Imagine: The first time Na'vi! Caleb sees a human.
Content warning: size difference, possessive!Caleb, obsessive!Caleb, use of she/her pronouns, feral behaviour.
Words: 1.9k
Authors note: Translations from Na'vi to English are ordered according as sentences appear. You can find the translations at the bottom of the post. The translations I did may not be at all correct because I translated word by word trying to make each sentence coherent by using the dictionaries and translators of Na’vi language. Sorry for the incorrect grammatical pronunciations. Also sorry for gramatical errors, english it's not my first language.
Credits to divider: @cafekitsune
Na'vi! Caleb, who was going out for a hunt, all damp from the rain. The sound of the droplets mixed with everything, making his hearing difficult to his surroundings, but the scents in the forest are more prominent to his nose thanks to that. His eyes are focused on every move, watching his steps of a possible mistake to scare away the prey, but there is something strange, something new, an aroma he has never smelled before. It was sweet, ripe like a pale pod; his fangs itched at the mere thought of running his tongue over it, licking, sucking, marking. He shook his head trying to come back to his senses, it was intoxicating.
His long muscular legs moved with stealthiness at each step he took, moving the dirt beneath his feet with ease, bow in one hand and the other adjusting his arrow, ready to shoot and kill. He aims in front of him in a single movement, shoulders flexing and torso expanding, but he stops abruptly when he sees you. A human.
Caleb lowers his arrow as he looks at your terrified expression. His eyes observing your smaller form, soft compared to a Na’vi body, weaker. Your chest was plump, two small buds peeking against the wet clothes by the cold, and your aroma, it was intoxicating, it made his heart accelerate, making him feel strange, a sensation of deja vu, members of his clan describing that sensation when finding a mate.
He was fascinated; so this is how a human female looked like, compared to a female Na’vi body, they had some similarities.
He relaxed his pose, less intimidating, he hadn't meant to scare you. “Mawey… Tawtute”. He kneels, raising his hands showing you he is no threat, looking at each of your reactions, how your breathing becomes slower, the way you stop biting your lower lip and your nails stop digging in your palms. He points at his chest “Caleb” he says slowly, tapping his fingers and repeating his name. You gulp the fear down your throat as you imitate the gesture of his hands, you pronounce your name; Caleb savorates each syllable in his tongue, your name was so precious to him now, he would never get tired of repeating it.
Na'vi! Caleb, who’s first time seeing a human. He was taught since young that the sky people were soulless creatures, who worshipped the steel like a god, destroying everything in their path. He was supposed to hate humans, kill them; but looking at you made all those hostile thoughts disappear. Humans were demons, then why did you look as if Eywa had created you just for him? So small, so soft, so vulnerable, his mate. Your head barely could reach his hipbone, and still, in your eyes he could see your feistiness.
You were wearing a strange kind of large white tunic that was soaked by the rain, he could inspect that synthetic material later, right now he needs to get you to a safer place, dry and cozy, like hell he was going back to hometree so his clan could question him and kill you after it. What he didn't know is that you had got lost after escaping the RDA laboratories.
Na'vi! Caleb who holds you with ease despite your restless movements, he was being careful, bringing you to his hunting spot above from the ground. It was too high to escape as you looked down from the branch. The higher you both were it was safer, he thought as he began to descend the tree. “Wait! I don’t want to be left here!” you told him, grabbing for dear life at the trunk behind you. But Caleb didn’t understand your language, so he just understood your desperate actions for some kind of need, maybe some food. “Tawtute ohakx, tätxaw mawkrra”, he smiled at you as he left.
You didn’t understand a single word that came from his mouth, ironic, since you were born in Pandora, but growing up with humans in the laboratories was different; speaking your native language every day and barely hearing one or two Na’vi words all your life. That happens when the RDA decides that it’s a great idea that humans should grow a neural queue by changing their DNA, still considering today that the Avatar project was a waste of time and this being the solution for the future human race. You had escaped.
Na'vi! Caleb, who is back from a successful hunt, begins to clean the carcass and starts a fire, roasting the meat and mixing with some vegetables. After he finishes he extends the bowl at you, but you backed away without taking your eyes off him, you didn’t know if all Pandora’s food was edible for humans. Caleb observed you, concerned as you weren’t accepting the food he had made specifically to make you gain more calories by the coldness of your body. He smiled again, this time bringing the bowl near your face, caressing your leg as a way to comfort you, “Nga zene yom”, but you looked away. That was not the reaction he wanted.
If Eywa had sent him this human girl as a mate, it was his duty to care for her, to protect her, to keep her warm and full. Maybe she was being shy, still not recognizing his caring as a devoted future mate, he thought. She just needed time.
You screamed when suddenly you were picked up and placed on Caleb’s lap, one hand holding you down, his fingers almost covering your abdomen and waist completely. He reached for the bowl taking in between his fingers a piece of meat and bringing it to your mouth; you backed away again, desperately trying to get off of him, “I don’t want it, it’s not safe”, he interpreted your words as if you were scared of the food, “Mawey, syuve ke txumnga’ ’”, he brought the meat to his mouth as his fangs tore a piece, chewing and swallowing, showing you there was no danger. You didn’t oppose him this time, he waited patiently until you opened your mouth and chewed. He caressed your bottom lip as a reward, “Sìltsan lefnele”.
Na'vi! Caleb, who becomes more obsessed of you as the days pass. Most of the time he is near you, keeping a watchful eye on your movements as he sits on the edge of the branch cleaning his weapons meticulously. You would’ve thought he was just observing his bow, but when you attempt to put a foot out from the pelts he arranged especially for you, he would immediately look inside the tree. Freezing you would cover yourself again and not dare to come out.
You look down at the forest floor, it was a strange place but majestic at the same time, growing up surrounded by white walls was all you knew. The people at RDA told you stories about earth, how once it was a place full of green growing life, today in day it was ruled by steel. You flinched when you suddenly felt his presence behind, you looked up at him as his yellow eyes observed every detail at the light of the sun, his hand resting on his hip and the other caressing your cheek. “Could you help me get down?” you hoped he understood this time, just a little bit, but Caleb only smiled and walked away starting to prepare dinner. Maybe it was time to find a way down from this gigantic tree on your own.
Na'vi Caleb was so gentle with you, each step he took was three for you, so trying to avoid his massive body was complicated. He would kneel waiting for you to approach, you would ignore him; sometimes he was tracing and twirling the locks of your hair, taking his time to comb out the knots, but when his fingers got near your neural queue, at least that was what humans called it, you would step out from his embrace leaving him dumbfounded. That place on your nape made you really sensitive, so letting someone else touch it wasn’t that comfortable. Caleb didn't seem to mind letting you be, it was strange for him seeing a kuru on a human but didn’t dare to touch further. Grateful to Eywa by letting you breathe Pandora’s air, he could try asking later.
