mute > #thoughts from the rose garden if you don't wanna see my ramblings
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✘ DNI ✘
ANTIs🐜, under 18 or blank profile, harass ppl based on fictional characters, MAP, racist/TERF, homophobic/transphobic, zoo, l0li/sh0ta
Interests 💖
Dimension 20, Avenstelle, Luckae, Rosaria supremacy, Traveling Twin Supremacy, The Rising of the Shield Hero simp, Genshin has taken over my life, I also talk about whatever I want
Current hyperfixation(s): Love & Deepspace (Sylus)
BEWARE OF HEAVY REPOSTING
⚠ Content Warning ⚠
dead dove, twincest/incest, & other problematic themes
If you try to bully me I will block you, I am not here for the drama about a group of pixels
You wake to a blizzard with a drop of sweat burning a path from your temple to your jaw.
Frost swipes a pale, icy palm across the estate’s paned windows at the same moment the heavy form behind you swipes a hand across your bare chest.
You shift against the incendiary warmth that sweeps through you, ribcage nudging against the weight of the arm that’s holding you close. Each breath a chore as you become drenched in the heat of the blankets and body heat around you.
Of the large, muscled, and possessive body behind you.
Of the hot, ridged cock scored deep into each grooved channel inside of you.
A rumbling groan reverberates through your diaphragm. “Alright, kitten?” Sylus rasps sleepily, each slurred word kissed into the skin behind your ear.
He shifts a bit, sliding the bulk of his thigh between yours, making those ridges drag streaks of pleasure against your walls, a reminder of his possession of you.
A reminder that you have nowhere to go.
There’s something... primal that winter awakens within Sylus, you’ve noticed.
Nests of wools and cashmeres dragged into haphazard shapes, piled high to keep away the frigid air of the bedroom. Limbs coiled around you for longer stretches of sleep, like an animal made to slumber through the long, dark months to guard its hoard. Intimacy becomes slower, lazier, filthier — the scent of you both filling each layer of fabric, each particle of air with fruit and musk and wine and sex.
It’s all as confusing as it is comforting.
And arousing.
The hum of agreement in your throat turns into a low mewl and your hips roll, seeking friction. “Please.”
“Hm, again? Such a needy, squirming kitten." You close your eyes to concentrate on his deep, husky voice instead of the sound of your slick against the two fingers he parts over the sensitive muscles clenched around him.
“So hot,” you mumble, the rush of the snowflakes on the other side of the window reminiscent of the blood rushing through your veins.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, dragging the tip of his nose down your dripping neck. The hummed reassurance drags over your prickling body like silk as his hips start moving in time with his fingers. As his teeth notch back into the bruised indentations he left behind only few hours ago. “One more, hm? One more to cool you down.”
You nod your head frantically as a wave of blissful heat builds in your belly. Hot, hotter.
Your hips start to roll now too, his fingers thrusting their friction over your clit, pulling at its hood, and teasing towards your entrance stuffed with him.
The scent of his sweat in the fabric and the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering harder forces a moan from your lips into the scarlet silk you’ve buried your face in.
And as you watch the world freeze over with his melody of groans in your ear, it’s these moments that the great beast who claimed you rests his head beside yours, breathing in your love and affection despite the weight of the horns weighing on his head.
having a wet dream with sylus means he’ll pretend he didn’t know you had one…but in reality, he knew .ᐟ
You were not supposed to wake up like that.
Not supposed to wake up with a damp feeling between your thighs, or a weird tingling sensation when you try getting up.
Nothing from that sleep—that dream—was ever meant to happen.
Luckily Sylus wasn't around when you woke up. You assumed he was in the living room, or the kitchen; prepping up something for the day, or just relaxing. And thank God he was, because not only were you embarrassed to get up, but having to face him not minutes later, acting like nothing happened was going to be an even worse experience to go through.
Worse than that dream, or... nightmare? Sylus and you aren't exclusive or any of the sorts. You just live under the same roof and sometimes sleep in the same bed. You never intentionally did anything with him, nor never planned on initiating anything. Hell, you didn't even think there was tension between the two of you to even kick off anything like that!
Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose, slowly striding to the bathroom despite feeling like you've eaten a whole meal during your sleep and could barely move.
Just act normal. That's it. Act normal.
And maybe, just maybe, normal was not what you were acting. No, definitely not. You were acting like the complete opposite of normal.
The moment you walked into the living room after getting cleaned up—Sylus was sat on the couch, slumping on the material as he rested his eyes from the bright light outside.
"Did you eat?" You ask, slowly walking towards him while trying to forget that image of him in your mind.
Shirtless, laying atop of you. One hand on your shoulder, the other one gliding along your body–
“–Tch.”
“What’s got you all riled up, sweetie?”
His voice left his lips in a deep, groggy tone—like he just…woke up?
“Did you sleep on the couch? And nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Mmh,” he patted his fingers on the space next to him and nodded for you to sit down. Hesitating, you stare at the invitation then draw your gaze to his tensed veins poking through his hands…
“I- uh, no need… I’ll just–“
“Come here, sweetie.”
Your breath got stuck in your throat and you stopped the words eating your brain—telling you to just get back to your room and scream into your pillow just at the mere sight of him—yes! Just leave! You must resist!
But every futile attempt at resisting left you already inching to the sofa, plopping on the couch, just leaving a little amount of space between the two of you.
“What happened last night?” Sylus asked, leaning his head toward your shoulder, not resting on it, just lingering atop of it.
“Nothing happened! But… tell me why you were sleeping on the couch.”
“Because.” Eventually, his head that was once ghosting over your shoulder, made contact with your skin—plopping onto it and nuzzling himself in your touch like a kitten.
“Because?”
“A kitten was restless last night.”
Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach; pounding harder than the occasional butterflies you used to get from his snarky tone. However, you don't indulge in his words, you don’t say anything, and just stay silent. Patiently waiting for his next words.
“She was moving around, kicking the air, hogging the blanket and…”
Sylus raised his head to look at you, peering at you with a deadly glowing iris which was impossible to look away from.
“…making too much noise.”
“It- I just had a nightmare!”
“Did you? Then enlighten me in this ‘nightmare’ you had.”
“You were in it.”
Sylus stayed silent, nodding and waiting for you to continue. But the words kept getting stuck in your throat and the lies you had in your mind were hard to get out. All you had to do was make up a story. The complete opposite of what you had.
“We were on a field of flowers…”
You both were on the bed.
“And I was lying on the ground, playing with a few flowers between my fingers while I waited for you to, uh, come to me.”
You were lying on the bed, fiddling with the sheets as you patiently waited for Sylus to come to you.
“It seems kind of sweet so far, don’t you think?”
“It gets worse! Then you come over to me and…get on top of me, holding tightly onto me as you roll us down the hill.”
Sylus eventually laid on top of you, curling his arms around your figure, pulling you close before he leaned in, peppering your face with soft kisses.
“We eventually stop on a heavier field of flowers, and you flip me over, so that I’m… on top of you.”
The grip Sylus had on you was deadly. His fingers sunk in your skin, and in a swift movement—he flipped you over until you sat on top of him, pressed against his aching boner.
“What did you do?” Sylus whispered, interlocking his fingers with yours.
