When THEY accidentally send you (p)🌽 link... (part 2)
When YOU accidentally send him a (p) 🌽 link....Here (part 1)
CW: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh fucking. Deep throating. Breeding kink. Masturbation. Praise kink. 🔞 MDNI 🔞
There are about 20 open tabs on your phone and a half finished list of new plushies you’ve been eyeing. It’s a problem. Your collection is already getting a bit out of hand, but there’s something about a new squishy companion that just makes the stress of your last mission melt away.
You’re scrolling through your favorite site, debating between a pastel jellyfish or a round, grumpy cat, when your phone buzzes with a text from Xavier.
Xavier: Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.
You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. You’re already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.
The link loads. You blink.
Then you blink again.
Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.
Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, it’s a frantic succession of messages.
Xavier: Wait, did that go through?
Xavier: The link?
Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.
You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.
The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because you’ve only been intimate for a few weeks, there’s still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.
He’s behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But it’s what he’s doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.
He isn't fucking you. Not yet.
He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. He’s sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.
"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.
"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."
He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"
You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, you’re close, aren't you?"
His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. He’s always known exactly where you are, even when you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.
You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, it’s an admission. It’s the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.
His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you can’t squirm away.
He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.
"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.
"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.
The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."
His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.
The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. You’re gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.
"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.
When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz
Caleb [14:22]: Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.
You’re supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but he’s been rambling about dinner for the past hour.
Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.❤️
A link follows.
You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.
A VIDEO loads instantly. It’s not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and there’s a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.
"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.
Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?
Bzzzz
Caleb [14:26]: Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.
You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.
But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.
You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.
“The recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?😉"
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. He’s hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.
His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"
He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."
The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.
"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."
His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.
"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"
He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.
The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."
The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.
A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.
"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."
He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. It’s messy but it’s exactly what he wants.
"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."
Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you don’t care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that he’d never show anyone else.
He’s on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.
Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.
The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.
You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.
"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.
When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.
"You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."
Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if you’re lucky getting a moment of peace.
Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but it’s a text from Rafayel.
Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yet” the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. “Remember I have an exhibition today! It’s a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. It’s going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" 👇
LINK
You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. He’s so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.
Instead, your screen loads a video.
You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.
You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.
Did he... did he just send you a porn link?
Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.
Rafayel: “Did you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?”
Rafayel: “The composition of the colors is quite striking.”
Rafayel: “Wait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"
Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."
Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "
You can’t help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.
You: “The lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.”
The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.
Rafayel: “I am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.”
🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧
The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.
But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. You’re the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.
You’re perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. He’d used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.
His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"
You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.
He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "I’ve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. It’s always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."
He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve he’s forced you to present to him.
"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."
He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. He’s not just looking at a lover, he’s looking at his salvation.
"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."
His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.
"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."
You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."
You can’t look away. You wouldn't even if you could.
A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.
He looks beautiful.
He’s close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him.
Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."
The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.
The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.
He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.
His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.
When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.
His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.
"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."
The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. You’ve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.
Sylus
[Sylus]: There’s a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. I’ve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.
[Sylus] : I’ll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.
You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.
The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.
It isn't a protocore.
It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, she’s looking at him.
The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.
You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way he’d probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.
With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.
You: Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.
The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. You’ve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but you’ve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.
The little bubbles appear. He’s typing.
Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?
A moment later, the notification pings.
Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.
A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.
Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.
You’ve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.
There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. He’s right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think he’s about to break, you pull away.
Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. He’s using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he can’t reach out and grab you. He’s forcing himself to endure the torture you’re inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.
He also looks wrecked. It’s a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.
You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.
You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.
His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.
“Please... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.
You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.
The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.
“You’ve been so good, Sy,” you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”
“Please, sweetie,” he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands “I’ve been... so good...”
He’s lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.
"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"
He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.
“I won’t, though,” you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. “Because you've been such a good boy.”
The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.
Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.
The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.
The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.
He’s over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."
His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.
"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."
Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned he’d send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.
"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"
LINK
You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.
It was not a muffin.
It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.
You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!
Zayne: ...
Zayne: Oh.
You: “Oh”? That’s all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!
Zayne: Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.