There were days you weren't in mood of feeling his hands enveloping or caressing your body so you would yell at him for some space and punching his chest at the same time, barely feeling any pain by your small hands but he listened; Caleb understood basic emotions in other creatures so your anger didn’t look alien to him, he would let you be, going out for hours and bringing back bigger hunts and sometimes courting gifts hoping it would make you happy. When you accepted his offerings he would just give you that big puppy smile and making those strange purring sounds from his chest.
It was starting to get suffocating staying at the same place after days, it's not like you had another place to go, the RDA was all you knew and this small tree home. So when Caleb began to climb down you followed, alarmed he immediately climbed back up carrying you in his hand with a swift motion, your feet touching the branch again. “Let me come down with you! It’s getting boring being up here alone for hours.”, Caleb only looked at you, “Lehrrap, tawtute hì'i sì kì'ong. Nga ke tsun nong oe mi. Fìtseng kxuke ne nga”. You didn’t understand the meaning of his words, but his expression said it all when he began to descend again, he would be back at nightfall. You couldn’t wait another day like this, it was becoming claustrophobic in a way.
An hour passed by, it was time. Holding for dear life at every branch and vines, your feet carefully stepping at giant fungus; it may have taken you half an hour, but finally you were standing on the wet soil ground. You ran away from that place.
Na'vi Caleb, who got back from another successful hunt, wanting to surprise you with some sweet fruit he found on his way, imagining the expression on your face when you gave the first bite just made his heart flutter. As he entered his small home he was welcomed by silence, your scent was still there but you were nowhere to see; his instincts were on full alert in an instance, searching for any trace of a predator, crouching as he moved in a slow calculated pace around the room, he lifted up the pelts you slept in, searched the treetop, inside his small home again, but you weren't there. As he stood outside on the branch his eyes traveled all the way down to the base of the tree, his pupils contracted. “Skxawng”.
There were too many dangerous in Pandora’s forest, animals could easily attack a human and devour them, poisonous plants could spray their toxic spores at you and would be dead in seconds, you could fall at the river bank hitting your head with a rock at the tumultuous current, or a Na’vi from his clan could find you in his path and kill you without hesitation. His people couldn’t understand the connection he had felt the first time he saw you, so there was no safer place than staying by his side.
He was a hunter, a skillful hunter. So finding you wouldn't take him that long. His hands traced the wet soil, his developed sense of smell perceiving the aromas nearby, a faint sweet scent of sweat droplets was still in the air impregnated in the plants.
You were running, but he already knew where you were going.
| Translations |
Mawey… Tawtute: Calm down… Human.
Tawtute ohakx, tätxaw mawkrra: Human hungry, return later.
Nga zene yom: You must eat.
Mawey, syuve ke txumnga’: Calm down, food not poisonous.
Sìltsan lefnele: Good female.
Lehrrap, tawtute hì'i sì kì'ong. Nga ke tsun nong oe mi. Fìtseng kxuke ne nga: Dangerous, human small and slow. You still can't keep up with me. Here is safe for you.
Skxawng: Idiot.
Authors note: Thankssss for reading. It's been a long time since I wrote fics again, it feels like the first time that it made me nervous to publish. Maybe I'll right a second part if my inspirations doesn't vanish lol.
Synopsis: You can run from it, but are you ready to face the consequences?
Warnings: Free use, overstim, faux sympathy, dumbification, Voyeurism, thrill of being caught, teasing, degrading, praising, these boys are jealousss.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Xavier
Xavier is like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Your snuggly little guy, playing the part of a perfect co-worker and neighbor!
Until he has you pinned under him, knees to your chest in a mean mating press.
“You just had to smile like that at Nero, hm? You truly cannot be so stupid, to think you wouldn’t end up in this position after that.” All you did was thank Nero for reports you’d asked him to obtain.
But Xavier didn’t like that.
And the punishing thrust to your cervix was proof of that.
“M’ ngh! M’ sorry! I can’t-Xav I can’t-“
You try to squirm away but Xavier only shakes his head at your pathetic attempts. He grabs both ankles in a single hand, bends your knees just so and-
You are sobbing, feeling him so deep in your tummy it almost hurts to breathe.
“Now be a good girl and I won’t treat that cute little updo like a cum rag. Don’t run again.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Rafayel
Rafayel was obsessed with your body in a nearly obsessive way. Especially when it came to how you bowed and cried under his care.
He has both of your arms pinned behind your back, his arm looped around them for leverage. The gold plated mirror in his studio showed each time his cock slipped in and out of you.
“I’m gonna pain this later, put it in my private collection so I have something to keep me company when you’re gone.” The sentiment would be sweet, if your thighs weren’t twitching from overstimulation.
The head of his cock sits a punishing pace against the wall of your cervix and you try to find leverage with your feet to escape.
Rafayel hates that.
He bends you forward, cheek pressed into the cold marble and drills into you with barely controlled lust.
“Aw cutie, I was giving you a good show! But I guess even the best muses need molded.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Zayne
Zayne has finally snapped. Between the bratty behavior and the audacity you had to stick your tongue out at him during his presentation to the board, you were done for.
Bent over his desk, he didn’t care that someone could walk in, he didn’t care that you were drooling over his stethoscope that probably costed more than your rent.
“Is this what you wanted? A strong, independent young woman to be degraded like a common whore?”
Why yes, it was.
But Zayne wasn’t letting up on his solid thrusts that sent you spiraling.
He’s ripped a 4th orgasm from you and the pretty polished nails (that he paid for of course) scratched at the wood of his desk.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, lifting your face off the desk to growl into your ear.
“You don’t get to run from this punishment. Take it.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Caleb
Oh our poor sweet Caleb.
He wasn’t being very sweet right now.
How could he be? He’d caught you talking to Gideon a little too long for his liking. You were giggling all cute and shit, asking Gideon to take you on a ride in HIS aircraft!
So Caleb, being a sweet boyfriend, gave you a ride!
Well, that ride was his cock. His feet planted on the mattress while he held you in place with strong hands. His balls slapped the crevice of your ass and you were pretty sure his goal was to drive a hole straight through you.
“Smile at me like you smiled at him. Cmon Pips, cheeseeee!” His faux kindness made your eyes water. You tried to find purchase on his chest to push yourself off but Caleb swatted your hands away.