You purse your lips, trying to think of a simple lie—something that will make him forget about your words seconds later…but it was impossible when the vivid image in your dream was the only thing you could think of.
You move your hips in a slow movement, rocking languidly against his warm skin—pressing against his standing boner with every thrust; making Sylus groan in response, grabbing onto your hips to guide you to a patient rhythm.
His fingers eventually skip up your body, stopping on your arms to stop you to a halt. You couldn’t hear a word he was saying—everything coming out of his mouth was mumbled and static like a broken radio. The only thing you could see was his pleading eyes, begging for something you couldn't decipher.
You press your thighs together and shake your thoughts away. "I actually don't remember..." You mutter, glancing at Sylus who was only staring at you with an amused look. You didn't understand why he was so happy—so elated at your words, but you didn't bother prying.
"Impossible. This doesn't seem like a nightmare at the slightest." Sylus spoke up, interrupting the silence and inching closer, leaning on your shoulder again. But instead of him giving you another teasing remark, or staying silent, he started...giggling?
The soft scoffs, quiet breathless laughs escape his lips like you were telling him a joke. Which, in your defence, was a joke. But it wasn't funny! You didn't even understand why he was laughing at this very moment.
"Why are you laughing? This wasn't a funny dream."
"Hah- Nothing.. not laughing at you. C'mon, keep telling me more about your nightmare."
You hum, resting your finger on your chin and tried to make up something. "Well, if you're laughing right now.. I remember you were smiling as I placed flowers on you. Between your hair, on your outfit…"
You lean forward, planting sloppy kisses on his face—exactly like he did to you. His breath hitches as he lets you continue kissing him up, marking him like he was going to disappear if you let go. But before you could give him more kisses, he suddenly turned you over, pinning you down the bed, slowly discarding your clothes beneath his touch.
You don't fully remember what happened after that, and how it led to another specific moment—that moment that got you riled up, and waking up a mess—but you don't bother continuing and space out for another minute.
You eventually end up bare beneath his large figure, staring at him with so many emotions running through your mind; none of them were negative though—it was all like you were finally receiving a cure for your pent up desire built in you for ages.
Sylus grinned, something that was so menacing, so challenging—he eventually propped your hips against his, grinding a slow rhythm against you, slapping his tip on your folds before slowly moving in, just pestering your entrance with a gentle tease of his hard tip already stretching you out at the small touch.
You squirm, feeling him sink a little deeper while he was reassuring you everything was okay, that you were fine under his touch. The soft feeling of his skin thwacking! against you at every cruel thrust made you throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your brain until you could see stars.
Even if it was a dream. You still had a tiny bit of hope, despite trying to deny it, that you wished it was real. Maybe just a little bit.
“It’s that interesting, huh?”
“Mhm.” You hum, lifting yourself off the couch and slowly heading back to your room. The conversation seemed to be finished, there was no need to talk anymore. His presence was already too much to handle—
“Well then, I liked it.” Sylus replied.
You freeze, swallowing the lump in your throat and slowly turn your body towards his. “Did you? I didn’t finish yet.”
“I did. And don’t worry about finishing it, I assume something horrible happened toward the end, right?”
“Yeah.. something really bad happened which was probably the reason why I was restless…”
“Right. Then, Would you like to recreate it?”
“I mean–”
“And I wasn’t talking about the little story you made up.” Sylus interrupted, staring at you with a painful smirk on his lips that read: ‘I won.’
“What.”
a/n. Yes I would like to recreate it next question 😭 I hope that message came across that he didn’t do anything in her sleep,, I only mentioned being restless so he can get an idea of what happened lolz! Then he went to the couch after
This outfit was once cherished by the other of two companions who set out on a journey together, in a past now as distant as a dream, as ephemeral as flickering lights.
Which is proving to make Christmas wrapping quite difficult.
"Sylus, please, I have like ten more things to wrap I need to focus!" But your lover is still at your back, nose nuzzling into the nape of your neck. You can feel his smile in the way his lips struggle to kiss your sensitive skin.
"The twins aren't going to care if their presents are wrapped." It's a gentle murmur, barely heard over the crackling fire place and the soft Christmas songs you have playing on his record player. "You know damn well that's a lie, Sylus."
He's chuckling behind you, hands sliding up under your shirt to splay across the warm skin of your stomach. "Christmas isn't for a few more hours." He reasons again, teeth scraping your neck and nearly making you drop the tape dispenser.
"Why are you so needy right now?" You hiss, but despite it all, there is a smile pulling at your lips. One that nearly falters all together when his hands inch up a little further. "No bra?" You bite your cheek, glaring at him over your shoulder. "Don't deflect."
"Fine, I just want one of my Christmas presents a little early." You set the tape down, flipping the box to start securing the paper on the other side. Trying desperately to ignore his fingers inching ever closer to your bare chest under your sweater. "What present, exactly? We agreed no exchanging until the morning."
Sylus is silent for a moment, hands staying on your ribs to add to the growing suspense. He notices the slight tremble in your fingers as you try and rip off more tape, he's got your attention alright.
"You." Simple, but this time you really do drop the tape. "In front of my fireplace." He continues softly, hands moving up to cup your breasts. "Naked, of course. Spread all pretty for me."
You give in so easily to him, putty in his large, warm hands as he tenderly massages your breasts. "Sylus... the presents..." but he's clicking his tongue, biting at your neck as he pulls you flush to his front. "They can wait, I'll be quick."
But Sylus is never quick with you, he always takes his sweet time. "You're such a liar." His laugh is breathless. "is that a yes?"
“Nobody.” Sylus is grinning at you, crimson eyes narrowing as he studies your ever expressive face.
“You are my one, my only, and my first.”
“You’re lying.”
The words are immediate, you can’t help yourself. Looking at the man before you, how handsome he was, how confident he was. You couldn’t make yourself believe that you were the only person he had ever been with.
There was no possible way… “I’m not lying, kitten.”
You could physically see the sincerity in his gaze, even if his lips were still curled in their typical smirk.
Slowly, you slump with defeat. Body melting into the couch as you stare at him dumbfounded.
“…not even a kiss? Or holding hands with anyone else?”
There’s a soft laugh that escapes him before nodding.
“Not even a kiss, no hand holding either. You are the only person I’ve done that with.”
It suddenly seemed like a hefty title to bear, Sylus’ only.
“Why?” You felt your vocabulary dwindling as your brain tried to rack itself around the monumental title you just now realized you owned.
“Because nobody appeals to me the way you do. Not one person I’ve encountered in this life time sings to my soul the way yours does. I’ve never cared until I met you.”
I’ve actually written Sylus and his “relationship status prior to MC” handful of ways, especially some in of my earlier work! But that was also based off of the Sylus lore we had at that point in time. Now, I genuinely can’t see him any other way… what a lover boy.
秦彻 – sylus's favorite position? when he could see you getting (lovingly) wrecked beneath him .ᐟ
its been 2 weeks .. ntm on me </3
"My favorite position? Don't you think that's a bit bold to ask?"
"It's— just answer... please?"
"Hm..." Sylus rested his finger on his chin and pondered the question for a moment, but you knew there wasn't any actual thinking going on in his mind. Because the answer was already there—even before you asked.
