synopsis: He's always been your safe place. You never once questioned the line between you...until that night you crossed itāaccidentally. It was supposed to be a private photo, one you took from a fleeting moment of boldness. But your finger slipped, sending the wrong picture instead of the meme you intended for him, and before you could take it back, the image was already delivered to Caleb.
content: mdni, this mini-series will include angst, smut and fluff, childhood friends, LOTS OF YEARNING, seduction, piv sex, creampie, making out, oral (m! + f! receiving), fingering, i'll add more as i go!
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
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"Fuck!" you cursed quietly into your pillow, phone almost sent flying across the room when you saw the message status: sent. delivered. Your stomach caves in, panic creeping in, all while blood is rushing up to your cheeks. It was meant for someone else. Well, not really. It wasn't meant for anyone in the first place. Just a photo you've taken impulsively on a bold night. The same photo that was accidentally sent to none other than Caleb, who's in your living room right now, who happens to also be your oldest friend. The DAA pilot who just crash-landed into your quiet life for a three-day visit, still smelling like stardust and jet fuel.
You hear him moving around outside, barefoot on your floorboards, the clink of glass against the sink. Has he seen it? Is he unaware? Do you have time to sneak around and delete it before he sees it? No, you can't do that. You'll only end up feeling guilty invading his privacy like that. You freeze at the sound of his footsteps nearing.
A faint knock on your door, and you panic once more.
"Hey." his voice was soft and calm, always the ever comforting you knew. "Everything okay? You disappeared." You can hear the worry in his voice.
You swallow hard before opening the door just enough to see his face. Calm your nerves fuck. You repeatedly remind yourself as you struggle to meet his soft eyes, the resemblance that of puppy eyes. He always does that, staring at you with so much longing that you almost mistook it for something else.
"Yeah," you lie. "Just...changing."
You wait for him to answer, and for a moment it looked like he might say something else. But he doesn't.
"Okay," he murmurs. "I'll heat up the coffee again."
You nod, but your heart doesn't slow. Because when the door clicks shut and you finally glance at your phone againā
he's seen it.
And he's still acting like everything's fine. You hate how good he is at pretending. It seems like between the two of you, you're the unfortunate one who has to double their efforts just to hide their feelings.
By the time you step out of the living room, Caleb is already back on the couch, long legs stretched out, a mug in one hand, scrolling through some mission report on his holopad like nothing happened. Didn't he just see you naked?
He glances up when you walk in, greeting you with his usual warm crooked smile.
"Your coffee's probably ruined," he says. "Tasted like regret."
You force a laugh. "So... like yours?"
He gives you a wounded look, his hand playfully on his chest. "Wow. Remind me why I flew across space for this again?"
You shrug, sinking into the opposite end of the couch, making sure to leave space between you. "No one else makes you bad coffee and insults your taste."
He hums in agreement, but his watchful eyes are still on you, soft, but you can feel the gravity of it reeling you in. Always looking for the things you don't say. And maybe that's what hurts the most. Because this isn't the first time he's looked at you like this. He knows. Like maybe he's wanted to say it before. But instead, he always laughs, jokes about something, changes the subject, and makes plans.
Just like now.
"I could head out around six," he says, tapping his pad. "Pick up groceries. I was thinking beef stew? I'll cook."
You nod too quickly, fingers awkwardly fiddling with each other.
Your voice was quipped, and he notices. He always does, he knows you like the back of his hand, always the first one to notice whenever things went south with your emotions. There's that tiny pause of breathing before he sets the pad down and turns to face you fully.
"Hey," his tone drops as it trails off, "About earlier..."
Your throat tightens. Fuck here it comes. You glance down at your hands, gripping your mug like it's the only thing keeping you from completely overthinking everything.
"I didn't mean to send it," you say quickly. "It wasn'tāCaleb, I swear, it was a mistake." You struggle to meet his gaze, cheeks a rosy tint, your heartbeat pounding, ringing in your ears.
"I know," he says, but he doesn't sound entirely sure, or maybe he just doesn't want to be. You don't understand him at all.
The space between you falters, the silence deafening, so you look up. Somehow, without thinking, you both lean forward at the same time. His hand brushes yours, and your knees touch. His face is so close now, lips only a breath away. You can feel the heat radiating off his breath, the tension in his body like he's just barely holding himself back.
His hand reaches up, fingertips hovering just near your jaw, and you almost forgot to breathe with how painfully you wanted him to finally close the distance. But then, just as quick, he pulls back and the moment slips away.
"I should head out," he says, standing abruptly. "Groceries."
You nod, suddenly feeling numb and dumbfounded. What the fuck was that? You feel him hesitate to leave, but he just grabs his jacket and walks out the door, leaving you in silence.
Alone, you sink further into the couch, fingers trembling from the aftershock of what almost happened. Your chest aches in a way you can't explain, so you grab your phone and click on a familiar number.
Rafayel.
For a busy man, he surprisingly picks up on the second ring. "Hey, cutie. Finally remembered I exist?"
"...it's Caleb." you whisper, then you proceed to give him a brief summary of the humiliation you just happened to be in.
Rafayel's voice slides through the speaker, warm and bubbly with a charm only he carries.
"Of course, Caleb." he says after a beat. "Let me guessāhe acted like nothing happened again, and now you're spiraling on the couch wondering if you should just leave town, and go into hiding with a new fake identity."
You groan. "I hate how accurate that is."
You hear him chuckle, his soft voice calming you a little. You sink further into the cushions, rubbing your face with one hand. "It was a mistake, Raf. I didn't mean to send it to him."
"Well, what a shame," he replies smoothly, "Because if you had sent it to me, I can promise you I would've given it the attention it deserved."
You choke. "Rafayel"
"What?" he says, feigning innocence. "You think I'd ignore a gift like that? No way. I'd be knocking on your door and telling you exactly how beautiful you are before you even had time to regret it."
Your face burns, thighs unconsciously pressing together. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm honest," he corrects, and you swear you can tell he's already snickering on the other end of the call. "And unlike some people, I wouldn't pretend I didn't want you."
You try to brush it off with a scoff. "You flirt with everyone."
"Not like this," he says, voice suddenly in a serious tone.
Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, the line goes quiet. It's not a deafening silence, but the type to make you completely aware of the burning sensation in your body. The way your fingers twitch against the cushion, the sudden awareness of the heat radiating from your own skin. It's ridiculous, it's wrong, it's not fair, and still, he makes you feel seen.
"I'm just saying," Rafayel adds, voice back to his usual cheerfulness, "If he keeps avoiding what's right in front of him... maybe you should start thinking about other pilots. Ones who know exactly what they want."
You swallow hard. "You're not helping."
"I never claimed I would," he laughs, and it's infuriatingly ear candy. "But I'll say one last thing."
You hold your breath in anticipation.
"If Caleb's too scared to look at you the way you deserve to be looked at...just think about it. That's all I'm saying."
His words linger; you can tell he wasn't kidding.
"Goodnight, cutie." The line clicks off.
And you're left staring at your ceiling, breath shallow, heart tangled, that is still stupidly aching for a man who never quite stays close enough for your reach.
hi hello this is my first post here in this blog. i'm excited to hear everyone's thoughts ! <33
synopsis: such a dirty little secret you're hiding behind closed doors with Flins as your butler.
content: mdni, female reader, smut with a little plot, bj, dry hump, fingering, mating press
A/N: to avoid confusion, (and I understand if there was any!š«¶š») yes, you grew up with Flins but he was also a young child starting out as a butler that time. nothing of the weird age gap sort!
As the only daughter of the Viscount, your father was a tad too busy with business for him to take care of you. With your mother long gone, he needed someone trustworthy to be at his daughter's beck and call. Flins was perfect; you practically grew up with the man, his own father was also known as an esteemed butler of the family, back before he retired. Eventually, you grew used to your father's absence, unbeknownst to him.
The fire in the library crackled, the only sound besides the soft whisper of Flins' polishing cloth against the silver rim of a wine glass. You watched him from the chaise lounge, book lying long forgotten on your lap. He was always graceful, moving with grace, every action carefully avoiding mistakes. Flins was the only constant person in your life; his presence was consistent than the portraits of stern ancestors lining the walls.
Your father, the Viscount, was away in London again. You didn't really see the manor as your home. Such a beautiful manor, only for it to feel like an empty museum. And Flins was its sole, impeccable curator.
"Flins," you said, voice cutting through the comfortable silence of the night.
He wasn't startled, already used to your habits. He knows you hate the silence. He finished the slow, circular motion on the glass, set it down on the tray, and turned to you, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Yes, my lady?"
"I'm cold." You pouted, hoping to catch his attention.
A faint, almost imperceptible frown touched his lips. "The fire is well-stoked. Shall I fetch you a shawl?"
"No." You uncurled yourself from the lounge, standing and taking a few steps toward him. "I don't want a shawl."
You saw the subtle shift in him, the way his shoulders tightened just a fraction though. Your eyes searched his face, the way his gaze, usually so direct and respectful, flickered away from yours for a single, telling moment. He knew where this was going, a game he's played one too many times. This was the tone of the lady of the house beginning to peel away, a side of you only he gets to see.
"My lady..." he began, voice low with caution
"You've always been the one to warm me, Flins," you continued, closing the distance between you. You stopped just short of touching him, close enough to feel the heat from his body, to see the way your presence makes him swallow to fix his composure. "When I was a girl and had a nightmare. You'd sit right there," you gestured to the edge of the chaise, "and you wouldn't leave until I fell asleep."
"That was different. You were a child."
"And now I'm not." It was heavy, the way you said it to make a point. You reached out, not quite touching him, fingertips hovering over the sleeve of his beautifully tailored jacket. "And I am still cold. And you are still here."
He hesitated; you can see it in the way he wasn't moving. The war in his eyes, choosing between lifelong dedication to duty, and the abyss of propriety that should be separating you. All that has been clashing with the raw, unspoken thing that had been growing between you for years. Such a war you hated to provoke, because you knew the predicament it caused him. But whenever he pulled away, retreating behind the unbreachable wall of "butler" and "lady," was a loneliness so profound it felt like a physical ache you couldn't bear.
You don't understand him sometimes. Promising to take care of you, saying he loves you, only for him to put his walls up again. It was a push and pull. So, you used the only weapon you had that was guaranteed to break his defenses.
Your authority.
The voice of the Viscount's daughter. "It is your duty, is it not, to see to the comfort and well-being of this household? to see to my comfort?"
His jaw tightened. "Yes, my lady."
You feel a slight pain in your chest. Just a few days ago, he was calling you sweet praises. Now you're back to just being my lady? You bit the insides of your cheek before speaking.
"Then I am stating that my comfort requires your presence." You finally let your fingertips brush against the cloth of his sleeve. "Here. With me."