“Hands behind your back, soldier. You wanna act like a Barracks Bunny, I’ll treat ya like one.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Sylus
Sylus didn’t have to be fast or harsh with his punishment. But he was always thorough.
You’d ran off without his permission on a mission, yet again.
You returned to the N109 Zone covered in bruises. Now, after your wounds were tended to, he was lounging on the chaise sofa, rolling his hips into you from behind.
It would’ve been so sweet and gentle, if he hadn’t already wrenched 3 orgasms from you with his cock alone.
“Sy-“
His hand clamps over your mouth, index and middle finger grabbing your tongue. You drool over his fingers even as you try to push back on his hips to escape that feeling of lightning in your bones.
Sylus growls into your ear, taking his spit soaked finger and giving a warning slap to your flushed cheeks.
“Don’t ever run from me. I’ve chased after you for years, I’m not letting you get away now.”
Imagine the transfer should have been temporary, that was what Caleb told you six months ago when the reassignment orders first arrived. "Just a different unit." He reassured you softly while standing in your kitchen. "I'll still come home." Home, not your apartment. Home. Because Caleb started calling your place home long before you even got engaged.
Imagine he kept that promised too. No matter how brutal the new schedule became, he still drove back to the city whenever he could. Sometimes arriving past midnight exhuasted out of his mind only to leave again before sunrise. You used to scold him for it constantly. "You need sleep." "I need you more." Ridiculous man. Ridiculously sincere man. That was the problem. Caleb loved you too honestly for this situation to make sense. Which is why the past week had been slowly driving him insane.
Imagine the operation had reached critical stage faster than expected. Months of investigation finally narrowed into something tangible. Dead fleet officers, missing intel, internal corruption, targeted executions disguisedas accidents. At first the unit suspected isolated incidents. Then patterns started emerging. Officers connected to specific classified transport routes kept dying one after another. Some vanished entirely, others were found dead before they could testify. The newest victim finally gave them a lead. A newly married fleet officer murdered in his own home, except his wife survived, barely. She escaped before the shooter fnished clearing the house.
Imagine now she was their only living witness. Which meant she was also a walking target. The problem? The leak was internal. Someone inside the fleet kept feeding information outward. Meaning, nowhere offical was safe. No military housing, no secure holding facilities, no predictable movement. So the witness got moved constantly between trusted personnel, including Caleb.
Imagine he hated it immediately. Not because of the responsibility, but because of you. Because suddenly, the operation stopped being dangerous only for him. Now there was possibility of collateral. And the moment collateral became possible, Caleb's entire perspective changed violently. You became the center of every tactical decision in his head. Could this route expose you? Could this operation lead people toward your apartment? Could someone follow him back home? Could someone use you against him? That last thought alone nearly made him sick.
so Imagine, he started pulling away slightly, not enough for you to notice fully. He tried so hard not to. God, he tried. Because Caleb physically didn't know how to function properly without you anymore. You were woven too deeply into his life, routine, and sanity. After brutal shifts, hearing your voice grunded him. Sleeping beside you kept him human somehow. You were the only place where Colonel Caleb stoppped existing. Where he could just be your fiance instead of someone constantly responsible for life and death.
but Imagine lately, the pressure became unbearable. Every move mattered, every mistake could get people killed. And Caleb was good under pressure, exeptionally good. But not when it involved you. Never you. So yes, he became distaracted. Quieter sometimes, checking his surroundings more often, sleeping lighter, watching doors automatically. You noticed, of course you noticed. You noticed everything about him too. And Caleb hated himself every single time he saw concern flicker across your face before you smiled anyway and kissed him like you trusted him completely. Because you did trust him. That trust became the knife slowly twisting inside his chest all week.
Imagine then tonight happened and everything finally exploded. The witness was sitting quietly in the kitchen when Caleb stepped into the shower. He planned to finished paperwork afterwards then drive back to the city to see you. He missed you so badly it physically ached. The past few days had been hell. He needed you. Needed your voice. Needed your hand in his hair while he pretended the world wasn't collapsing round him. Instead the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked straight into his worst fucking nightmare.
Imagine the way you stood frozen inside his apartment staring at the witness like your entire world had just been ripped out from under you. And fuck, the look on your face. Shock first, then confusion, then heartbreak. Real heartbreak and Caleb felt actual panic slam through him instantly. Not suspicion, not irritation. Panic. Because immediately, he understood exactly what this looked like. The witness was wearing his shirt. Fresh marks still on the witness neck from injuries sustained during the attack days ago. The apartment looked lived in, intimate, domestic. And Caleb himself just walked out looking comfortable as hell inside the environment. Fuck.
"Baby-" Then your expression changed. And Caleb's stomach dropped violently because he recognized it instantly. That look, the moment someone stops feeling safe. You ran. And everything inside him snapped. "Baby!" He sprinted after you immediately, not caring about protocol, not caring about surveillance risks. Because nothing mattered except stopping you before this misunderstanding destroyed everything.
Imagine the apartment hallway blurred around him. Then came a movement, tiny, brief. A red laser dot flickered against the far wall behind you. Gone immediately but Caleb say it. Years of training wired his brain too sharply not to. And suddenly all the blood drained from his body. No. No no no no. They found the apartment. The operation was comprimised. And worst of all, you were here. Exposed, visible, vulnerable. For one horrifying second, Caleb imagined the laser moving slightly upward. Straight to your head. And his chest nearly fucking stopped.
"Baby wait!" You kept running, crying. Completely unaware someone potentially had a scope trained on your body right now. Caleb caught your wrist at the parking lot. Then you hit him, hard. The impact split skin across his cheek instantly. His head snapped across his face. He barely regustered it. Because you looked shattered. And Caleb realized with horrifying clarity, you genuinely thought he betrayed you. "Listen to me." He said immediately, breathing hard. "That's not what it looked like." "Then what is it?" He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Because his brain was screaming too many things at once.
Imagine there was the witness, the leak, the fucking laser. Get her out of here. Protect her. Then your voice cracked. "What is it, Caleb?" God, you looked desperate. Not angry yet, just desperate. Like you were begging him to give you something, anything, that would make this make sense. And that almost destroyed him more than the slap because even now, you still wanted to believe him. You still trsuted him enough to ask explanation instead of immediately condeming him. That trsut fucking wrecked him. Because he loved you. Loved you so much it bordered on insanity sometimes.
and Imagine now he was standing here watching that love get twisted into pain because of a mission he couddn't explain. "Tell me." He looked at your face. Then beyond you. The laser flickered briefly again against your car window. Cold rage exploded through him instantly. They were sending a message. Talk. Talk and she dies first. Caleb understood that perfectly. And suddenly, something terrifying woke up inside him. Not fear but murderous rage. Because these people weren't just threatening him anymore. They were threatening you. Using you. Cornering him into hurting you himself.