-
"This one is pleasant, but it isn't really effective."
Sylus had your face pressed against the plump pillow, watching you knock up and down at every cruel thrust he fed you—face down, ass up... did he like it? Of course he did. But he wouldn't say it was his favorite position.
"E-effective how?" You whimper, raising your head to catch your breath before getting face smacked back on the pillow again—making you swallow and gasp your pleading moans.
Sylus didn't answer immediately and let the question linger in the air for a moment.
"Don't know. Jus' feel like its missing something."
-
"This... This can't be your favorite? w-we've- ngh- never done this?!"
Sylus had you lying on your side, one leg raised in the air as he drove his cock in and out of you at a comfortable rhythm, already making you a stuttering mess to even bring yourself to ask another obvious question.
"You're right, we haven't done this." Sylus chuckled, adjusting himself before lifting himself up with you pressed against his body. "And you're right—again—this isn't my favorite position."
"I-it was a simple question! Why can't you answer it properly?!"
"Because you'll get my answer now."
"Wh-" before words could even spit out of your mouth, Sylus eventually had you pinned against the bed's headboard and he didn't waste a second. The pace of his thrusts started to quicken like a cheetah in a race—scratch that, he was way faster than one. He was going insane on you the moment he had you where he needed you to be.
Missionary.
Legs wrapped around his hips- your lower half was already aching as he pummelled into you at ease, soaking up every inch of your gummy walls—thrashing your weak spots; tip kissing your cervix, hard length throbbing inside you faster than a heartbeat. You couldn't keep track of the million different feelings filling your mind.
"Th- this?"
"Mhm... and wanna know the reason why?"
"C-course I do!" you nod repeatedly, letting your head involuntarily rock back on forth the more he moved against you—but the more he started losing control, the more you couldn't focus.
"Because I get to see you." He mumbles, cupping your skin with his palm and pulling you a little closer. But he doesn't kiss you. Those ruby eyes just gaze into you with a certain emotion you couldn't quite read. Hunger? Crave? Desire?
There were so many thoughts spiralling through your mind, so many assumptions, ideas, or conclusions—you weren't even sure what he meant by so he could 'see you'. That could mean so many things.
"You're curious, aren't you? I could see it written all over your face."
You gasp at his suspicion and don't bother agreeing or disagreeing. You just averted your gaze away, waiting for him to continue speaking. And when he does, quickening the pace as words started flooding out of his mouth—you were back at square one, and you couldn't focus. Again.
Your eyes roll back the deeper he sunk; inch, after inch, after inch—you were practically seeing stars. The way he knew exactly how to make you feel during these moments, knew exactly where to push himself so you both feel good–
"Hngh- you s-still haven't told me!"
"Your answer is right here."
You raise an eyebrow and before you could add on to the conversation, ask him for more than just a few word answers—your words soon skipped to a sputter when you felt the invisible knot in your stomach tie tighter.
"I- d-dont- 'm close!- get it!"
"Look at yourself." He hums, cascading his fingers down your body and stopping at the lower part of your stomach, lightly pressing his digits on your lower abdomen, watching you squirm like a bug, and this...
You (accidentally) call the lads men your husband in front of someone else! How do they react?
pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader(separate)
Xavier
You’re at the grocery store checkout together.
The cashier is making small talk, asking if you two are married.
You laugh lightly, a sudden want for mischief overcoming you:
“Yes, he’s my husband.”
Xavier, who was quietly putting all the scanned items into the bag, goes completely still.
The cashier smiles and says, “Aw, you two are adorable.”
You keep chatting, oblivious, while Xavier stands behind you with the most dazed, soft look on his face.
His ears are bright pink.
When you finally walk out of the store, he’s still carrying the bags like nothing happened.
You notice he’s being even more quiet than usual.
“Xavier? You okay?”
He stops walking, turns to you, and says in the softest voice, “You called me your husband.”
A quiet grin sneaks onto your face. “I did, didn’t I?”
He nods slowly.
Then he steps closer, cups your face gently, and kisses you right there in the parking lot.
“I liked hearing it,” he murmurs against your lips.
You smile. “Good. Because I meant it.”
He takes your hand and doesn’t let go the entire walk home.
Zayne
The two of you are at the hospital pharmacy picking up your prescription refill.
Just as you get ready to pay the pharmacist asks if you’re the spouse.
You smile and say, “Yes, this is my husband.”
Zayne, who was standing a few steps behind you looking at the display of vitamins, freezes.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe for a second.
The pharmacist nods, hands you the bag, and says, “You two take care.”
You thank her and turn around to find Zayne staring at you like you just flipped his whole world upside down.
His face is carefully neutral, but his ears are scarlet.
You tilt your head. “What?”
He clears his throat.
“You called me your husband.”
A small laugh escapes you. “I mean… you basically are. You take care of me, I take care of you-”
He steps closer, voice low.
“I’m not complaining.”
Then he takes the bag from your hand, laces his fingers through yours, and walks you out of the pharmacy like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Later, when you’re alone, he pulls you close and whispers against your hair:
“Keep saying it. I want to get used to it.”
Rafayel
You’re at an art supply store buying paint for him.
The clerk asks if you’re buying for your partner.
You grin, “Yeah, this is for my husband. He’s an artist.”
Rafayel, who was browsing brushes a few aisles over, nearly drops the ones he’s holding.
He spins around so fast the clerk looks startled.
You’re still chatting them up, completely unaware.
When you turn to leave, Rafayel is already right behind you, eyes huge and sparkling.
He grabs your arm.
“You called me your husband,” he hisses, voice shaking with excitement.
You blink. “Did I?”
“Yes! To a stranger! In public!”
You laugh. “Well, at this point you kinda are.”
He makes a dramatic noise, pulls you into a tight hug right in the middle of the store, and buries his face in your neck.
“Say it again,” he demands.
You whisper, “Husband.”
He lets out the happiest little squeak and kisses your cheek so many times the worker starts smiling.
On the way home, he keeps repeating, “My wife called me husband in public. My wife.”
You’re never living it down.
Sylus
You’re at a high-end restaurant picking up a takeout order he placed.
The hostess asks if you’re waiting for your husband.
You smile and say, “Yes, my husband’s just finishing a call outside.”
Sylus, who was standing near the door on his phone listening to Luke ramble on about a mission progress, hears every word.
He ends the call immediately.
When you walk out with the bags, he’s waiting, eyes dark and expression smug.
He takes the bags from you without a word.
Then he leans in, voice low and seductive.
“You called me your husband.”
You shrug, teasing. “You don’t like it?”
He steps closer, backing you gently against the wall outside.
“I like it too much,” he murmurs.
He leans, closes the distance and kisses you slow and deep, right there on the street, like he doesn’t care who sees.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
“Keep saying it. Out loud. To everyone.”
You smile. “Husband.”
He exhales sharply, like the word resonates with him physically.
“Good girl.”
Caleb
You’re at the Fleet’s visitor center, picking up a package he left behind.
The receptionist asks if you’re here for your husband.
You nod cheerfully. “Yep, it’s is for my husband. Colonel Caleb.”
Caleb, who was walking toward the entrance to meet you, stops dead in his tracks.
His face goes bright red.
He stands there for a second, looking like he’s been struck by lightning.
