything every time I try to do stuff, you’re always there raining on my parade.” You squirm in his embrace.
He turns you around and grasps your forearms. “Do you want to know why I do that?”
You glare in his eyes.
“Because I love you.” He says like it’s the last thing he’ll ever be able to say.
“I love you so much. You’re my world, my heart, my angel. Every thing I do is to ensure that you stay that way. These guys— none of them deserve you and I meant that. I’ve risked my life, all so I can come back to you—”
“I didn’t ask you to do that—”
“Don’t say that.” His tone hardens.
It falls quiet momentarily, and you just stare at each other.
He pulls you close, with your chest touching his abdomen. “I can’t keep pretending to be your best friend when I want to be your boyfriend… y-your husband.” He whispers the last part, his eyes filled with all the adoration and need in the world for you.
His pokes out of his pants and rubs against your thigh. His ears remain flat against his head after spilling his feelings out. “I can’t let you be with anyone else because no one will go lengths to love you like I will, and I know that’s a fact.”
His heart thrashes harshly in his chest. The fear of rejection weighs on his shoulders heavily, but he will have you, one way or another.
“Caleb…” you blink twice, letting your head tilt down as you look at the ground.
“Now you know… why I act the way I do… now you know why I won’t stop… cockblocking you and getting in between you and these randoms… I want you. I need you, more than them.” His voice cracks as he pulls you completely against him, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“… you’re such a puppy… so clingy and needy.” You spat in his shoulder, patting his back.
“Love me… please, angel.” You pull back a bit to stare at him.
You can admit that you had some feelings for him, but at the time, you couldn’t tell if they were what you had always felt or were something different.
But looking at him now, you see he’s no longer your Caleb, but a Caleb that’s been hiding his true self from you for years, all because he’s ached to fulfill his one wish of mating with and loving you.
~
Your eye glaze over as you watch his dick push and pull inside you. Your feet dangle over his shoulders as he towers over you, resting his forehead on your shoulder and watching the sight below.
“Fuck, you feel so good, princesss. Hhhh, shiiiit!!” He whines, his tails wagging happily. “A-Always knew you would, but this… this is beyond what I imagined… ngh!!”
The bed creaks and shakes violently as his thrusts get deeper and faster, with him needing to be inside you completely, and not just by his dick either.
His arms swiftly curl around you along with his body as his orgasm rushes in, giving you a few more fast thrusts like the dog he is before settling deep inside and releasing his hot knot. He huffs and whimpers, thrusting the cum into you like a toy pussy.
“N-need to be inside… all the way… ‘s not e-enough…!” He pants as his dick jumps and balls twitch.
He has to be under your skin, had to breathe inside you, Live in you.
Because being balls deep is not enough. He needs to physically feel and see your heart beating, the blood and cells moving through your veins and organs. A Caleb without you is not a Caleb at all, especially if you’re with someone else when he is and isn’t around. He doesn’t want anyone else in your life except him. He can give you everything your heart could ever desire— love, sex, money, worship.
You don’t even have to ask, just exist in his space.
And he’s all yours.
Sylus
He stood at the window of his bedroom, watching outside. He invited you over for a little meeting, but you told him you were busy elsewhere and couldn’t make it.
Silly, kitten. Don’t you know he always gets what he wants?
His phantom tail sways in a way like he’s waiting for something, and as if on cue, the door of his bedroom opens. In come the twins with you being held in his grasp.
“What the hell, Sylus?! I said I was busy!”
He doesn’t turn right away, and just takes a sip of his wine. The bittersweet flavor settles on his tongue before he speaks.
“Leave.” Is all he says, and the twins gently let you go before departing and closing the door behind them.
You stare at it for a moment then look at him, agitated and confused. “What the fuck is this about?”
He turns to finally look at you, and takes in the sight. A dress he bought you for your birthday a couple years ago, sits perfectly on your figure with heels that shouldn’t be worn outside, but instead, in the bedroom.
He sets his glass down, and steps toward you, but you hold your ground.
“I was wondering what could possibly be making you busy, considering it’s your day off.” His deep voice rumbles out.
“I didn’t see you with any friends, you weren’t in your house or at any store... I let Mephisto go and check on you, and he shows me you’re… on a date?” He almost grimaces.
