୨୧ ― Caleb has spent his entire adolescence and young adulthood rejecting every admirer who threw themselves at him- returning their homemade lunches, turning down their confessions, never once letting anyone get close enough to touch him like that.
He was too focused. Too loyal. Too busy dreaming about the girl who'd grown up beside him, the one whose birthday made up half of his passwords.
His girl.
And now, finally, after all this time, he has you exactly where he's dreamed of you for almost a decade- beneath him, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes.
God, she's really here. She's really letting me-
His internal thought cuts off when he hears your sweet voice.
"C-Caleb-," you whine pitifully, fat tears beginning to bead along your lower lashes as you squirm beneath him in his apartment you've slowly been turning into a home... "I- I don't think-"
"What's wrong?" He sounds almost boyish in his confusion, purple eyes soft with concern as he brushes sweaty hair from your forehead, "Did I do something-"
"S'too big."
He blinks, tilting his head like the adorable idiot he is, "I'm... no, I'm sure I'm average? I mean, I haven't really compared, but…" his words trail off…
Caleb can do nothing but stare...
How your poor little cunt is struggling, quivering, lips stretched obscenely trying to swallow the first few inches of him...
His length is ridiculous- he realizes that now with sudden, dawning clarity, watching nearly half of his shaft still jutting out from where your bodies meet.
Despite how wet he's gotten you with his fingers and tongue and desperate grinding- despite the slick mess coating your inner thighs, the way you'd gushed around two of his knuckles, the way you'd soaked his chin when he'd eaten you out… you're still barely able to take him.
He'd always assumed those whispered comments from classmates back in high school were idle gossip. Locker room flattery he was too humble to believe -even now during showers on the fleet-. Girls giggling behind cupped hands, guys clapping his shoulder with that knowing look...
But now-
Fuck.
Now he understands as he watches you try to adjust.
Watching how your belly flutters with each shallow breath, watching your thighs tremble where they're spread wide around his hips. Watching the visible bulge of himself pressing up against the soft give of your lower stomach when he sinks another inch deeper and you let out this broken little whimper that makes his balls tighten.
He's ruining you. Reshaping you. Your tight little hole wasn't built for this, wasn't made for a cock this fat, this long, this mean- and he can't decide if the thought makes him want to pull out and apologize or grab your hips and bury himself to the hilt just to watch you fall apart.
"Shh, shh, hey." His voice has dropped low, rougher than you've ever heard it, and there's something dark flickering in those usually playful eyes. That possessive edge he's hidden for years, now surfacing as he stares down at where his thick cockhead is trying desperately to sink into your fluttering hole, "I've waited so long for this, Pips... For you. We're going to make it fit, okay? I'll take care of you, just like i always have."
His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. So gentle. So caring. So him.
And then his other hand pins your hip to the mattress as he snaps forward, burying every fat inch inside you in one brutal thrust.
"AHHH- CALEB!!" Your scream tears through his quiet apartment, back arching clean off the sheets as your cunt is forced to stretch around him, walls clenching and spasming helplessly against the intrusion.
It's too much -he's too much-, splitting you open on a cock that has no business being attached to a man who watches you like that. All soft, starving devotion. A loyal pup at the feet of its goddess, even while he wrecks you.
"Pips- oh, fuck, there we go," Caleb groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, those pretty eyes rolling back slightly as he bottoms out. His pelvis grinds against yours, the root of him stuffed so deep you can feel him in your goddamn stomach. "You're so tight- shit, is it always like this? Is this-"
"Y-you're my f-first too, you idiot," you sob, and something breaks in his expression.
First. I'm her first. She waited for me too.
"Oh, Pipsqueak," he breathes, and now both hands are cradling your face while his hips stay perfectly still to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside you, and you keen. "My sweet girl. I didn't know. I didn't-" He drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, "I thought- I would've been gentler, I would've-"
"N'just-" You gulp for air, body quaking, "just stay still. M'need to -hah- adjust"
He nods, pressing apologetic kisses all over your tear stained face while his massive length pulses inside your stretched out cunt. But even as he soothes you, that darker part of his mind is calculating.
If I keep her on my cock long enough... if I fuck her through it over and over... her body will learn. She'll mold to me. Only me. She won't be able to take anyone else after this...
Good.
And when your walls finally relax enough for him to move, rolling his hips in a slow, devastating grind that makes your eyes roll back... Caleb learns something else about himself that night...
oh no! today just happens to be peak ovulation day...
STARRING: caleb, sylus, zayne, xavier, & rafayel [separate] x f!reader
CW: needy bsf!caleb, dry humping | husband!sylus, breeding | lots of reader solo play (sorry snow girlies i failed us w this one), mirror sex | light somno?, eating out | teasing, orgasm denial
happy late valentines day <3 i hope i proofread good enough lol
✮⋆˙— caleb
The soft glow of the tv is the only light in the room, flickering blues and golds across the walls. Rain taps gently against the windows in a soothing beat, an excuse you happily use to curl a little close to Caleb on the couch. Best-friend movie nights were a ritual. You never missed them. Caleb never missed them. One night a month where the world didn't exist and it was just the two of you, uninterrupted.
And tonight just happened to be the night for your body to betray you.
You’d been squirming for the last five minutes, trying to find a position that doesn’t make you hyper-aware of the stickiness that won't stop gushing into your panties. First you’re to hot, then you’re too cold. Every brush of the blanket feels like too much.