"Tell me!" You begged now, tears falling harder. "Because right now it looked like you've been lying to my face for weeks hiding another woman in your apartment." Every word hit like a bullet. Because on your perspective? You were right. You had every right to think that. And Caleb hated himself for putting you in this position. "It's not like that." "Then explain it!" "I can't." The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Imagine the way your face collapsed completely. Not dramatic, not explosive, worse. It was quiet devastation. Like your heart physically cracked open in front of him and fuck. Caleb would rather take a bullet. 'I can't' sounded guilty, cowardly, suspicious. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you there were armed eyes watching right now? Tell you people died over less information than this? Tell you your life had potentially become collateral damage the second you walked into that apartment? He coudn't risk it. Not with you. Never with you.
Imagine then your voice dropped smaller. "You're hurting me." And there it was, the thing tat finally broke him. Because you weren't screaming. You weren't insulting him. You just sounded hurt, disappointed, heartbroken. Like you couldn't understand why the man who loved you most was suddenly becoming the source of your pain. Caleb's grip loosened slightly around your wrist. His breathing became uneven. Because he knew. God, he knew he was hurting you and worse, he was doing it knowingly. Chosing silence while watching tears run down your face because the alternative could get you killed.
"Please." You whispered desperately. "Just tell me the truth." He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to so badly. Wanted to grab your face and explain everything. Wanted to beg you not to leave him. Wanted to promise this wasn't betrayal. But then the laser appeared again brieflt against the concrete, then to your forehead. And Caleb saw red. Actual red. Something violent surged through him so fast his vision sharpened dangerously. Someone was aiming at you. At you. And suddenly every protective instinct inside him turned monstrous.
"I can't." He repeated hoarsely. You went still, then slowly... You pulled off your enngagement ring. The world stopped. No. No no no. Not that. Anything but that. Caleb genuinely panicked. Real panic. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" He couldn't tell you anything, and that helplessness made rage build hotter inside him. Not at you. Never at you. At the situation, at the operation, at whoever forced him into this impossible corner, at the bastards watching from the shadows while the woman he loved cried in front of him because of their fucking mess. You shoved the ring into his chest. "Get out of my way."
Imagine he stared at the ring in his palm. Your ring. The one he spent months secretly carrying around before proposing because he wanted the perfect moment. The one you cried over while saying yes. Now it's sitting cold and unwated in his hand. Something inside Caleb cracked violently, but he stepped aside anyway. Because keeping you near him tonight suddenly felt more dangerous than losing you. And God, that realization nearly killed him. So he watched you get into the car. Watched your hands shake against the steering wheel. Watched you avoid looking at him directly because if you did, maybe you'd break harder.
Imagine Caleb stood there bleeding from the cheek, engagement ring clenched painfully tight in his fist, feeling completely fucking helpless. You looked at him once before driving away. And the devastation in your eyes would haunt him forever. Because despite everthing, you still loved him. He could see it. Which somehow made this infinitely crueler.
Imagine the second your car disappeared, Caleb snapped, completely. He stormed back upstairs so fast the witness physically recoiled when he entered. "She okay?" She asked quietly. Caleb ignored her and grabbed his phone immediately. The moment the line connected, his voice turned terrifying calm. "We've been compromised." Silence, then movement. "I want every surveillance team active now." "Sir?" "There was a fucking laser sight pointed at my fiancee." The room went dead silent. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Every emotion inside him mutating into something colder, meaner, more dangerous.
"Get covert protection on her immediately. Twenty four hour surveillance." He was silent for a moment. "My family too. I want every possible tail identified before sunrise." "Sir we still need authorization-" "Then authorize it." Caleb snapped viciously. Nobdy argued after that tone. Colonel Caleb angry was dangerous. Colonel Caleb angry over you was catastrophic. "They touched the wrong fucking person." He said coldly. The witness stared silently from the kitchen while listening to the conversation. And honestly? She looked scared of him now. Good. Because Caleb himself felt terrifying right now. Not because he lost control but because he still had it.
Imagine every ounce of rage insdie him became focused, precise, lethal. He wanted names, faces, bodies. He wanted everyone involved in this operation dragged into the light personally. No more patience, no more careful politics. These people made you cry. Made you take off your engagement ring. Made you look at him like he betrayed you. For that alone, Caleb wanted them ruined.
Imagine that night, long after orders were issued and surveillance confirmed you reached home safely, Caleb sat alone on the edge of his bed staring at his phone. The apartment felt unbearably empty now. Tiny traces of you everywhere. And now, he didn't know if he lost you forever. The engagement ring sat beside him. Caleb kept staring at it like maybe if he looked hard enough, tonight would undo itself somehow. His cheek stung where you slapped him. He welcomed the pain. He deserved worse. Slowly, Caleb unlocked his phone.
You: I love you. seen
You: Please trust me. seen
then Imagine, it took him a few more seconds and one message for the message to failed and realized you had blocked him. And for a several seconds, he just stared blankly at the screen. Then he laughed, one horrible breathless laugh. Because of course you blocked him. Of course you did. And somehow the reality of it finally crushed him completely. You, his fiancee thought he betrayed you. The woman he planned his entire future around. The woman he wanted children with. The woman he loved so much it scared him sometimes. And now, you were gone. All because he couldn't protect both the mission and your heart at the same time.
Imagine the way the laugh broke midway. Then Caleb lowered his head into his hands and finally cried. Quietly, violently, completely alone. Because there is nothing could do right now except finish this opertion. But afterwards? Afterwards he was getting you back. Even if it destroyed his pride entirely.
Imagine he would kneel, he would beg, he would crawl if he has to, and he would explain everything. Spend years rebuilding your trust if necessary. Because Caleb knew one terrifying truth with complete certainty now. He woud survive gunfire, war, blood, death. But losing you? That would be the thing that finally fucking killed him.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°
: if I have typos, just think I can't spell. Cuz maybe i really cant XD
Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic ;p
Cool, nimble fingers wiped away the tear that had fallen as you were in a trance. Your body had been throughly fucked by the silver-haired man to the point where you had apologized for cumming so many times.
Sylus only smiled, his lower half just as drenched as yours having squirted three times already.
