Yall seemed alright with the horny posting… so if you don’t mind I’ll continue…
Lucifer is a very busy man, dealing with his brothers, Diavolo, paperwork, you name it and he probably has some sort of responsibility to go along with it. There’s a few downsides too, but mainly that you don’t get enough attention…
Perfect for you, Lucifer can multitask!
You assume when he tells you he can pay attention to you and work at the same time he means just having your presence there to help clam him. But of course, he exceeds your expectations again.
He sits you on his lap, your pants slowly being pulled down. You of course ask him what he’s doing, and he simply tells you he’s giving you his attention.
You don’t question it when he takes off one of his gloves, the one on his non dominant hand, and slowly pushes two fingers inside of you.
You gasp at first, not having expected that, but eventually relax and melt into him. He knows exactly what he’s doing as you sink into his lap.
His pace is slow, a little messy too because of him using his non dominant hand. Despite this, he’s still making you tremble by hitting those spots deep inside that make you squirm.
He’s doing this all while signing important documents, reviewing them before putting his perfect signature on the line.
Well, you did ask for his attention… and you got it… just not his undivided attention
𝟅ϱ sum. nerd caleb accidentally makes you squirt! cw : mdni, squirting, mean dom caleb, short n sweet.
“ hey, pips. you ever tried squirting before?” caleb absentmindedly mentions above you, barely flinching as your nails create feral scratch marks down his broad back. his strokes are brutal and calculating, overbearingly rendering you speechless to any questions he asks you, or any thought that formulates outside of him. your bleary gaze shoots him a skeptical look, one that he matches with an airy laugh. “ don’t look at me like that; you’re not too dick drunk to respond… right?”
“ w-what do you even know about squirting?”
“ oh, honey, just because i was a virgin doesn’t mean i’m dumb,” he snickers, watching as your doubtful eyes flicker to the back of your skull, successfully rendering you tongue tied before the real peak even began. truth be told, the thought of making you squirt has crossed caleb’s mind once or twice… maybe more than that if he were to count. but he never put his plan into action; by the time he’d remember to, you were already flat as the surface he’d press you onto, praising how good he fucks you.
he focuses back on reality when your body jerks, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth— how embarrassing it was to look like a slut, but you were barely lucid to care enough, blissfully focusing on how your walls invites all staggering inches of him in your pussy with profound greed.
“ if you want me to make you squirt, how ‘bout you say so?” his teasing trails off with a low groan; his orange-purple eyes leisurely skim through the erotic pathway of your trembling body. his hands remove themselves from the meaty flesh of your thighs, now focusing on bringing the weight of your waist off the bed, lifting you up for better access to fuck into you freely. a sadistic smile spreads across his face as he watches your eyes light up. despite your head being thrown back, you nod dumbly— his non-verbal sign of consent. “ ah, you know by now how to talk to me, and that’s not the right way, so… i’ll give you one more time.”
despite his patient words, his hips are anything but that. from the way he drives his hips deeper, ensuring his rounded tip knocks against your sensitive g-spot, his one goal is to have you teetering real close to the point of frenzied euphoria by the end of this night.
“ f-fuck! i want you to make me squirt, caleb! pleasee, wan’ it so bad!” later on you’ll realize that those were your famous last words.
his dick makes up for the arrogant air he held earlier; his thrusts somehow switch from brutal to punishing as he focuses on spots that you didn’t even know were there. it was endearing— his brows were furrowed as his teeth gritted against each other, looking oddly fixated on finding the spot that will surely have you gushing over him. you cutely shudder beneath him, patiently bracing yourself as you feel the coil simmering in the depths of your stomach, ready to snap any moment now due to the velocity of caleb’s hips rocking you into ecstasy.
“ relax yourself; don’t force it to come. it’ll happen naturally. don’t want anything else on your mind, besides me right now.” if you didn’t know who you were fucking, you would’ve assumed he was a sex god, just from how he gently talked you through it. caleb brings a rough hand to grab at your throat, squeezing the sides, albeit gently just enough to barely cut off your air circulation, but making the feeling of his dick effortlessly gliding through your sopping walls extremely maddening. “ don’t hold back on m-me; feel ya clenching. give it to me, pips. make a mess for me.”
“ oh my g-god, caaaaleb!” you screamed into the heated air as electric currents raced through your limbs, rendering your legs useless as amorous fluids shot from your pussy, drenching everything in its zone, including the bottom half of caleb’s pelvis— the oddly educated menace that brought you to this point. everything felt overbearingly hot and the loud noises your pussy once made amplified as he gave a few more roughened thrusts to your walls before he eventually slowed down.
“ what the fuck?” you’ve barely calmed down from your high before blurt out in shock, blurry vision brightening as you focus on glancing at the man hovering above you— whose now uncontrollably laughing.
“ don’t look at me like that! i didn’t think it would work… or that you could squirt this far, you made such’a mess. think you got it in you to give me one more?”
“i’m sorry,” caleb pants, swiftly coming to regret provoking you earlier. i shouldn’t poke the bear, he'd always tease in your younger years. there’s no telling what she’ll do to me.
now he knows.
“don’t care.” reveling in his ragged breaths, you slide your fist to his base and give him a firm squeeze. then, you pump your hand even faster than before.
his hiss is instantaneous. “i didn’t mean it,” he tries again, dark eyebrows furrowing in the lamplight.
“don’t care,” you sing. you press a lingering kiss to his cheek, savoring the way his hips buck into your eager hand. “you bet that you could affect me more than i could affect you. you were so confident earlier. what happened?”
while he struggles to answer, you climb onto his lap. trembling hands encircle your waist, grasping for purchase as you settle yourself just below his waistband. a long, thick length—the fruits of your admittedly light labor, since it’s been five minutes tops—strains hard against your center.
dragging your hips forward and back, you lay one hand on shoulder, the other on his cheek.
on instinct, he nuzzles into your palm. when his eyelids flutter closed, you lean in and kiss him breathless. but as soon as he links your tongues together, you pull back and bounce in his lap two times fast, giggling at the pained moan that floats through the air.
“please,” he begs.
you press your lips to the corner of his eye, trailing a crescent down his cheek. when you reach his mouth again, you roll your hips so deep that you can feel what it does to him—the way he chokes on air, the way his heart stutters in his chest. still, he refuses to break from you, relishing any contact you'll allow him.
again, you pull away first, to his dejection.
“what do you want me to say? already said sorry,” he slurs, leaning close just for his lips to brush the bottom of your chin. caleb frowns at the lack of contact. you tap his nose, and his frown deepens further.
“take it back,” you order.
confusion and want clash on his face. “huh?”
“i affect you more. say it.”
he swallows. sparks of rebellion light in his violet eyes, but ultimately fizzle out.
he sobers up some as he holds your gaze, and you welcome the quickening pulse in your center. “everything you do makes me like this,” he admits. “your voice, your scent—even when i just think of you, i almost…”
his reluctance spoils your excitement. huffing, you thread your fingers in his hair and tug, pulling a low groan from his throat.
“you almost what? keep going.”
“i—” his eyes rove over you, frantic, troubled. when you tug his hair again, harder this time, his face falls in a mix of shame and agitation. “please,” he grumbles in defeat.
you take in his flushed face, sweat-slick skin, and the rapid rise and fall of his firm chest. the quivers of the muscles that could so easily dominate you.
cooing softly, you pinch his cheek. “caleb?”
“yes?” he rasps.
“don’t tease me like that again. it makes me feel needy, and then i have to prove you wrong.”
despite himself, he chuckles. “yeah. yeah, okay,” he answers shakily. “i’m the needy one.”
nodding in acceptance, you lean in to kiss him, giving him all that he wants this time. when he pushes his tongue past your lips, you soothe his desperate one with your own, rewarded by a soft sequence of moans.
humming, you break away and tap his grey boxers. “these stay on. i’m still mad.”
“you know i’ll take anything,” he breathes.
“won’t you?”
granting him the gift of friction, you swivel your hips with abandon, grinding your core against his ever-hardening length. in a matter of moments, he screws his eyes shut tight, abdomen flexing into stone beneath you. as warmth flows through your clothes, he throws his head back in relief, consumed by the release he's been aching for.
while he steadies his breathing, you kiss his brow and roll off to the side. your eyes catch on the wet patch spreading in his lap. “good?” you ask.
“good.”
“good.” you snap the waistband of his stained boxers, and it bites into his skin. “you should wash those before it dries into the fabric. maybe mine, too, while you're at it.”
Beyond the thicket of whispering trees, there it lay before you, in all its sapphire grandeur.
The ocean.
You ran onto the beach, despite the countless warnings you’d received growing up. The golden fingers of sunset splayed across the rippling water’s surface, beckoning you closer. An explosion of pink stained the sky, with smears of orange, and the creeping promise of a dark twilight.
Digging your toes into the sand, you became rooted as the growing tide glided over your feet, lapping at your shins. With your arms spread wide, you soaked up those final rays, inhaled the breeze until you could taste its salt.
You loved the sea. Always had. You couldn’t understand why you were forbidden to swim in it.
‘You can only look,’ your parents had initially warned. Then it progressed to, ‘just stay on the shore, the sand is safe.’
They hadn’t permitted this, though. Peering down at your rebellion, you chewed your lip, intermingling both excitement and guilt. Despite the crawl of winter, the water was unusually warm, and you felt a strange stirring of emptiness inside.
The final flash of sunset, and then it was gone, swallowed by the horizon. You hugged your elbows, tears welling. It was foolish to be upset, yet you were. It wasn’t fair. How could the sun take so long to traverse the sky, but only give a handful of seconds before vanishing at the end?