Then he walks over, trying to act normal, but his voice cracks when he says, “Hey.”
You hand him the package.
He stares at you.
“You called me your husband.”
You laugh. “I mean… yeah? We’ve been acting like a married couple for years.”
He swallows hard.
Then he pulls you into his arms, right there in front of the reception desk, and hugs you so tight you can barely breathe.
“I’ve waited years to hear you call me that,” he whispers against your hair.
You smile into his shoulder. “Get used to it, husband.”
A laugh, soft and shaky, leaves him and kisses the top of your head.
santa sylus waiting for you underneath the christmas tree on december 25th, wearing only a santa hat and a bow wrapped around his-- hey, you asked for it
Listennnnnnnn he’d low key do it as a joke, more interested in the way you’d likely laugh than anything else. But when you stroll into the living room to see him casually lounging on the floor, book in hand, Santa hat on, cock at attention?
He looks like a carved marble statue, a comical one but, fuck, his body illuminated by the fireplace? “Merry Christmas, kitten.” A dopey smirk is curling his lips as he takes in your awestruck expression.
Though, he didn’t quite expect you to pounce on him. Knocking the book out of his hands and taking his Santa hat for yourself, a wicked grin on your lips as you slot it over your head and sit yourself squarely over his cock.
He’s barely awake, sprawled on his back, shirtless and warm, breathing slow and deep with one arm draped lazily across your body. His hair is tousled, his mouth parted just slightly, pink lips glistening with sleep. He smells like shampoo and fresh sheets, like home.
You’ve been laying on top of him for an hour now, your cheek squished against his thick pec, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a daze. But there’s one big, big problem.
Your core has been throbbing the entire time.
“Caleb~” you whisper, pouting as you wiggle a little against him. Your voice comes out sticky sweet, nearly a whine, lips brushing his skin as you press soft kisses to his chest.
He groans softly, barely shifting, palm massaging your thigh without thinking. “I know, pipsqueak…” he mumbles sleepily, “but mmmh… too tired…”
His voice is gravelly, thick with exhaustion, but the way his fingers squeeze your thigh—slow, deliberate—sends heat shooting straight to your core. You clench around nothing, breath catching at the dull ache between your legs.
But then…
“Use me, baby…” he whispers suddenly, not even opening his eyes. His voice drops low and broken, just shy of a whimper. “Mmmhh… wanna feel you too…”
You blink, stunned. “Wha—?” He just nods, still half-asleep, his arm falling limply back to the bed as he slips further into slumber. And now? Now your pussy’s practically drooling.
Your breath trembles as you slowly slide down his body, nuzzling lower, lower, until your nose presses into the warm bulge in his sweatpants. You inhale shakily—he smells like sweat and skin and him—and you press the softest kiss through the fabric. He stirs, a low whine escaping his throat, and you swear you see his hips shift the tiniest bit. So you do it again.
Another soft kiss. Another nuzzle. Your tongue darts out and licks a little stripe through the cotton, and he moans. A sweet, sleepy sound, head tipping back on the pillow, brows furrowed like he’s dreaming of exactly what’s happening.
You slide his waistband down just enough to free his cock—heavy, flushed, already twitching even in sleep—and your lips part in awe. Your tongue presses flat against the underside of it, licking slowly from base to tip before wrapping your mouth around the head.
He gasps, breath hitching, hips twitching weakly. “Mmhhnn… baby… yeah…” he breathes, not fully conscious but feeling everything. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as your saliva drips down his shaft. You moan around him, the vibration making his cock jerk in your mouth, his abs tightening beneath your palm. But he never opens his eyes—too tired, too wrecked.
When you climb back up and sink down onto him minutes later, he lets out the prettiest, broken sigh in his sleep, like you just made all his dreams come true.
You move slowly, grinding your hips down as you bite into his shoulder to muffle your sounds, tears pooling in your eyes at the stretch. His cock fits perfectly inside you even when he’s completely still, even when you’re the one doing all the work.
And Caleb? Still half-asleep. Still moaning. Still letting you use him.
You feel like a goddamn pervert riding your boyfriend’s dick while he’s drifting in and out of sleep, but when his arms weakly wrap around you and he breathes out, "so warm… feel so good, pipsqueak…"—
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ indulgent scheme..?
cw: sex. that’s it. mdni.
word count: 1.7K (woah)
•only proofread like once..•
how waking up to your boyfriend cooking you breakfast turned into caleb’s jeans being barely lowered enough for him to stuff you with his cock wasn’t something that took a genius to understand how such events fell into place.
he was pure temptation the moment you stepped out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to see him standing there in his classic apron, not one article of clothing on to hide the strong muscles moving in his back and biceps each time he gently shook the cast iron skillet sizzling with something undeniably delicious.
but it wasn’t the aroma or the potential flavors that would be dancing on your tastebuds that had you almost drooling like a cartoon character comically does over freshly baked apple pie. absolutely nothing food related was on your mind the closer you got to him, in fact.
so engrossed with perfecting his dish, caleb didn’t notice how closely you stood behind him, taking the few seconds you had to admire all the marks you proudly left on him just last night. you don’t know what had gotten into you, why you were so desperate to mark him up so that you could see your masterpiece cemented into his skin in the morning that followed.
seeing it now; the indents of your teeth, the hickeys, and scratch marks… this sight proved to be precisely why. it was absolute perfection—suitable for the man who sports your lustful onslaught like a well-earned trophy.
it started off sweet, almost capable of being considered innocent when you made your presence known. he jolted just the smallest bit after the warmth of your lips touched right below his shoulder and quickly relaxed the more kisses you trailed across the smooth expanse of your already painted canvas.
“you left me?” you interrogated him softly through a pout he could hear far too clearly, tugging on the belt loop of his light denim. why he was wearing jeans and not completely naked was a question you needed an answer to. pressing matters, of course.
“just headed out to get some things so i could feed you, pips,” he promised teasingly. “you worked up quite the appetite. seein’ as you tried to eat me and everything, after all.”
that made you laugh, despite how much it was laced with his typical corniness. but it also made the subtle ache in between your legs pulse with a greedy desire for more. so much more.
knowing that he went outside with everything you’d done to him hidden beneath nothing but a t-shirt? it was like a drug. addictive. and seeing as he didn’t stop you when you pulled on the knot he had tied and sitting on his lower back, he wanted “more” just as much as you did.
“i like them, though. took some pictures for your filthy safekeepin’, too.” the second he turned off the burner and rested his spatula on the apple shaped saucer you two had gotten at a flea market, you knew what was about to happen.
was it pathetic to be so excited?
the loose tie fell completely at the same time caleb turned to face you, and you didn’t let him waste anymore of it when his hand cupped the underside of your jaw. as his thumb grazed your bottom lip, it was then that you took the initiative and brought his lips to yours, pulling him toward you by the back of his neck.