You huff and pull back from Caleb, slumping into the cushions and pretending to watch a scene you haven’t followed for the last twenty minutes.
He glances sidelong. “You alright?”
You nod too fast, cheeks heating as you tug the blanket higher, squishing your thighs together, praying the movement looks causal.
“Are you sure? You’ve been… I dunno… weird tonight.”
“Weird?” you squeak. “What do you mean?”
Caleb turns fully toward you, and you stubbornly keep your gaze locked on the screen. Something shifts in the air under his attention, the room warming and suddenly shrinking two sizes too small.
“Hey,” his voice is gentle. “Look at me.”
You swallow hard, finding your will, and turn your head.
Caleb’s eyes are wide, but not with concern alone. They drift over the blanket wrapped around your body, then back to your face, soft but intent.
“You don’t have to lie,” he murmurs. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not!” you defend quickly. “I could never be uncomfortable with you. I’m just… having one of those days…”
“Yeah?” His voice drops then, like he already knows. He shifts just an inch closer and it makes everything worse. “Y’know you don’t have to lie to me, pips.”
You close your eyes, exhaling. He’s not going to let it go.
“It’s just… that day during my cycle,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the blanket. “It… makes me all flustered and…” you trail off, never more embarrassed.
“Can I help?”
Your eyes snap open. “W-What?”
“Can I help?” he repeats, already moving closer to crowd your space. Large arms brace on either side of your hips. His gaze goes hazy, hungry in a way you’ve never let yourself notice before. “Please?”
You choke on a gasp, the sound breaking into a needy whine. Your mind pulls in two opposite directions–your pussy throbbing helplessly at the offer while your heart twists at how much could change if you give in.
The decision is made for you. Caleb sees the hesitation, but the desire in your eyes win. His lips crash onto yours.
You melt instantly. Of course you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him close while you pant into his mouth like you’ve been craving this for far longer than just tonight.
Your heart pounds in time with the pulse between your thighs, completely soaking you through the dainty fabric.
No more words. Caleb's hands do the talking, rough and impatient as they yank your shorts down your legs. His gaze immediately darts to your panties and he groans low in his throat.
“Oh my… fuck…” he breaths, already shoving his sweats down. “Why didn’t you let me help you earlier?”
“I–I was embarrassed.” You admit, failing against the cushions.
“You never have to be embarrassed, baby…” the pet name curls around you, warm and possessive. “Never for this.”
He settles over you, sweats pushed low but boxers still on. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself—just presses the thick length right against your soaked, cotton covered core.
You gasp, the contact is electric, exactly what your pussy’s been begging for. Caleb dips down and captures your lips, the kiss turning messy almost instantly. You cling to each other, exhaling loud out of your noses to not separate. His hips drag, pulling sweet little whines from your throat.
Caleb’s lip part as a raw moan slips free, his lips still dragging wet kisses across yours. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and completely fixated, like he can’t believe this is real. The hard line in his boxers grinds against the thin cotton covering your heat again.
Best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing this. But the forbidden edge tastes so sweet, and the simple, devastating fact that it’s him, only makes it more addictive.
You lift your hips aggressively, chasing friction when the head of his cock brushes your swollen clit through the layers. Your panties are drenched now, letting him slide easily, every drag spending sparks up your spine. The wrongness of it, the rightness of him, is intoxicating.
Your sweet, protective best friend, reduced to nothing but a man desperate for any form of contact from you.
“Pips…” he groans, pressing harder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
A wicked smirk curves your lips before you pull him back into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's full of a hunger neither of you wishes to hide. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, then your tongue soothes the sting.
His large hands roam up from your hips to squeeze your breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you’d stolen tonight. You–all bare legs, skimpy panties, and his shirt–has him twitching in his boxers.
“Fuck…” he pants, pulling back from the kiss, but never stilling his shallow thrusts. Conflict suddenly flashes in his eyes. “We…we shouldn’t be—ah!—doing this.”
You manage a sweet, dangerously innocent voice, slowly rocking your hips—just once, over his throbbing need. “W-Why not, Caleb? You’re just helping me. We’re…mmph…not doing anything wrong.”
He groans at the obvious lie, bracing himself on his forearms to suspend his weight over you. His muscles are wound tight, straining against his restraint, which crumbles with his next sentence.
“I need to… see you,” he grunts. “See what I’m doing to you, pretty girl.”
Before you can think, his trembling hand hooks your panties aside. The choked sound he makes at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy, goes straight to your core, then he’s slamming his still-clothed cock right over your directly exposed wetness.
His hips lose rhythm, jerking wildly in a desperate, uncoordinated rut. His cock throbs violently in his boxers, chasing a release he can’t hold back. The friction is filthy, intoxicating, your whimpers mixing with his wrecked moans.
“So beautiful…” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “God, you’re so beautiful, honey.”
The most captivating sounds spill from Caleb’s lungs, a mix of whimpers and guttural moans as a sudden warmth blooms and soaks the material of his boxers, seeping out onto your puffy core. He collapses forward, breathing ragged against your ear.
“Did you just–”
“Mhmm…” he hums, voice shaky but completely unashamed. “All in my boxers. I couldn’t help it.”