You were obsessed with sunsets. They were your favourite colour in all the world, and this was the only place that gave you such glory. With a sulky pout, you retreated from the water, coming to sit where it was dry. Knees tucked and chin atop them, you stared out at the gentle swell for a while, more than content to listen to its lapping lullaby.
“You shouldn’t be here,” came a drawling, hypnotic voice.
Whipping about, you saw no one. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. Bolting onto your feet, fists weakly clenched, you called out, “Who’s there?”
“Out here, little one,” the mysterious voice returned, almost echoing, as if it were inside your head.
With a frown, you swept your gaze onto the ocean, heart galloping into your throat when you spotted him.
A Lemurian.
You stumbled away, but the sand was uneven, and you fell onto your rear, eyes about to fall out of your head as you gaped.
Lemurians never spoke to humans. They weren’t a myth, but they were certainly a mystery. One might consider them a sign of good fortune… or a terrible omen.
With a shaky breath, you regained your composure, then, with a bow of your head, you mumbled, “I’m so sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll leave immediately.”
How stupid of you. Of course this was the reason the beach was forbidden. You inwardly cursed, praying that you might slip free of this ethereal creature.
Humans weren’t permitted to cross Lemurian territory—no exceptions. It was just rather rotten luck that no one knew what those territories were. It all relied on tragic tales of drowned sailors or lured women.
You’d half-turned to run when the Lemurian’s honeyed voice ensnared you. “Don’t leave.” His tone was so sweet, yet his stare held sharp command.
Shivering, both from the cold and from a touch of fear, you accidentally met his gaze. He was extraordinary. Ethereal. You couldn’t believe it, and even as you pinched the skin of your inner wrist, the dream didn’t shatter.
This was real.
The Lemurian was a beautiful kind of masculine, the kind that only existed in paintings. A straight nose, pouty lips, sparkling eyes, and that lean, muscled build. His hair fell around him like swaying branches of wisteria, his glowing fins poking out of it.
A delicate crown weaved about his head, like golden coral, decorated with the occasional pearl. To match such a piece, his bared torso dripped with similar jewellery, complementing his Lemurian markings.
“Come closer.” He phrased it like a question, yet you knew it wasn’t.
With an outstretched hand, you felt your own drift up, a longing filling the centre of your chest to take it. With your other hand, you clamped down onto your wrist and jerked them both down your front, shaking free of his siren spell.
“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.
“And yet you are,” the Lemurian smiled, still awaiting you. “So come closer.”
When you slipped your hand into his, you gasped at how warm it was. Smooth, too. Like glass. With such tender politeness, he brought it up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back.
“Is this the correct custom?” He rasped against your skin.
Your cheeks went pink. “It’s… well, it’s usually when—”
Your words fell short. At a distance, you hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes, but now that you were standing in the water, holding hands with a Lemurian, you couldn’t breathe.
They were your colour.
“Your eyes…” You breathed at him, in true wonder. “They’re like sunsets.”
He laughed, the sound of it rich and tinkling. “What is your name, little human?”
You told him, or maybe you didn’t. You were too lost in that swirl of amber and amethyst.
“I am Rafayel,” he released your hand, and you nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. “And these are my shores.”
Reality rolled through you, and as if waking from a dream, you blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to trespass,” you insisted, fear furrowing your face. “Please, I truly didn’t! I just like to watch the sunsets on the water. But I’ll never come back, I swear it to you!”
Not much was known about Lemurians, and you didn’t want to risk the wrath of one. Begging was not beneath you.
“Never come back? And break my heart? Surely you wouldn’t do that.”
Your breath failed you. “No… I wouldn’t…”
+++
Rafayel was fascinated by humans. He pried for every detail, from your language right down to bodily function.
“What do you eat?” He probed, resting his chin on a hand.
He had noticed your constant shivering as you conversed by the ocean shore, the nightly breeze laced with a southern chill. Guiding you along in the dark, you were surprised to find a secret cavern. Having you gather some old driftwood, he lit a fire, and there you sat by it, warm and comfortable, while Rafayel remained in the water, leisurely draped over a rock.
It was almost comical that a creature of the sea could control fire. Regardless, you were grateful.
“We eat all sorts of things. Fruit, vegetables, animals. Some things we cook, otherwise we get sick.”
“What is your favourite?”
You pursed your lips as you considered. “I like sweeter things. We have a dish that’s called cake. We can make it with all sorts of flavours, but I think orange might be my favourite.”
You had no idea why Rafayel had taken such a great interest in your knowledge. Surely other people out there had caught his attention—you were still young, yet to see the world, to take what it had to offer.
Maybe you really were the only one breaking the rule about the ocean.
Sneaking a glance at the Lemurian, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about that.
“How do your legs work?”
You giggled. “I suppose the same way your tail does. I don’t know. I just use them.”
He snorted, but you spied his amused smirk.
You were too shy to ask him questions about Lemurian things. This was a miracle, and you were terrified of scaring him off, or worse, angering him. There was still a risk here. These were his shores, he’d said so himself, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to you, since you were a no-good trespasser.
But the more you talked with Rafayel, the more you felt secure. He wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not out of vengeance. Maybe out of curiosity, at most. To see how your human body differed from his.
“Can I touch your foot?” He asked, far too excited.
Your laugh was nervous, perhaps embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Please? I will be very careful. I find them fascinating.”
Holding your breath, you slid your foot closer until it was within his reach. He leaned in and, with those warm hands, began to inspect it. You couldn’t suppress your shiver as you watched him, unsure whether it was apprehension or enjoyment.
It was endearing to see him so enraptured by something so simple as a foot. “So bizarre,” he murmured under his breath.
Your breath hitched as one hand began to sculpt higher, caressing the muscle of your calf. Cheeks growing hot, you pulled out of his grasp. Rafayel’s brows fell into a harsh scrunch. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
You cleared your throat. “Oh, no. It’s just… Well, humans don’t normally touch each other’s legs. I’m not used to it.”
“I had no idea they were sensitive,” he nodded, intrigued.
No longer as flustered, you let out a breathy laugh. “They’re not. Well, sometimes. It… it really depends on the circumstance.”
Rafayel cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
The tips of your ears were scorching. “Um, oh. It’s… Uhh—”
“Your face is very red. Are you alright?”
You snapped your eyes shut, vibrating with embarrassment.
“Some parts of us are naturally always sensitive, other parts aren’t. But they can be, depending on the type of touch.”
Rafayel pursed his lips, and after a long moment, he lit up. “You mean like a mating ritual?”
“Exactly. Yes.”
Rafayel then frowned again, slowly considering you. “But we are not the same species. Your body still responds?”
You needed to change the conversation. Immediately. Before you melted away out of mortification. You swore your neck was a vivid shape of crimson right now, the heat that was coming off you.
“Yes,” you managed to splutter. “It’s not that I, uh, want to. Sometimes our bodies just… react to things. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be foolish. I am very intrigued. In fact, I’d love to see more.”
You choked on a surprised yelp, fully flinching at his words. “What!”
He merely shrugged. “Lemurians can only mate once a year, and it isn’t through touch. I’d like to know more about humans and their mating rituals.”
“You don’t… touch each other?”
He shook his head. “We could, but it’s not something we do.”
“Humans… well, we touch each other. A lot. In many places. It’s like what I was trying to explain before.” Your humiliation ebbed away, just like the tide. Here was simply a mind that yearned for knowledge. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature was trusting your explanations and took every word as fact. You had a duty to do this properly. This could be the beginning of a cultural connection! The possibilities… and if all it meant was you had to explain what sex was, well…
“We can mate whenever we want. And it’s not always just to have children. Most of the time, it’s for fun.”
Rafayel’s brows nearly shot off his face. “Truly?”
You nodded, smiling now, finding his curiosity oddly cute. “The body parts that we use are very sensitive. And it feels very good. That’s why.”
“Can I see?”
And just like that, your stomach twisted.
“Your face is red again. What does that mean?”
“It…” with a shaky breath, you tried to smile through it. “I’m embarrassed. Those parts are very private, Rafayel. We don’t show them to anyone.”
Rafayel nodded. “So you only use these special parts for sex? Fascinating.”
Your mouth parted, the words stuttering from you. “Well, no. We can use everything. The main part of sex does involve those parts. But it doesn’t have to.”
“Explain.”
“Humans sometimes use their hands or mouths. There’s really… Um.” You bit your lower lip, far too self-conscious to continue. “Rafayel, this is… I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you these things. I’m not very experienced.” You mumbled the last part.
Alarm flashed over his face. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I thought you were an adult.”
Way to inadvertently twist the knife. “I am,” you sighed. “I’m just… undesired. No one wants me.”
Rafayel shifted, face contorting into the most bewildered pout. “I’m very confused. You are an adult human, and you are beautiful. How are you undesired?”
A warmth spread through you at the sincerity of his words. “You… think I’m beautiful?”
“I have seen many humans. I would consider you stunning.”
A chesty, sorrowful laugh escaped you. “Thank you.”
“If only I were a human man,” Rafayel murmured, something flashing behind his eyes. “You have given me a taste of your life, but I can’t help but long for more.”
“There’s really not much else I can offer you, though.” You tucked your chin down, hiding from his intense gaze, like he was trying to pry something from your head.
“You have enthralled me,” his voice crawled along your skin like velvet. “I want to give you everything.”
Everything froze but your rapid heart, which lurched up into your mouth. Your eyes followed his movements as Rafayel reached to touch you.