“Why does it matter to you what I do, Sylus? I’m a grown woman with a life. I’m not always doing hunter shit or going on undercover missions here.” You snap, resting your hands on your hips.
He takes more steps forward before standing in front of you, and pulling you close by your waist. “It matters to me when you’re wearing an outfit so sexy and scandalous, but going on romantic outings with some peasant.”
His red eyes stare deep into yours, like he’s holding your soul captive. Your eyebrows furrow, and you force your mind out of the gutter, turning your head away from him. “You know it’s funny. When I first met you, and you made me find that brooch, I asked you if you did all that shit because you liked me. And you know what you said?”
“Clearly, you’ve read to many fairytales.” The flashback plays in both of your minds.
“From that moment on, I knew this wasn’t anything but business. No pleasure, just business. On top of that, why would I waste my time on an arrogant man who lets everyone know he’s untouchable? Who lets everyone know that he’s better than anybody in the damn world? Why should I ever compete with my lover on anything?” Your voice softens, but your glare is very much the opposite.
You move to turn away, but his arms shift, curling around your completely under your abdomen. “Let go, Sylus.”
He doesn’t say anything, and lets his head settle in the crevice of your neck. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
You don’t speak and stare at his bedroom door. You can feel his heart thump against your shoulder, and sigh.
“Kitten, you never have to compete with me. With you, you always win. I’ve been at your mercy since we laid eyes on each other. You could hurt me, and I’d still want you, your love, your heart…. You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” He whispers in your ear.
You feel a breeze near your leg, making you look down to find nothing there. But, it feels like something’s wrapped around it.
He nuzzles his nose behind your ear and growls. “When I saw you with him, I wanted to show up and kill him right there… how dare he take you from me…”
His arms move back so his hands can slide over your stomach. He tikts his head down and stares at your breasts. “I wanted to take you on that table, in front of all those people… let them know you’re mine.”
His lips press softly on your neck, and you unconsciously give him more room to go at it. Your jaw clenches as you feel your nipples harden and panties getting wet.
“I’ve tried to keep my urges at bay… but it’s hard when all I want is to stuff you full with my babies.” He harshly turns you around and throws you over his shoulder with one hand.
“Hey! Put me down!” You punch his back, wiggling around.
He lays you on his bed, and you crawl back, with him crawling toward you. Your back hits the headboard, and he stops just a few centimeters from your face.
God, he’s so… massive.
Your face and body heat up as your mind imagines what it’d look like if the two of you were naked with him on top of you.
“You don’t need to imagine it,” he breathes out, darting forward and capturing your lips for himself.
You didn’t even tealize his right eye was glowing, let alone realize that you thought that, but there’s no stopping him now.
~
Your nails dig into his bare back as he steadily thrusts into you, kissing and biting your neck. The faint bruises litter around the skin, creating a beautiful sight of his claiming. You cry on his pillow as he stretches you out wider than any man or toy ever, but the pain feels so good.
Your left hand crawls up into his hair and grips the strands, keeping his head against your neck as he takes your body and soul for himself.
“I-I’m coming! Sylus…!!” You yelp when he slams into you and groans against your shoulder, biting down on it.
The sensation is too good to stop now, and he flips you both over, putting you on top of him and straddling his waist. Your body’s weak from the strenuous movement, but he’s not done with you. You whine as his fingers mold into the curve of your head, lightly gripping the strands as he fucks up into you. His hips stay raised as his tail slowly slighters up and wraps around your waist, claiming you as its own too.
“You’re all mine… our souls have been bound for centuries…” he growls as your walls squeeze him when he confesses.
“I’m never letting you go. You cannot get rid of me that easily, sweetie.” Your mind fizzles as you blankly stare at the ceiling.
Your pussy drips down his length and balls with bits of white substance slowly oozing out, and your hands scramble behind you to grab onto his thighs. You find some stength to move on your own, and start bouncing on him, making him move his hands down to your waist and watch you with devotion and lust.
His orgasm surges through once more and he quickly pulls you against him, tightly hugging you as he cums again. Your body trembles as your own pleasure overwhelms you, and your arms hug his neck. After so long of waiting for his mate, he finally found her and captured her again.
And he would not let her escape for another time.
Rafayel
The canvas stood idly in his living room, with some marks of color stamped in ways that created a beautiful work in progress. He’s staring at the image, having known what he wanted to paint earlier and quickly picking up the brush.