You huff a gentle laugh, still trembling with want, thighs slick and aching. “Wanna do it inside me now?”
✮⋆˙— sylus
Your bare feet pad into your shared bedroom, steam spilling out behind you and curling along the ceiling like a lingering sigh. Droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your throat and between your breasts before disappearing beneath the collar of your robe. You tug the fabric tighter, shifting your hips as the restless heat returns low in your belly.
The bath had meant to ease the tension that haunted you all day, yet all it’s done is make you more aware of it.
To your surprise, Sylus sits propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black pajama pants, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a book open in his hand. He must have returned home while you were submerged.
The second you step into the room, his gaze lifts slowly and pins you in place. The pupils in his eyes widen, something soft but hungry in his gaze.
He knows exactly what today is.
“Come here,” he says sweetly, patting the mattress beside him.
You oblige without hesitation, climbing onto the bed and crawling up the sheets before flopping onto your stomach with a muffled groan. The cool fabric against your flushed skin makes you shiver.
“You didn’t enjoy your bath?” he hums, palm gliding over your robe-clad back in slow, soothing passes that only only makes the ache worse.
“No, I did,” you mumble into the pillow. “I’m just…” your voice trails off, embarrassment tangling your tongue. The words feel too exposed, even to your husband.
“I know.” His tone drops, husky and threaded with quiet amusement. “You’re so warm.”
The mattress dips as he shifts to settle behind you. Strong fingers slip to your front to find the tie of your robe and loosen it, peeling the damp silk from your shoulders. His lips follow the path of exposed skin, pressing hot, lingering kisses along your shoulder blades.
“You even smell sweet today,” he murmurs against your skin.
Heat floods all over again, a slick gush seeping from your sweet hole and onto the mattress. A quiet whimper slips free as you lift your hips, brushing your ass back against the firmness straining beneath his pajama bottoms.
“Sylus…” you breathe.
“Yes, kitten?” his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs kneading the soft skin. “Use your words.”
He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind, letting you feel the heavy weight of him exactly where you’re aching most.
“I need you…” you whimper, voice small.
Sylus smirks, peppering kisses just beneath your ear. “And why do you need me?”
You're grateful your face is buried in the mattress because your cheeks burn instantly. His teasing is gentle, but relentless–he wants to hear it.
“Because…” you swallow. “you know… ‘m ovulating.”
Sylus groans as he presses his cock deeper against you. Your robe is peeled down your arms, the silk whispering against your skin as it gives way before it’s tossed aside. Cool air kisses your heated skin, replaced quickly by the warmth of his body hovering over yours.
“Is that so, kitten?” his hands trails down your bare back, fingers tracing every dip of your spine. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”
“Please.”
A kiss is pressed to your head before he lifts himself long enough to push his pajamas down. You feel him a second later, the gentle tap of his cock once against your ass, a bead of precum smearing onto your skin. The sensation makes you shudder, hips instinctively pressing back for more.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with admiration as his hands spread over your lower back, keeping you still. “You’re so wet for me.”
His cock drags slowly between your slick folds, the glide torturously slow. You can feel every vein, every pulse, your pussy clenching around nothing as he coats himself in your arousal. Praise falls from his lips in soft murmurs—good girl… so sweet… so ready for me—each word sending another wave of heat through you.
When he finally lines himself up and begins to push inside, it's agonizingly slow. Sylus wants you to feel every stretch until you’re gasping into the sheets, fingers curling into the favor. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip while his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.
At first, it’s gentle. Deep, steady thrusts rock your body forward, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. But your soft, broken mewls and the way you push back against him, smearing your slick heat across his abdomen, wears down that compose.
Fingers dig into your hips, tightening until you’re certain the marks will linger. The pace quickens, each thrust landing harder than the last, the quiet room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin and the desperate hitch of your cries. He has you exactly where he wants you.
Well, almost.
His arm snakes around your waist while his other hand splays possessively across the top of your spine. The weight of him forces your body into a deep, supplicating arch that maximizes the depth.
There.
He grunts a low, satisfied sound as your walls flutter around him in reply to the new angle. “You like that, sweetheart?”
A round of sharp, breathless inhales answers his question. “Y-yes–hicc–y-yes!”
His hips surge forward violently at the sweet sound, losing any remaining gentleness.
“I’m so deep like this, kitten,” he gasps, each word punctuated by the heavy slam of his cock driving into you again and again. “Could stuff you so full right now…”
A needy whine spills from you, drool dampening the pillow as pleasure muddles coherent thoughts. “C-Could you n-now?” The question tumbles out with a desperate sincerity between gasps.
Sylus leans forward, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I could. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
A shudder runs down your spine as he pulls you upright against him, your back flushed to his chest. Your head falls onto his shoulder, baring your throat. He takes immediate advantage, slowing his frantic rhythm to deep, punishing thrusts that make your toes curl while his lips work at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking dark love bites onto the supple skin.
“You’re already so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he drags himself out to the tip before slamming back in, forcing a sob from your lips. “Imagine how beautiful you’d be swollen with me right—”
His hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm spreading wide as his fingers splay possessively over the skin there.
“—here.”
Your eyes flutter shut as the image floods your mind—round and full of him. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, slickness leaking down his length in a fresh rush.