“Show me how,” he rasped, coming into contact with your ankle. His ascending hand left a smoldering heat in its wake, your skin tingling something fierce in response. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”
You whimpered as he approached your aching core, not that he knew it. But he was observant. He knew that his touch was stirring things within you, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as your eyes fluttered closed and your breath grew shallow.
“Tell me to stop,” he said softly.
“I don’t want you to,” you admitted with a moan.
Standing up, you removed your garments, and as he stared up at you from the water, you felt electric. He tilted his head as his sunset gaze devoured your naked body, partly curiosity, but the other something darker—sinful.
Rafayel slipped off the rock and sat in the shallow water, and with the flare of his hand, ignited his flames beneath, warming it for you. Slowly, you stepped in, coming to sit beside him with a twist of nerves, but also exhilaration.
Wrapping an arm about your waist, he secured you against him, hand resting on the plush of your thigh.
“Guide me,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. With a shiver, you placed your hand atop his, and your chest tightened at the size difference. He was lean, sure. But he was much larger than you’d anticipated.
With scalding slowness, you guided Rafayel until those gorgeous, long fingers brushed against your slick core, softer than moth wings. You arched up with a whispering gasp.
“Tell me,” his voice had dropped into a rasp, almost husky, scraping against your cheek now. “If I were a man, is this where you’d take me?”
You nodded weakly, eyes rolling back as with one slow push, his finger sank into you.
“So wet,” he murmured, heavy with lust. “How does it feel?”
“So good,” you moaned, grinding your hips for some friction, to have him go deeper. “But you can give me more, if you want.”
Obeying your plea, he slipped in a second, and beyond all reason, Rafayel knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers just right, he fucked you. Braving a peep at him, your cheeks grew aflame, for he was staring right into you, lips parted and a heavy-lidded expression on his face.
“Your thumb,” you gasped at him, astonished at how easy he worked you, fingers plunging in and out in a languid pace. “Press… here…” your hand slipped back down to show him your clit.
When he pressed down with delicious pressure, you choked on your scream, your orgasm rising within you, promising to be a blistering, white-hot release.
“Not too much, but not too little,” you panted at him, your pleasure threatening to burn you from the inside out.
“You’re squeezing my fingers,” he observed, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Am I doing well?”
“Yes,” you whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, falling away into bliss. “So, so good, Rafayel…”
His increasing pressure had your vision blurring, mouth agape, senses drowning in bliss. He didn’t need any more of your guidance; your expressions and reactions were more than enough to push you closer to the edge. With a final moan, you plunged into an electric wave of pleasure, ripping through your body like lightning.
Circling your clit, Rafayel earned a needy sob from you, and you clenched hard around his fingers, riding out the final wave of your release.
When he withdrew from you entirely, you whimpered, slumping against his large body. A new kind of heat bloomed through your abdomen when you watched him suck on his fingers, tasting your slick.
The glimmer in his eye had your mouth go a little dry.
“I’ve used my hands,” he stated, a slight drawl to his voice. “Now I’d very much like to use my mouth.”
Caleb shuts the apartment door, only to stop dead in his tracks. Right across from the entrance, Sylus sits on the sofa. You are draped right over him, facing away from him, your thighs spread wide as you take every inch of his massive cock. From where Caleb stands, the view is completely unobstructed. He can see exactly where your body melts into Sylus’s.
“Damn. What a view,” Caleb mutters, his voice dropping low.
“W-welcome home, Caleb-ah!”
At your voice, Sylus deliberately lets your weight drop flat against him. Your belly stretches, completely filled out as you bottom out on his length.
Sylus lets out a low chuckle, acting completely unfazed by the tight grip of your walls, though a sharp tick in his jaw gives him away. “Go take a shower, Caleb. She’s been waiting for you.”
“What’s the matter? Can’t handle her hunger by yourself?” Caleb counters, stepping closer.
Sylus flashes a smug, dangerous grin. “I can go all night without you, if that’s what you want.”
To prove his point, Sylus hooks a hand under your thigh, lifting it high until his slick length pops completely out of you. A heavy mix of your arousal and his cream spills out instantly, dripping like a glistening honey. Caleb freezes, staring at the endless flow.
“Fuck… look at all that…” Caleb breaths out, his own pants straining hard.
“Tell him, kitten,” Sylus purrs, his voice dark and demanding. “How many times have I filled you up tonight?”
“D-don’t remember… nngh…” Your mind is completely fried.
Caleb’s breath hitches. He tears his eyes away and practically bolts toward the bathroom.
As the door shuts, you look back over your shoulder, your eyes wet with tears. “S-Sy… put it back in, please…”
Sylus grips your hip hard enough to bruise, his smile turning sharp and wicked. “Relax, kitten. I’ll keep you warm until he’s clean. Then we’ll see how much you can really take.”
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Ooooh if your slots aren’t all taken, hear me out: rival!roommate!Rafayel x reader, topped with mutual masturbation.
rival! roommate! rafayel x reader with mutual masturbation
a/n. a bit over 1k cause i was talking a lot of shit to set the scene! this is written for an athletic rivalry. thank you for requesting this! hope you enjoy ❤️
event page | event masterlist
you heard the bathroom door slam open before you could even process the footsteps approaching.
“really? in the bathroom? you couldn’t be more obvious about it?” rafayel’s voice dripped with disdain, coming in sharp and cold through the air.
“doping before a competition? that’s your strategy?”
your heart was slamming against your ribs– shit, shit, shit.
your legs were spread wide atop the toilet seat, your pink dildo buried halfway inside your slick cunt, the wet sounds of your own arousal still echoing off the tiles. you scrambled to cover yourself, yanking at the bathrobe hanging on the hook.
but your fingers fumbled, clumsy with panic.
“i’m not– rafayel, get out!” your voice came out breathy, cracked at the edges, affected by the toy inside you.
he didn’t move. of course he didn’t.
your rival, your insufferable roommate, the man who made it his personal mission to beat you at every single track event… he just stood there before you, arms crossed, eyes boring into you with fury.
“show me.” his jaw tightened, anger visible in his tone. “show me what you’re hiding, or i’m reporting you. you think i didn’t notice your times improving? you think i’m stupid?”
“i said get out!”
“show me.” he took a step forwards, then another, until he towered over where you sat. “you don’t get to cheat. not with me here.”
your face burned, arousal and anger convoluting inside you. your thighs pressed together instinctively, pushing the toy deeper, and the movement sent a jolt of pleasure straight up your spine.
you bit your lip to stifle the moan.
“last chance.” his voice lowered. “show me the syringe. or the pills. whatever you’re using.”
“rafayel, please–”
he grabbed your wrist, the one clutching the robe, and yanked it away from your body.
“ah–”
for one second, he just stared.
you watched it happen in real time — the shift from accusation to confusion to raw acknowledgement. his gaze traveled down your exposed torso, past your heaving chest, to where your other hand still gripped the base of that obscene pink dildo, glossy with your juices, swallowed by your cunt.
“you’re...” he blinked, almost inexpressive. “not doping.”
“no, you asshole.” you hissed, palms spreading over your intimate parts. “i was trying to get off. in private. alone.”
“you left the door unlocked.” he said finally, as if explaining himself.
“that’s not an invitation.”
“i had to make sure everything is in order.”
“and it is, so just–”
“no.”
•••
“you’re dripping down the toilet seat.”
“s–shut up–”
“you started this.”
he reminded you as he wrapped his hand around his dick tighter, his fingers not quite closing all the way around. his raspy voice, so accusatory and taunting, as well as the sight of his hard cock, made something throb deep in your belly.
“’did not.”
his tip, flushed dark and glistening, peeked every now and then as it passed through his fist, catching your hungry eyes and acting as incentive for your own pleasure.
“liar.”
you couldn’t continue the banter, not with the way your hand was pushing the toy against your pulsing walls so deliciously. the dildo was swallowed deeper, letting the silicone balls behind, only to be pulled almost all the way out.
just to repeat the motion and feel the stretch again.
“that’s it.” his voice had gone rough, raw, and you weren’t sure if he was encouraging you or himself. “that’s fucking it.”
he started stroking his cock more attentively, matching the pace you set: slow at first, then faster, mirroring the way your hips began to rock against the dildo. his eyes never left you, watching every inch of that pink toy disappear inside you, watching your face twist with pleasure, watching your thighs quiver from pleasure.
fuck, he could do so much better than that fake dick.
“you look so pathetic.” he breathed out, and the insult landed straight onto your sensitive flesh. “legs spread open. toy stuffed in your cunt. and you can’t even finish yourself off, can you? needed an audience.”
“’don’t need any– ugh– thing from you.”
“no?” he sped up his hand, and you watched his cock disappear into his fist faster, heard the wet sounds fill the room alongside your own. “then why are you still fucking yourself? why haven’t you told me to leave?”
because you didn’t want him to.
because something about his scrutinizing eyes on you, about his voice degrading you, his hand pumping his cock in time with your thrusts — something about all of it really did it for you.
“you like this.” he said it like a revelation, like it wasn’t obvious from the start both of you enjoyed it. “you like me watching. you like me calling you out. you dirty fucking cheater.”
“i’m not ah– cheater.” you fight between whines, rotating the toy inside you, now making the base hit your swollen clit with every thrust.
“no.” he choked out, thumb joining his ministration to press down on the leaking tip. “you’re worse. you’re a desperate little slut who got caught masturbating by her asshole rival.”
the tip of the dildo hit something softer exactly as he voice out the truth, and a loud moan tore out of your throat before you could stop it. as if agreeing with rafayel.
“ngh– yeah.” his voice was dripping with smugness. “there’s the sound i love to hear. you being a slutty loser, losing to pleasure.”