It was enough to shatter his resolve. You saw the exact moment he surrendered, the tension draining from the way his posture relaxed, his eyes darkening the way you were dangerously familiar with.
"As you wish," he murmured.
His obedience was your victory, but why did it taste so bittersweet? You hated using your position like this, hated the flicker of pained resignation in his eyes before he was consumed by something darker that only belonged to you. This bratty, imperious side of you, born from years of having everything you wanted except the one thing that ever mattered. A flaw he alone was very much aware of. And he, it seemed, was the one man who simply could not resist it. No matter how many times he swore not to touch you again, he easily goes back to square 1 the moment you cross that line.
He moved past you, the scent of sandalwood and cedar a familiar torment. He sat on the very edge of the chaise you had just pointed to. He didn't lean back into its plush cushions, still sitting as if he was on duty, his back still straight. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, dark with a storm you brewed.
"Come here," he said, voice suddenly a low rasp that was nothing like the polished tone of a butler. It was the voice of the man who had whispered your name in the dark, who had continuously lost his composure against your skin.
He patted his thigh, a command that mirrored your dangerous game of power.
A thrill shot through you. You approached him slowly, the silk of your dressing gown dragging along the carpet. You placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, feeling the solid muscle beneath his fine fabric. Settling on his lap, your breath hitched when you felt him hard against you. You settled on him, your side pressed against the hard line of his torso, legs draped over his.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire and the frantic beating of your own heart. His arms came around you, one a firm band across your lower back, the other splayed against your ribs, his thumb resting just beneath the curve of your breast. He pulled you tightly against him, burying his face in the curve of your neck with a shuddering sigh. His warm breath seeped into you, finally chasing away the cold that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.
"This," he breathed into your skin, "This is what you wanted? to be held?"
It was, but it also wasn't.
As you shifted, trying to melt more completely against him, you felt it. The hard, unmistakable ridge of his erection straining against the confines of his trousers pressed against your hip. You feel your core dampening between your thighs, a jolt of heat growing in you. He could try to hide behind his duty, but his body was always a traitor to his cause.
You hummed, a soft, knowing sound, and steadily rolled your hips against him in a slow, grinding pressure. Oh, and the effect was instantaneous. His arms tightened, and a ragged groan was torn from his throat. "Don't," he warned, a weak plea.
"You don't mean that," you whispered, bringing your lips to the shell of his ear. You traced the line of his jaw with your fingers, feeling the way the muscle tensed there. "Your body is always so much more honest than you are, Flins."
"You make it impossible to be otherwise," he gritted out, his control at the very seams of his edges. His hand on your ribs slid upward, thumb brushing over the peak of your breast through the sheer, thin fabric. A shudder wracked your body. "This is... unfit. You are the lady of this house."
"And you are my Flins," you countered, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as you continued to agonizingly slowly move against him. "Or have you forgotten the feel of me so soon? The sounds you pull from me? Or the way you yearn for me, your lady?"
You were testing his limits, pushing him toward the edge he so feared and yet so constantly craved. Fucking hell, why did you have to make this so hard for him? His breathing was harsh in your ear, fingers digging almost painfully into your flesh.
"Tell me to stop," you dared him, your lips a hair's breadth from his. "Use that proper tone and tell your lady to get off your lap. Then go back to acting like nothing ever happened. Isn't that your game, Kyryll?"
His eyes, dark and desperate, met yours. His resignation long gone, burned away with nothing but raw hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.
"You know I can't," he confessed, his voice a wreck of desire. His mouth crashed down on yours, nothing of the gentleness he always possessed. It was frantic, consumed by the hunger of a man who had just lost a war he was always destined to lose.
He pulled away, hand going up to his mouth to peel his gloves off with a swift motion of his bare teeth before trailing it down to feel your dripping cunt, relishing in the way he would always have this effect on you. He wondered, do you touch yourself too, like he does? How shameless he feels when he palms his poor, throbbing cock in the silent confines of his room whenever you're not around, just thinking about how he so badly wants to cross that line every time he promised not to.
You whine in his kiss, hands in a fist on his torso as he prods at your core, teasing the slit with a finger, only to pull out right after. You're an impatient mess, that much he knows, and he wasn't about to have his way today by taking his time teasing you. You wanted it your way. With little strength, you push him away, "No. You know what I want."
He clicked his tongue, his patience thinning, stirred up with how much of a brat you're being.
"On your knees."
His command sent a shiver of submission through you and without hesitation, you slid from his lap and onto the plush carpet, settling on your knees before him where he sat on the chaise. You looked up at him, doe eyes wide and pleading, a perfect sight he was eager to ruin.
He held your gaze, "Hands behind your back."
You bite your lip, the sharp little sting doing nothing but to quell the thrill that excites you. It's obvious, you know, how much you enjoy this better. What you truly crave, nothing of the shabby "my lady," but this. Your Flins, where his voice was stripped of reverence, and he's boldly taking control.
A soft, breathy sound escapes you as you slowly bring your hands behind your back, clasping your own wrists in a silent act of submission. You keep your eyes locked on his, mingling with a spark of pure anticipation as he unbuttons his pants, freeing his cock. You gawk at the sight of it. Your lips parted, taking in his thick mushroom head, licking off the pre, moaning at the salty taste of it in your tongue.
"Fuck" you hear him curse. But you were already beyond saving, drunk at the idea of his length in your mouth. You puffed out your cheeks, trying to accommodate his size as you bob your head up and down, making sure to lick the veiny underside of his girth. Your soft whines vibrating around him. You hear him panting, hand reaching out to caress your face as he revels in the sight of his length poking at your cheeks. His other hand a firm grip in your hair, fingers tightening as he watched the drool slipping down your chin, the desperate little noises you made when he hit the back of your throat. It was too much and not enough all at once.
Despite every ounce of his self-control screaming otherwise, he let his hips move just once, slowly letting himself slide deeper into your warm mouth. You gag a little, the hum in your voice making him shudder, his breathing coming in ragged bursts. You knew he was close; you can feel it in the way he's struggling to hold back a groan. You just can't help it, his thick cock stuffing your mouth full, it was hard to stop, your cunt spasming over nothing at the thought of getting drunk from his cum.
But no matter how much he enjoys this, he would never allow himself to cum in your mouth - no, he was too much of a gentleman for that. It was his habit to wait until the very seams of the end before shoving it all inside your poor hole.
A sharp, ragged breath escaped him, the obscene sound of slop slop slop filling the room. And for a single, dangerous second, he faltered. His hips twitched forward on instinct before he forced himself to still.
"T-this is... unbefitting of a lady." He gritted out between clenched teeth, voice trembling with restraint. One hand fisted in your hair, the other braced against the chaise beside you like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Your eyes, wide and glistening, looked up at him, silently mocking his feeble attempt at self-control.
His grip tightens, fisting in your locks, and he gives a sharp pull that arches your neck back, forcing a pop when you parted from his length. You let out a whine, he never lets you finish what you started there.
"That's enough," he grates out. You almost let out a smirk when you saw how much he was struggling to hold it in, his tip leaking pre, completely reduced to a slopping mess mixed with your saliva.
In one fluid motion, he rises from the chaise and pulls you up with him by the grip in your hair. Such a brat you're becoming. A small, startled cry escapes you as your balance falters. He doesn't even give you a second to find it. He spins you around and pushes you forward, your hands and knees landing in the soft cushions where he was just sitting.
Before you can even process the new position, you feel the cool air on your skin as he bunches the silk of your nightgown up around your waist, exposing you completely. The heat of his body presses against you from behind, One hand returns to your hip, grip so strong it might leave a bruise, anchoring you in place. Just when you thought you could breathe, his other hand reaches out for your hair in a tangle, pulling your head back just enough for you to arch your back.
Your knees buckled when he teased his thick mushroom head in your entrance, collecting the slick that pooled in your slit before plugging it back in.
"K-kyryll..."
He clicked his tongue. "Be quiet."
He teases just the tip, bullying it and out your poor hole, purposely depriving you of being utterly stuffed full. You bit your lip, eyes closed shut from overstimulation. Fuck, you can't take any more of this teasing.
"Please justānnghgh." He cut you off, shoving it all in one delectable thrust. So agonizingly slow, the pleasure crashing in from being deliciously stretched out.
You hear him sigh as he bottoms out. But he doesn't move yet, he loves watching you take him, loves it when you're spasming over his cock, legs shuddering and he hasn't even started yet. Such a cute, sensitive little thing.
"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"
"M'sorry," you gasp, head falling forward. "s'too good... move, please?"
He fights back a groan. You never really changed, always as pliant as ever. You stifled a moan when you felt him move, your gummy walls fluttering at the ridges of his length. He starts out slow, savoring how greedily you clamp down on him, how easy it was for him to find the spot that got you thrashing under him.
"mmhāahāthereā"
He lets go of your hair, both hands pressed up on your ass to spread them wide, angling himself to hit that spot. You struggle to stay upright, but he doesn't falter, gripping you in place. He loves it when you flail, it sends him high, keeps him bricked up inside your greedy little cunt.
"So noisy."
"M'sorry, justānghāgood..." You start to babble nonsense.
This won't do, at this rate, anyone outside could hear how dirty the Lady of the house is succumbing to. With another click of his tongue, he flips you on your back, trapping you in a harsh mating press, shutting you up with a kiss so tender it almost made you forget how vulgar his hips are ramming into you. You wrap your legs around him, moaning in his kiss as you struggle to stay completely quiet.
He grunts; he knows you're close. The usual telltale of your habits, the way your back arches, your hips greedily grinding for friction to hit that same bundle of nerves that would make your eyes roll back. He finds it adorable how your body tenses, unable to handle the pleasure as your toes curl around him. Cunt such a mess, all you needed was for him to help you completely go undone. He reached down between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit with every merciless cant of his hips. You part from his kiss, about to let out a moan, but his other hand was quick to cover your mouth.
"Ah ah, shut it and just cum for me, love."
You were close, so close, a filthy white ring coated his shaft. You muffle a moan, eyes rolling back as you cream all over him. His head falls, biting on your shoulder as he stifles his own moans. It was taking everything in him not to paint your walls white with his own. He couldn't. He just doesn't think he's worthy enough for a woman of your status. And so he pulls out, helplessly pumping the last few strokes on his aching cock, hurriedly reaching for the cleaning rag, careful not to spill any of his cum on your delicate skin. You watched as his head fell back, sweat trickling down his temple from the restraint.
Fucking hell, we're back to square one now, are we?
Never really pulling away, always finding your way back to each other.
fucking hell the way Xavier loves it missionary was enough to make your toes curl. he's always been the type to fuck you slow and deep, cock grinding up your gummy walls, tip prodding your cervix while his balls kisses your cunt, filling up the room in the most obscene sound possible. the first few rounds he still had rhythm, hugging you so close to keep you from inching away as he fucks load after load in you. oh how he loves seeing your fucked out state, how your eyes can barely stay open, jaw slacked from sheer overstimulation. he loves to pull back, spreading your cunt wide open to admire his seed deliciously spilling out, using his cock to gather it by the tip and plugging it back in.