“can’t ever get enough, can you? wakin’ up and causing all kinds of trouble.” he chuckled in between the wet kisses, carefully pushing you back until you bumped into the counter. goosebumps dotted across every part of your body when he caressed your hip tenderly. “food’s gonna get cold… won’t taste as good.”
your head shook swiftly. “don’t care.” you meant it.
mumbling hurriedly against his lips for him to touch you and fisting the material of his apron, you were trying your best to get him to understand that if he wasn’t inside of you in the next few seconds, there would be hell to pay and sexually frustrated tears to wipe.
caleb knew you like the back of his hand. he didn’t need words for it to click that you were just his pretty girl who was desperate for more dick than he already gave you. he’s given you everything you’ve ever wanted in all your years together and like the good boyfriend he’s long since been promoted to, how could he ever dare to deny you?
as if you were featherlight, he easily hoisted you above the countertop and spread your thighs apart to give himself room. he was just so… big. everywhere. his ability to take up space and make you feel small would forever be one of the qualities about him that you treasured most.
more kisses were placed in the crook of your neck as you looked to the ceiling to give him easier access when he began to outline it like a roadmap. from your collarbone, your throat, and your jaw, caleb made a silent vow to spend today leaving you just as claimed as he’d been by you. it was only fair.
feeling his bulge nudge against you through his jeans and your panties was a buzz that had you on the precipice of rabid.
now. you needed him now.
“take what you want.” he licked your bottom lip while you eagerly fumbled with his button and zipper. “use me juuussstt how you need to. since you’re so impatient.”
he could tease you all he wanted to, but the fact that he was pulling your panties to the side and eventually swatted your hands away when you took too long to release him through your needy haze, was more than enough ammo for you.
you worked to get his meddlesome pants and boxers down right below his ass, too impatient to try stripping one another completely. when your hooded eyes met, caleb guided the tip of his cock until it pushed past your pussy lips and kissed your fluttering hole that was trying its hardest to suck him in. both of you were textbook examples of a whimpering pathetic mess, and the feeling of your heart beating in your chest so intensely was inebriating more than anything else.
“caleb…” you warned the second he stalled. “if you don’t—” words didn’t exist. not when you could feel every inch, vein, and curve of his pulsing cock slowly split you open and slide inside of your throbbing cunt. you braced a hand on his shoulder and the other tightly held onto his elbow of the arm that he had firmly planted beside you the more connected you became.
“f-fuck… you’re this soaked already…” the shakiness of his voice made you clench around him tighter than you already were. “what about now, huh? got nothin’ smart to say?”
“s-shut up…” you weakly retorted, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he rolled his hips into you in retaliation to your poor manners.
“you used to say thank you… used to be so sweet…” his hair swayed across his brows furrowed with pleasure. “now you just take, take, take. and all i do is let you... some things will never change.”
he didn’t bother trying to mess with you anymore as he nipped at your ear, solely because if waited too long to start moving, he would fill you with his seed before either of you had the opportunity to truly enjoy this moment. his apron began to fall off his body with every stroke he gave and his pressured grip on your outer thigh that he had resting on his hip was sure to leave a caleb-sized print that you’d get tattooed if you could.
both of you grabbed at each other like you couldn’t be closer, moaning loud enough that if the neighbors didn’t know how sickly in love you were, they would surely get the memo now.
“watch us,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours with a lazy grin. “you’re so fuckin’ easy, pips. look at how wet we are.”
your mouth hung open in a small o when you peered down at the sight of him gliding in and out of you with so much ease. your slick had his dick glistening and the creamy ring that was forming was a sight so erotic that you could already feel that familiar coil building in your lower gut.
“baby… ‘m gonna…” you warned as you felt your orgasm steadily approaching. but he wasn’t done. not yet.
he opened you up more to the point that you felt the blissful burn in your thighs, drilling into your sensitive pussy until all you could do was cry when he reached so deeply.
the violet in his irises almost seemed to shine with pride as you lost yourself in the way he fucked you. a hand made itself at home in his tousled hair and you couldn’t hold it any longer when the friction of him being so close stimulated your swollen clit.
your shared orgasm was instantaneous after that final gratifying thrust that made him shake and call out your name like it was what would always be what saved him from himself. his cum was hot, thick and sticky as it flooded your insides and painted your velvet walls until both of you were drained and utterly spent.
it was only seconds that passed before he slid out of you with a wet squelch, making you hiss from the peaked sensitivity.
“lemme see.”
you knew what he liked. every time without fail.
he rested a hand on your knee and used the other to keep your panties out of the way, staring at your used cunt as you pushed his load out. caleb watched in awe the more the creamy substance trailed down your ass and made a small pool on the once pristine marble. the way it dripped and fell down the side could make his knees buckle.
so much cum was leaking from you, and he didn’t know if he should make you aware of his cock already trying to stir to life once more.
“you’re a freak,” caleb jested, tucking himself back into his jeans before crowding you shamelessly.
“yes we are.” you smiled into his kiss as he leaned down, groaning when his tongue danced with yours in the sensual exchange. “clean me up?”
nodding once, he abruptly pushed you further back on the surface, making you yelp at the gesture that was opposite of what you thought he’d do.
“lay down f’me, pipsqueak. i got it.” without hesitation, you followed his instruction. you didn’t know what to expect; a hot rag, a paper towel, or his fingers stuffing his seed back inside. but you surely didn’t anticipate your back arching from the sensation of a long lick sliding up in between your puffy slit.
caleb looked up at you when you searched for answers, nose buried in the mess you made together with a knowing smirk in his eyes.
who needed breakfast anyway?
a/n: pls be easy on me.
creds to @/omi-resources for the snowy divider & @/angeliicide for the pink flowers!
pairing ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]
content warning ♱ premature orgasms, teasing, oral (m. receiving), slight exhibitionism, nipple play (m. receiving), dry humping, wrong use of aphrodisiacs, multiple creampies, breeding kink, xavier in heat, lowkey mean!raf — MINORS DNI 18+
kit says ♱ ty to my creative director @thewrldx AGAIN for helping me choose which direction to go w some of these! and thank u @stonedtaemin for beta reading, i love u both so much. i hope every1 enjoys! probably my last hc of 2025 :,) feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ — requested
#CALEB: MISSIN’ U
caleb hasn’t seen you in over a month and it’s been brutal. you were on missions or too tied up with work in linkon while he was tending to his duties as the fleet’s colonel in skyhaven. you don’t know how it happened, but two weeks turned to three and eventually it turned into a month and two days with nothing but facetime calls and texts to keep in touch.
and caleb has been counting the hours he’s been away from you. 795 to be exact. 795 hours that he hasn’t been able to see you. hours that he hasn’t been able to kiss you… touch you… fuck you.
finally, you managed to carve out some time to visit—even if only for a day—and you were determined to make every moment count.
but caleb is practically manic. you barely get the chance to greet him before he’s pulling you into his house and slamming his lips against yours. you can feel the warm tent in his sweats pressing into your lower abdomen and it makes you whimper into his mouth. you can’t deny that you’ve missed him just as bad—that you’ve missed his cock… the weight and feel of it.
he pulls your body into the living room, leaving a trail of his clothes haphazardly on the ground.
he’s panting—hot, desperate breaths fanning over your skin as he drags your shirt up and off like he’s been starving for the sight of you. “missed you so fuckin’ bad, baby,” he rasps, voice raw with need. his fingers find your bra clasp without even looking, popping it open in one smooth motion. the second your breasts bounce free, a filthy moan breaks out of him.