“ah, ah, ah…”
“pleasure inflicted by me.”
by the way his rhythm stuttered, by the way his abs clenched with every stroke, veins popping more and more… he was close to release.
“look at me, look at me when you cum.”
“f–fuck off, i’m not–”
“yes, you are. your fucking thighs are shaking.”
he was right — you were close. your wrist ached from the angle, but you couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, you needed–
“cum, slut. come on, let me see you fall apart.”
as if on cue, your back arched off the toilet seat, and the orgasm crashed through you harsh. through your hazy state, you heard rafayel groan, heard the wet slap of his hand speeding up, heard his loud panting turn into something low.
“fucking hell.”
stripes of creamy cum painted his knuckles and dripped onto his pulled-down sweatpants; and you got to watch every second of it through half-lidded eyes. you observed his jaw go slack, observed the tension drain from his shoulders as he emptied himself in his own hand.
the bathroom fell silent, only echoing your breathing.
tags: @yuunileb, @txtworlddom, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @gardenialily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl, @happyshark2222, @velomira, @darkchococwoissant, @remnantsofgildedcages, @starswillseeus, @ninalove323, @lumichella, @amanehyuga, @txtworlddom, @milumier, @someonestopsoren, @lettushi, @jadeloverxd, @hellothisisnanaaa, @ops-esion, @remnantsofgildedcages, @maplewood-valley, @massivebanananut, @livanavier. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
“Shh, shh… Don’t make a sound, pips. You'll wake him.”
Caleb’s morning voice is raspy, a low whisper against your ear. Your eyes catching sight of Sylus still sleeping soundly in the bed, just a few feet away. “Can you feel how much harder mine gets for you in the morning?”
You can only let out a breathless moan. Your legs dangle around his waist as he slams your weight down onto him, fucking you wide awake while he stands. Your fingers have been clawing at his shoulders but he doesn't even break his rhythm, carrying you to the sofa while buried deep inside you, finally laying you down and gently sliding a pillow beneath your hips.
Yeah, keep telling yourself he’s being sweet. Every time he cushions your back means your legs are going to tremble like a newborn fawn for the rest of the day.
“Ngh… damn, baby, you’re so tight…” Caleb’s jaw ticks, muscles flexing under his skin. His eyes look completely predatory.
He acts as if yesterday wasn’t enough. Only a few hours have passed since the three of you finished, and you honestly can’t handle both of them again this morning. You desperately need rest, even while your body craves every bit of the friction.
Caleb pounds harder. You feel a heavy tug every time his tip blunts against your sweet spot—the kind of intense depth and pace that if continues will definitely leave your womb aching for days. But right now? You don’t give a fuck.
“Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you call my name.”
You exhale his name, a breathless prayer rather than a scream. Somehow, the soundless shape of his name on your lips drives him completely mad.
Caleb delivers one final slam, pinning you to the cushions as he cums deep inside you.
He leans down, kissing you with a tender softness that completely contradicts the brutal pacing from seconds ago. He lifts your trembling body back into his arms, his length finally slipping out of you as he carries you back to the bed, thick white liquid dripping down the floor.
He sets you down gently onto the mattress. But the moment your head hits the pillow, a faint, warm breath brushes your cheek.
You turn your head.
A pair of crimson eye stare back at you. A dark smile blooming on his lips.
You’re screwed.
🍎🐦⬛ AppleCrowArchives Masterlist
As always, comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated 🙏🧡❤️
After an hour of Zayne winning every round of pool, you decide it’s time to raise the stakes. “Next round winner gets 3 wishes!” you propose.
“Are you that eager to win this time or be set free from this game?” Zayne responds. “Maybe a bit of both. Anyway, you start!” As Zayne calculates his next move, you trace a finger along the edge of the pool table and move closer to him.
But say…,” you ask softly, pressing a kiss on his neck “may I…get one wish now?”
He stays composed and purposely hits the wrong ball first, so you’re up next.
“You’re impatient,” he says quietly. “And cocky.“
“How am I acting cocky?” you whine playfully.
“I believe it’s cocky of you to think I’d grant you my first wish.”
“You don’t believe in me? You think I can’t win this time?” you act insulted, knowing damn well you won’t.
“No.” he said dry, now stepping behind you.
He presses his body close enough against yours, so that your silhouettes melt into each other. He leans forward, pushing your upper body slightly more than necessary down on the pool table, having you curve into him, settling one hand over yours.
“But I will grant you an extra wish, if you pocket your ball this round.” He guides your hand and cue with controlled precision. You ace your next shot.
“Now, tell me….” he whispers into your ear, not breaking the physical attachment of both your bodies. “How can I please you?” his voice feathery, but needy as he nuzzles your neck.
You and Zayne have always pushed boundaries in bed, exploring anything new as long as it’s consensual. The trust and comfort you both share is unmatched. You trust him blindly, knowing he always puts your safety first.
You’re not afraid of bringing up new fantasies, but even after so many years of being married, you still get nervous around him.
“You see…” you start slowly.
“Mmh, what do I see my love?” he whispers gently, his nuzzling turning into long, soft kisses.
“While you were playing pool, pocketing ball after ball, I couldn’t help but notice how you held the cue” you pause. Heat pulsing through you as Zayne’s breath grows heavier. He sweeps your hair aside, claiming your neck further, them kisses turning now hungry and demanding.
You ground yourself and continue: “How strong and sharp you gave the cue a push while simultaneously somehow caressing it” you feel Zayne moves his hand up your skirt. “And…I was imagining you doing that to me” you confess.
Zayne gave the pool cue a brief glance, before directing his attention back to you, his fingers now caressing your clit as he slid his hand down your wet panties.
“Is that why you were distracted the past hour?” he gives your ear a little bite. “If that’s what you want to use your wish for, I shall comply.”
You bite your lip, shaking your head. You point to the pool cue:
“I meant…with the cue, Zayne.”
“I know.”
“Spread your legs…” he says after lifting you onto the pool table. He rolls up his sleeves, then grabs the cue. “..and pleasure yourself for me while I sterilise it.”
Zayne checks the cue carefully, ensuring it’s smooth & safe for you. He then turns towards you & scans your impatient body language. An amused smile forms on his lips:
“Let’s see, if you’re going to win this round.” He turns the cue in his hand, the thicker end now facing you
He uses the cue to spread your legs further apart, moving up until he stops at your wet entrance. With slow circular movements along your slit, he coats it with your fluids.
“Now..,” he says in a soft voice “take a deep breath for me, will you?”
You nod, then deeply exhales as he eases the thick cue end inch by inch into your hole.
“Good girl, keep going” he says while stretching you out more, his senses wary of every reaction you give.
Your body tells him everything he needs to know, so he focus on savouring the pleasure in your eyes instead. As Zayne found the right grip, the cue starts moving faster— thrusting deeper now, testing your limits!
Your nails dig through his shirt into his shoulder blades, your muscles tightening, pulsing around the cue, your body’s slowly burning up.
You look at him in despair: “Zayne, please….keep going!”
“I see,” he says as he grabs both your legs and drapes them over his shoulders to get better control of your body.
“Then show me how much you want this” he gazes into your eyes from above, grips the cue and now increases the speed with each thrust.
Shivers run down your spine, your moans grow louder. Zayne’s breathing grows unsteady, his chest heaving! He’s completely riled up & lost in lust from relentlessly slamming the cue into you. His name spill from your lips again and again, the pleasure consuming you.
“Zayne, please…! Just a little mo—“ !! He abruptly jacks the cue out of you, tosses it into the corner, only to immediately replace the second-long void inside of you with his fingers!
Your mind going blank as heat pools and pulses through you! A sense of uncontrolled euphoria surges through your body, stars form in your head, your hips lift themselves off the table —“Don’t fight it!” Zayne burst out, voice raw.
Your legs trembling uncontrollably against Zayne’s body, a rush overtakes you, everything tingles, all your senses are spinning, your knees shake, you can’t hold back, you squirm, you scream, you lose control, you—you let go…
….
Zayne exhales content.
….
He removes his fingers and wipes them on his shirt. Slowly the world around you steadies again. You finally look at Zayne. His shirt drenched in several body fluids, the floor and table— a mess. Flustered you let out a silent “Oh…”.
He embraces you in his arms, then grabs your chin and tilts it towards his face.
“Well done, my love.” He goes in for a brief, but hungry kiss on your lips, before pulling away again, his lips now forming a sneaky smile:
“Now, about my three wishes….”
intro: caleb and reader are housemates, Caleb might look tame here, but he's totally the opposite. He's a total freak for reader. Only reader don't know it, yet.
cw: cowgirl, piv, creampie, (kinda) non-consensual sex, overstimulation, top reader, needy caleb, f!masturbation, kinda filthy at the end
It wasn't like you are reading smutty fanfictions or watching a thirst trap. You are reading a normal novel for fucks sake! About a guy going on an adventure or something. Clearly you can't be sure because first, you didn't finish reading it. Second, the pulsating feeling on your pussy is distracting you to continue.
Maybe a few rubs and orgasms can do the job, so you climb into your bed. Getting comfy and shedding your pants, you start to trail down your body. Heightening your body sensitivity.
Then, start by rubbing your folds, softly tapping the clit to make you wetter. Closing your eyes and starting to imagine the only person who unknowingly emitting sex appeals everywhere and while doing anything, Caleb.
If he's not the sweetest boy and looks like the puppy he is, you would probably shove him down and just ride him senseless (you and him). But, it just feels so wrong to taint the innocence he shows. Especially when he lives down the hall and always cooks your food.