"X-xavier, s'toomuchā" you choke back another moan, legs shaking because you're just so fucking full.
"baby please, please, i know you can take more, please" he cups your face and peppers your cheeks with kisses. fuck how can you deny him when he's starting to beg like that? you helplessly nod, cunt still twitching around his cock who refuses to be soft. he thanks you in whispers before flipping you on your tummy, spreading your ass as he starts fucking you prone bone. the lewd squench of his dick inching in had you moaning face flat in his pillows.
"take it baby, pleaseāfuckāmore, yeah?" you clenched his sheets the way his hands clenched your ass, eyes rolling back when you felt him hit the spot that would make you squirt all over him. you were always shy of making a mess, meekly flailing your arm to tap out before it crashes all over his sheets.
"n-noānghāif you keep hitting thatā"
"fuck you're so wet baby please let me keep going your pussy's too good" he's babbling his words, hips so focused to hit the same sensitive spot over and over again. you can only moan in return, nails digging into his sheets, cunt so dripping wet you could feel it in the way it puddled his bed. oh and Xavier loves it. loves the way you make a mess just for him. love the fact that this sight was just for him. so fucked out all for him.
"i-im comināngghh" another wave of release washes out of you, legs clenching and shaking to handle another orgasm for the nth time. Xavier leans down, grunting as ropes of his own cum ram into you. you breathe out breathlessly, his sweat-slicked body was pressed up on your back as he whispers in your ear.
"nonono please tell me you're not done yet babyāy'can take moreāplease baby tell me one more?"
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
"Ssshhh, you can take it," Caleb murmured. The air in the living room was heavy. You didn't even know how it escalated this far, and yet here you are trapped between them in a dangerous sort of truce.
Caleb's arm was a steel band around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. His breath was warm against your ear, with whispers meant to soothe, despite his grip making escape impossible.
Kneeling between your legs, Rafayel licked a long stripe to taste your sweet arousal, thumbs pressing circles into the soft muscle of your thighs, coaxing them apart inch by inch, helping you keep it in place as you struggled to keep them open.
"Ahāwaitānnghā" couldn't even properly moan when Caleb was quick to plant a sloppy kiss on you. You struggled to squirm when you felt Rafayel's tongue prodding your entrance, the lewd sound of him eating you out embarrassingly making you wet. You wanted to pull away, inching away from Rafayel from overstimulation, but Caleb's hold on you tightened as you squirmed, your hips helplessly twitching. His lips brushed your temple, voice smooth.
"Stay still, baby," another kiss. "You'll only make it worse for yourself."
"She likes it worse," Rafayel shot back, without even looking up, but you can tell he was smirking.
"Don't talk to me," he hissed back, fingers tightening around your hip, lips finding your sweet neck to litter another round of angry hickeys for everyone to see.
Rafayel only hummed in return, ignoring Caleb. You moaned when you felt Caleb's cock pressed up harder on your back, earning a low growl rumbling in his chest, vibrating against your back. When your hips jerked in protest at the intensity, Caleb's arm tightened, keeping you anchored, his lips finding its way back to you to try and distract you from completely losing your mind.
Fuck, it was maddening. Having two different kinds of attention at once, both too much and not enough. Your legs were fully spread apart, Rafayel's tight grip fixing it in place, not letting you close it when he started bullying your cunt with his tongue. You mewled in Caleb's kiss, back arching when he pinched your hard nips, playing with it as your body convulsed between them.
Every time Caleb shifted, his hand brushing too close to Rafayel's, they both recoiled in disgust.
"Fuck, don't touch me."
"Then move your damn hand."
"You're the one crowding."
Your breath was coming in ragged moans now, the heat of their rivalry was just as dizzying as the physical sensation.
"hnngāpleaseā" fuck me. You wanted to say, but were reduced to a wanton of moans.
Finally, Caleb's patience snapped. "Alright, you've had your fun," he said, his grip loosening. "Get lost. It's my turn."
Rafayel glanced up with that infuriating smirk. "Says who?"
"I did. Move."
Is this really what they call compromise when they're out for each other's necks like this?
Caleb didn't wait for Rafayel to stand, his hands sliding lower on your waist, lifting you just enough to shift your hips until you were exactly where he wanted youāyour dripping cunt lined up on his cock. Rafayel did such a good job preparing you that Caleb easily slid it in your puffed out slit.
"haahā" your eyes rolled back, arms helplessly trying to grip on to anything when Caleb's dick stretched you out. You feel him grunt behind you, unable to hold his moan back when he bottomed out to the hilt with a lewd squench.
Standing up, Rafayel didn't waste the chance to claim his own focus on you. One of his hands cupped your jaw, tilting your head just enough for him to meet your fucked out gaze, mouth agape as you leaned in to take his angry cock in your mouth. The shift in positions was intoxicating, your pussy grinding on Caleb's while you choked on Rafayel's. Caleb has his grip on your waist, helping you rock your hips. Rafayel has his hand in a fist in your hair, his other hand softly caressing your cheeks, admiring the view, seeing it all puffed out. The tug and pull of both sensations was ripping your mind in opposite directions at once.
Caleb's grip tightened the moment he felt you falter, forcing your hips back into the pace he wanted. "Don't stop," he murmured against your temple, his tone more commanding than comforting, thumbs digging into your sides just enough to make you obey.
Rafayel's hand smoothed over the back of your head, a low sound rumbling from him when your lips slid further down his length. He glanced over your shoulder at Caleb, smirking despite the ragged edge in his breathing. "Careful, she's doing just fine without your micromanaging."
Caleb's jaw flexed. "She's not here for you to judge."
"Oh?" Rafayel's eyes gleamed with arrogance. "Then maybe you should let her decide who she really waā"
Your sudden gasp cut him off as Caleb's hips shifted under you, the movement forcing his cock in a deeper grind that made your legs quiver. You tried to squirm, overwhelmed, but Caleb's arms locked around your waist, keeping you pressed against him.
Fuck you feel the knot form in your core. You were at the very seams of your release, your breathing erratic, your vision hazy, when Caleb's arms suddenly tightened around you. He came first, hips brushing up once, twice, before his body stilled beneath yours. You moaned in Rafayel's cock when spills of Caleb's cum shot inside you, a low, rough sound left his throat, his forehead pressing to your shoulder as he caught his breath.
You barely had a moment to recover before another presence closed in.
"Move," Rafayel's voice was low but filled with authority, his hand already closing around your arm. Caleb's eyes narrowed, but he didn't resist when Rafayel's strong grip lifted you effortlessly from his lap.
In the next breath, you were straddling Rafayel as he sank into the couch, his gaze locking on yours with so much devotion it made your pulse stutter. "Hold onto me," he ordered, his large hands sliding down your sides to hook under your thighs.
Before you could process, he lifted your legs, draping them over his forearms, your body suspended against his. His strength was firm as he held you steady, drawing you down his throbbing dick in one smooth, claiming motion. The stretch and the sheer control in his grip stole the air from your lungsā mind in a fucking mess, you fill the room with your whimpers.
"Eyes on me, cutie," he murmured, his smirk deepening when you struggled to keep your eyes open. He began to move youāup, down, up, down- in a steady rhythm that left you no choice but to cling to his shoulders. Every shift of his arms forced you to feel the full depth of him, the tip deliciously kissing your cervix, almost punishing you to come completely undone. It was lewd to think that he was fucking Caleb's cum deeper in you.
From the other end of the couch, Caleb sat with his elbows braced on his knees, his gaze fixed on you. His breathing was shallow, jaw tight as one hand dragged slowly over his own length, pumping it up and down.
Rafayel glanced at him briefly, the ever-so-smug smile plastered across his face. "Enjoying the view?"
"Just waiting for my turn again, buddy."
You couldn't keep count anymore.
At some point, you'd stopped keeping track of whose hands were on you, whose mouth was making you moan, whose dick were fucking you into oblivion. Caleb's murmurs blurred into Rafayel's low grunts, and you were pressed between them like they were determined to see which of them could wring the most out of you.
Your body had given up to even try, until you couldn't remember how many times you'd come. The couch cushions were warm beneath your knees one moment, then the soft carpet under your back the next, both of them maneuvering you without giving you space to think or breathe.
By the time it slowedāif you could even call it slowingāyou were trembling, thighs slick, air heavy with the mingled scent of sweat and cum. You feel so full, with both of their releases marked inside you. It was stupefying to realize how thoroughly they fucked you stupid, until you were a dripping, moaning mess.
You barely remembered collapsing, only that you ended up sprawled between them, the three of you tangled on the soft carpet. Rafayel had one arm draped lazily over your stomach, his breathing uneven, while Caleb had his hand caressing your thighs, forehead pressed on your shoulder, eyes closed.
Your chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. Every inch of you is burning, aching in the most delicious, overwhelming way. And the only coherent thought that made it through the haze was the quiet, undeniable truth:
That at some point, you were going to have to choose.
Caleb had always been the one you leaned on, the one you always had your heart set on. And you were sure it was always like that. But lately... lately, Rafayel was slipping past the walls you didn't even realize you'd built. The way he knew exactly what you needed, or the way his velvet voice calls out your nameāit made your pulse jump in ways you shouldn't let it.
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
The soft sway of the yacht under your feet was a far cry from the adrenaline of the mission the night before, but it didn't make the silence between you and Rafayel any less heated. The salty wind tugged at your hair as you leaned on the railing, watching the skyline of Linkon slowly emerge from the horizon.
Rafayel stood close behind you, one hand casually braced on the rail near yours. He hadn't said much since dawn, but you can feel his presence linger in quiet possessiveness. You still felt the weight of the night on your skin, the memory of his arms around you, his voice low, the heat resurfacing when you try to recall that night.
Eventually, you reached back Linkon and the yacht glided into the dock for a full stop. You tried grabbing your bag, but Rafayel was already at your side, taking it from you without asking.
Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him.
shit. is that?
Caleb doesn't usually use it, but his car was impossible to miss. You could recognize that sleek, polished black color of it even from afar. It was parked near the dock like it owned the pier. Caleb was leaning against it, sunglasses shielding his eyes, the curve of his mouth when he spotted you was unmistakable. Hell, your stomach tightened from the thought of these two men being in the same vicinity as each other.
Rafayel escorted you off the yacht, his hand lingering long enough at the small of your back to make you hyper-aware of the space between you and Caleb. The two of them locked eyes for a second, but it was enough to make the air heavy.
Caleb's smile was slightly unnerving. "Thanks, buddy," he said, tapping Rafayel on the shoulder as if they were old friends. "I'll take it from here."