“Oh, you’d let me, wouldn’t you, kitten?” His hand glides upward, fingers curling around your jaw, firm but tender as he tilts your face back towards his. He needs to see you, need to see the honesty in your eyes. “You’d let me fuck a baby into you?”
The words ignite something molten in your core, spewing a string of moans from your lips. Your gaze locks with his, and the seriousness in his expression steals what little breath you have left.
His grip on your jaw tightens just enough to keep your focus as his thrusts pick up again. “Words. Use them.”
“Y-Yes,” you sputter.
“Yes what, sweetheart?”
“Yes I’d l-let you—hah!—fuck a b-baby into me, Sy!”
A strangled growl tears from his throat. Your answer unlocks something feral in him. His pace turns ruthless, ramming his cock into you with one intention.
“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie,” he promises hoarsely. “I’ll make sure it—nngh—takes.”
He’s already throbbing inside you, completely captivated by the sheer thought of getting you pregnant. His lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as his movements grow sloppy with need. With a groan that rumbles through both of you, his tip slams against your soft cervix, releasing hot pulses of his seed. He doesn’t stop, rolling his hips in slow thrusts to ensure it took.
When he finally stills, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, a dazed smile tugging at his lips.
“We have to ensure it takes, kitten,” in a smooth motion he flips you both, letting you sit atop him. “Show me how badly you want it.”
✮⋆˙— zayne
You watch the clock tick past, the small hand resting on the hour, officially signaling that Zayne is off shift.
Unfortunately, he still won’t be home for at least another hour. Judging by his lack of reply to your texts, there’s probably mountains of paperwork, last-minute calls, and traffic standing between him and this house. You’ll be lucky if you see him before nightfall.
You groan, slumping against the edge of the bed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. The one day you really need Zayne, and he’s nowhere in sight.
Your body aches with need, each pulse a reminder that ovulation has turned you feral. Heat blooms in your lower belly, soaking your panties, and you can't stop pressing your thighs together to try and relieve it.
Your gaze flicks to the mirror. Your reflection stares back with flushed cheeks. You bite your lip and glance at the clock again. There is a solution.
Zayne will probably be exhausted when he gets home. If you take care of yourself now, you can tend to him later.
Fuck it.
With zero ceremony, you kick off your shorts, the fabric of your soaked panties clinging to your pussy. Your cheeks burn an even deeper crimson as you push them down, peeling away the damp material and leaving your lower half exposed to the reflective glass.
Desperation makes your movements sloppy. Your fingers dip inside your dripping cunt, index and middle finger instantly slick with your need. You twitch as they withdraw, then drag up to twirl them in gentle circles over your swollen clit, shivering at the surge of pleasure.
A tiny moan escapes your lips, high and breathless. It's been a while since you’ve touched yourself solo—because you usually have Zayne. But tonight, he’s just an image in your head, and that thought alone is enough to make you squirm.
You mimic his touch, spreading your folds and teasing your swollen bud just like he would. Stop. Start. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the delicious burning building in your core.
“Z-Zaynie…” you whimper to the air, eyes flicking to your reflection, watching your pussy flutter around what would be his cock if he were here. Your thighs threaten to slam together, but you force them apart.
You lose yourself in the sensation of your fingers' newfound rhythm. Pressure builds, threatening to boil over the edge. Your breath catches, lips parting in moans that are muffled but urgent.
And then—
Your eyes snap open and they aren’t just seeing you in the mirror. Zayne is in the doorway, tie loosened from work. His expression is unreadable, but dangerously hungry. His arms are crossed, like he’s trying to seem annoyed—but you know that look. He’s definitely turned on and fully amused by your shame.
“Shit—mmgh—Zayne—!” you squeak, yanking your hand back and slamming your thighs together as if that could hide the evidence of your crime.
He steps in slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glasses on the nightstand.
“It’s not—” you start, then stop, as you realize it is. “I’m sorry, I just… ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning hotter than ever.
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he says evenly, taking a single step in the room. “Continue.”
You glance at him, confused. “But Zayne—“
“Did I misspeak?” His voice is unnervingly calm.
“N-No,” you stammer. “B-But I don’t understand. I only did it because you weren’t here, and now that you are—”
“That doesn’t change anything.” He interrupts, voice low and commanding. “You were doing it when I wasn’t here. You couldn’t wait. So go ahead. Finish without my help, just like you intended all along.”
A shiver runs through you. His words are cold, but utterly thrilling. You stare at him, searching for a crack in his expression that isn’t there.
Swallowing your embarrassment, you part your thighs again and place your hand back between your legs. The time you look at him—not at the mirror—as your fingers slide inside yourself. Your slick folds glisten under the bedroom light, fully displayed for him, yet he doesn’t even look. Zayne moves around the room, loosening his cuffs, rolling his shoulders, and going about his normal post-shift like you’re not bare and dripping a few feet away.
The normalcy of it makes your stomach twist. He’s doing it on purpose, and every second he doesn’t look is a silent command to keep going.
So, you continue. The pressure builds, unbearable now, and you bite your cheek to hold back a moan. “Zayne…” you pant, eyes fluttering shut as you buck helplessly into your own hand.
Before you can register it, he’s crouched beside you. His presence is sudden, the faint scent of soap and hospital antiseptic clinging to his skin. When his voice comes, it’s soft, but firm. “Are you going to come?”
You nod, breath hitching, unable to answer. His hand darts out, cradling your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he tilts your face towards the mirror.