Imagining him on him back, while he is eating you out, whining and eyes fluttering as if asking if 'he's doing good' and 'are you satisfied' makes you reach your orgasm. But it's just not the mind-blowing, back arching, tears streaming orgasm that you want. It's clearly not enough.
At this point, you ought to use your toys to help the empty feelings, but unfortunately your favourite decides to die on you and never to be revived. Of course you bought a new one, it's just that it hasn't arrived yet!
Maybe you can just use the walking toys in this house. Walking into his room, pulling him and kissing him senseless then pushing him into the bed and just sinking into his dick and rid- Woah woah woah! You stop your trains of thoughts, clearly felt a bit of guilt to see him that way. But your pussy says otherwise with the juices it leaks out and the hard pulsating of your clit.
'Maybe I should..? I can just say it was to train him and give him an experience..?' you rub your legs together, lips are bitten between your lips.
You didn't bother to put on any pants, the shirt is enough to cover just under your ass cheeks. You've made up your mind, making your way to his rooms. Didn't even knock as you swing his door open.
He's on his desk, clearly studying. He snapped his head towards you at the sound of his door opening. His eyes immediately darted to your exposed skin. But he slowly dragged his eyes to look into your eyes, clearly taking whatever he's given.
"Hey.. do you need anything?" He stands up to greet you,flashing you the usual bright smile he always gives you. But you make your way to him quickly and push him down on the chair again. He didn't resist of course.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" You ask him.
"Urm.. no?" His eyes darts around searching for answers on your face, clearly confused what all this is about.
"Any exes?"
"None" his eyebrows furrowed but he still answers your question.
"Sex experience? Or are you a virgin?"
His eyebrows were raised at this, ears got a hint of pink on it.
".. why are you asking this?"
"Do you want to help me?"
He lit up the questions, "Of course! What do you need help with?"
You smile at his questions.
"Just sit there and take whatever I give you okay?" You hand cupped his face and raised it so his eye make contact with yours.
"What do you mea-?!" You crashed your lips against his, cutting his word short. Hands trail down his pecs to the edge of his shirt. Gesturing him to raise his arms up, and taking off his shirt.
He's trying to make sense of the situation but didn't stop your actions. His face flushed a pretty colour of pink.
Next your hands grabbing him pants hem and taking it off him, he don't need your instructions this time, he just raised his hips and let you do whatever you want with him.
You quickly climb on top of him. Your still wet pussy met with his hardening cock. Grinding against him while holding his face to kiss him once again.
"Wait a min-"
"Do you not want this? I can stop." He opened his mouth, but no words escaped so he closed it again.
"That's what I thought. What a good boy." You smirk at his lack of response and twitching of his dick.
You reach your hand between your legs, grabbing and stroking his dick to fully harden before lining it up to your entrance. A bit taken back with how big his dick actually is.
"Aren't you a treasure?" You chuckled before sinking into his. Mouth gasping as his thick and large dick keeps on breaching into your pussy.
When his dick fully sinks in, you open your eyes to his own eyes unfocused and face scrunching up. Hands gripping the handles of the chair tightly. You can only chuckle at this cute behaviour.
You quickly raised your hips and slammed it all the way in, not trying to hold out the sounds you're making. Hands rubbing your own clit, to reach your orgasm faster.
The rhythm quickly increases, with him cannot stay still and thrust up his dick chasing the pleasure.
"Take off.. ah- your shirt.. please?" He's gritting out the word, half pleading and half begging.
You reach the hem of your shirt and take it off. His eyes blown out when he sees your tits, licking his lips.
"Can.. can I?" His eyes met yours, and you just nod.
He quickly latches his mouth into your nipples, licks, sucks, and bites, before doing the same for the other. Your hand shot out to hold his head against your boobs. Nails scratching his scalp. Moanings came out of you freely.
"God- I'm gonna cum-!" His eyes are stuck on your face. Taking in your expression.
Before both of you know it, hot spurts inside you. Caleb let go of your nipples before groans out. But you didn't stop. You ride him harder. The chairs are wet from both of your fluids, but Caleb does not care at the moment.
He's still hard even after he cum, right now it's bordering on overstimulation.
Your body is twitching as the orgasm hits you. As you ride your high, Caleb cum once again at the sound of his name on your lips. His hand reached out to wrap around your waist to pull you closer. Catching his breath on the crook of your neck.
It stays like that for a few minutes before you pull yourself off him. Taking his still hard cock out of your pussy. Before picking up your shirt and making your way out of his room.
Looking back at him, his eyes are on you but he's still gasping for breath, plus his dick is twitching. You only can giggle at his state before closing the door behind you.
Caleb on the other hand, felt like this is a dream. But with his glistening cock and ragged breath, he knows it is as real as it can be.
Gripping his dick again and strokes it slowly—overstimulated but still wasn't enough for him—before getting on his knees and licking your combined juice on his chair. His hands are stroking faster before he cums again. Groaning and whining when it's almost too much. Yet his dick still not going down.
You still stand outside his room door, smirking at yourself, "hehe, this is fun." Your thoughts are disrupted by the trickling feelings between your legs. Your hand reaches down to collect his and your cum and suck it clean off your fingers.
It totally won't be the last time this will happen.
Between surgeries, Dr. Zayne tries his hardest to stay professional. You, however, are ovulating, extremely horny and determined to break your boyfriend's iron restraint.
CW: SMUT. dirty talk, praise, begging, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, chocking, office sex, porn with feelings, established relationship.
The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to the air in Zayne’s private office. He sat in his leather chair, white coat draped neatly over the backrest, sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his forearms.
He had exactly forty-three minutes between surgeries. Forty-three minutes he had planned to use reviewing patient charts.
Instead, you were perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, skirt riding dangerously high up your thighs.
“Zaynie” you purred, swinging one leg playfully. “You’ve been ignoring me. A girl might start to think her boyfriend doesn’t want her anymore.”
Zayne didn’t look up from the keyboard “Love, please behave. This is not the time or place.”
You leaned forward, deliberately letting your blouse gap open so he could see the lacy edge of your bra. “But I’m aching, Doctor. I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up. I’m ovulating so hard today.. my pussy keeps clenching around nothing. It needs you, and your beautiful thick cock”
Zayne exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you’re being careless. Someone could hear you”
“I can’t promise you I’ll be quiet today, but you can stuff my mouth, you know?” you whispered, sliding off the desk and sauntering around to stand next to him, grabbing the chair to make him face you.
You ran your fingers along the knot of his tie, tugging it gently. “I need you”
His hand caught your wrist with careful strength, green eyes finally lifting to meet yours. There was a storm behind that calm surface. “You’re being like this because you’re ovulating, dear. You have to hold it in. I’m going to be all yours tonight. We can take our time then”
“No” you said stubbornly “I don’t want to”
You took one of his large, elegant hands and guided it under your blouse, pressing his palm directly against your bare breast. Your nipple hardened instantly against his skin. “I want the perfect Dr. Zayne to fuck me raw on this desk.”
Zayne’s fingers flexed once before he pulled his hand back with visible effort. “Love.” His voice was firmer now. He glanced toward the locked door, then back at you. “This is inappropiate. Someone could knock.”
“I know, I don't care” you said sweetly, dropping to your knees between his legs. Your palms slid up his thighs, nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his pants.
His hand caught your wrist as you reached for his zipper. He held it gently, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist in a soothing motion. “You can wait, sweetheart. Be good for me.”
But you were relentless.
“I can be good for you now. Please, Zaynie?” you said, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes that didn’t match the filthy words leaving your mouth. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to pump your pretty good girl full of cum between surgeries?”
Zayne’s breath hitched sharply, clearly fighting himself. He stayed silent for a long moment, breathing deeper.
“You’re so responsible,” you praised, voice dripping with lust as you rubbed your cheek against his bulge again, turning your head to press a kiss to his clothed cock, then daringly slipped your tongue along the thick length through the fabric. “So smart.. fuck, it makes me so wet when you try to stay in control like this. The way you command an entire OR, the way everyone respects you… and here I am, on my knees, begging to be your dirty little cum dump”
“Enough” his voice came out low and a little hoarse, warm but clearly strained. “Don’t talk about yourself like that” but even as he said it, his cock twitched hard, betraying how much your words were affecting him
So you kept going, ignoring him. In any case, you got nastier “No, it’s true. I want you to choke me while you breed me, Zayne. I want that big, perfect hand around my throat while you pump me full of cum. I’m ovulating so bad today… please knock me up. I want to leave here dripping with your seed, feeling it run down my thighs while I wait for you”
“Stop” He said, fingers tightened on the armrests, his restraint hanging by a thread.
You didn’t stop. “Imagine it. Me sitting in the waiting area later, legs crossed, your thick cum slowly leaking out of my used pussy. Everyone thinking I’m a loving girlfriend waiting patiently while I’m actually just your bred little slut.”
Finally, something in him snapped.
Zayne’s hand moved to your hair, gripping firmly but not painfully. “You’re going to regret teasing me like this.”
“I hope I do” you grinned, licking your lips. “I hope you fuck the brat right out of me.”
“You never know when to stop, do you?” He stood up suddenly, lifting you with him and setting you on the desk in one smooth motion. In seconds his mouth was on yours—hungry, demanding, but still controlled. His hand slid up your thigh, finding you bare underneath your skirt.
“You really came prepared to torment me.”
“Always” you moaned into his mouth.
He kissed down your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “You’re impossible”
“And you love it” You reached down and palmed his cock
Zayne exhaled sharply, then spun you around and bent you over the desk. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface as he flipped your skirt up. The sound of his belt opening made you shiver with anticipation.