Rafayel knew he was drawing you, but not just in a cute or majestic way. It was now a painting of you in a questionable position, one that only adults could look at. He spent too much time detailing your pussy— or what he assumed it looked like— the cum peeking out of your hole with drops of it on the fabric, your expression when he filled your womb, and the obscene sight made the scales under his skin glow brightly.
Rafayel knew from the moment he met you 4 years ago that you were his bride from centuries back. But remembering the catch of keeping his homeland alive forced him into isolation, wanting nothing romantic to do with you— to keep you at arms length. He didn’t want that incident to happen again, nor did he want his people suffering.
And it would’ve worked, had his creature instincts, of wanting to repopulate his homeland, NOT gotten in the way, and practically make it impossible to be away from you. While he did try to stay nearby more often, he found that you were being avoidant, and he didn’t know why.
“Miss bodyguarrrrrd, come see meee!”
“Miss bodyguard, you’re always so busy! Is this how you treat your clients?!”
“Miss bodyguard, give me attention, now!”
You became annoyed by Rafayel always blowing up your phone, and your boyfriend wasn’t taking a liking to it either.
“Why is he always texting and calling you?” He asked one evening.
“It’s just my job as his bodyguard. He gets needy and wants attention sometimes.” You shrug it off, scrolling through the movies on the TV.
“Does he not know that you have a boyfriend?” That’s when you froze.
No, Rafayel didn’t know you were in a relationship. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. The thought of saying so brought a feeling of unease to you, and you kept the truth a secret.
“Yeah, but he’s just… annoying kind of…” you rub the back of your neck. “But the pays good so…”
Your boyfriend didn’t push further, and just snuggled you close to him as you both watched the movie.
~
It’d been a week since you didn’t read any of Rafayel’s texts or answer his calls, and he was fuming. Usually, he’s the one to do that— not to you, never to you— but being on the receiving end of his typical behavior— and it coming from you— was getting to him, fast. He stares at the blank canvas, having replaced the old, used one with a fresh new one.
He kept… painting things he hadn’t seen before. Scenarios that a paranoid boyfriend would make up if his girlfriend went out in without him, and something told him to go check on you. He left the house around 2:32 PM, and headed to the beach. He watches the seagulls flying around, fighting over food and trash, sees a couple of people running around or running into the water.
He was searching for you in these people.
He looked over at the water and felt that pull.
Two people were hugged up, and chatting well inside the water, and as he looked closer, is intuition was right.
It was you, and some lousy human he assumes is your boyfriend. Funny, he should be calling himself that, not some lame mortal.
He steps closer to the shore, and stares at you two, watching you laugh as the guy kisses your shoulder snd neck. His fists slowly clench, and before he knows it, he’s walking into the water. He gets far enough before diving under and transforming into his 10 ft tall deity form, feeling his emotions clash with the body of liquid and weather. He hears the thunder muffle underwater, and feels the shift as rain randomly pours down.
Rafayel sees you two swimming back to the shore, and quickly moves closer, grabbing your lover’s ankle and pulling him underwater. You don’t hear the attack as the sound of rain and the water swirl together, drowning out the sound of your partner’s voice. You get onto the shore and rush under an umbrella nuzzled in the sand, and turn around, only to see your spouse missing.
“Max?” You yell out, looking around for him.
Rafayel swam away from the gruesome scene, after sharks and other predators surrounded the human, who was now their snack. The sound of the creatures fighting each other for it fades away the closer he gets to the shore. You walk toward the water, calling out for your lover, but still don’t see him. A part of you feels worried, and you move to go back in, but a hand grabs your wrist, causing you to quickly turn.
“Cutie? What are you doing out here? You’re gonna get sick!” He pulls you away from the water, going back to his place.
You panic but let him take you, still looking behind for your partner; the distance between you and his disintegrating corpse rapidly grows at the speed Rafayel’s walking in.
~
You sit on the couch with an oversized towel over your back and a cup of hot tea on the coffee table. Rafayel steps into the living room with a pair of pants on and a towel on his head from having gotten out the shower.
“Why don’t you go shower? You’ll get sick if you stay like that, cutie,” he smiles a bit, taking a seat next to you.
“I should get going. I have work to do,” you stand up to leave but his words stop you.