“Watch.”
You whimper, locking onto your reflection in the glass. Your fingers move of their own accord, gliding across your puffy clit as you push yourself over the edge. Your body trembles and tips sideways, instinctively leaning against him as the waves roll through you.
But he isn’t done with you.
You can’t even fully recover, because suddenly he’s pushing off his pants, his cock springing free before he’s settling in right behind you. One hand tugs greedily at your shirt, dragging the fabric up and off so your tits spring free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air at the heat of his stare in the mirror.
“C’mon,” he orders quietly, fingers digging into your hips as he guides you back. “Ride me.”
You flush as you move to hover over him, still sensitive from your release. The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your entrance, smearing the sticky precum as you line him up with shaky hands.
“You get so needy when you’re ovulating,” he murmurs, amusement threading through the lust as he fixates where you will be joined. His hips raise once to poke your entrance in impatience.
“H-How do you–”
He chuckles under his breath, nipping your shoulder. One hand slides up your side to pinch your perked nipple, then swipe the bud of his thumb over it to soothe the sting. “You think I don't know my sweet girl?”
You whine and shake your head before you sink slowly onto his length, a lewd moan spilling free as the stretch makes your thighs tremble all over again.
But the pace is too slow for Zayne. His fingers flex, then grip your hips and pull you down until you're seated flush against him, his swollen tip nudging your cervix.
“Is it better than your fingers, love?” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your spine as his hand smooths up your back, pressing lazy kisses against the overheated skin.
“Mmm, y-yes. F-Fuck, yes,” you whimper, rolling your hips while your eyes stay glued to the mirror. Your breasts bounce with every motion, your juices slicking his pelvis. The obscene intimacy of watching yourself take him making your stomach flutter.
A breathy, almost strained groan slips from him. Zayne’s grip tightens, just shy of rough, as his thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your lower back.
“That’s it… look at you,” he mutters, voice dipping darker, a little mocking. His cock twitches inside you as he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “I love how you feel like this. When your body’s begging for me.”
You clench at the words and ride him harder, chasing the friction. The mirror shows everything—your flushed face, his hungry eyes, the way he watches you fall apart for him.
“Next time,” he groans, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, never once breaking eye contact with your reflection. “You’ll wait for me.” His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Or at least send me a picture. Understood?”
Your pussy throbs in time with your heart, moans punching out from each snap of your hips colliding. “Y-Yes! I understand—!”
“Good. Now come for me again.”
✮⋆˙— xavier
Your eyelids flutter to the barely-there presses of his lips.
It starts on your cheek, then trails to your jaw. You keep your eyes closed as he buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent before peppering a few more kisses along the sensitive line beneath your ear. His breath is warm and uneven as he savors you before you fully wake.
Your body reacts subconsciously, shifting closer to him and giving a tiny shiver at the affection so early in the morning. If you had to guess, the sun hasn’t even risen. The world feels dim and soft, wrapped in the stillness.
You’re aware you lie on your side. Of the weight of the comforter. Of the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back.
You’re also aware of his stiffness pressing against you—but it floats through your mind like a distant thought, something you register without fully grasping.
“Good morning, angel.” Xavier’s voice is a hoarse rasp near your ear, signaling that he too just woke. His hips subtly shift, pressing him more firmly against you before he exhales. “You can go back to sleep, lovely.”
You hum in reply, still drifting. His hand glides down the curve of your waist, slow and absentminded at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of your curves. The touch keeps you suspended in the blissful space between dreaming and reality—where every sensation feels warmer, heavier, and sweeter.
You almost sink back under. Until his kisses don't stop.
They linger longer now, and his fingers toy with the hem of your waistband as if testing whether you’ll stir. You inhale softly, something incoherent slipping from your lips when his warm hand slips beneath the fabric, his palm settling on your abdomen. His thumb traces patterns that send quiet sparks up your spine, each pass making your thighs tighten just a fraction more.
You should wake. You should turn and face him, acknowledge the warmth that you are suddenly very aware is pooling in your panties—and fast. But you're so comfortable, so pliant against him, letting his touch wander while your thoughts drift like mist.
“Do you know what today is?” Xavier murmurs, breaking through the haze.
Your blink your eyes open slowly, the dim room slowly taking shape in blurred outlines. You search your memory, but nothing important surfaces. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his hand stills, waiting.
But your body seems to know before your mind does. There's a heightened sensitivity humming under your skin, every brush of his fingers sending a ripple through you that feels unfairly intense for how half-asleep you still are.
Oh.
“It’s a good thing,” he continues softly, his words threaded with a gentle hunger. He finds the hem of your panties, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re extra sweet today… softer. Smell so good…”
Heat creeps into your cheeks even in your drowsiness, and your legs part slightly without conscious thought. The small movement draws a low breath from him, a quiet surrender to how much he wants you. His forehead rests against your shoulder as his hand dips beneath your panties.
He finds you wet and murmurs out grateful praises into your skin, kissing you again and again like he can't help himself. His fingers instantly begin a gentle dance against your clit, making you arch back into him with a soft, sleepy moan.
“I saw the calendar… that cute little app,” he pinches your bud softly, soothing the action with slow passes of his fingertip. “So you’re super sensitive for me. Especially in the morning.”