“Such a filthy mouth,” he murmured “Begging to be my cum dump in my office.”
“Yes,” you whined. “I want to be dripping with you when you go back into surgery. I want every step to remind me who owns me.”
He freed his heavy cock and rubbed the thick head against your soaked folds, teasing you right back.
You moaned loudly. He immediately wrapped a hand around your mouth while the other gripped your hip.
“Quiet” he warned “You wanted this. Now behave.”
“Yes—fuck—thank you” you whimpered against his palm
Then his hand moved to your throat, applying perfect pressure as he pushed in with one deep thrust, stretching you open
“Mmmph—” you swallow a whimper “So big. Fuck, you always fill me so perfectly. I love being your little cockslut.”
Zayne groaned, hips snapping forward. He set a punishing rhythm, enough to make your head spin deliciously.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against your ear.
“Yes—fuck—yes!” you gasped when he let you breathe. “Harder. Choke me while you breed me. I want your baby, Zayne”
His grip tightened slightly, perfectly controlled even as his thrusts grew deeper. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the office. Every thrust pushed you harder against the desk, your breasts pressing into the desk.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he panted “Teasing me when I have patients waiting.”
“Say it Zayne, please. Say I’m a whore” you begged breathlessly
“You’re my filthy little whore.” Zayne softly cursed and pulled out suddenly. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide. His eyes darkened at the sight of your dripping cunt.
“Look at you,” he murmured, almost reverently. “So beautiful.”
He pushed back in, deeper in this position. The bulge in your lower belly appeared with every thrust. He pressed a hand over it, mesmerized.
“You feel that?” he asked, voice low. “How deep I am? This is where I’m going to fill you.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Yes baby, please”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss while his hand returned to your throat. The dual sensation—his cock hitting that perfect spot and the controlled pressure on your neck—had you seeing stars.
“Zayne!” You came hard, clenching around him, moaning his name like a prayer.
A second later he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural groan. Thick, hot spurts flooded your pussy, so much that it started leaking out around his cock.
He didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried deep, grinding slowly as he caught his breath.
“You’re going to keep it inside you” he murmured, his fingers gently pushing his cum back inside you when it leaked out
You looked up at him, nodding, still dazed.
His gaze, usually so sharp and calculated, softened into something fiercely protective as he looked down at your glassy, adoring eyes.
“Behave for the rest of the day” he said, dropping you off the desk and then adjusting your skirt with careful hands.
Before he fully stepped back, his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven.
"I love you," he murmured, the words low and heavy with a raw sincerity "I’ll take care of you properly after dinner”
You smiled dreamily before kissing him “Can’t wait, Doctor.”
The Colonel Behind Closed Doors (Is Your Good Boy)
summary °✧୨ৎ Caleb’s favorite place to be is at your feet, leashed like a dog. he tries to be a good boy, but you make it challenging, pushing him until he breaks.
content °✧୨ৎ pet play/collar + leash, humiliation/degradation. teasing, begging, bondage, spitting in mouth, stepping on him, praise, crying/dacryphilia, orgasm control (delay&forced), overstimulation, drugs mentioned as a metaphor, mentions he previously failed to pull out, calls himself your “bitch boy” once, sucking fingers, masturbation/fingering, squirting, pet names, he humps your shoe, he licks his own pre-cum, he cums untouched (again), some cuddling aftercare
a/n °✧୨ৎ may contain errors. I’ve looked at this too much & can barely tell how it sounds anymore. <3
The colonel instills fear with a mere glance. His name alone summons dread. He fits the role so well that it appears innate. Many assume it’s just his constant disposition.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
Plenty of layers lie beneath that mask of a cold-hearted superior. He sits at the hierarchy’s pinnacle, yet there’s someone he answers to, of his own volition; no ulterior motifs, hidden strategy, or power to be gained.
Their commander is under your command—under your heel.
That dangerous, imposing force pines for your approval. So, he’s made to work for it.
Stripped naked, he sits obediently on the floor, staring up at you like he’s seeing God. Uniform tossed to the couch, his authority is discarded, all transferred to you.
“Gonna be a good boy for me?” Your stiletto hovers over his crotch, nearly grazing it, before digging into his upper thigh.
“Mhmm, i’ll be so soo good.” He’s brimming with energy, livened by those two simple words. As always, they melt him into something so malleable.
His lips part as you brush over them, quivering under your thumb. Drool seeps from the corners.
“This is all you’re getting for now. Open.”
You’d been letting saliva accumulate. With his immediate compliance, it descends onto his tongue. Emitting a lengthy groan, he allows your spit to linger there, mixing with his. He revels in its presence, before swallowing. Eyes shining with excitement, he awaits further instructions, practically foaming at the mouth to serve you.
He’s your sweet little pet—striving for perfect adherence to each rule. If told to sit and roll over, there would be no hesitation.
He's on a tight leash, woven into your palm.
And it’s not solely metaphorical.
The ruthless colonel loves to be collared.
Red leather encircles his neck. Dangling from the center, is a silver dog-tag engraved with his name. The strap fastened to him is kept taut. He moans with each assertive tug.
To him, nothing is hotter than being thrust into submission. It has his tip dripping, tinged an angry blend of red-purple hues. The veins on his shaft are so pronounced, like marking a path, imploring you to follow.
“Aww, your cock is already crying for me, what a needy boy you are…gonna have to be still though, okay? Can you do that for me?”
He nods with genuine conviction. However, determination won’t be enough. Failure is a promise reinforced by each moment.
Especially, once the ultimate temptation is level with him.
Wrists bound by rope and a verbal order, he’s denied permission to touch. Escape would be easy, you both know that. Of course, some knotted fibers are utterly useless against him. But that adds to the fun. It’s harder to resist when giving in would be so simple.
Your bare pussy is so close. Its heat whispers against his skin, beckoning him.
He leans forward slightly.
“Stay.”
That strict tone makes his cock dance. His shaky apology is silenced by the parting of your folds. The wetness is audible as they reveal your fluttering hole. A trail of your essence spans to your ass, each glistening bead chased by another.
The remedy to his thirst is smeared slowly over your pussy, flaunting what he’s been barred from. He tracks every movement, teeth puncturing his bottom lip. Unable to claw him from his trance, the blood goes unnoticed.
Two fingers slip past your entrance, a drawn-out sigh past your lips. “hah—everything’s so sensitive, even my small fingers are just sooo muchhh. Nothing compared to the stretch yours would give…mmm, down to the knuckle, prying me apart.”
Like a puppy begging for nourishment, his pupils are massive, fixed on the meal in front of him. The proximity stirs his taste buds; he swears they detect a faint trace of the flavor. It’s carved into his memory, taunting him with recollection that’s too vivid, yet too hollow. The urge to indulge is difficult to reject.
Watching him struggle to fight it turns you on.
You’re soaked, loud squelches produced by each motion. It’s hard to delay what you so badly desire. But watching the cracks multiply is too enticing.
You love having that power over him—the only one capable of crumbling something so sturdy. And he’s always so eager for it, welcoming any method.
This one is the most brutal. Arms tied behind him, he’s forced to observe passively. Arousal shines on your wrist, dribbling onto the tile. He wants nothing more than to lick it all up, shamelessly lapping at the ground. It’s a privilege he’d do anything to earn.
“Want some?” It’s not truly a question, you already have the answer. It’s just way more satisfying to hear it from him.
“Please pips—w-want it!” He bounces slightly, restlessness bleeding into every syllable.
Such an adorable reaction warrants a little treat.
Torso guided by your heel, he lies back, legs outstretched. His head is supported by the chair. Your right foot is raised to the cushion, settling beside the crown of his skull. The other is against balls, making him gasp.
Leaning forward, your cunt is positioned over him. Your fingers thrust aggressively. Droplets spill intermittently into the mouth awaiting them—injecting him with euphoria so intense that it hurts. You’re the most potent drug. He can’t stop himself from chasing that high, humping your shoe like an animal.
“Tsk, did I say you could use my foot?”
With a distressed noise, he goes rigid. Expression pinched in concentration, he’s straining to remain still. Everything within him calls for the opposite.
The sight makes you burn, laugh rippling into a moan. “Now tell me how pitiful you are.”
“So fuckin’ gross, a dog that keeps makin’ m-messes.” He twitches with want, getting off on those words.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right.” Tension is ushered to your center as you push into that dizzying spot. More and more juices leak from you, claiming him inside and out. “Should I take you for a nice walk around the fleet? Show aallll those subordinates how fucking pathetic their colonel is?”
“Do whatever’ya want with me. Belong to you pips—mm’your little bitch boy, fuckin’ looovee it.”
The thought of being fully at your mercy drives him closer to the edge, as it does for you. He’s rutting against you once again, leaving streaks of pre-cum past your ankle.
“Yet, you still can’t control yourself, huh? About to shoot your dirty cum all over me, aren’t you?”
The tells are so obvious. His inhales are sharper, the snapping of his hips more chaotic. Seconds from his grasp, that peak is yanked away. Your leg shifts to the left, planting itself beside his outer thigh.
The loss of friction makes him flinch like he’s been kicked. “I-I didn’t mean to. Baby, please—I’m so sooo sorry! I’ll make it up to you—reaaally need to cum!”
His length is so engorged, screaming for relief. Tears fall towards his chin as he aimlessly thrusts into nothing. They’re collected with a swipe, swirled over your puffy clit—pleasure fueled by his frustration.
“Poor thing…gonna have to hold it, bad dogs don’t get rewards,” you pout mockingly. “Don’t sulk.”
That last part is insincere, you’d hate for him to stop; desperation makes him even more stunning, amplifying every sensation within you.