“Such a good girl, yeah?” He covered your figure with his as he slipped his arms under your back and lifted you to meet him halfway. “Biiiiiiig stretch, sweetie. Open up for daddy. Just like that.”
You arms scrambled to wrap themselves around his shoulders, face tucked against his neck as your cries slash moans tore through your sore throat.
Looping his arms under your bent knees, he allowed you to cling to him as he moved you up and down his slick covered cock. Each thrust had his cum spilling from your tender hole, staining the already dirty black sheets.
“S-Sylus…I can’t…no more, p-please…”
Nudging your forehead with the tip of his nose, he made you look at him through your half-lidded eyes. Your skin felt feverish and if it wasn’t for his hold on you, your legs would have given out by now. You were a total mess, but Sylus was composed, except for his harsh breaths and the hungry look in his eyes.
“Ngh-ah, c-can’t…”
“You can. Just hold on to me and I’ll take care of the rest.”
You whined at a particularly rough buck of his hips, unaware of the bulge protruding from your belly as his mushroom shaped tip bullied your cervix.
Slipping his tongue into your warm mouth, he swallowed your desperate moans as he eagerly kissed your swollen lips.
“C’mon, sweetie. Let go for me. Good girl like you deserves to cum.”
You did as you were told. Digging your nails into his back, you cried out his name as you roughly came around his cock. The way your cunt squeezed around him prevented him from pulling out and spilling his seed on your belly. You swore you could feel your tummy swell from the amount of cum he had filled you with.
Sylus held you to his chest as the aftershocks of your climax had your hips bucking, a nasty squelching sound coming from were the two of you were connected. He littered soft kisses along your flushed face and licked away the tears that had slipped out before nuzzling his nose against yours.
“Did I do good?” Your voice was soft and your eyes glimmered with hope as you waited for him to praise you.
The corner of Sylus’ mouth twitched. Like the pleased little pet you were, you preened when he kissed your temple, his hands running along the expanse of your back.
“Damn right you did. I’ve got the best girl in the whole world.”
Synopsis: A collection capturing the biggest lie ever told in the bedroom.
CW: MDNI, dubcon undertones, alternate universes, rough sex, public risk/exposure, size kink, tip play/denial, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia, Xavier is a soft-spoken menace, biting/blood play, supernatural elements, voyeurism, degradation, possession/ownership themes, tip-warming?
A/n: typed this with one hand btw.
Crossposted on AO3.
When the chase gets too close, your protector proves that restraint is the first thing to go.
The click of shutters was a firing squad behind you, white-hot bursts of light chasing every step down the alley. Voices called your name like someone ringing a bell– relentless, stupid, hungry for a glimpse of the pop princess they sell and never own. He kept a hand at the small of your back; you didn’t slow. He didn’t either.
“Left. Now.” His tone was the one that cut everything down to order.
You ducked under the fire escape, breath snapping at the base of your throat. For one terrible, electric second the cameras flooded the alley mouth, lenses like teeth. Zayne shoved you through the nearest door and slammed it, shoulder against the frame until the noise thinned to a distant roar.
The closet was cramped, smelling of bleach, damp cardboard, and stale mop water. It swallowed you both. He pinned you there– chest to back, forearm jammed across the door like a second lock. His heat filled the space behind you, steady and impossibly close.
You felt him first in your hip– a hard line pressing into your ass, the press of a cock that hadn’t been touched enough. You shifted on reflex, grinding once, twice, the seam of your skirt rubbing that ridge through fabric. He made a low, dangerous sound in your ear.
“That’s not your holster,” you teased, breath hot.
His jaw tightened. “Behave,” was the warning, but his voice trembled with something else.
You hooked your fingers into the hem of your skirt and dragged it up, fabric shredding the tension between you. “Come on, Zayne. Just the tip. Please. No one will know.” The cotton at the seam rubbed the swollen head through his zipper and you felt him suck in a breath like a man holding a storm back.
For a heartbeat he was stone– muscles coiled, hands clenched. Then his fingers were in your skirt, ripping it up so fast the cool air slapped your thighs. He shoved your panties aside with one hard thumb; the slick between your legs met his touch, and the world narrowed to the feel of him, slick and heavy, precum beading on the crown.
He ground his length along you, the blunt head smearing your wetness, and whispered, “Just the tip,” like an invocation. The crown eased in at the edge of you– alarming, hot, impossibly wide. You cried out, the sound raw and bright.
You were already soaking for him; your cunt clenched reflexively, wanting to swallow, wanton. He held back only a second before he snapped forward, wrecking restraint in one brutal, perfect thrust that buried him to the hilt. Your scream– sharp, animal– filled the tiny room.
His hands fisted at your elbows and wrenched them behind you, bending you forward so his cock met you deeper and harder. The closet quivered as his hips pistoned, each pull reaming you hollow. The mops in the corner clacked; a bucket tipped with a dull thump; the air stank of bleach and sweat and something copper-bright from your wetness and his effort.
Every thrust was punctuation– hard, loud, precise. His mouth claimed your shoulder, teeth scraping just enough to make your skin flinch, then kissed along your neck, lips rough and urgent between nips. He bit once, hard enough to sting, and you tasted blood on your lips from your own bite as he growled into your ear. “Don’t beg,” he rasped, voice gone rough, but you couldn’t help it– your voice was little and broken and all for him.
He whispered filthy things as he fucked: the pet names he never said in interviews, the ways he’d keep you when the flashes were a lifetime away. “You think they’ll ever have you?” he murmured, thrusting. “They can stare until dawn– no one will touch you like this.”
You tried to grab his face, to pull him down to kiss him between bruising thrusts, but he kept the pace– merciless, controlled, punishing you with possession. Your slick leaked down his shaft with each retreat, warm and sticky, the smell of your arousal thick in the small room.
The clutch in your belly built like thunder. Your thighs trembled as he drove, nails scoring his shoulders, breath a broken rhythm against the back of your neck. You clenched on a backward stroke– hard– and he cursed, stuttering as his control unravelled. He filled you with a groan; his hips rut, pulsing in a tremor, and then his release hit: hot, thick, searing inside you. It spilled deep, flooding and pulsing until you felt every heavy pulse of him in your belly.
He didn’t pull out. He rode every aftershock and let his cum throb there, heavy and sticky, each pulse a slow drum against your insides. His breath came ragged; his forehead pressed into the back of your head as if anchoring himself to your scent.