The tension in the air was so thick you could choke on it. You didn't know whether to step in or pretend you hadn't noticed, so you simply slipped past them and slid into the passenger seat that Caleb opened for you, his hand brushing yours before he closed it. Rafayel stayed on the pier, his gaze following the car as it pulled away.
Later that week, if there was one thing you hadn't expected after the mission, it was to suddenly become the center of a silent war between the two idiots. It started out with a harmless bouquet of rare orchids on your desk at work one morning, no idea who it was from, except for your name signed on the card. That same afternoon, a sleek black box of artisan chocolates appeared in the break room, addressed to you as well. You didn't even have to ask who sent them when you saw the way Caleb's eyes flicked to the flowers when he dropped by, and the way Rafayel's lips quirked when he spotted the chocolates, already told you everything you needed to know.
It was foolish of you to think this was a one-time thing. Apparently, it wasn't. One evening, you walked out of the hunters' association building to find two cars waiting. Caleb was leaning against his gleaming black coupe, Rafayel behind the wheel of a low, roaring sports car, literally both of them pretending the other wasn't there. Your eyebrows twitched at the sight, and you ended up commuting home.
Of course, you were flattered at first. But it was starting to become a pain in the ass. The constant competition of fighting for your attention or the smug smiles, the way they sized each other up like you were some prize at the claw machine... it made your skin prickle for the wrong reasons.
You've had enough. On a quiet Thursday night, you stepped into your apartment to find both men in your kitchen. Caleb was at the counter, Rafayel by the stove. Neither of them was cooking. Instead, they were arguing their assess off.
"I had the idea first," Caleb said sharply. "She's had a long week. She doesn't need youā"
Rafayel laughed mockingly. "Please. You think a reheated pasta dish is going to win her over? She deserves better than whatever you pulled from a cookbook."
"You don't know her like I do."
"And you don't know how to give her what she really wants."
You didn't even bother to set your bag down before stepping between them. "Enough," you snapped, both of them immediately shutting up. "I am not a trophy you can fight over. I'm tired of the gifts, showing up at work, the... the passive aggressiveness. If you can't act like adults, then get out of my apartmentāboth of you."
They exchanged a glance, like lost puppies trying to understand each other. To your surprise, their shoulders eased.
"Fine," Caleb said at last, his voice low. "We'll... compromise."
"Compromise?" you repeated, confused.
Honestly, you're not even sure how it all happened. One moment you were glaring at them, the next you were on Caleb's lap on the couch, his arms snug around your waist, his lips brushing the side of your neck as he planted small butterfly kisses. Your breath caught, your pulse skittish with the position.
Rafayel leaned forward from sitting on the couch beside you, catching your lips with his own, the familiar feeling of his warm lips faintly tasted of wine, while his hand trailed up your thigh, gripping it possessively.
Caleb's breath was warm against your neck, his hand firm on your hip. It was dizzying to have both of their hands roaming your body. Rafayel's kiss was slow, almost like he was taunting to test how far he could push this before Caleb would snap.
"Rafayel," Caleb warned without moving his mouth from your skin.
"Relax," Rafayel murmured, lips brushing against yours again. "You're acting like you don't know she can handle two people's attention at once." His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, and you felt the faint tremor of Caleb's muscles under you.
Fuck, you know you should've stopped them. Maybe tell them this was insane. But the air was exhilarating, your heart racing with the heat between your plush thighs.
Caleb finally pulled his mouth from your neck, fixing Rafayel with a smug stare. "If you think this is going to make me step asideā"
Rafayel smirked faintly. "Step aside? Caleb... you've been hesitating for yearsā"
"Rafayel, don't," you hissed, voice laced with warning.
But he only tilted his head, eyes locked on yours, innocently daring you to try again. Caleb's arms tightened around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the tension thrumming in every muscle of his body.
Fucking Rafayel? what is he doing?!
Rafayel's voice dropped lower, "While you were busy deciding what she meant to you, I already knew." He didn't dare look away, drinking in your reaction before delivering the final blow. "And she knows exactly what it feels like when someone doesn't hold back. Right, cutie?"
Your stomach violently flipped. Fuck you mean by "compromise"?This is far from a compromise!! Did Caleb hear that the way you did? The way anyone would if they knew what happened that night? You could feel his chest slowly rising against your back. Caleb is smart, you know that too damn well. And if he connected the dots, you weren't sure how he would take that information.
The words hung in the air, daring something to ignite with how intensely they stared each other down. Caleb's jaw clenched behind you, the vein in his temple pulsing, his grip somehow tighter now. If Rafayel even tried to pull you away from him, he would have to do it with sheer force and try hard enough.
Neither of them moved, neither of them looked away. And you were stupidly caught in the middle of whatever this mess was called.
messy? messy ( Ė¶Ė Ā³Ė)ā” ty to everyone who is still reading this far. I appreciate u all<3
ok but srsly guys i cant wait for beach banner how is every1 holding upš« i have 50 pulls and a dream after spending everyth on king xavieršāš»
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
The days after Caleb's confession felt... sweet. It was gentle, and he didn't hesitate to show it. Your heart flutters at the memory, his tender kisses on your forehead, him brushing your hair behind your ear, the warm weight of his hand cradling yours under the table during breakfastā it wasn't anything new. It was all the same stuff he did for you, only now, with tender meaning.
Of course, he said he loved you. And yes, he showed it too. But never once did he say you were his. Never once did he call it a relationship. Never once did he define what you were now. And when you finally dared to ask him that one afternoon, all he said was:
"Sweetheart, I don't want to mess this up."
You're not a fool; you can see right through him. And you know that he's scared. Scared that giving this thing a name would curse itāmaybe even ruin it. You tried to be understanding. Because it was your Caleb. Though you would be lying if you said it didn't hurt you when he repeatedly tried to avoid facing the topic like the plague. He was making it difficult again, a push and pull situation that you're all too painfully familiar with.
But then came the mission with Rafayel. The first day on the island passed in a blur of sunlight and static from your comms. This mission had proven itself difficult, but one that you can't help but tag along with. The readings from the dormant Aether core were unstable, constantly shifting, leading you and Rafayel in dizzying circles. By nightfall, you were exhausted, salt clinging to your skin from walking around the island all day, your muscles aching, and your thoughts... heavier than your body.
You sat alone outside the small wooden cabin you were forced to share, knees pulled up to your chest, with melancholic eyes fixed on the horizon where the moon rippled across the ocean in a breathtaking display of a view. You get lost in the sound of waves crashing until the familiar sound of Rafayel's boots catches your attention. He was quiet, dropping beside you with an audible sigh, and set a bottle of wine between you.
"Not what you were expecting from a beach mission, huh?" He tried to be teasing, and normally, you would fall for his charm and start a banter. But tonight, you didn't smile.
You only shrugged. "I'm fine."
He gave a soft laugh. "You're a terrible liar, cutie. I can tell when you're bottling stuff in."
That earned him a glance. His face was bathed in moonlight, the sharp angles of his face casting soft shadows across. He was always effortlessly beautiful. There's just something about the way he was looking at you tonight that made your stomach twist.
"You've been off since we left Linkon," he said, taking a swig from the bottle. "Is this about him?"
You swallowed thickly and looked away.
"Thought so." Rafayel murmured.
Biting your lip, you continued to look away, keeping yourself busy with the endless ocean.
He leaned in, arm draped behind you casually. "You deserve more than half-measures, you know that?"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Then don't. Just listen." His voice got quieter. "I want you. And I'm not afraid to say it."
You finally turned to face him, heart pounding so fast in your chest, you think it might leap out. Rafayel's eyes always deeply showed his emotions beyond what he said out loud. And this time it was aching with certainty. And fuck, you weren't used to that after all the ways Caleb held you close, only to pull away again.
"I'm not asking you to forget about him," Rafayel said. "But I'm not going to keep pretending I don't think about you when you're not around. I do. All the fucking time."
Your breath caught when he leaned closer, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Just like he did for you. You feel another sting. This is wrong.
"You don't have to give me an answer," he murmured. "But if I kissed you right now, would you stop me?"
Were you a bad person for not stopping him? Hell, you're not even sure anymore.
His mouth met yours, his tongue greedily slow and searching. Your fingers gripped his shirt on instinct, body reacting before your mind had the chance to catch up. You moaned in his kiss as he deepened it, mouths starving for each other.
He pulled away first, barely an inch of air between you. "Say something."
"I..." Your voice trembled. "Rafayel... I shouldn't"
"That's not what your body is saying."
He stood and offered his hand. For a second, you hesitated. The wind grew cold, the waves louder now that your mind is lost at sea. But you took it anyway.
You didn't speak as Rafayel helped you inside, hand firm at the small of your back, guiding you through the door of the cabin. The moment it shut behind you, your back hit the wall before you could even take another step. His mouth found yours with quiet desperation. It was slow, lips brushing yours before it became hungry. You opened to him, surrendering when his tongue swept against yours, coaxing you to move with him, to feel with him.
Something about Rafayel was that his hands were bold, palms tracing your waist, slipping under your shirt with the same maddening care. He broke the kiss only to lift it over your head, tossing it aside. You gasped when his mouth traveled dangerously lower, over your collarbone, across your tender breasts, with each kiss heavier than the last.
"Rafayel..." you breathed, voice already trembling. Your thoughts ramble all over the place.
"I've waited long enough to touch you like this," he murmured against your skin, "If you hate it so much, then stop me. Otherwise, please just let me."
Whatever rational thought you're trying to form when you're around him just vanishes. You helplessly nod, the warmth between your legs aching as he lifted you, strong hands under your thighs, carrying you across the room to the bed. You fell into it with a soft gasp, hair fanning against the pillow.
He stood over you for a moment, gaze burning with admiration as it roamed your body. Slowly, you watched him strip his shirt off, revealing his lean torso with defined muscles that you didn't really notice before until it was in front of you now. And fuck, his V-line alone was enough to get you soaked. You drank in the sight, biting your lip as he crawled over you, caging you in.
His mouth returned to yours, softer like he's savoring his sweet, sweet time with you. One hand gripped your thigh, sliding higher until he reached the edge of your skirt, swiftly tugging it down. When his fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, your breath caught.
"You're shaking," he whispered, dipping his head to kiss the spot just above your knee. "Fuck, you're beautiful."
You whimpered as his kisses trailed upward, inner thigh, hipbone, the curve of your waist, with each one setting you further ablaze. He was agonizingly slow, mapping every inch of you with his mouth and hands, leaving no part untouched, no breath unclaimed. By the time his fingers dipped between your slick-coated folds, you were gasping his name like it was the only thing that mattered.
"Look at you," he whispered, smirking into your skin. "Already wet for me," he played with your cunt, the obscene sound of your slit clenching around his fingers unashamedly echoing in the room.