“Work? But Jenna said you’re off the next three days.”
You slowly turn and look at him. “You spoke with my boss?”
“I’ve been looking for you, and you don’t talk to me, so I had to start somewhere.” He puts his hands on his hips.
You stare at him for a moment then turn to leave but he’s quicker and darts in front of you, stopping you from leaving.
“What’s gotten into you?! You’ve been acting really weird lately, and it’s getting annoying, Rafayel.” You cross your arms.
“I’m acting weird? You’re the one avoiding me! You didn’t even tell me you had a boyfriend!” You gawk.
“Why should I have to tell you that?! It’s none of your business, ANYWAY!!” You shift your weight into your left leg.
“It’s my business when my bride is getting cozy with some pesty mortal! … It’s my business when my Queen is getting frisky when some guy that isn’t me!”
“What the FUCK are you talking about?! We’re not even together, Rafayel!!”
“Because you didn’t give me a chance!!”
“Why would I give you a chance when you’re so in your head?! What made you think I’d EVER give someone like you a chance?!” You scream. “I’m just your bodyguard, nothing else!! So why does it MATTER?”
He stands there, feeling that power course through him once more. His eyes close and he steps towards you. “It matters because you’re mine. You’ve been mine for over 8 centuries, and counting. The Fates have already written ours, so why bother trying to change it?”
You glare at his glowing eyes, then look away. “I knew something was off about you… I just couldn’t figure out what…”
“That’s why you hid having a boyfriend from me?” He quietly hisses.
“You didn’t need him anyway,” he gets closer, “you have me. I’m the only one you need, pearl… just like you’re the only one I need.”
You shake your head and move to leave but he grabs you and holds you close. “Let go of me, Rafayel!”
“Not until you feel it… feel the connection our souls have to each other… you never needed him or anyone. Only me…” his voice softens; it echoes with soundwaves that flow to your ear and make you feel woozy.
You pant and shake your head, covering your ears, but it’s no use.
“You can’t escape. Your place is here, by my side.” His hand comes up and grazes your cheek as his voice lures you in.
Like a siren to a sailor.
“Stop… d-doing that,” you hisses, pushing him away and trying to leave.
He barely opens his mouth as a high frequency sound flows from it, striking your eardrum and making you clutch your head in pain.
“You belong here.”
No…
“This is your home now, my bride~” his words echo in your mind.
“You’ll learn your place soon enough.” He comes around you and lift your head by your chin.
He forces you to stare in his eyes, and you feel yourself being put into a box.
“You just… need a little… push.”
~
Your clothes were misplaced on the ground with tears and holes all throughout them. The oh-so-merciful Sea God gave you another chance to do the right thing, and now you rested on your knees. Sucking his two lengths.
“Mmmm, just like that, my treasure…” he hums lowly, stroking your disheveled hair.
The light makeup you wore was now messed u on your pretty face, giving the impression of a crying and distressed woman.
You look so beautiful in his eyes.
He wants to paint this sight— you on your knees sucking his cocks like you were meant to.
Tears, from straining your throat, trickled down your cheeks and dripped onto your bare tits, along with the saliva-cum mixture bubbling up from the sides of your mouth.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it, my pearl? They’re all yours to enjoy for eternities to cum.” He giggled quietly, watching you worship his mythical dicks.
Their angled and flat tip rested on your tongue one at a time as you switched between sucking them off. He sighs happily, and tilts his head back, tightening his grip on the back of your head.
“I’m gonna fuck your throat now. Be a good girl, and take your Sea God’s seed.” His voice rumbles, and brings that ache in your pussy to the surface.
Both his hands hold your head and move it up and down his shaft. You whine and gargle the thick, top cock, rolling your eyes back as it’s tip his the back of your throat. He moans loudly, and you look up to see scales shimmering brightly under his skin.
“Fuck, I’m g-gonna cum. Swallow every drop when I say to!” He thrusts faster, moving your head at the same time.
Your hands hang at your side as he used your mouth for his own pleasure, before he stops. His hot seed burns your mouth, too much filling the small, warm hole and shooting up your nose. Your nose nuzzles in his neatly trimmed pubes as the white essence leaks out, and he slowly pushes your head back, admiring his thick dick inside your mouth.
“You’re so perfect… I really am blessed to be in your existence, my sweet gem.” He whispers adoringly, pulling out completely.