“fuuuuck… my pretty baby,” he groans, mouth crashing back onto yours like he can’t get close enough, can’t breathe without you. “a whole month,” he slurs against your lips, needy and disbelieving, “a whole damn month without you…” the hunger in his voice makes your head swim.
you’re so lost in his kiss, in the heat of him, that you don’t even notice his hands working lower—your jeans unbuttoned, unzipped, pushed down—until he nudges your legs, urging you to kick them off, voice wrecked as he murmurs, “c’mon, baby… off.”
you do as you're told, kicking them off your feet and letting them pool on the ground before caleb is pushing you onto the couch.
he drinks you in, taking in every perfect part of your body. his pupils are blown out like he’s on a drug, breath ragged like he’s run a marathon, cock aching in his boxers like he hasn’t been fucking his fist every night to all the innocent (and not so innocent) selfies and voice messages you’ve sent in your time apart.
then he pounces on you—your panties are shredded and he’s discarded of his boxers and he’s ready to give you the fucking of your life. but then he remembers. it’s been too long—he should definitely prep you and stretch you out with his fingers.
“caleb,” you whimper out when he takes too long to move. “just fuck me. please, i need you s’bad. ‘s been too long.”
“shit, i know, baby, but i need to prep you—”
you shake your head, hand moving down until your fingers pull your folds apart. he zeros in on your gleaming pussy, soaked and dripping with honeyed arousal. caleb all but whimpers at the sight. that alone could make him bust his load all over you, but he restrains himself—he tries to, at least.
he doesn’t keep you waiting for another second, he presses his fat tip into you and bites his lip at the visual of it disappearing inside your cunt. he feels your velvet walls latch onto him for dear life—almost like your pussy missed him too.
“fuck, y-you’re so, ugh, tight, pips,” he grunts, forcing himself in past the resistance, keeping his ears open for any sign of discomfort. by the way you tighten even more at his words and the blissed out moans slipping past your swollen lips, he doesn’t think he needs to be worried. “you miss the way i stretch you out like this?”
you arch your back as he inches in deeper, feeling your cunt mold to the shape of him with ease, “god, yes! ca-caleb, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,”
his cock throbs at your desperation, at your vice like cunt, at the adorable fucked out face you’re sporting. you’re taking him like you’re made for it… no time apart could make your pussy forget whose cock belongs here.
caleb finally bottoms out inside of you, his tip kissing at your cervix. your pussy strangles him so tight that his cock can’t help but twitch uncontrollably—the same way it does when he’s close… and then it happens—so fast he doesn’t even register it until his whole body locks up. he’s cumming inside you with a string of the neediest, broken moans you’ve ever heard from him, every sound high and desperate.
he goes still the moment realization hits. his face burns red, mouth parted, eyes blown wide in a mix of shock and absolute mortification. he came early… no—worse. he came before you.
“baby—” he gasps, glancing down where his cum is already leaking out of you, and the sight alone rips another helpless moan out of his throat. “god, ‘m sorry… ‘s just been so long, a-and i couldn’t help mys—”
“caleb.” you cut him off gently, your smile soft and easy. “‘s okay, baby. really.”
he exhales shakily, the relief on his face undeniable as he nods. he’ll make it up to you—he’s already determined. and with how hard he still is, still buried deep inside you, you both know you’re not going anywhere.
especially when you tighten around him, lean up to his ear, and whisper something wicked enough to make him choke on his breath.
“you have a month’s worth of cum saved up just for me, don’t you?”
#ZAYNE: OVERWORKED/UNDERFUCKED
zayne is an admirable man—hardworking, successful, the kind of perfect that makes people stare. but even perfection has its cracks. his? he neglects his own needs. the heat that coils low in his stomach, the way his cock strains in his slacks when you cross his mind… he always forces it down, choosing work over want.
and that’s where you come in.
what starts as an innocent visit—dropping off the lunch he “forgot” on the counter—quickly shifts into something far less innocent. the moment you step into his office, his desire finally demands to be heard.
you don’t say anything when you walk in. your face, the way you wordlessly set the cute lunch bag on his desk—it says it all. you walk around his desk where he sits, a small smile tugging at his lips and his cock twitching in his pants when he gets a whiff of your scent. then, like clockwork, you sink to your knees in between his legs.
“hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.
“four days, dr. zayne…” you lean into his hand, closing your eyes as the warmth seeps into your skin. “four days you’ve gone without an orgasm. that’s quite unhealthy, don’t you think?”
a soft, amused laugh erupts in his throat before he muses, “is it? i don’t remember that being on any of my exams while i was in medical school.”
your eyes flutter open and your hands reach for the button and zipper of his slacks. “nevermind that, doctor. why don’t you just let me take care of you, yeah?” you pull his boxers down enough for his cock to spring out and slap against his button up.
zayne chuckles wryly, nodding his head. “okay, but my lunch is over in 30 minutes–” he hisses when your lips wrap around his tip. “ah, sweetheart,” he breathes in surprise, fingers instinctively lacing into your hair.
you work his tip, tongue swirling around his slit, lapping up his leaking precum. your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and it sends a rush of arousal through you. his cheeks are flushed—that pretty shade of pink that dusts over his skin every time he’s high on adrenaline and overcome by need.
it urges you on—coaxing you to take more of him, to stretch your lips wider and let him sink deeper. with zayne’s firm guidance at the back of your head, you’re already halfway down his length, the tip brushing the back of your throat. the sound he makes when your throat tightens around him is raw, almost feral.
“fuck, darling,” he growls, fingers twitching with the urge to push you down until he’s buried to the hilt. “you feel so good. y-you… ah—you're taking me s-so, so well.”
the praise sends a shiver through you. you moan around him, picking up your pace, hungry for every broken sound you can drag out of your usually composed, painfully put-together boyfriend. your hand curls loosely around the base of his cock while your other drifts lower, cupping and gently squeezing his balls, eager to unravel him completely.
and zayne’s weak. your hands and mouth work in tandem to make his chest heave and soft sighs slip out of him. you moan and whine around him some more to add to the sensation and it works… boy, does it work.
the vibrations shoot right through him, his entire body tenses and he moans—so shaky like he doesn’t trust the sound coming out of him, so low, yet so loud that the sound echoes in his office. loud enough to test the sound-proofing on the room.
“baby—” he gasps, fingers tightening in your hair, tugging at the roots. the moment you gag around him, his hips jerk forward on instinct. “b-baby, f-fuck, wait—slow down. slo—oh—!”
but you’re past the point of hearing him. your pace only grows messier, hungrier. you drop your hand and force yourself down as far as you can, swallowing every inch you can take. the second he feels himself lodged deep in your throat, his whole body goes rigid.
a rush of broken curses tumbles from his mouth as he falls apart. you choke when the first hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat, spluttering in surprise before greedily swallowing every pulse of him like you were made for it.
when you finally pull off, you give him a few tiny coughs, your cheeks wet with tears and your breaths uneven. you recover faster than he does—fast enough to see the way he slumps back, bliss-drunk, his hands—just moments ago tangled in your hair—now clamped around the armrests so tight his knuckles have gone bone-white.
his eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, and when he sees you watching him with that smug, satisfied little smirk… a shudder of embarrassment rolls through him.
“my love,” he pants like all the air in the room has been sucked out of the room. “please don’t tease.”