You were too dazed to be embarrassed.
He worshipped you with his hands, stroking, circling, coaxing moans that spilled from your throat like unspoken confessions. And when his mouth replaced his fingers, tongue flicking slowly, pressed up on your clit, you arched off the bed, choking back your moans.
You didn't even notice when he undressed the rest of the way, too lost in the sensation. But you felt him return to you, the warmth of his bare skin against yours, his chest heaving, and the head of his throbbing cock already drenched in pre-cum nudging your entrance.
He paused. "You sure?"
Your legs locked around his waist. "Yes."
The stretch of him filling you in was pure bliss. He pushed in slowly, watching your face the entire time, his jaw clenched tight with restraint. He was careful not to hurt you, making sure he stopped every time you hissed in discomfort because fuck this man was big. When he finally buried himself balls deep, both of you exhaled in ragged moans. He began to move, thrusting deep, grinding into you like he's making sure to graze every jumble of veins with his cock. His forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting into each other's mouths between open kisses.
"Shit, you feel too good," he groaned. "I'm not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that."
You clenched around him as he lets out another groan. You whispered his name in a plea, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, nails digging as he bullies his cock in your wet cunt. He was faster now, lips all over the place, planting a kiss to your temple, your cheek, your jaw, like he couldn't get enough of tasting you. Every cant of his hips turning you in a puddle of mess, sheets ruined, leaving the shaft of his girth with a delicious rim of white. You arched your back, desperately wanting him deeper, his balls pressed up on your folds everytime he rams himself in you. You were clamping down on him, the knot of your release threatening to come undone.
"Fucking hell, you're tight." he hissed, his thrusts never losing its rhythm when he felt you were close.
And thenāwith a shuddering cryāyou came. Your walls clenched around him, thighs squeezing to lock him in place, fingers twisting in his hair. Rafayel followed soon after, pulling out just before he came in a few pumps of his hand. Your heart fluttered when you saw him immediately reach for the towel, not allowing himself to lay a single drop of his cum on your body because he would never ruin you like that; you were too precious for him.
You collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, both of you sweating, still breathless, too fucked out. He didn't let you go. Not even when the afterglow started to fade. He simply shifted to his side, brushing your hair from your face, peppering your cheek with soft kisses in an attempt to calm you down.
"You're... everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But if this leaves even a shadow of regret in you, tell me nowā and I'll hold you anyway, just so you don't drown in it alone."
You're not sure how to answer him, fingers curling into his chest, forehead pressed into the hollow of his throat, breathing in the scent of him as you struggle to steady your thoughts.
He exhaled shakily, wrapping his arms around you, trying to shield the word from harming you. Trying to keep Caleb from creeping back into your mind.
"I'm not going anywhere," Rafayel murmured into your hair. "Even if you wake up tomorrow and hate me, I'll still be here. Holding you like this."
You closed your eyes as his grip tightened. No promises were made, but he made sure not to let you go throughout the night. Even when you began to worry that his arms were tiring him out, he just held you tighter, desperately trying to protect you from the morning. From what came next, and everything that would follow right after.
Your phone buzzed from the nightstand, its glow slicing through the darkness. You didn't move, sleeping soundly in his arms. But Rafayel did, reaching over your shoulder to glance at the screen, his jaw tightening when he saw the name.
Caleb
Let me know when you're back in Linkon. I'll pick you up.
thank u thank u to everyone who's looking forward to my updates. I appreciate all the comments!! truly ! ā”āø(Ė įµ Ė )āø
content: mdni, piv sex, classroom studio sex, cunnilingus
pairings: professor!Rafayel x Fem!Reader
navigation: << prev. chapter
It all started with a routine, where you blend in with the rest of the students, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you file out of class. No one would have guessed the secret you're hiding as you laugh at the joke one of your classmates cracked, waving goodbye as you turn down the hallway. The perfect student, waiting until the last echo of footsteps faded, before you circle back.
One last glance over your shoulder just to make sure no one sees you step into your guilty pleasure. You slip through the office door, careful not to catch any wary wandering eyes. Inside, he's already waiting. Sketching something idly in charcoal, his sleeves rolled past his elbows, the buttons of his shirt undone just enough to make your feeble heart skip a beat. He doesn't bother greeting you, but when you lock eyes, you're instantly reminded why you'd go this far for him. Fucker is hot and he knows it.
It's always fast at first.
Barely even getting the chance to lock the door before he presses you against it, your hands braced flat on the cool wood as his lips find your neck. Despite being hungry for you, he's kind enough to hide the hickey, carefully planting it in places away from curious eyes, places only you can see when you're standing naked in the bathroom before taking a shower. He tastes sweet, probably from the amount of dessert he's been eating in his free time. His touch is rougher than you'd expect from a painter, and yet when it comes to you, he's still careful in the way his fingertips linger at the base of your spine. You feel the burning ache of restraint in every move.
"You took too long," he murmurs, breathless against your skin.
"I didn't want anyone to suspect us."
"Have you seen yourself in class?" he mutters, nipping at your jaw. "You look at me like you want to be caught."
You're too lost in his warmth to even think of a response.
Sometimes it happens over his desk.
You take it so well, ass jiggling as he rams into you mercilessly, his hand in a fist, tugging in your hair. Honestly, you wish there was a mirror in his studio so you could see him fuck you in all his glory. He loves folding his body on yours, pressed up on his desk, as he whispers filthy praises in your ear, relishing the way your hips buckle, your slick juices dripping down your thighs.
Sometimes it's the couch.
Your back arched against the fabric, his hand muffling the sounds you're not supposed to make. God, you just love being manhandled, flipped around in obscene positions, letting him do as he pleases, hitting you in the spots you never thought he could go even deeper ināuntil he proves you otherwise that he can make your eyes roll back, his cock kissing your cervix while you writhe in ecstasy.
And it always ends the same, both of you breathless, bodies so close to each other, all cuddled up somewhere, making you desperately hope that the moment never ends. You're in cloud9 because who wouldn't be? hottest prof to ever exist, who also happens to be the man you're obsessed with, fucking you like you're his precious cumdump.
You fix your clothes in silence while he buttons up behind you. You swipe gloss back on your lips in the reflection of his office window, all the while he's watching you like you're part of his private collection, so beautiful he just wants you hidden, all for himself.
But then the bell rang, and it's time for your next class. So you pack up your bags and leaveālike nothing happened.
Some days are slower.
You linger behind after class, pretending to ask about oil mediums or critique requirements. Students fade out in a blur. He pulls the blinds and swiftly locks the door. With a cheeky smile, you sit on his lap, arms looped around his neck, giggling softly between the kisses he presses to your shoulder. He still touches you like the first time, fingers so delicate he wouldn't want to ruin his favorite canvas.
Sometimes he just holds you, his head against your chest. He loves tracing your hips, loves to hold your hand to plant butterfly kisses on the back of it. He's so clingy, far from the person he puts up as a front when he's teaching in class.
"Still scared?" he asks you once, eyes closed as he holds you close on the couch.
"Terrified," you whisper. "But you make it hard to stop."
His lips curve in a sly smile. "Good. Because I wouldn't wanna stop either."
But the risk is always there. You've heard footsteps outside the office once, it was a few students arguing over the studio keys. One time, you were in the middle of a hot makeout session, your shirt halfway off, his clothed cock hot against the damp patch of your panties, when a janitor knocked on the door to empty the bins.
And Rafayel never falters, didn't even flinch. He kissed your shoulder, whispering, "Quiet, love," and kept his hand under your skirt, fingers still pumping in and out of your slick folds while he calmly dismissed the janitor through the door.
Maybe you're crazy, and maybe you already are. Because you should be panicking, and you shouldn't be doing any of this with him. But every time you're almost caught, your knees nearly give out from the thrill of it. It's not helping when he has that arrogant smile plastered across his face when he knows you both got away with it.
It's obvious he's never reckless, he knows how to remain calm in situations where you wouldn't. But the longer this drags out, the more he's enjoying testing how close he can get to the flame without burning. One afternoon, while you're perched on his desk, his shirt half-open, your blouse unbottoned low, he tells you:
"You don't know what it does to me... seeing you sit innocently in class like that." His hand grazes your thigh, slowly trailing up to play with the bands of your panties. "And knowing what you'll look like an hour later... taking all of me, cutie."
You swear your heart stops.
"You're evil," you murmur, but your legs part just a little wider. You're such a whore for him, and he loves it.
He leans in, face between your thighs, breath so close to your core, and you shudder when he kisses you through your panties. Your hand reaches for his purple hair, fingers threading through it as he pulls your panties down, lifting your skirt so it's bunched up on your waist. His tongue knows its way around, his fingers working in tandem to reduce your cunt to a wet, needy disaster. You struggle to keep silent, your breath ragged, watching him eagerly eating you out. He's so fucking pretty when he goes down on you.
And no, it's not just purely lust anymore. There are soft moments too, like when he sketches you during golden hour, shirt sleeves streaked with paint, and doesn't let you see the drawing until days later. It's sweet, and by now, you have a collection of his art tucked in your portfolio somewhere. You specifically love it when he brushes the hair off your face after he just made you cum, because he loves seeing your face flushed while you gush around his cock, your womb so full of both of your cums.
Still, you both know it can't last. At the end of the day, you're his student and he's your professor. You live inside a fragile routine of stolen glances and silent touches, of closed doors and swallowed moans, of pretending nothing is happeningāwhen something very much is.
But every time he touches you again, every time your bodies meet to fuck like rabbits behind closed doors with your name exhaling from his lips in broken moansāyou just simply don't care anymore, and you refuse to address him as your professor when doing so. He's no longer Mr. Rafayel, because in secrecy, he's just your Rafayel.
back by popular demand. this one's for all of u muwahā”ā”ā”
synopsis: sex must feel so good when you shouldn't be doing it in the first place with Rafayel as your professor. ā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„
content: mdni, piv sex, classroom studio sex
pairings: professor!Rafayel x Fem!Reader
navigation: next chapter >>
Fine. Your art professor is handsome. Pair that up with a raging hormone of a sexually deprived college student and you're met with pent up frustration and lust after spending too many hours watching him walk around the studioāhis sleeves rolled, his voice like ear candy as he critiques the curvature of a model's hip with infuriating intellect and grace. You have a habit of venting in a throwaway file, writing to get the thoughts out. Hoping to somehow stop the way your mind wandered every time he passed behind you and your canvas, gently adjusting your posture, the warmth of his hand burning through the thin fabric of your shirt.
Piece of shit should've stayed in your drafts. But when your cursor hovered over the upload button, the night before your deadline, bleary-eyed and exhausted, functioning purely on 1 brain cell, you completely didn't notice the file name.
"rafayelwetdreamsdraft3(DELETETHISONE).docx."