Your mouth and eyes close, and he taps your cheek. “Show me.”
You open your eyes and look up at him, slowly opening your mouth and revealing it full of his nut.
“Fuck…” is all he says as he stares.
Your eyes water and let the last bit of tears slide down your cheeks as he says, “swallow.”
You close your mouth and carefully gulp down the large, salty load, shivering at the taste and texture. He pets your head then pushes you face down onto the ground.
“Good girls get rewarded, don’t they, honey?” He whispers condescendingly, rubbing in between your slick folds.
“Y-Yes, sir!” You tremble when he thumbs your clit.
“My fingers slide in so easily… you got wet just sucking off your God, didn’t you, cutie?” He chuckles.
You whine and cry, and he pulls his fingers out, replacing them with his upper dick. You both sigh, as he stretches you out and mounts you like a dog.
“This is where I belong. Deep inside you, reviving the motherland.” He kisses your back, then pulls out halfway before slamming back in.
He pushes hard until his tip presses against your cervix, and the sensation makes you squirt.
“Goood girl. Make a mess on me and my floors. Show me you know your place.” He growls, as his balls slam against your clit.
You become a moaning mess for him, and he arches your back by gripping the back of your head and pulling it back. You’re forced to look up as he looks down at your face.
“I’ll make you worship these cocks until they’re the only thing on your mind.” He presses the side of your face against the side of the couch, giving you the view behind you.
“I’ll make you whine and cry for me to never leave you… just like I did when you died back then…” he hits that spot deep inside you just right every time
“I’ll make you love me forever.”
If only you had known back then, that taking this ‘job’ as a bodyguard would result you in your freedom and sanity being taken.
Xavier
You sat on the grass staring up the stars. The heat calmed significantly during the night, and the prickly grass felt good, for once, against the bare skin of your arms and thighs. You found this hill while hiking one day and saved the location as a spot you go to when you wanted to get away from the responsibilities of an adult.
Your sweet friend and neighbor, Xavier, had been blowing up your phone, wondering where you went and why you weren’t answering, for the last 3 hours. You ended up turning the device off, but you didn’t know that only upsetted him.
You see, when spending time with an animal for so long, they grow attached. They get clingy, and can develop separation anxiety, so you can assume that happened with Xavier.
The man had the behavior and traits of a bunny, but one thing for sure was that you had a hard time saying no to him. Maybe it was because he could give you that look any cute animal could give when they did something bad. But with Xavier, he’s done many things as your friend and neighbor, you let it slide every time, until now.
You realize that it wasn’t a good thing to withdraw accountability from him. He was a grown man after all, and thinking “no! Xavier would never kill someone just because!” was the worse thing you could do. You found out your ex-crush went missing, and was found dead, shortly after the two of you ran into the bunnyman. You hadn’t notice, at the time, that Xavier was acting weird whenever you brought the guy around, and a part of you still blamed yourself for his death. You found out later that Xavier was the one who killed him, using his light evol— he manifest a celestial spike and stabbed it into his heart. He claimed it was self-defense, the camera footsge painted it as such, so you had no choice to believe him. But his behavior following then had gotten stranger too.
There was CCTV footage in an alley he dragged your crush into, and you only found that footage during an investigation regarding smuggled Protocores. Of course, you were the only that knew it was Xavier from a few tiny details, but when the Association and police saw it, they couldn’t figure out who the perpetrator was, let alone did they care.
You watch as a shooting star passes by and you close your eyes, concentrating to make a wish. The sound of crickets chirping and trees swaying with the light breeze flowing over you brought peace and tranquility for a while until you heard footsteps. You turned and looked but didn’t see anything or anyone. Once you felt calmed, you turned back around, only to find Xavier sitting next to you, inches away from your face.
“FUCK! What the hell, Xavier?!” You screech, putting your hand on your chest.
“I’m sorry. I kept texting and calling you, but you weren’t answering,” his soft voice flutters your heart before you snap out of his trance.
“Mm mm, nope! How did you find this place? How did you even know I was here?!” You cross your arms.
“My light has a way of finding certain footprints, even with shoes.” His long ears sway a bit and he softly smiles. “I missed you.”
“Xavier, this was supposed to be alone time for me. We’re always together, you know?”