After a long moment, he loosened his grip but didn’t let go– one hand still cupped your hip, the other threaded in your hair with an almost tender tug. He pressed the hollow of his mouth to your ear, voice wet and possessive. “Next time,” he chided, cock inside you still pulsing, “don’t make promises you don’t want me to keep.”
You let out a laugh that was part sob, part satisfied ruin, and leaned back into him– skirt bunched up, panties ruined, thighs still quaking. The closet smelled like bleach and sweat and him, hot and intimate and obscene. For a second you were simply his: sticky, dizzy, filled with him, and the world outside the door could burn.
Discipline and rhythm falter when the drummer makes you his instrument.
The studio smelled like sweat, strings, and stale coffee. Caleb was tucked away in the booth, sticks twirling, snare cracking in crisp bursts through the monitor. He should’ve been focused. He wasn’t.
Because you were on the other side of the glass.
You leaned into the window, sucking lazily on your finger, breasts pressed to the pane, eyes locked on him like a dare. His rhythm faltered. One stick clattered to the floor. You grinned slow, wicked.
He ripped the headset down, jaw clenched. Through the mic his voice rasped low and sharp: “Get in here. Now.”
The booth door slammed behind you. Before you could speak, Caleb had you caged on his lap, the stool squeaking under his weight. He unzipped, shoved your panties aside, and pressed the blunt head of his cock inside you in one practiced thrust. Just the crown– just enough to make your cunt stretch, to ache with denial.
You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. His hands clamped down on your hips, holding you in place. “Stay. You move, I pull out. Got it?”
You nodded, throat tight.
And then the waiting began.
The headset slipped back on, sticks lifted, and he drummed like you weren’t shaking apart on his lap. Every snap of the snare jolted through his thighs, through the thick head of his cock seated just inside you. The shallow stretch burned, a tease of fullness that never delivered.
Minutes dragged. Sweat trickled down your back. Your cunt clenched around the tip again and again, leaking down his shaft until his jeans grew damp beneath you. He hummed along with his rhythm, casual, as if he wasn’t splitting you open by inches and denying you the rest.
When you whimpered, he only grinned, teeth flashing under the booth light. “Easy. Stay still for me. I want you twitching on my cock while I work. Can you do that? Be a good girl and let me finish my set?”
Your thighs trembled. Another whimper slipped out, louder this time. Caleb’s free hand slid to your spine, stroking in lazy circles that made you arch against him. “That’s it. Breathe. You’re doing so well. Just the tip, sweetheart. That’s all you get.”
The shallow pressure grew unbearable. You tried to rock, but his grip on your hips cinched you tighter, dragging a hiss out of him when your slick spilled hotter around him. He chuckled low, shaking his head as he snapped another roll on the snare. “God, listen to you. So wet, and I haven’t even given you an inch. You really can’t take this, can you?”
It was torture. His cock sat heavy inside you, just the tip filling you shallow, throbbing every time he flexed his grip on the sticks. You clenched helplessly, slick already running down the seam of your ass, soaking his jeans.
“God, you’re dripping,” Caleb muttered between beats, teeth bared in a grin. He slid the crown just barely out, then pushed it back in, shallow as a tease. You whimpered, thighs trembling, and he chuckled low. “That bad, huh? Just the tip not doing it for you?”
You tried to grind down, but his grip was iron. His free hand slid up your back, fingers stroking tenderly as if to soothe. “Shh, don’t pout. You said you wanted my attention, sweetheart. Well, here it is. I’m right here. Just not all of me.”
Every shallow thrust drove you closer to breaking. The crown kissed your walls but denied you the depth you ached for. Your clit throbbed, untouched, pressed tight against the hard line of his stomach as you writhed. Tears pricked your eyes.
He leaned in, voice low against your ear: “So needy. All I’m giving you is the head, and look at you– shaking, soaking, clenching around nothing. You sound like you’re about to cry.”
You were. A sob broke loose as you whined, pleading, hips twitching against his grip. He kissed your temple like a lover, cruel and sweet at once. “Almost done, baby. Be patient for me. Let me finish this set.”
The rhythm faltered as you lost control. Slick gushed out of you, drooling down his cock, making every shallow slide wetter, noisier. You couldn’t take it anymore. You broke, sliding down despite his grip, your body swallowing him inch by inch.
Your gasp tore the air, sharp and broken, and Caleb groaned, sticks clattering from his hands. “Fuck– ” His restraint shattered. He grabbed your hips and slammed you down to the base, forehead pressed to yours as his cock pulsed inside you.
The stool squeaked under the force of his thrusts, his rhythm gone to ruin as he fucked you deep, every stroke punishing you for breaking his rule. “So greedy,” he groaned, hips snapping up hard. “But God, you feel so fucking good. Let me hear it, baby. Let me hear how bad you needed this.”
Your cries filled the booth, echoing off soundproof walls. You clenched hard around him, trembling as your orgasm ripped through you, soaking him in wet heat. That was all it took– Caleb’s thrusts faltered, his groan broke, and he spilled deep, pulsing inside you until you were both wrecked.
After, you sagged against his chest, both of you breathless. He nuzzled into your hair, laughing raggedly. “Supposed to be practice, huh? Guess I found a better rhythm.”
Haunting a man comes easy– surviving his touch does not.
You’ve lived in this house longer than he has. Long before he brought in sleek furniture and warm lamps to chase the dark, you learned his rhythms the way most ghosts learn draft routes– coffee at seven, shower at eight, the soft clink of glass when insomnia gets bored.
You’ve made yourself known in small mercies: a bulb that flickers back to life when he’s fumbling, a window left cracked so the jasmine will find him. Nothing violent. Just enough to let him know there’s a presence that likes him.
Tonight you watch him like a thief. He’s on the bed, shirt tossed somewhere on the floor, one knee bent, jaw slack. His hand moves slow and private, thumb dragging the head of his cock in long, knowing strokes. The sight curls you inward– the feathered breath, the way his hip gives a rhythm only he can hear. You hover at the mattress edge, close enough to taste the salt of his skin on the air.
And then the thing you’ve never let happen does: you focus so hard on him your form forgets shadow and becomes flesh. One blink and you’re kneeling at his hip, watching him fist himself like a man with a secret he shouldn’t enjoy.
He freezes, hand yanking back. Eyes wide in the dark. “The fuck– ”
You throw your hands up, voice a scatter of apology and need. “I’m not here to hurt you. I– God, I like you, Xavier. I’ve been here since before you moved in. I'm sorry, I don’t want to scare you off.”
He stares, chest heaving, sweat catching the lamplight. “You’re a– ”
“Ghost,” you finish for him, and your smile is small and nervous. “A… helpful one. Please– let me help.”