You click submit like a clueless idiot. Even going as far as rejoicing that your dreaded art critique essay is finally done and over, and your army of open tabs is now closed. Admiring your work one last time before closing your laptop, your blood ran cold as soon as you noticed how you just fucked yourself over.
You spend the next morning walking through campus like a ghost. Nothing made sense in your surroundings. Everything was muffled. Every laugh, every passing voice of the usually loud freshmen in the hallway fades under the rising throb of panic in your ears. You honestly considered skipping his class entirely. But it's a major class, and you'd already missed one critique. You can't afford to look guiltier than you already are.
So you gathered every ounce of confidence you had left, sitting near the back of the studio, heart stuck in your throat as you tried your best to avoid his eyes. Surely, he didn't notice? You were always the diligent student, making sure to occupy the front seats so you could get a glimpse of the best view, but today was nothing but dread and shame, the farthest chair now your best friend.
He doesn't say anything, and seemed to be acting normal throughout the session. He critiques a charcoal piece on human intimacy. He mentions negative space and sensual contrast without even glancing your way. You keep your eyes on your sketchbook, silently taking notes as you listen to his lecture. You almost convince yourself he hasn't read it.
As students pack up their portfolios and sling their bags over their shoulders, he speaks up and calls out to you.
"Stay after a moment, please."
Your vision tunnels. Someone bumps into your shoulder on the way out, but you are too deep in a daze to notice it. You sit beside the teacher's table, frozen, gripping the edge of your stool like it'll anchor you to this world and somehow blast you somewhere far away from this place.
The door closes with a soft click.
Fuck, I'm so doomed.
He doesn't speak right away and the silence made you spiral with thoughts of how to beg with an apology. He walks back to the table, sets down his clipboard, and adjusts the cuffs of his shirt. You watch the way his slender fingers move. Why does he have to be hot?
"You sent an interesting document last night."
You wince. "IāI didn't mean to. It was the wrong fileā"
He holds up a hand to stop you, and you instantly bite your lip in silence.
"I read it," he says plainly.
And you die a little inside, your soul might actually be leaving your body as you start to helplessly explain yourself. "Mr. Rafayel, I'm so sorry. It was never supposed toā God that wasn't meant for anyone. I swear I didn't thinkā"
"I know."
He closes the distance between you slowly, each step echoing in the wide studio space. You feel the heat of him before he even stops in front of you.
Fuck fuck fuck fuckā
"I debated whether to say anything," he says. "But the words you wrote..." He tilts his head, his charming purple eyes already leaving you in a trance. "Gives me the impression that you meant them."
You say nothing, lips parted in shame, with your throat dry as you struggle to defend what little dignity you have left.
"You were very... detailed. And maybe honest? Hmm?"
Your cheeks burn. Hell, you can't even look up. You can barely register it when he lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Your flesh blushes at the traces he leaves.
"I shouldn't say this," he murmurs, voice low only you could hear. "But it's unfair to let you think I was unaffected."
Your breath catches and he steps closer, tilting your head up instinctively, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, he sounds entirely different now.
"Tell me, do you want to know what I thought when I read it?"
You nod. Meekly.
"Ever thought that maybe I've imagined you just the same way?"
Before you could react, you're met with him kissing you, every fibre of your being like paint spilled across a blank canvas, bleeding into every edge of your senses. And fuck he tasted far better than you imagined. His lips are slow at first, like he's kind enough to let you process it. But when your hand fists the front of his shirt and you pull him in, he groans and a part of him deepens it in a hungry, sloppy kiss, his hand sliding behind your neck, the other bracing the plush of your hip.
You're pressed against his desk, fingers in his hair. You stiffle a mewl as you tilt your head, giving him space to trail his mouth down your jaw to the column of your throat. A part of you screams somewhere in the back of your head that this is both stupid and dangerous. But the louder part? the part that's burned for him in silence for months? shamefully wants more.
He murmurs against your skin, breath hot on you, "Tell me to stop."
You don't.
His hand roams beneath your shirt, exploring you like you're made of marble and oil and every medium he's ever studied. There's a heat of fervor in his touch, and you almost thought that just maybe he craved this too.
You end up straddling his lap on his teacher's chair, your lips swollen as he takes his time tasting you. Your limbs end up tangled as you try to keep yourself upright, your blouse already discarded somewhere on the floor. Fuck, this man was good, he took his time, but he was equally as hungry as you, struggling to be in control, like he was at the very seams of his restraint.
You shudder as he palms the swell of your breasts, fingers pinching your hard nip. He's enjoying how you melt to your core, your body so sensitive and showing him exactly where you're so responsive. You feel it in the way it pools between your thighs, how the soft command of his voice tells you where to moveāor the whispered praises he breathes when your sexes align. He didn't bother to remove your skirt, only reaching down to pull your panties aside, making sure to stuff his cock between your puffed out folds and the fabric keeping it in place.
You gasp, pulling away from the kiss to look down, eyes blown wide as you gawk at the sheer size of it. He pulls you at the back of your neck, kissing you with his other hand guiding your ass to grind on it. Oh, how you looked perfect, unable to moan to your heart's content when he's busy shutting you up with his tongue exploring your mouth. You held onto him, arms around his neck, when he guides you up to line your slick entrance to his throbbing cock, his pre-cum already mixing with yours.
"Fuck, tell me to stop." He repeated. The head of it already slipping in with an obscene squench.
You hugged his neck tighter, head shaking no. Because fuck you just want it in. Your panties were beyond saving, already drenched with how pathetically you grinded on his dick. He's gripping hard on either side of your hips, careful not to slam it in, making sure you're taking him well, inch by throbbing inch. Your hips buckle as you look down where you're connected, watching his slick-coated dick slowly disappear in you. Your gaze trails towards him with half-lidded eyes, and he has his head thrown back, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed like it's taking everything in him not to lay your face flat on the table, body folded as he rams his cock in your tight cunt.
And when you finally sat on his lap, him fully sheathed in youā he gripped your ass to help you ride him. You obediently did so, as if you had seen this play out in your head countless times. Helplessly bouncing on his dick, the sound of skin slapping, the creak of furniture, and stifled moans echoed in the studio. You're not even sure how you're keeping up with his pace; it was mostly his strength guiding you to pump him up and down. Over and over, until your legs are starting to tremble. But this was just as you had imagined. Only 10 times better because now it was the real thing fucking you stupid.
You clench around him, the knot in your heat already so near the edge. He's taking his time on your neck, scattering a litter of angry hickeys enough to make you hiss through your moans when you feel him graze his teeth between kisses. He knows you're near.
You don't hear the knock at first. Then it happens againālouder this time.
You freeze, and Rafayel stiffens beneath you, his hand still wrapped around your waist.
"Professor Rafayel? It's Principal Lee. Are you in?"
Your entire body locks up, instantly trying to scramble off him, but your legs give out on you, panic rising like a tidal wave. "Oh my god fuckā"
He hushes you gently. "It's alright."
"Are you insane?!" you frantically whispered.
He lifts you by the hips, easing you off his lap. "Under the desk."
"What?!"
He guides you there anyway. "Trust me."
You're half-naked, dazed, breathless, everything in a fucking messāand now shoved beneath the polished wood of his desk like you're some kid playing hide and seek.
Rafayel didn't show a hint of panic, moving carefully to button his shirt and straightening his collar. He sweeps your blouse off the floor, handing it to you under the table, and slides into his seat, legs spread apart to give you space, just as the door handle turns.
With a flick of his fingers, the lock clicks open with his evol and Principal Lee steps in. You hold your breath, already forgetting that he just fucked you out of your mind 3 minutes ago, as panic creeps in.
Above, Rafayel's voice remains composed. "Apologies, I got caught up with work."
They continued with a normal conversation. Budget requests, a student mural proposal, and faculty feedback surveys. And all the while, you're curled beneath his desk, your body still hot and tingling, your heart thundering against your chest. You start to bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, and you feel his hand sliding down near your thigh. He gently brushes two fingers over your knee, a reminder that it's okay.
You look up from the shadows beneath the desk and see him seated above you, perfectly calm, still so fucking handsome, his lips quirking ever-so-slightly as he responds to a comment about next semester's gallery event. Like nothing at all is amiss. Was he always this good at keeping up a facade?
You were starting to get lost in thought, so you didn't notice the door closing. He finally looks down at you, catching you off guard with a cheeky smile and a voice barely a whisper.
"Stay after class more often, cutie."
pls tell me this was good (Ė¶ā¢š·ā¢Ė¶)? lowkey rushed this bcs i just needed to get the idea out i literally cant stop thinking about it
synopsis: sweet bunny Xavier knocks off your potion and needs help in a rut.
content: mdni, piv sex, creampie, knotting, xavier is a bunny turns human in heat hell yeah
pairings: bunny Xavier x You
The full moon hung low over the quiet countryside, casting its silver glow over the wooden cottage nestled in a grove of wildflowers and overgrown grass. Inside, soft candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the cluttered shelves of herbs, spell jars and a collection of trinkets. And in the center of it all sat him, Xavier, your beloved bunny.
You found him months ago in the forest, all weak and trembling in the cold as winter approached. He was different from the wild ones: his fur was a strange silvery white, his blue eyes blinking at you like he understood your words. Since then, he'd never left your side. Followed you around the house, hopped after you in the garden, and curled beside you when you read by the fire. You brushed his fur every morning, fed him fresh fruit, and even knitted him a little scarf with his name stitched in a thread of gold.
Xavier was family, the company you didn't know you needed in your humble cottage far from the prying eyes of society. And tonight, you were brewing something new, an experimental tonic to help with magical transformation fatigue in familiars. A dear friend of yours reached out to commission it from you, and although you don't have experience in it, you reluctantly accepted and promised to do your research. You were so focused on writing down the ingredients that you didn't notice the subtle glimmer of moonlight that streamed through the open window, nor how it shimmered just over the potion's surface untilā
CRASHā
A startled squeek. You panic at the sound of glass shattering, the liquid seeping into the floor, and in a blur of pale fur and cyan glow, Xavier twisted and groaned beneath the spilled potion.
"Xavier?" you gasped, reaching for him, but what met you wasn't the soft, round body of your precious bunny. You flinched at the feel of warm, smooth, human skin.
He lay sprawled across the rug, panting heavily, his bare chest heaving. His ears were long and velvety, twitching wildly atop his head, and a fluffy tail flicked beneath his hips. Sweat beaded on his temples. His pupils were blown wide, almost feral, but when he looked at you, his face softened at the familiar face.
"Hurts," he whimpered, crawling weakly toward you on his hands and knees. "Please... hurts so much..."
You stumbled back, heart hammering. "Y-you can talk?"