You whimper, clutching your pillow as you let breathless sounds slip free, your body melting into the pleasure despite how foggy your mind still feels. Even though his touch only abandons you for a second, a needy whine escapes your throat. He pushes your pants and panties down just enough, the material pooling at your ankles.
“Just stay where you are, star,” he says softly as the warmth of his body leaves yours.
Xavier trails a path of wet kiss along the back of your thighs, unhurried and worshipful. You shudder but stay curled like he asked, fingers tightening in the sheets. When he reaches your pussy, finding it dripping and open, he lets his warm breath ghost over you first, making your hips twitch.
He inhales deeply, his hips shifting mindlessly against the mattress at your sweet scent. He doesn’t wait another second before his mouth finds you.
You grasp a handful of blonde hair, whining as his tongue licks a stripe from your entrance upwards, then settles to circle your clit. He continues to lap at your heat, devouring how syrupy you are today, sucking you into his mouth and burying his face deep between your thighs like he never wants to come up for air.
“Feels s-so good, Xavi…” you moan, trembling.
Your orgasm is already hovering. He groans against you, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the skin encouragingly. Each swipe of his tongue is a silent plea.
Come for me. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good.
You break seconds after, squirming against the sheets as pleasure takes over you in warm waves. Pants leave your lips as he doesn't let up, his mouth relentlessly working you through the euphoric waves, and long after they pass. His face is sticky with your cum, dripping down his chin, making him look as if he’s the one who just finished.
“B-Babe–” you cry out, trying weakly to push his head back. “Honey… ‘s too much…”
He presses one last lingering kiss to your puffy pussy before finally lifting his head. His cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along your thigh. “I couldn’t help myself.”
His hands are gentle as they turn you from your side onto your back. Your gaze drifts downward, catching the darkened patch of precum blooming against the front of his tented sweatpants. The sight sends a fresh pulse of heat through your still-sensitive body.
He follows your gaze before palming himself through the fabric.
“Think you can handle a bit more for me?”
✮⋆˙— rafayel
The car ride was silent.
You knew you’d pushed Rafayel’s buttons a little too far at his gala tonight. But honestly… could he even blame you?
He’d shown up dressed like sin in one of his sharpest suits, hair styled to perfection, eyes gleaming the entire duration of the exhibit. And all of it—all of it—on the exact day you were ovulating.
Of course you were going to touch him.
Of course you were going to kiss him.
Of course you were going to corner him beside a marble sculpture and slide your hand a little too low.
“Raaffff,” you drawl into the thick quiet of the car, leaning over the console with a pout that’s half apology, half provocation. “C’mon. Please don’t be mad. I said I’m sorry!”
Rafayel’s brows turn downwards, but there's a sparkle behind the annoyance. “Sorry for kissing my neck while I was speaking to that artist,” he replies coolly, “or sorry for grabbing my dick before I had to greet the commissioner?”
You smirk, entirely unrepentant. “Both. And you liked it! You were hard when I touched you.”
He scoffs, but the sound melts into a quiet laugh under his breath. He isn’t mad, he never really is, and when you poke his side to confirm, he squirms just enough to betray himself. The twitch at the corner of his lips is your victory flag.
You think you’ve won.
That is, until you get home.
The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he moves. There's no warning. One second you’re toeing off your heels, the next his arms are around you, sweeping you up bridal-style. A startled laugh leaves you as he carries you down the hall, his hold possessive and unhurried.
His lips find yours before you reach the bed, and they are soft but insistent, pulling quiet gasps from your chest. The heat that’s been simmering in your belly all day flares hotter, burning brighter.
You land against the mattress with a muted thud, sheets cool beneath your back. “Undress,” he tells you, already slipping open the button of his shirt with graceful fingers.
You obey immediately, giggling as you shimmy out of your dress, fabric clinging to your hips before you kick it away. Anticipation hums under your skin like static.
Rafayel, meanwhile, is still mostly dressed. His shirt hangs open just enough to reveal his toned skin, a teasing glimpse of chest that makes your fingers itch for a touch. You reach for him instinctively, only for his hand to close around your wrist mid-air and guide it back to the mattress, pinning you there.
“Raf–”
“Do you really think I’m going to let you have your way after tonight?” His voice is playful, smug, and dripping with amusement. The smirk he gives you is pure trouble. “You’re so cute.”
You squirm, a fresh gush of warmth gathering between your thighs. “But… I said ‘m sorry.”
“Oh, I know you did, cutie,” he hums, leaning down to brush a single kiss against your cheek. Then your jaw. The column of your throat. Each one is soft and savoring.
“So then…” you mumble, tilting your neck to give him more space. “Why are you still dressed?”
His lips curve against your skin as he trails lower, the gentle presses of his lips turning wetter, slower. Goosebumps rise across your body when his hands find your thighs, and ease them open for him.
He pauses, eyes settling on the soaked material clinging to you. His thumb presses against it, just once. You squeak, and arch into his hand, sensitivity dialed painfully high today. He chuckles, rubbing your pussy through the panties in lazy strokes, up and down, just enough to make you ache.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he coos, but his eyes are dark. “But you teased me all night… so I’m getting my revenge.”
You gasp when his thumb circles firm over your swollen clit through the fabric. The friction is electric and not enough all at once.
“Raf… please, this isn’t fair,” you whine.
“Not fair?” he juts his lip in a mock pout. “I didn’t think it was very fair when you were handsy in public.”