His cock stutters under his hand, slick with his drying spit and precum, hard despite the shock. You edge forward, hunger raw and obvious. “Just the tip,” you breathe, and your fingers brush the warm crown like an offering.
He laughs, low and dangerous– the kind of laugh that makes your knees throb. “Just the tip?” His grip snaps to your waist; in one fluid motion he flips you on your back, pinning you to the mattress. Cool skin presses against hot flesh. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for.”
The blunt head nudges in– a delicious pinch– then slides back. He pulls out. You try to follow, to sink down, but his hand clamps around the base of his cock like a lock. He pushes shallow, just the crown, then pulls free, again and again. The motion is surgical: slide, withdraw; teeth-grit control; the palace of pleasure held captive by his palm.
Every shallow slide is torture. The head kisses at the place you ache for, slipping and teasing, the friction of his knuckles focusing into a point until your body forgets language. You mewl, nails scoring his shoulders, hips trying to obey your animal, to ride him down, to have the rest. He thumbs the base with a practiced restraint and watches you unravel with a sort of clinical hunger.
“Greedy,” he says, voice flat, like mentioning the weather. “You said just the tip. So I’ll give you just the tip.” He watches the wet bead trail down your inner thigh, watches your mouth open on little, helpless noises. He kisses your temple– gentle, mockingly tender– and says, softer, “Look at this mess. You’re making me want to ruin you.”
You’re leaking for him: slick soaking the mattress, warmth pooling where his cock teases you. Tears spill because the denial is exquisite– sharp as glass and twice as pretty. Your knuckles ache from clutching at his biceps; your breath comes in helpless gasps that sound small in his room.
His restraint lasts until it doesn’t. The sight of you, the sound of your whimper, the way you tremble and try to take him despite his hand– it becomes too much. He releases. He pulls the base free from his grip and then drives forward in one brutal, hungry motion, burying himself to the hilt.
The shove knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, a sound raw and too loud, something between a plea and a prayer. He ruts into you with a staccato ferocity, hips pistoning, each thrust clean and deep, opening you with no mercy saved. The mattress creaks; the lamp throws the room into a strobing glow of shadow and heat.
He doesn’t hold back in the aftermath– his hands are everywhere: one splayed across the small of your back, the other mapping the underside of your jaw until you lift your face to his. When his mouth meets yours it’s hot and furious, teeth grazed and tasting of salt and desire. The kiss grounds you, drags you back from the brink while his cock punishes your cunt with relentless rhythm.
You break first, a white-hot collapse that pulls stars behind your eyes. Your body clenches and rides every last pulse as your orgasm shreds through you, limbs folding in on themselves. You feel him following– a curse, a raw groan, the heavy spatter of his release filling you as he buries himself deeper and rides the tremor out.
When he stills inside you, he keeps you pinned; there’s no gentleness yet, only ownership that hums through his limbs. He breathes hot against your ear, slow and certain: “If you’re mine to haunt, you’re mine to keep. No more hiding.” His words are the sort that buckle knees and claim rooms.
You laugh, a wet little sound, exhausted and shaky in his arms. He doesn’t smile. His dark eyes study you, ruthless and soft in the weirdest duet. You’re his error and his choice now– ghost, body, whatever you are– and he intends to keep you at his side, close enough to watch and close enough to ruin.
In the prince’s bathhouse, curiosity is rewarded and punished in equal measure.
The royal bathhouse was meant for him alone. Its marble halls glittered with gold inlay, mosaics depicting gods and conquests, braziers spilling steam into a haze of molten light. It was a sanctuary, decadent and forbidden– one you had no business entering.
But curiosity was a sickness. And Prince Rafayel was the cure you couldn’t stop craving.
He reclined in the main pool like a god carved of stone, violet hair slicked back, water sheeting down the hard planes of his chest. Rings gleamed even here, catching the glow of firelight as he draped an arm lazily across the edge. His cock lay thick and proud against his thigh, shameless, as though he knew any who saw would drop to their knees.
You lingered in the shadows, breath caught, thighs pressing tight together. Watching. Wanting. Pretending you weren’t trembling.
He noticed.
“How quaint.” His voice cut through the steam, velvet laid over steel. His gaze found you easily, speared you where you stood, a smirk curving his lips. “A little peeper in my bathhouse.”
Before you could flee, he rose. Water sluiced down every sculpted inch, cock heavy and bouncing against his abs as he crossed the pool. He seized your wrist and dragged you into the open, steam curling around you like a curtain drawn back.
“Since you enjoy watching,” he murmured, hauling you against him, heat radiating from wet skin, “you may be of use. Wash me.” He placed something in your seized palm.
Trembling, you obeyed. Cloth dragged over the hard swell of his chest, down his arms, across the ridges of his thighs. Each stroke made your mouth water, your pulse thunder. His cock bobbed in the water, swollen now, impossible not to stare at.
“Come.”
He guided you to the edge, lowering himself onto a marble bench carved directly into the pool, half-submerged so the water lapped at his hips. It was throne-like, made for gods rather than men, and Rafayel filled it effortlessly. Water dripped down his torso, pooling at his abs before trailing lower. His cock lay flushed and slick across his belly, heavy veins standing out, a monarch’s weapon presented for worship.
His hand tangled in your hair, tugging lazily. “Since you’ve been staring, continue.”
You couldn’t hide your eager smile as you waded closer, sinking into the water between his spread thighs, palms steadying against the cool marble bench he ruled from. You kissed the thick shaft slowly, reverently, tongue tracing a bead of water clinging to the swollen head. His breath hitched. You pressed your lips to the crown and then took it in, hollowing your cheeks, gagging lightly as he stretched your jaw. Salty, hot, intoxicating. Humming softly, pleased.
The obscene symphony of moans, spit and suction echoed off vaulted ceilings. His cock throbbed on your tongue, his nails digging sharp when he tugged your hair tighter. His voice was low, mocking, even as his chest rose harder. “Listen to yourself. My little voyeur turned cocksleeve.”
When you pulled off, strands of spit glistened between you. “Will you return the favor?” you asked, dazed, desperate.
He scoffed, eyes glittering with amusement. “My mouth is for commands, not service for the help.”
You leaned in, kissing the flushed tip, letting your tongue circle it in one last filthy plea. “Then… just the tip. Please.”
For a moment, silence. His jaw clenched. A curse slid between his teeth. Then he guided you forward.