"I've always listened," he said, voice husky and trembling, "I can't thinkā it spilledāthe potionāin a rut. I'm not supposed toā"
His hips bucked into the floor instinctively, like he was trying to rut against anything. Your cheeks flushed violently, horrified and guilty all at once. This was your bunny, you internally curse at yourself for being so careless in your workplace. You should've made sure he was at least away from the concoctions. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't mean toāXavier, I'm sorry."
His ears dropped. "Need you. Pleaseāmnhāonly you smell right. I-it won't stop until..."
Until he's relieved. You've read about this in one of your books about familiars. But this wasn't your field of expertise, and you only knew so little about it. You feel helpless as you stared at him, your poor bunny trembling, leaking and panting like he was overheating from the inside out. His voice cracked when he tried to speak again, and tears welled at the corners of his lashes from how desperate he must have felt.
You knew bunnies were sensitive, easily overstimulated, and in constant need during rut season. But this? This was unbearable to watch, let alone imagine how your dear Xavier must be feeling. Your heart ached. Your sweet Xavierāthe one who nuzzled your face every morning and slept curled up in your lap. You always loved him. Perhaps not in this way, but maybe it wasn't so different after all.
"I'll help you," you said softly, voice trembling, still so dumbfounded from the situation. You crawled closer, brushing his silver hair from his damp forehead. "Just this once, Xavier, I won't let you suffer."
His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, his hips jerking helplessly. "Love you," he groaned. "Always have. Even before this...always yours..."
Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't believe your sweet bunny carried these feelings all along. But you knew, somewhere deep in your heart, that he made sure to show it through his actions. "You've always been mine, sweet bun."
Xavier whimpered as you pressed your palm on his cheek, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His body was burning in flames, thighs trembling beneath him. He couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop the need from rattling through his core like an earthquake. At this point, it was purely intinctual and maddening. His cock twitched against his stomach, flushed and dripping, already so hard it pains you to think how painful it must've hurt. He was panting like a prey being chased in the wild. And really, that's all he was right nowāa creature ruled by instinct. A bunny in heat.
"Please," he begged again, his voice cracking. "It won't go awayāpleaseāneed you, pleaseā!" His ears twitched violently as he bucked forward without rhythm, grinding against your thigh like it was the only thing keeping him alive. You were on the floor with him now, his nails digging through your floorboards, trying to anchor himself, but nothing soothed him. Not until you touched him again.
Your fingers stroked behind his ear, the way he always liked when he was a bunny, and he immediately collapsed into your lap with a trembling gasp. "Xavier, I'm sorryāyou're overwhelmed, baby. It's okay." You attempted to soothe him.
You should've felt shame. This wasn't what you imagined. You love Xavier, but not like this. Seeing him writhe helplessly, soaking with sweat, every inch of him begging for you, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. This is pure devotion; he didn't want anyone else but you. But still...
"Are you sure?" you asked, reaching down between you, curling your fingers around his slick length. He twitched violently, his whole body arching into your touch.
"Yesā yes-I'll die if you stop," he choked. "Please, I need to finish inside youāneed to mate, to mark, I can'tā!" he sobbed against your neck. "Please let meā!"
You inhaled sharply, heart still broken, hearing him struggle this much. His voice was broken, ruined from pleading. His whole body trembled as if he were already on the verge, and he hadn't even been inside you yet.
You leaned down, gently brushing your lips against the space near his ear. "Okay, okay, sweetheart," you said softly. "I've got you, I'll help you."
The moment your clothes came off, he lunged like he was starved, nuzzling, licking, whimpering. His nose buried against your skin, twitching like a bunny's, smelling you, needing your scent to ground him. His hips bucked wildly, leaking against your thigh, rutting like it was hardwired into him.
That's because it was. Bunnies didn't just want it once; they needed it over and over. They're fast and desperate. So when Xavier didn't waste a second to sheathe himself to the hilt into you, you yell out a whimper at the intrusion, arms hugging him as you shudder, adjusting to his size. Every thrust was frantic, almost mindless, not a rhythm in sight, ears flicking and tail twitching behind him. He couldn't slow down, nor stop. And your eyes roll back at the sheer pleasure alone of his heat radiating to your body. He was big, and every pump made you clench around him, his cock curving in the right places inside your gummy walls.
"Moreācan't stopāhurts if I stop," he sobbed, face buried in the crook of your neck. "Let meāagain, please, again!"
His body folded over yours as he came the first time. He was shaking, gasping for air in breathless pants, and whispering thank you like a prayer. Oh, but he didn't soften like you thought. No, not even a little.
"Xavier," you panted, clutching his trembling back. "You're still...?"
He nodded frantically. "I have to, until it's out of me. I don't care if I dieāI just want you. Please."
It wasn't gentle after that. It was just pure bunny heat. He became even more frantic and pathetic. He rutted into your slick cunt with animalistic force, whimpering at every clench, caressing your breasts, nipping at your throat like he didn't know what to do with himself. Tears stained his flushed cheeks, and each climax only made the next wave worse.
You thought he might finally slow down after the fourth time, but Xavier only grew more desperate. His thrusts had become erratic in another level. Almost like he was in a frenzy. He was panting, nearly crying against your neck, nails digging into your hips, anchoring himself. His soft ears flattened against his hair with every cant of his hips. He has you on the bed now, his sweet master, sweet owner. You owned him, and the thought alone was enough to make him go insane.
"So tight," he whimpered, "You feel so goodātoo goodāI can't hold it-something's changing!"
Your brows furrowed, but in this moment, you were already too spent to even try to think straight. But when you felt it, you gasped at the realization. His cock felt different now, swelling at the base with every thrust, a bulge forming, pushing deeper, stretching you open in a way that made you cry out in both shock and pleasure.
"Xavierā! What'sāwhat are you?!" you gasped, nails clawing on his back.
"I-I'm sorry," he choked out. "Wanna knot youāI didn't mean toābut IāI have to!"
He pushed deep, so deepāthe swollen base of him slipped inside with a wet, forceful stretch, locking him in place inside your warm cunt. Your entire body jolted, breath catching in your throat as the knot swelled fully, sealing your sweat-slicked bodies together.
It was too much.
Your walls clenched instinctively, fluttering around his swollen cock, feeling every vein as waves of pleasure rippled through your heat. You moaned, nails scraping down his back as your orgasm crashed over you without warning for the nth time. It felt like being filled to the brink, stretched in the most obscene, possessive way. The knot pulsed inside you, keeping him in place, keeping every drop of his sweet release deep inside as he came with a loud, broken cry.
"Mineāmineāmineā" he sobbed, face nuzzling into your neck, hips still grinding in tiny, helpless thrusts even though he was stuck knotted in place.
You couldn't move; it was hard to even breathe. Every pulse of his knot inside you pushed another wave of warmth through your womb, and you could feel how much load he was giving you, how much he needed this. Your own body clenched around him again, milking him through every twitch and pulse, your climax dragging out far longer than normal just from his cock buried inside, all warmed up from your creampied walls.
You blinked up at him, eyes in a daze, face so flushed, and hair sticking to the sweat on your forehead. "Bunny... you knotted me," you panted.
Xavier whimpered. "I'm sorryāI didn't meanādon't hate me"
You shook your head, cradling his face. Only then did you realize how cute he looked up close, his cheeks and nose a tint of rosy pink. "I don't hate you, bun. I just... didn't expect it to feel so good."
His eyes fluttered shut, a soft whine escaping his throat. His hips gave one final twitch before he finally slumped forward, buried to the hilt, still locked inside you. And only then, once the last wave passed, did Xavier finally collapse, breathless, his body melting into yours with a soft, exhausted whimper.
holyshit what did I just write hehehe ā ā ā ( Ā°ć®Ā° ) ?
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
The exhibit was buzzing, an endless current of clinking champagne glasses, soft piano music playing in the background, and low, laughter from wealthy people. You stood just behind Rafayel as his so-called "personal bodyguard" for the night, even though he barely let you stray more than three feet from his side. How were you supposed to do your job if you can't even check out the places you will potentially find sketchy when this man has serious separation anxiety issues?
You mentally sigh as you try not to complain too much. The cocktail gown Tara picked out for you hugged your figure too well to be accidental. It was backless, with a thigh slit just high enough to make moving through the crowd feel like an art form. Will definitely come in handy just in case you need to make a run for it. Your hair was elegantly pinned up, leaving the long curve of your neck on full display. And of course, he noticed.
"Necks are tragically overlooked," Rafayel murmured, leaning close as you passed a particularly loud group of investors. "But yours... makes me consider painting something new."
You coughedāchoked, and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Please don't flirt with me in a room full of people trying to buy your art."
"I'm not flirting," he said, eyes glinting, smiling sheepishly. "I'm admiring. Which is kind of part of my job."
You hated how warm your face felt. Before you could respond, he pulled something small from his suit pocket. A hairpin, gleaming like it had been plucked from a reef under moonlight. Purple like dusk, fading into oceanic blue and pale coral pink.
"Here," he said. "It reminded me of you."
You blinked at it. "It looks expensive." Truly, the craftsmanship looked meticulous; it was apparent that whoever created this was not just some apprentice.
"That's because it is." He grinned. "Now turn around."
Your fingers hesitantly hovered over your hair as you turned around, the warmth in your cheeks increasingly getting hotter. Rafayel's hands were steady as he tucked the pin into your bun, brushing a few stray strands behind your ear. His fingers grazed the side of your jaw. Neither of you spoke for a moment, but his eyes were brimming with admiration, satisfied that he picked out the right design for you. He went out of his way to get the pin customized, going back and forth with the master craftsman for revisions to bring his vision to life.
"Perfect," he said at last, but his voice had dropped a little lower. "Now you look like a sea nymph."
You cleared your throat and turned away, pretending you needed another glass of sangria to avoid meeting his eyes.
By the time the crowd thinned and the event came to its natural end, your heels were killing you. Jesus, how does this man handle this line of work? The socialization alone would've sent you going insane.
"I'll call a cab," you muttered under your breath, adjusting the strap of your bag.
Rafayel scoffed, already loosening the collar of his dress shirt. "You're not going home in a cab. I'm driving you."
"Youā" you hesitated. "I can manageā"
His eyes dragged slowly over you. "You're limping."
"It's not that bad." You avoided his gaze, pretending to stand upright despite the sting of pain your heels grazed on your skin.
"It's enough for me to intervene." His voice dropped again. "You didn't seem to mind the last time I drove you?" He tried to catch your eyes, but you flushed. Violently. You did mind. That was the problem. You hadn't stopped thinking about it for days.
"I promise to behave," he added, lips twitching to hold back a grin. "Unless you don't want me to."
"Rafayel." You attempt to warn him off, only to be greeted by his head tilting with a smile plastered on his face.
"Yes?"
You groaned, giving up. He was right; it would be a pain to take a cab when your feet hurt like hell. It's not exactly fun to commute alone at night either. "Fine. Just... drop me off and don't say anything weird."