“that might’ve been a new record, baby.” you say, voice raw. “i don’t even think you came that fast during our first time.”
his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, “please, enough… you know i’ve been stressed.”
“my poor, pent-up doctor.” you rise to your feet, towering over his slack body like you’re savoring the view. he looks spent, dazed, completely undone beneath you—you’re not sure how he’ll get back to work after this. “don’t worry, baby,” you murmur, trailing a finger along his jaw.
“you’re in very good hands now.”
#SYLUS: WEAK
sylus is far from weak. he carries a kind of strength—mental, physical, commanding—that made him leader of the onychiuns in the first place. he has to be strong-willed. unshakeable. untouchable.
but all of that falls apart when you’re in sight.
especially when he walks into his room after a long “business” meeting and finds you nonchalantly stretched across his bed reading a book in nothing but red lace that barely hides anything and his oversized, burgundy robe sliding off your shoulders like you want him to be on his knees. he tries not to falter, tries to keep that cool, indifferent mask he’s known for… but you see right through him. you always do.
you see the way his eye darkens, glowing a deeper shade of red. you see the hitch in his breath. you see the way he starts toward you—slow, deliberate, each step slower than the next.
a predator closing in.
“what’s all this, sweetie?” he hums, voice low and airy. “i wasn’t expecting you to still be awake. you’re usually passed out by this hour.”
“i thought about it… but i wanted to see you, is that so wrong?” you cock your head innocently, abandoning your book in favor of putting your eyes on him. “just wanted to greet the big, bad leader of onychinus when he got home…” you say, slowly rising to sit on your knees before him, his robe nearly swallowing you.
any second now, he’s going to pounce.
he suppresses a groan when he notices your breast practically spilling out of your bra. “and how would one greet the big, bad leader of onychinus?”
once he’s within arms reach, you can see in his eyes that he’s waiting for your permission. the little glint in your eyes or the smile etching into your face that says ‘it’s okay, you can touch me.’
before his hands can touch you, you fist the front of his shirt and yank him forward, catching him completely off guard. in one swift motion, you flip him onto the bed, climbing over him and settling on his lap like you’ve claimed a throne.
he stares up at you, lips parted, eyes just a little too wide—like he’s scrambling to hide the shock, to pretend he saw it coming. but it’s already written all over his face.
he’s the one caught now.
and it’s not that sylus minds when you rip his shirt open, tearing some of the buttons on the crisp fabric off or when you lay sloppy, wet kisses to his burning skin. it’s only when your hips begin to move and your lips trail down his neck and his heaving chest that he realizes what you’re doing.
“is this a punishment, baby?” he pants, groaning when your teeth sink into his large pec. “mad that i kept you waiting for me?”
you grind your hips against his aching cock and he can feel the shape of your pussy… how wet it is through all the layers of fabric between you.
“you were gone for so long, sy… promised you’d be home soon and you lied.” you try to keep your voice steady, but it’s difficult when his cock, slotted between your thighs, stimulates your clit in the best way possible. “so you keep your hands off of me and let me have my fun like a good boy, yeah?”
he smirks up at you, cock twitching, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “yeah, sweetie. go on and punish me… i’ve been bad, haven’t i?”
and maybe it isn’t much of a punishment for sylus at first, but the moment you start grinding your hips down harder—faster—it becomes torture of the sweetest kind. his fingers curl into the satin sheets beside him, knuckles straining as he fights the urge to touch you. to grab you. to flip you beneath him and shove his cock deep into your cunt. he wants to fuck you until you gush all over him, until your tiny hands press against his broad chest, trying—and failing—to push him away.
your lips trail down his chest, slow and teasing, leaving soft, blooming love bites in your wake. each time a deep groan vibrates through his chest, the sound reverberates against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. and god, the way he moans for you—raw, unrestrained—only makes you grind down harder, delight curling warm and wicked in your stomach.
then your lips wrap around his peaked nipple, teeth tugging and tongue lapping like you’re willing something to come out. you whimper around him and it sends shockwaves through all 6 feet and 2 inches of him.
he gasps as a jolt of pleasure shoots straight through him. were his nipples always this sensitive? he’s never reacted like this before.
“w-what are you— f-fuck, gorgeous, don’t do tha—hah!” his voice breaks beautifully, the last sound spilling out of him in a deep, helpless, breathless cry.
he bites down on his lip hard when you move to his other nipple, giving it just as much attention—just as much torment. it’s abuse in the prettiest form, and he’s completely helpless to it. he tries—really tries—to think about anything other than the overwhelming mix of sensations… your hips grinding down on him, your mouth teasing his chest, the heat pooling low in his stomach way too fast.
but he can’t. he’s drowning in you.
your scent, your soft little whines with every roll of your hips, the way the red lace clings to your body—his favorite set, the one he can never resist. it’s all too much, and he feels himself unraveling beneath you.
when he lets out a long, drawn out groan and you feel the warm, wet patch grow on his pants, you giggle uncontrollably. sylus, leader of onychinus sylus… just came in record time, in his pants at that. all because of some dry humping and nipple play.
you lift your head and take in the defeated sight of him and let a cocky grin etch into your face.
“who knew the big, bad leader of onychinus liked getting his nipples played with?”
#XAVIER: SIDE EFFECTS
there was something wrong with him. something truly, terribly wrong. he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, feel his blood thrumming in his veins, see his cock swelling in his pants and taste you on his tongue even though you weren’t even in the room—let alone the same floor. the need was unbearable. the need to fuck and breed you was almost disgusting, but he couldn’t help it.
he chalked it down to the candy you gave him—you’d told him to save it for a special occasion with a cheeky smile on your face, but xavier didn’t understand what that meant. he figured “save it for a special occasion” meant save it for when he’s craving a sweet treat.
he grabbed the wrapper and, sure enough, the back read “sex chocolate” in big, bold letters. he moaned, throwing it away and pulling out his phone with shaky hands.
xavier: Angel I need U
xavier: I ate the sex chocolate U gave me
you: you did what???
xavier: I ate the whole thing
you: oh fuck. i’m coming up now.
he stands in the open doorway, skin flushed, breaths strained, sweat beading at his forehead. when he sees you, panic across your face—concern etched into your features—he’s not sure why. he doesn’t care. the second you’re within reach, he yanks you into the apartment and slams the door shut, the impact rattling the picture frames of the two of you lining the wall.
“xavier, we need to get you water and—”
you should’ve known you wouldn’t get the chance to finish. his lips crash into yours, hot and desperate, a low moan spilling into your mouth as he all but devours you. his tongue pushes past your lips, demanding, and his hands steer you toward the bedroom. you let yourself melt into him. after all, the fastest way to deal with the heat of an aphrodisiac is to fuck it out of your system.
xavier shoves you back onto the bed, ripping his shirt over his head and fumbling out of his pants before climbing over you to kiss you again. the movement makes your tank top ride up, fabric bunching beneath your chest as his weight presses you into the mattress. his tongue tangles with yours, frantic, like he doesn’t care about the burn in his lungs or the lack of oxygen to his brain. all he can think about is you—feeling you. loving you. fucking you. it’s driving him insane, lighting up every nerve ending until he’s completely consumed by desire. you feel it when the heavy bulge presses into your abdomen, the sticky heat of precum seeping through his boxers and smearing against your skin.
he grinds against you fervently, moaning and whining into your mouth before he pulls back, panting and gasping for air.