Before you can argue, he hooks a finger under your panties and slides them aside, revealing your dripping cunt. He huffs in amusement, admiring the slick evidence of your arousal like its art he curated himself. (He did)
His finger drags through your folds, collecting the sticky mess. He spreads you open, glides over your clit, circles your entrance, but never lingers enough to satisfy.
Your thighs twitch. Your hips lift. Your fingers clutch the comforter.
It’s torture. Sweet, earned, torture.
And just as a complaint forms on your lips, his fingertip settles over your clit and begins slow, gentle circles. Pleasure sparks outward, instantly bowing your back and spewing moans from your lips. Every sensation feels amplified.
“R-Raf… Raf, fuck—baby,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter.
Rafayel laughs softly, continuing to play with your pussy, admiring how much more wetness gathers at his touch. “You close, cutie? Gonna come?”
You nod in rapid succession. “Y-Yes…yeah ‘m gonna—“
His fingers stop.
The sudden absence makes you gasp, blinking your eyes open “W-Why did you stop?”
He lifts his gaze to yours, expression all polished mischief and arrogance. His thumb is still resting maddeningly close to where you’re throbbing. “Did you really think I was going to let you come?”
Your frustrated whine only makes his smile widen. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, taunting kiss.
“After the way you behaved tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re going to beg for it.”
His fingers return before you can even form a reply, and they're faster this time. The slick sounds of how wet you are fills the room. What started as gentle coaxing turns into purposeful rubbing that makes you fist the sheets and sob out. When your legs try to close, he simply prises them back open.
“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispers. “All worked up and needy… yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” His thumb presses just right, drawing a broken sound from your throat.
“I do… f-fuck I really do…” you whimper, hips chasing him without shame. The pressure builds once again, and just as the waves begin to crest, he stops.
The absence is devastating. His words following are cruel.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing his slick finger against your thigh. His cock strains against his pants, a visible twitch he pointedly ignores as he keeps his attention on you. “You’re soaking our sheets.”
You lie there in the heat of it, trying to gather yourself. When your heartbeat finally slows enough to think, he starts over. Fingers dragging through your warmth, starting slow, then faster. Each time he brings you near the edge, letting desperate cries and whimpers that you’re close spill from your lips, he stops again.
By the fourth time, tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, pleas dissolving into half-formed syllables that barely resemble words.
“R-Raf… p-plea–suh–ahh–” his fingers slide into your gummy walls.
“Think you’ve been good enough?”
“Y-Yea–mmgh–yes–!”
He exhales through his nose, finally satisfied. His fingers curl to your sweet spot, and this this they don’t pull away.
they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.
mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3
sylus.
You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.
He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.
"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."
You paused.
Needy?
"Oh."
Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.
"I didn't mean — "
"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"
"No — "
"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"
That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.
No hand holding.
No hugs.
No kisses.
No sex.
Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.
But he can't lose your game so easily.
He'll toughen up if he must.
He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.
His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.
He'll be fine.
That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.
You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.
He'll wait until you give in.
It's more fun that way.
Okay, so this is harder than he thought.
It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.
Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.
"Sylus?"
He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"
"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."
He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."
That was a total lie.
It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.
However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.
With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.
"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."
Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.
"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.
Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.
At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.
Or so he thought.
Day four.
The frustration has gotten to Sylus.
It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.
He can look, but he can't touch.
It's much more difficult than he thought.
Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.
Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.
Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.
Sylus quietly growled under his breath.
He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.
You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.
"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."
Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."
He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.
"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"
"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"
You almost agreed in a heartbeat.
But you have to stay strong.
"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."
Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.
Day seven.
You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.
It was the worst idea of all.
As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.
Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.
Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.
He was sweating throughout the entire ride.
And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.
From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.
As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.
Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.
Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.
Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.
"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."
"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"
"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."
"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."
That was all he needed to hear.
Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.
zayne
You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.
"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."
You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.
"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."
Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.
It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.
He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.
"Oh, no..."
Day three.
You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.
Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.
You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.
It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.
"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"
"What you said the other day?"
"You know... about your high libido...."
He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.
"Nope! I don't care at all!"
Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.
Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.
The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.
And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.
He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.
Day five.
You and Zayne attended a formal event.
It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.
Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.
Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.
As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.
He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.
Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.
It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.
Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.
"Zayne, are you okay?"
You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.
"You feel warm. Are you sick?"
Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."
He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.
On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.
But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.
And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.
Day six.
On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.
Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.
You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.
After all, he had a special proposal.
"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."
It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.
But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.
He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.
He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.
After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.
"How could this happen?!"
Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.
Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.
Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.
"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."
You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"
Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.
"Kiss me."
Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.
"Oh."
He found a way to end your silly little game.
He really is a clever boy.
"Your wish is my command~"
At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.
Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.
His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.
Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.
"...should we end picnic early?"
"We should end picnic early."
caleb
You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.
"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."
Your hands come to a halt.
"What did you say?"
"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "
"No, you just called me needy just now."
Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.
"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.
"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."
"Wha — hey wait!"
It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.
Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.
The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.
But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.
"No."
"Huh?"
"No kisses."
"What?! Why?!"
You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.
"Because. I don't want to seem needy."
"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.
"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.
Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.
Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.
Day two.
The pout hasn't left his face.
You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.
You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.
"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."
"...."
"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"
"..."