He pouts, and looks at you confused. “Why would you want to be alone? Why is it so bad that we’re always together?”
“Because we both live different lives and have different wants and needs. Sometimes, I don’t want to sleep all day or bed rot.” You sigh.
“Then we can do other things. As long as we’re together.” He says casually.
“Xavier, I don’t always want to be around people. I like my alone time.”
“But being alone means I’m not with you. Don’t you care about me?” He whispers, his eyes dilating.
“Xavier—” you’re cut off by a ball of white clouding your sight.
He lays his head on top of your chest, and wraps his arms around you. “This is nice. Xavier likes this very much.”
“Xavier, get off. It’s too hot to be hugging up on me snd shit,” you quietly hiss, trying to push him off.
You both end up falling back onto the grass, and he climbs on top of you. Your eyes widen and your hands rest next to your head.
“What are you—” his hands crawl up your stomsch and cup your underbust.
“Do you know how hard it is to act fine when you’re not around? … It’s like… I can’t exist without you, I can’t live without you…”
“What are you talking about, Xavier? Get off.” You try to push him off but he’s quick to grip your wrists under one hand.
“One part of me knows you need your space; knows that I can’t keep you to myself like I want to… but the other part tells me to keep you to myself… to never leave your side no matter what…” he whispers.
“Xavier…” you look up at him conflicted.
“You know I love you so much, right? I love you like the stars do to the night sky… you’re too precious for me to just let go of.” He leans down and you turn your head.
“I-I didn’t know you felt that way… but please get off.” He looks down at your rising chest, watching the covered mounds lower then rise again.
“Would you let me…?” Your eyes shift to his.
“Let you what…?”
“Suck them, love them… worship them?” He nuzzles his face in your cleavage and your head falls back on the grass.
“X-Xavier, please! This isn’t… ideal!” You squirm under him.
“What do you mean “not ideal”? I love you, why can’t you love me?” He pouts, looking like he’ll start crying.
“I-I haven’t moved on from what you did to Anthony…” a shift happens behind his eyes, and he stares up at you, barely.
“Why are you still holding onto him? He was weak. He didn’t deserve you. But I’m here.” His hand cup your face.
“I’ll take care of you and love you like you deserve… worship this gorgeous body like the temple it is… make you my moon Goddess.” He rests his forehead against you.
“I can’t keep fighting this… I need you.” Is the last thing he says before diving down and kissing you.
Your eyes widen and fists clench, pressing on his chest yo push him back. He cages you underneath him, and continues devouring your sweet lips, feeling his pants tighten.
“Oh, Star…” he whimpers quietly, but yelps when you bite his lip.
He pulls back slowly, letting the pain simmer. “You like biting, huh, Starlight?”
He unbuttons his sweater and peels it off, while you watch with anticipation and excitement—
Wait what?
He hums as his hand lean down mess with your top. “No one will see us… I made sure of that.”
You stare up at your friend, your neighbor, and realize now that the prey he once was, turned into the predator, but maybe he had been that all along.
~
You lay on your back as Xavier crushes you beneath him. His dick slides in and out so easily from all the clear liquid you squirted on him, making the traction of his length between your walls create a loud, squelching noise. Your tits jiggle with every push, and he leans down to grip them, sucking and biting the pebbles in their centers.
“X-Xavier…” is all you can whine, clenching your toes tightly and biting your lip.
The moonlight shined on the two of you, exposing the obscene sight to any curious animals. You whimper in sync with each kiss his tip gives your cervix, and cry at the overwhelming pleasure.
“See? Now you know what I’m capable of. Now you know how good you can feel every. single. day.” His hands grasp the tops of your feet, keeping them against the sides of his head.
His ass slams onto yours once last time then he rolls his hips, grinding the stickiness into your womb for a third time. You both roll your eyes back, and you hug him tightly.
“You’re doing well… taking my seed, helping recreate Philos… ugh gods…” his head falls back as he keeps grinding into you.
You squirt on him, and he moves his hand down to rub your clit.
“Keep going, Star. Keep feeling good. You deserve to feel this… only by me.” He whispers, kissing your lips once more, tasting the blood from earlier.
He rests his forehead against yours again, and stares at your closed eyes, having nothing, but love and adoration for his Queen.
I was supposed to upload this hours ago but i took a fucking nap and forgot about it 💔💔