The pulse in your core sends shockwaves with each beat. Your hands accelerate to match its haste. “Hngh—aching so bad, might fill that whiny throat of yours. Think you deserve it?”
“I d-don’t deserve you, try so hard to be better. Please—need to drink it all up, miss that sweet little pussy so much, you’re killin’ me.”
Seems he has learned something.
Even if your mind had changed, it would be too late for interference. You squirt violently, struggling to stay upright. Gravity immediately adjusts to steady you. The feeling of release, paired with his evol’s embrace, is sheer bliss. If he wasn’t ensuring your balance, you’d certainly collapse. Strong spasms grip every inch of you so tightly. The consecutive gushes are almost too intense.
He treats each one like they might evaporate, Adams’s apple bobbing with avid gulps. Lids heavy, he consumes everything to the very last trickle. Staring up into heaven, he’s completely drunk off its taste, longing to be inside. It always greets him so warmly, hugging him like he’s been missed. That unrelenting grip insists that he stay. It gets him into trouble. His mind becomes too scrambled; when spoken orders conflict with your body’s, he sometimes follows the wrong one.
That’s why access to you has been revoked for a week; he failed to pull out—again. It hasn’t even been two full days, and he’s already distraught.
“Just the tip, pleasepleasepleaseee—I know you love my cock, always tellin’ me how good it feels. It can do muuuchh more than your fingers."
Amused, you expel a short puff of air. “Seems I haven’t trained you well enough. It's almost like you want to add another week…”
"Wait, please don’t! I won't do it again, swear!” His gaze is panicked, searching for forgiveness in yours.
“How cute.” Hand withdrawing from your cunt, you gather some of his pre from your shin. Fingers now lathered with both of you, they’re shoved past his lips. He sucks automatically. As the substance is consumed, satisfied noises continually flow from him.
When deemed to be enough, you stop him. Freeing his mouth, you point downward. “Clean up after yourself.”
His tongue promptly meets your leg, whirling over that remaining filth. The wet licks become more hurried as you smile down at him. His eyes are wide and glassy, brows raised and drawn together. Gazing up at you is a look of complete subservience.
One fluid of his simply replaces another. He still shines on your skin, now in strips of saliva. Once that’s all there is, he keeps going, as if trying to absorb you.
“Good boy,” you purr.
His moans drop in pitch as you pat his head. Lids squeezing shut, he fucks the air faster, and faster, before suddenly locking up. Unassisted by touch, all that bottled pressure bursts.
Lowering to your knees, you caress his face—contorting involuntarily, yet still unbelievably perfect. Pleasure has seized all control of his body. Thick strings of him repeatedly splash your top, sliding down your cleavage. Broken ‘sorry’s follow his strained growls.
“I know baby…you tried so hard for me,” you coo. One hand still soothing him, the other contrasts it—drawing invisible shapes on his sensitive tip, continuing once his climax subsides. You pull him closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “Since you wanted to cum so badly, let’s see how many times.”
His dick is bullied into numerous orgasms. Each one leaves him more disoriented than the last. He’s panting loudly, sobbing into your neck. But he endures it willingly—gratefully. Even torment is delightful when inflicted by you.
Nearly all his strength is depleted by the time you’re done. Once untied, his arms immediately wrap around you. You find him so endearing in this state. All toughness is gone. He’s completely vulnerable—exhausted to a rare degree, unable to pretend otherwise.
Around you, he doesn’t have to.
“I’m so proud of you, you did such a good job,” you whisper, stroking his hair. The praise offers a short burst of energy, before he slumps against you. Attempting to express gratitude, his words are muffled by fatigue. Nuzzling into your warmth, his breathing gradually slows. He dozes off within minutes.
Even when the position becomes uncomfortable, you maintain it for a while. Holding him silently, you admire this part of him.
Where you find me
This takes place in a timeline where your Protocore Syndrome becomes unbearably severe and brings about fluctuations, causing you to be transported into Dawnbreaker’s universe.
Word count: 3k
C.W: canon-compliant, touch-starved Dawnbreaker Zayne, dry humping, lots of tension and yearning.
Dawnbreaker Zayne is in the middle of eliminating a Wanderer when he first lays his eyes on you. He freezes immediately, thinking that the Wanderer is playing tricks on him. Making him see the image of you, the woman whom he’d seen every day in his dreams. But when you look around yourself, confused and afraid, he starts to think it’s real.
He finishes off the Wanderer with one final strike, blackish blue shards of ice forming where the Wanderer once stood. Dawnbreaker Zayne makes his way towards you, and you finally get a closer look at him. A warm smile graces your features at the familiarity of seeing your Zayne, but as he approaches you, your smile fades, noticing that he looks different. Paler, colder.
“How…” He whispers in utter disbelief as he sees the woman of his dreams stand in front of him.
The man in front of you bears the exact same resemblance to the Doctor Zayne you knew and loved, but there was something different about him this time. He wears a long black coat fit for a funeral, with green eyes so empty they don't resemble the warmth he had. Your eyes dart down to see Zayne’s fingers twitch; he wants to check whether you're real, whether you were actually, physically present in front of him. But he decides to shove his hands in his pockets instead, noticing your stare.
Dawnbreaker Zayne doesn’t understand how you're physically present in his timeline. The complexities of Protocores and its fluctuations only leave him with more questions than answers. But when you explain the last things you had seen, a hospital bed, multiple nurses, including your Zayne standing beside you, his expression turns to one of curiosity and wonder.
How did you know that the Zayne in front of you wasn’t yours?
When you visit Dawnbreaker Zayne’s apartment for the first time, your heart sinks. The almost dilapidated abode looks devoid of warmth. Your eyes land on a TV playing an old medical drama, making you furrow your brows.
“Do you usually watch medical dramas?” You ask, trying to start a conversation.
Dawnbreaker figured that it would be safer for you to stay with him, given the constant threat of the Wanderers outside. The uncertainty of not knowing how long he’d have you for feared him more.
Zayne doesn't reply to your question and gives you a simple nod, turning to pick out a piece of chocolate from a jar.
One day, Zayne is out fighting Alterums. Hungry, you head to the somewhat working kitchen in hopes of finding food. Your expression turns to one of incredulity when you open the fridge, only to see bland-colored bottles labeled Nutrient Solutions stacked very neatly in multiple rows. The solution is absent of any flavor and doesn't fill you as a proper meal should. You wonder how Zayne sustains himself on these until an idea forms in your head. You decide to make him a warm meal from ingredients you find at the convenience store.
When a tired, bruised Zayne enters, his eyes widen as he takes in the aroma of fresh food wafting in the apartment, not remembering the last time he'd even smelled something like this. It made the house seem warmer and welcoming; it made it seem like a home.
“I thought I’d cook you something.” You offer, pointing to the wooden dining table, an affectionate smile gracing your features.
Zayne’s lips press into a thin line as he looks at you, seeing that all-familiar smile he had seen countless times in his dreams. The same smile he wanted to touch with his fingertips and admire how beautiful you looked. The same face he wanted to caress and hold. The same lips he wanted to kiss.
“You didn't have to do that.” He says as he’s already sitting down at the table, his words betraying how badly he’d wanted to taste one of your meals, remembering how you had cooked for the Doctor in his timeline.
You watch Zayne eat as you sit in front of him, studying the cold man in front of you. “You don’t seem to be a man of many words.” You speak up, hoping to get him to talk this time.
“Apologies…” He looks up at you, and his eyes now seem to carry a sliver of warmth. “Thank you for the meal. It’s very delicious.”
Your smile turns into a frown when you see Zayne suddenly flinch as he leans forward to grab a napkin. “Did you get hurt?” You ask immediately, concern filling your voice as your hands leave your chin, reaching for him on instinct.
“It’s nothing. This…tends to happen in my line of work.” Zayne is quick to respond and withdraws his arm from the table.
“Zayne, you do know that I fight Wanderers too.” You deadpan, already making your way to the bathroom to look for the first aid kit.
A few minutes later, you're both facing each other on the couch in his living room, with you sifting through the medical supplies. "Arm, please." You request, your voice mimicking the same tone that Doctor Zayne used when he used to treat you.
Zayne is reluctant at first and rolls up his sleeves slowly, eyes hyper-focused on your trained fingers that prep the gauze and antiseptic solution. The tips of his ears begin to redden with the anticipation of having your hands on him, which causes his heart to race. He notices that caring for Doctor Zayne comes too naturally for you; it almost makes him jealous, almost. But he reminds himself that he gets to have you now, and what if that would make him selfish for just these few minutes? These few minutes he'd treasure with his entire life.
He'd probably replay this scene over and over again like a broken record. He begins to memorize the way you lean ever so slightly to examine his wounds. He watches his arm lightly rest on your thigh as you dab the soaked cotton ball on his wounds ever so carefully, with sincerity and love he'd never been shown his entire life.
It's a mesmerizing act in itself to him, even though it seemed so simple. You're just tending to his wounds, but the way your brows furrow as you discover another gash, one more slice covered in dried blood, makes him let out a short breath of air that crystallizes faintly in the air. Zayne itches to brush away the loose strand of hair that falls over your face. You're too focused on the task at hand to notice anyway. His heart pounds as he leans in closer without thinking, just to see your lips slightly purse as you take out the bandages.
"You have the same scars as him." Your voice breaks him out of his trance, making him lean backwards.
"Yes, I suppose."
There you go mentioning that Doctor again. It was funny how Dawnbreaker almost seemed to dislike Doctor Zayne, even if it was a version of himself in another timeline. All because of you.