“pl-please help me, baby,” he whimpers, he drags his hips down and ruts against your clothed cunt. “need you, need to fuck you s’bad. it hurts… fuck, it h-hurts s’much.”
you nod, mind in a haze from the searing kiss. you voice comes out gravelly. “f-fuck me—you can fuck me, xavie. fuck me till it’s out of your system.”
your permission sends him buzzing, his mind dissolving into static as his hands move before he can even catch up to himself. he tugs your little shorts and panties down your legs, baring you for him—glistening, open, all his.
his gaze devours you, drinking in the way arousal coats your swollen lips, the way your cunt pulses like a living thing, the way your body twitches beneath him with barely restrained anticipation. he doesn’t get long to savor it. with a sharp breath, he frees his cock from his boxers, letting it slap against his toned abdomen.
he doesn’t waste another second. dragging the tip through your soaked slit, he gathers every bit of slick he can before pressing inside with a loud, broken moan, his brows drawing tight as he finally sinks into you.
“f-fffuck,” he curses, pulling his lip between his teeth like he’s trying to will himself to stay strong. to not succumb to the thoughts mixing in with the static. the thoughts that scream: cum in her. fill her to the brim. pour every ounce of what you have inside of her—because he wants to last. he wants you to feel just as good.
but he can’t. he’s hypersensitive. he feels every vein on his cock brand into your walls, every little ridge of your pussy glide against him, that slight resistance that’s trying to push him out— and it’s entirely too much for him to handle.
it’s why a choked, startled moan gets stuck in his throat before he collapses forward, hands clutching your hips for support as he spills inside you far too fast. silver hair clings to his flushed forehead, sweat-damp and wild, his eyes blown wide with shock as the realization hits.
he came first.
and he came fast.
“xavier—you came…”
his words come out ragged as his cock twitches inside of you, still hard and throbbing with need despite his explosive orgasm. “i know, ‘m s-so pathetic—shit, but i-i can keep going… need more. so much more, angel. can’t get enough—feels like ‘m on fire.”
and with his cum beginning to leak out of you, he pulls out, gathers every drop that’s spilled out and pushes it back inside of you.
“gotta fuck you full of my cum and keep it there, you understand, don’t you?” he babbles, thrusting in and out of you with a mix of his cum and your arousal coating his cock.
“after all, it was your chocolate that did this to me, so you should take responsibility, right?”
#RAFAYEL: SORE LOSER
“raf, if we were to go ten days without sex, who do you think would last longer: you or me?” you’d asked, a cheeky smile plastered on your face.
rafayel scoffed at the question—why would you ask such a thing? obviously the answer’s going to be—
“duh, me, of course. i’m much more resilient than you are, cutie.” he answered, a cocky smirk etched into his complacent face.
you hummed, your smile wide despite the fact that he practically called you weak. “if you’re so much stronger than me,” you teased, tilting your head, “then you don’t mind if we test that theory, do you?”
“bring it on.”
rafayel regrets it almost immediately—regrets being so hasty, so quick to agree to ten days without sex. he’d gone far longer than that before you, but now that he has you, even three days feels unbearable. ten is torture.
by day five, he’s already itching to give in. but then he sees how unbothered you are—how calm, how unaffected you seem by the forced celibacy in your committed relationship—and he bites his tongue. no complaints. no cracks.
he’ll win this bet. even if it kills him a little.
when day ten finally arrives, rafayel unravels completely. he’s rougher with you now—pinning you to his bed and kissing you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. he silences every cheeky remark you throw his way, every tease about how he’s about to lose, how he’s seconds from proving just how weak he is.
for a fleeting moment, he considers shoving his fingers into your mouth just to shut you up—but he decides against it. no. he wants to hear those silly little words falter, crumble, and disappear entirely when he proves his point by making you cum first.
“you really are a brat, y’know,” he grumbles once parting from your lips. his hands peel your clothes off your soft, pliant body and when you finally lie naked under him, his cock—the cock that’s been aching for this—throbs with need under his all too tight boxers. “‘m gonna show you that i’m the winner here, okay cutie?”
you offer a lazy smile and sing, “you can try.”
and it only adds fuel to the fire.
he’s pressing inside of you with an involuntary moan. your pussy envelopes his cock like that’s exactly where it belongs. ten days did nothing, your pussy takes shape to his size instantly and it’s both a blessing and a curse.
a blessing because it means he’s successfully molded your cunt to the shape of him—he’s ruined you for everyone else. not that he’d ever dream of letting you go. ever.
a curse because the mere thought of you being wholeheartedly his, on top of the feeling of your tight pussy for the first time in a third of a month and the sound of your pretty moans—the ones he missed so much—it unnerves him. it’s too much for his brain—his body—to handle.
but he has to hold on to his threading strength. his pride counts on it. the little tug at your lips counts on it. and it might be dramatic, but the entire dynamic of your relationship counts on it. if he loses—if he spills right now like he wants to—then you’ll tease him for eons to come. your last breath will be a teasing remark about how he lost this bet.
then you clamp around him, hugging his cock tighter than before and rafayel lets out a broken moan. “fuck,” he curses, voice cracking weakly.
he’s barely bottomed out before you’re coaxing him with sweet words and a saccharine voice. “c’mon, baby. just cum inside me. i know you want to… can feel your cock throbbing.” you purr, clenching even harder, eliciting a hiss. “let go f’me… ‘s gonna feel s’good, won’t it?”
“sh-shut up.” he grits out, hands fisting at the sheets at both sides of your head.
your arms loop around his neck and your legs hook around his slim waist. your feet dig into his lower back and rafayel just… can’t. “cum, baby.” you whisper.
any last shred of restraint snaps, the tightrope finally giving way. his cum spills inside you as he breaks, a broken whine tearing from his throat—caught somewhere between despair and earth-shattering pleasure.
you moan at the warmth, eyes fluttering shut as you sink into it—the feeling of him filling you, and the delicious realization that you’ve won, that you now have permission to gloat for the rest of your life.
but rafayel doesn’t give you much time to let it sink in because a short while later, he’s pulling out, his fat load of cum dribbling out of you in the process, and slamming his overstimulated cock back in, burying himself at your hilt.
you squeak in surprise, eyes shooting open in shock and you see the mean glower on rafayel’s face. he’s pissed—you can see it in his furrowed brows and his lips turned down in a pouty frown, but especially in his darkened eyes. the playful look that usually resides on his face is replaced with one of indignation.
“raf—” you don’t get the chance to finish because his long fingers fill your mouth and it muffles the rest of your protest.
“j-just shut up and take it,” he grunts, snapping his hips against you like he has something to prove. “your time for talking is up since you just wanna act like a brat.”
you suck and moan around his fingers, losing yourself in the pleasure he gives you. he doesn’t miss a beat—thrusting into you with perfect precision, the tip of him hitting that sweet spot dead-on. the sensation is overwhelming, sharp and delicious, and it sends your eyes rolling back as your body melts around him.
“gonna fuck you till you forget about this stupid bet, cutie—you’ll wish i won instead.”