No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.
But what if....
"Whew, it's so hot in here."
Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.
He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.
Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.
Or at least, that was the plan.
His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.
"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."
You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.
Day four.
You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.
The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.
But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.
Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.
Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.
Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.
Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.
Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.
He can't help but seek for your touch.
It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.
Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.
This scheme of yours has to end now.
Day five.
You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.
Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.
But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.
His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.
"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"
"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."
You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?
"What did I forget?"
Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.
"Ta-da! Here you go~"
Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.
".....Are you being serious right now?"
A hair clip.
"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."
"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."
Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"
He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.
You should've known he came in with a mission.
As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.
He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.
His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.
He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.
Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."
"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."
Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.
He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.
"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "
"Never!"
Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"
"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"
"The pot can wait. I'm busy."
"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.
"Okay I'm coming!"
rafayel
"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"
You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"
Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"
"Right..."
You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).
Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.
But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.
As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.
He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.
At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.
Day two.
You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.
The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.
"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."
"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."
Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.
"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."
"Mhmm."
Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.
He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.
You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.
Without them, his day feels incomplete.
Day three.
You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.
"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."
He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.
"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."
Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."
Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."
"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."
Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.
Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.
His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."
It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.
Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.
So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.
His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.
His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.
But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.
You held back a grin at his red face.
"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."
"...Hmph..."
He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.
Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.
Day four.
"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"
You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.
"...."
"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"
"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"
"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."
You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.
You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.
You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.
Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.
"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.
"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."
Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.
"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."
Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."
Your face burned.
As did the rest of your body.
At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.
Stiff and twitching, just for you.
Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.
"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."
Rafayel has never moved so quickly.
xavier
Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.
"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.
"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."
Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "
You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"
"Wait — "
"Goodnight, I said."
Day one.
You had to be joking, right?
You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.
You probably don't even remember what you said.
Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.
When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.
So, everything should be fine.
He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.
"Good morning."
He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.
That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.
"Good morning, Xavier."
Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.
There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.
Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.
You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.
Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.
Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.
"Hmm? What are you — "
"Shhh. We need to be quiet."
Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.
But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.
Everything is not fine.
He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.
But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.
For the final check: the Pocky test.
Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.
As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.
"Wait, let me check if yours is good."
He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.
But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.
"Wah — "
You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."
So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.
And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.
Day two.
Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.
You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.
Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.
For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.
Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.
As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.
"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.
Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."
"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.
"I'll be fine~"
Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.
"Are you really that scared?"
He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.
"Ah!"
His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.
"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."
He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.
"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."
You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.
"Xavier!"
"Ssshh, I got you."
After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.
The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.
You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.
"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."
You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.
"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."
"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."
Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.
"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"
"Well.... not really...."
They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.
"At least you're honest."
A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.
"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."
You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.
"Just focus on me."
From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.
Sylus isn’t the guy who waits for your birthday to drop something huge on you.
He’ll just… do it. Random Tuesday in March, you wake up to him already dressed, leaning in the bedroom doorway with that lazy half-smirk, tossing a set of keys onto the bed like it’s nothing.
“Get up. Yours now.”
You stare at the key; matte black, sleek logo you recognize instantly. Your brain short-circuits for a solid five seconds.
“…Sylus, what the fuck is this?”
He shrugs. “Your new car, sweetie. Parked downstairs. Figured the matte red would look good with your new gear.”
You’re still blinking at the keys. “You bought me a sports car. On a random day. Because…?”
“Because I saw it and thought you’d look hot driving it.” He says it like that’s the only explanation required. No card, no ribbon, no celebratory card. Just him, already walking toward the kitchen like he didn’t just change your entire driveway situation.
Birthdays and holidays are different with him.
Those are quieter. More private.
On your actual birthday he doesn’t do grand gestures or flashy jewelry. He waits until the apartment is dark, everyone else long gone, and then he sits you down on the couch with nothing but a small velvet box in his palm.
Inside is something small and personal. A tiny silver heart shaped locket with a picture of the two of you in it. It’s the kind where you aren’t posing, not deliberately trying to look good for the camera. It’s a small intimate moment shared between the two of you and even in the picture, his full attention is on you. He’s had it cleaned, strung on a thin chain he picked himself.
No speech. Just him fastening it around your neck with careful fingers, lips brushing the nape before he pulls back to look at you.
“Been carrying that around for a while,” he mutters. “Figured it was time you had it.”
You’re crying before you even realize it. He doesn’t make a big deal, just pulls you into his lap, lets you hide your face in his neck while he strokes your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Valentine’s, Christmas, anniversaries, he keeps it the same. Thoughtful, quiet, stupidly intimate things that mean something only to the two of you: a leather-bound sketchbook filled with his own rough drawings of places you’ve been together, a single pressed flower from the field where you first kissed, a custom knife engraved with the date he decided you were never getting away from him.
No billboards. No parades. No “world’s best girlfriend” mugs.
Just him, quietly proving every day that you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted to keep.
And then on some random Thursday in July he’ll walk in, drop a set of matte-black keys on the counter while you’re eating cereal, and go “bought you a bike. It’s downstairs. Don’t scratch it.”
You stare at him over the bowl.
He just kisses the top of your head and steals a spoonful of your cereal like he didn’t just casually drop five figures on a whim.
That’s Sylus.
Big gifts whenever the hell he feels like it.
The ones that actually hurt to give, those are saved for the days that matter.