You straddled him on the marble bench, heat of his cock searing even through the water. Lowering slow, inch by inch, you let the crown breach your soaked cunt. The stretch was exquisite– burning, dragging every nerve awake. You rocked shallowly, breasts in your hands, fucking yourself on only the swollen head. Every glide left your walls fluttering, every slip of the crown made you wetter, needier.
His grip on your waist tightened to bruises. His lips curled back, teeth bared. “Look at you,” he growled, watching your slick drip into the water. “Rubbing yourself raw on the head like some cheap harlot. Is that all it takes to make you whine?”
You moaned louder, arching, milking the head like it was enough, clenching so hard your vision blurred. The sight made him falter– his throat worked, his cock twitched, his composure fractured.
“Damn you,” he snarled. He yanked you down in one brutal thrust, spearing you to the hilt. You screamed, cunt stretched wide around him, the sound swallowed by steam. Water exploded over the pool’s edge, rippling against marble.
Then he fucked you like vengeance. Each snap of his hips was a merciless claim, slapping skin on skin, water splashing with every rut. His grip held you captive, dragging you onto his cock over and over until your body shook.
Your orgasm tore through you like lightning, walls clenching hard enough to milk him. He bit off a curse, thrusts stuttering, and then he spilled deep, hot, thick, groaning like a beast.
His cum spilled hot inside you, only to be claimed by the pool below– white mixing with steam and water, desecrating his private sanctuary with every pulse.
You sagged against his chest, breathless, trembling. He brushed damp hair from your face with rings still gleaming, lips curving into a cruel smirk. “Just the tip, mon trésor?” His thumb pressed over your swollen clit, making you jolt. “Next time, you’ll beg me properly.”
Beneath a thin moon, you learn how little your pleas matter to something that’s been waiting centuries.
You learned the rhythm of his footsteps long before you learned his face. He came like a shadow made habit– late and silent– mapping the city by rooftops and alleys. Some nights a window was cracked for him, a balcony light left burning; he always answered, patient and hollow-eyed on the stone ledge while you breathed into the dark.
Tonight the moon is a narrow slit. The city below is sodium-sugar; your silk slip clings to your skin. You step onto the balcony knowing exactly where he will be: perched two roofs over like a gargoyle, eyes glittering. Up close, he smells of rain and iron and something older, a cold scent that makes your pulse quicken.
You hold the railing and let him drink you in. He drops from his perch without a sound, landing beside you as if gravity itself bent for him. His hand finds your collarbone– light as a trespass, heavy as a claim.
“Been watching me?” you tease, rolling your hips the smallest, most deliberate inch. He inhales, a low animal sound.
“How could I not?” he murmurs; his voice is a silk-edged blade. His fingers trail down your sternum to the waist of your slip. “You tempt like someone casting a net.”
You slip a hand into the loose fabric and tug, bunching it at your hips. “Then come learn the rest,” you say, voice wet with mischief.
He smiles– slow, hungry– and before protest can get a toe in, he steps forward and presses you back until cold stone kisses your spine. The slip rides up; his palm slides between your legs, thumb finding you with the maddening patience of someone who’s watched a thousand nights and learned which small motions unravel a person.
“Up,” he says at last– one word, a command that lands like an order and a benediction. He hoists you against the cold wall, your legs locking tight around his waist as the city sprawls dizzy and bright below. His body pins yours in place, strength caging you steady while his cock presses hot and heavy at your entrance. The swollen head nudges in, deliberate and cruel, the promise of more hovering just out of reach.
“Just the tip,” you whisper– not a taunt but a soft bargain. Your nails bite into his shoulders, voice breaking on the plea. “Please– I can’t take all of you.”
He hums, low and sure, like a man humoring a prayer he already knows won’t be answered. “One touch,” he promises, steady as stone. Whether it’s mercy or warning, you can’t tell– but the certainty in his voice leaves no room for doubt.
The crown slips in like a whisper. First frost, then impossible heat: cold drilling your edges, then the volcanic stretch of him pressing where you swore you couldn’t bear it. You cling tighter, rocking shallow, trying to savor that inch, trying to convince yourself it’s enough.
But he watches too closely. Watches your trembling thighs, the helpless clutch of your cunt, the way every whimper begs for what your mouth denied. His patience fractures. His hands seize your hips and he yanks you down, your back scraping rough stone as his cock splits you open to the hilt. The breathless cry that tears from you proves him right– you can take all of him, because he’ll make you.
When he moves, it’s with the hunger of centuries denied– hips snapping forward, cock slamming into you so deep your vision stutters. Each thrust is a brand, a claim, a brutal drag of his thickness against every aching inch inside you. The stone wall grates at your back, his weight cages you, and still he drives harder, like your body is the only altar left to him.
His mouth clamps at your throat, fangs grazing the frantic pulse he’s hunted for nights. “May I?” he rasps, velvet torn raw against your skin.
Your answer is a strangled yes, and then he sinks in. The bite is lightning– sharp pain flaring, then molten heat flooding through every vein, each pull at your neck matched to the violent thrusts pounding your cunt. You’re split, stuffed, taken, the sting of teeth and the stretch of him weaving into one unbearable ecstasy.
Your nails rake his shoulders, your voice shattering into cries that echo against the night air. Wet sounds slap between you, his cock plunging again and again, the base grinding your clit until your body snaps. You convulse around him, clenching like a vise, milking him with desperate spasms as your orgasm rips through you in violent, tearing waves.
His eyes soften for only a heartbeat as he feels you seize on him, and then he breaks– groaning low, cock jerking deep, hot spend flooding you in heavy pulses. He fucks it into you with ragged thrusts, making sure every drop spills inside, each convulsion proving what he knew all along: you swore you couldn’t take him, but now you’re ruined by every brutal inch.
He stays pressed to you, forehead against yours, breath ragged, lips smeared with your taste. His laugh is low, satisfied, the sound of inevitability. “Couldn’t take me,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your jaw. His cock twitches still inside you, a final proof. “And yet– here you are. Split to the hilt. Marked. Mine.”
His thumb brushes the mark he left, lingering over the slick bite as though cataloguing his work. His hands skin your waist with soft ownership. “Keep away from the window,” he says after a beat, almost casual. “Do not open yourself for others. You are…useful.”
“Useful?” you echo, half-breath, half-smirk.
“Useful,” he repeats, mouth ghosting across your temple, the word carrying the weight of promise and threat. “And mine, when the moon is thin.”
Then he kisses you– no flourish, no ceremony– just the solid, claiming press of lips that anchors you like the weight of a secret. You kiss back, hungry, and for the first time since the night became your home, the darkness feels warm.