When Zayne opens his mouth to say something, he chokes on his words when you reach out with your finger and place it along one of his scars, making him gasp in astonishment. It was as if he'd been zapped by a live wire, the pleasure of your touch sending sparks down his spine. You continue admiring his scars one by one absentmindedly, like you'd been so used to the act, tracing lines on them with your fingers.
"I've always thought that these scars made you beautiful." You whisper, eyes trained on a longer scar that extends down his forearm.
"You really think so?" He replies shakily, fighting the urge to just close the distance between you two.
His words take you out of your trance, and you retreat bashfully as you cover your reddening ears with your hair.
"Sorry..." You mumble, thinking you'd crossed a line, but Zayne would've loved nothing more than for you to continue. "I hope you'll recover soon." You add as you pack away the medical supplies, the tension in the room dripping thick with a newfound ardor between you two.
You begin to learn more about Zayne and what he does in this timeline. He seems ruthless when fighting the Abominations, and you learn that he takes them out of their misery. Saving them from the pain and suffering they want so desperately to end. You learn that he is both deliverance and danger, a reflection of the war Zayne fights within himself between mercy and restraint.
As you fight alongside him, something he was initially against for the sake of your safety, you can't help but admire how regal Zayne looks when he fights the Abominations. Horizontal shards of blackish blue ice emerge swiftly from the direction of his forward-facing hand right at the creature, taking it down in one fell swoop. You stop your actions to simply look at him; his creased brows, the permanent scowl on his face, and the way his bangs almost cover his forehead from the wind. It stirs something deep within you, this craving to have him look at you the same way. Would his brows also furrow in concentration if he touches you? Would his slender fingers glide over your hips as he positions himself? You shake your head to rid yourself of these sinful thoughts, bringing your attention back to another Abomination that approaches you.
After the draining fight, Zayne decides to take you to an abandoned area, a large double-decker bridge that offers a view. The area is unkempt, with a patch of Jasmines blooming nearby. Zayne motions you to sit near a clean bench that faces the view, taking out a plastic bag you didn't see before.
"What's this?" You ask, trying to peek at the bag.
Zayne doesn't say anything and brings out two soda cans. He takes out the liquid using his Evol and freezes the liquid mid-air into the shape of a Popsicle, handing one to you. "They're called an Old Popsicle. Whenever I come here, I tend to have one while looking at the view."
You thank him for the Popsicle and try it, savoring the sweetness that coats your tongue. You both sit in silence for a while and enjoy the setting sun while you eat the Popsicles. Suddenly, you turn to Zayne.
"Zayne, what color is my tongue?"
The question almost makes him choke on his own sweet treat, turning to you with wide eyes. "I didn't know you to be this childish."
But you're already sticking out your tongue, making Zayne crack his first-ever smile since you met him in this timeline. "…it's…red." He says after clearing his throat, looking back at his own Popsicle as he contemplates something. "…What color is mine?"
It was your turn to be surprised now, looking at him with a wide grin. Zayne sticks his tongue out just a little for you, with his eyes trained on yours.
You giggle softly as you reply. "It's green. Kinda like your eyes."
He tilts his head, licking his lips. "You mean to say that this frozen soda resembles the color of my eyes?" He asks, the idea of it seeming quite absurd.
But as you both stare at each other, the two of you burst into giggles, unknowingly scooting closer towards each other on the park bench that evening.
Unfortunately, Zayne falls sick one day. Fighting innumerable Wanderers could really take a toll on one's body, and who better knew that than you? As Zayne lies down on his bed with the covers almost up to his face, you stand beside him with your hands on your hips.
"Zayne, I really need you to take this medicine. Otherwise, you won't get better."
You feel like you're scolding a child, and it surprises you how reluctant Zayne was when it came to having his medicine.
"I've experienced this before. It's nothing a cup of hot cocoa won't fix."
Your eyes widen in disbelief, the sweet cravings of the man lying in front of you going beyond your comprehension. "I don't understand this."
Feeling defeated, you shake your head and return a few minutes later with some instant hot cocoa in a mug. Sitting down beside him, you gesture Zayne to sit up a little.
"Careful, it's a bit hot." You hold the mug with both hands, blowing the little wisps of steam away for him. To your surprise, Zayne brings his hands forward and cups them around your own, leaning forward to blow the steam together with you. The distance between the two of you seems almost non-existent, with your breaths mixing above the sweet drink.
“It is rare for me to experience this feeling of being cared for. It feels…foreign.” He whispers, tilting his eyes upwards to look at you with longing, his icy exterior fully thawing away. You bite your lip, craving more of his touch when his fingers lightly curl around yours.
“Thank you, for showing me what warmth feels like.”
You blush at that, his admission only fueling the bubbling desire that needed to be satiated within you. Zayne lets out a soft breath of relief at knowing how much he affected you too. He leans close enough that your noses are a hair's breadth away from each other's.
“May I…memorize you? For I do not know when I shall have you in my arms again.” Zayne whispers.
The request is soft, desperation disguised in a plea.
The second you nod, Zayne takes the mug from your hands to place it on the nightstand, pressing his lips to yours and expelling a moan that sounds like it was finally breaking confinement. He brings his slender fingers to frame your face, the very ones you'd once fantasized about.
Zayne feels like he's dreaming all over again, with the way your heart pounds as you lean into his kiss, letting out the same moans he'd yearned for with a heavy heart. But your palm curls around his hand to let him know that you're real and you're here, in this very moment, with this Zayne. It feels like the temperature in the room has suddenly dropped, and the smell of cocoa still lingers in the air.
"Zayne…" You pant as you break away from the kiss. You lick your lips and press your forehead to his, reveling in the quiet desperation pressed into his kisses.
“You are unaware of how many nights I have dreamt of this." He shuts his eyes as he scrunches his nose, like he can't believe he's actually admitting this to you. But he doesn't care. He would bare every fragile part of himself if it meant placing it in your hands.
"Seeing you," he places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Envisioning you," a kiss to your lips. "Your beauty," a kiss on the tip of your nose. "…but being unable to touch you." a kiss on your forehead. "It…killed me." He whines, leaning forward so that his lips are right next to your ear, his cold breath sending chills down your neck.
"But now that I'm able to hold you in front of my very eyes…Forgive me, I must savor this moment.”
"Zayne…" You whimper, his words kissing your skin like frost.
“Please…keep saying my name. Exactly like that…"
You bite your lip, and place your palm on his chest, gently pushing Zayne until his back rests on the headboard of the bed.
"Let me give you what you've wanted, Zayne." You breathe.
You hook your legs on either side of Zayne to straddle him, and Zayne's hands immediately frame your waist, as if he'd done this countless times before.
In a way, he had.
Dawnbreaker had held you in his dreams just like this. You used to be so close, yet so far. Doctor Zayne might have touched you, but it was Dawnbreaker in this moment, flesh and warmth beneath your palms, who finally gets to hold you.
Your arms hook around Zayne's neck so that you can roll your hips on his lap, feeling him harden through his slacks. It makes you gasp in pleasure, the friction making you crave more.
Zayne's lips press into a thin line as his gaze flickers downwards to see where you’re both connected, his thoughts spiraling into a frantic chant of dontcomedontcomedontcome. He lets out a hushed moan as you grab and tug at the base of his hair, rolling your hips against him again, the satisfaction of getting to feel you fully dawning on him. Beneath that cold surface, Zayne begins to believe he is worthy of love.
“Just like that, baby…” he breathes, voice unsteady. “So good for me.”
Zayne's sturdy body beneath you gives you exactly what you need, and you can't help but repeat his name over and over again, chasing the pleasure he so willingly wants to provide you with.
You take a moment to look down at Zayne, who wears the most blissful expression on his face. His cheeks are flushed, his ears bright red, and his lips parted as he watches you with a look so openly wrecked it steals the breath from your lungs. It was as if he was getting off on the act of memorizing this. Memorizing you.
"Take what you want from me, darling. I'm all yours." He murmurs.
You let out another moan at that, chasing your pleasure as you continue rocking against him through his clothes, the tip of his clothed cock hitting your clit exactly where you wanted. Your fingers drift down to his mouth, tracing the curve of his lower lip, and Zayne shudders beneath you.
“Thank you,” he whispers, over and over again like a prayer. “Thank you, thank you…”
And in that moment, you realize you don’t want to leave this timeline. You don’t want to leave Zayne.
You are exactly where you want to be.
A.N: Sorry for posting this a bit later than expected, got a bit caught up w some things over the week >.< I hope you enjoy and treasure DB Zayne as much as I do. Also, I stand by the fact that DB should've been a myth. Thank you for trying this cookie!
༄ MDNI, voyeur!rafayel, caleb x reader, rafayel x reader
༄ art student!rafayel who has his easel by the window because it's the best place for natural light, except it stopped being the reason months ago.
his window sits directly across yours and the xia twins' unit, and on nights when your lamp is on and the curtains aren't drawn, he gets a front row seat to you and the xia twins. he has an entire sketchbook dedicated to the three of you by now in different positions and on different nights.
the second he sees the light flicker on and caleb and yizhou following you inside, the sketchbook is already in his hand, propped on the easel and pen uncapped. one hand sketching fast while the other working himself slow at first then faster, following the pace the twins set.
he's close when caleb looks up, staring directly at him. there's no surprise in his purple eyes. he holds rafayel's gaze, then dips his head and drags his tongue slow up your neck, eyes never leaving his.
rafayel comes just as you do, his hand dragging a ruined line across the page, cum staining the sketch.
caleb smirks, slow and knowing, like he's aware that rafayel has been watching the whole time.
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
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