"No weirdness," he agreed, raising both hands innocently. "Just my car. You. That coral pin. And the memory of you moaning my nameā"
You swatted his arm and limply stalked toward the exit, ignoring how the heat pooled between your thighs just from thinking back on it. You hated that he made you feel this way. Even more, you hated that Caleb hadn't. Years of longing, and he would constantly hesitate the split second you're about to cross the line of 'just friends. ' It hurt that it almost feels like he's not willing to take that risk with you.
You weren't supposed to give in again. The whole ride back, you'd repeated that to yourself like a mantra. You even tried to keep your answers clipped, your eyes glued forward on the road, and hands folded in your lap like a perfect, well-behaved passenger princess. But Rafayel had other plans. And his knuckles brushing your thigh at a red light made everything inside you burn.
"I should go," you whispered once he parked. "I said I wasn't going toā"
But the way he looked at you said everything else otherwise.
"Just one kiss, cutie," he murmured, voice rough, eyes pleading. "One." His purple orbs stared at you with so much desire. Your heart swells at the thought of him wanting you the way you longed for someone to want you.
It was never just one.
You ended up in the backseat, cradled on his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, his lips feverish against yours.
His hands were all over youāpalming your thighs, dragging your pretty dress bunched up around your waist, grazing the curve of your ass. His coat had been thrown somewhere on the floor, your hair now in a messy bun. Your fingers were twisted in the collar of his dress shirt, tugging him closer, and closerāfuck, everything was just messy. You could hear his desperate breath hot against your skin, the neediness growing stronger when you felt his thick member poking through the friction as you grinded on him.
And just when you were sure he'd pull your panties aside and take it even furtherāhe stopped. His forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting like you'd just run a marathon.
"Fuck, noāneed to control myself," he said, jaw tight. "I want to do this right."
You blinked, still dazed. "What?"
He breathed. "You're not just someone to fuck in the backseat of a car." His thumb brushed your cheek.
You swear your heart skipped a beat. This man was everything a woman could ever ask for. And just like that, he tucked your dress back into place, fixed your straps, and reached for your heels. He carried you to your doorstep bridal style, like you weighed nothing, heels dangling from his fingers, your coral hairpin glinting beneath the porch light.
He lowered you gently, his eyes lingering just a moment longer, from your flushed face to your parted lips, then to the delicate glimmer in your undone hair.
"You really shouldn't let men like me kiss you like that," he whispered.
You didn't reply. Heart pounding way too loud in your chest, your emotions exploding like fireworks with whatever it was he was making you feel.
He kissed your forehead. "Goodnight, cutie."
And he was gone, walking away with his hands in his pockets. His touch is still warm on your skin.
You were still catching your breath when you opened the door and stepped inside... only to freeze in your tracks.
Caleb sat on your couch, elbows on his knees, still in full DAA uniform. His jacket and pilot gloves were on the table. You hear the faint clinking of dog tags together.
His eyes locked onto yours. Then to your smudged lipstickāand finally to your disheveled hair. The wrinkled dress, the bare feet, and the coral hairpin still glinting on your loose bun like a scarlet letter of evidence.
You didn't even have time to speak.
"Where were you?" He asked, tone low but evidently tensed.
You swallowed. "Work." You didn't expect him to be home. Especially not at this time and day.
His brows furrowed. "That doesn't look like work." His gaze dragged down your body, eyes examining every inch that he could find. "And who gave you that?" He motioned toward the pin.
"Calebā"
He stood, voice clipped. "Were you with him?"
You stared back, guilt flashing across your face before you could even hide it. You couldn't meet his eyes, fingers clenching the hem of your dress as your feet curled against the cold floor. You stared at the ground in shame.
He was still looking at you, eyes burning through you with that unreadable, wounded gazeāand the longer the silence stretched, the worse the knot in your chest got.
Until he finally noticed it.
His voice went sour. "What the hell is that?"
You inhaled sharply. You didn't need a mirror to know exactly what he was talking about. Rafayel had left it on purpose. Just below your jaw, just far below enough to be seen if your head tilted the wrong way. You still couldn't answer him. What the fuck were you supposed to say?
Caleb took a step closer, his voice strained with disbelief. "He marked you?"
You flinched. You hated this side of him because it only confuses you.
"I asked you a question." He said it slowly.
You finally looked up at him, and there it was. That look. No sign of his puppy eyes that comforted you like before. This one was full of rage. Or was it jealousy? But why would he? Your head hurts. He was confusing you again by acting like he cares this much.
"Caleb, I'm not doing this with you right now," you muttered, trying to brush past him. But he blocked you.
"You let him touch you like that?"
Your fists clenched. "Why do you even care?"
He glared. "Because he's not good enough for you."
You laughed bitterly. "Oh, but you are?"
He froze. Your voice cracked, but you pushed forward anyway. "You don't get to act like this. You don't. You've never said a fucking thing about what we are, Caleb. Not once. You treat me like your kid sister, and then suddenly you get mad when someone else looks at me?"
He said nothing, his purple eyes intimidatingly staring back at you as his jaw clenches like you were testing his patience.
"You don't own me."
His eyes flickered, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crackāthen you felt it before you even saw it happen before your eyes. The crushing weight on your body, the invisible gravity pressing down on your shoulders, on your spineāuntil you collapsed back onto the couch with a gasp.
"Calebā!"
He was in front of you in a second, towering over, both arms caged around you on either side of the couch cushion, palms pressed into the seat like he was trying to keep himself from doing something he'd deeply regret.
Your eyes widened in realization. "Are you serious right now? You used your evol on me?!"
"You're not listening," he growled, voice trembling with restraint.
"Because you're acting insane!" you shouted, struggling to move under the weight of it. "What, are you trying to punish me?! scare me into never talking to Rafayel again?!"
"He touched you." his voice cracked, now a whisper. "And you let him."
Tears burned in your eyes; you felt so betrayed. First, he was mad; then he used his evol on you, and now you were just so frustrated from it all. Your chest hurts because you feel the need to defend Rafayel, and you know that if you did, it would only make Caleb angrier.
"Caleb," you snapped, "I was never yours to begin with. You don't get to do this."
His breath was ragged, hot against your cheek. You could feel his entire body shaking above you. It pains you that you reached this point; unsure of when you finally couldn't tell just how much of this was 'just friends. ' He looked down at you, and the guilt crashed in all at once.
The evol dropped, and you gasped as the pressure vanished from your body. Your hands immediately pushed against his chest. He backed up, just barely, and the realization started settling in his eyes.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, pipsqueak. Iā"
You were still shaking, his evol was no joke. "Don't ever do that to me again."
He stood there, frozen, the weight of his actions anchoring him in place. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of you, guilt painting every inch of his face.
"I'm sorry, pips," he whispered.
You looked away. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, painfully gentle this time. Like he didn't deserve to touch you at all.
"I'm your gege," he murmured. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. That's all I wanted."
But your heart was racing, because it wasn't just that. And he knew it too. The silence between you throbbed with tension. You wanted to scream at him. To ask what he really meant. To ask why he wanted to kiss you like he meant it and then run away, only to return and act like you were something he couldn't live without.
All these trains of thought, and yet you still couldn't find the words. Because if he answered wrong, you weren't sure your heart would survive it.
You stared at him, every nerve burning.
"Safe?" you repeated bitterly. "That's what this is all about? You just want me safe?"
Caleb's face twitched, but he didn't speak.
You stepped forward. "I've been in love with you for years, Caleb. And all you've ever done is push me away like I'm some kid who doesn't know what she wants."
He remained silent, eyes unreadable in the dim light of the living room.
"You think Rafayel is the problem?" you snapped, voice slowly rising. "You're the one driving me insane. You're the one I wait for, the one I think about, the one I keep hoping would just say something."
Tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall. You weren't going to let yourself cry first. "And when you finally do something, it's to throw me onto the couch with your evol because you saw a stupid hickey?"
He clenched his jaw, looking away, but you wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.
"I let him touch me because you wouldn't!" you shouted, stepping into his space now, fists curled. "Because you couldn't even look me in the eyes and admit you wanted me. I kept waiting, Caleb. And I got tired of waiting."
He looked back at you, face a mixture of pain and desperation. You feel your chest tighten up again.
"Why can't you just say it?" Your voice cracked. "Why can't you just claim me if you're so damn obsessed with keeping me away from everyone else?"
Your fists hit his chest. Once. Then again, over and over.
He didn't stop you, didn't even try to block you. He just took it as he backed into the wall, arms down at his sides as your hits turned weaker, until your voice cracked entirely and your fists hit his chest one final time before you crumpled against him, trembling.
"I love you," you whispered, finally admitting it out loud. "God, I love you, and I hate that I do."
Caleb's hands rose, shaking as they gently cupped your face.
And then he crashed his mouth onto yours.
You can't tell if he was angry, desperate, or just starving after all these years.
He cursed against your lips, pulling away just long enough to say, "Fuck, is this how he kissed you too?"
You gasped, but he didn't let you answer. His hand tilted your chin up roughly, claiming you in another bruising kiss that swallowed your cry.
"Did he touch you like this?" he growled, voice ragged as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you in closer. "Did he make you melt like this?"
You whimpered into his mouth, already breathless. "Stop it..."
"No. Not until you forget every goddamn thing he ever did to you," he rasped, forehead pressed against yours, breath shaking. "I want to ruin every memory of him. God, I want to erase it. All of it."
You stared at him, heartbroken yet still so deeply in love.
"You can't erase him," you whispered. "But you can be the one I remember more."
His hands tightened, but he was gentler this time around. None of that tension from earlier. Kissing you again, only deeper. It wasn't about jealousy anymore. It was everything he'd been holding back. Every longing glance. Every almost-kiss. Every sleepless night spent thinking of your pretty face.
And when you melted into him, lips parting under his, he knew:
You were already his, long before he was yours. Even if it took him too fucking long to realize. Took him this long to finally cross that stupid line.
"Fuck I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For making you wait. For thinking I could protect you by keeping my distance. I didn't realize I was just... hurting you."
You didn't respond, leaning in to rest your forehead against his chest. Breathing in the scent of his uniform, of him. Your Caleb. He held you in silence, his familiar warm embrace calming every nerve of your body. And for a while, that was enough.
But in the quiet aftermath, with emotions left raw, and a budding love newly confessed, neither of you noticed the glint of something small near the base of the couch, nestled just between the folds of the carpet and the shadowed wood flooring.
A beautiful coral-shaped hairpin. Its delicate edges shimmered with shades of deep purple, iridescent pink, and ocean blue, still catching the light, glistening with the meaning of him. Rafayel had left a mark. And you hadn't even realized it was still there.
lovelove everyone who's still reading this far! promise I'm trying to cook smth good (Ė¶Ė įµ ĖĖ¶)