You: [Sends a laughing emoji]
Zayne: I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.
You: Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!
Zayne: 🙄
🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺
The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.
Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.
"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"
His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because you’re on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. It’s... fuck... it's about risk management."
"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."
He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that he’d never say in the hospital halls told a different story.
"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."
He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."
"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! It’s just us, isn't it?
You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.
Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.
"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "
He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.
He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.
The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.
" Fuck!" you breathed out.
"God, finally," he growled back.
The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.
He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.
When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.
"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."
When THEY accidentally send you (p)🌽 link... (part 2)
When YOU accidentally send him a (p) 🌽 link....Here (part 1)
CW: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh fucking. Deep throating. Breeding kink. Masturbation. Praise kink. 🔞 MDNI 🔞
There are about 20 open tabs on your phone and a half finished list of new plushies you’ve been eyeing. It’s a problem. Your collection is already getting a bit out of hand, but there’s something about a new squishy companion that just makes the stress of your last mission melt away.
You’re scrolling through your favorite site, debating between a pastel jellyfish or a round, grumpy cat, when your phone buzzes with a text from Xavier.
Xavier: Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.
You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. You’re already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.
The link loads. You blink.
Then you blink again.
Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.
Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, it’s a frantic succession of messages.
Xavier: Wait, did that go through?
Xavier: The link?
Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.
You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.
The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because you’ve only been intimate for a few weeks, there’s still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.
He’s behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But it’s what he’s doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.
He isn't fucking you. Not yet.
He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. He’s sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.
"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.
"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."
He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"
You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, you’re close, aren't you?"
His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. He’s always known exactly where you are, even when you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.
You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, it’s an admission. It’s the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.
His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you can’t squirm away.
He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.
"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.
"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.
The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."
His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.
The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. You’re gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.
"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.
When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz
Caleb [14:22]: Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.
You’re supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but he’s been rambling about dinner for the past hour.
Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.❤️
A link follows.
You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.
A VIDEO loads instantly. It’s not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and there’s a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.
"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.
Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?
Bzzzz
Caleb [14:26]: Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.
You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.
But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.
You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.
“The recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?😉"
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. He’s hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.
His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"
He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."
The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.
"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."
His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.
"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"
He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.
The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."
The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.
A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.
"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."
He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. It’s messy but it’s exactly what he wants.
"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."
Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you don’t care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that he’d never show anyone else.
He’s on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.
Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.
The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.
You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.
"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.
When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.
"You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."
Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if you’re lucky getting a moment of peace.
Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but it’s a text from Rafayel.
Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yet” the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. “Remember I have an exhibition today! It’s a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. It’s going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" 👇
LINK
You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. He’s so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.
Instead, your screen loads a video.
You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.
You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.
Did he... did he just send you a porn link?
Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.
Rafayel: “Did you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?”
Rafayel: “The composition of the colors is quite striking.”
Rafayel: “Wait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"
Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."
Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "
You can’t help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.
You: “The lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.”
The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.
Rafayel: “I am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.”
🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧
The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.
But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. You’re the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.
You’re perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. He’d used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.
His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"
You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.
He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "I’ve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. It’s always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."
He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve he’s forced you to present to him.
"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."
He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. He’s not just looking at a lover, he’s looking at his salvation.
"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."
His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.
"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."
You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."
You can’t look away. You wouldn't even if you could.
A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.
He looks beautiful.
He’s close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him.
Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."
The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.
The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.
He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.
His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.
When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.
His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.
"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."
The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. You’ve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.
Sylus
[Sylus]: There’s a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. I’ve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.
[Sylus] : I’ll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.
You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.
The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.
It isn't a protocore.
It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, she’s looking at him.
The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.
You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way he’d probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.
With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.
You: Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.
The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. You’ve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but you’ve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.
The little bubbles appear. He’s typing.
Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?
A moment later, the notification pings.
Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.
A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.
Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.
You’ve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.
There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. He’s right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think he’s about to break, you pull away.
Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. He’s using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he can’t reach out and grab you. He’s forcing himself to endure the torture you’re inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.
He also looks wrecked. It’s a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.
You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.
You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.
His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.
“Please... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.
You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.
The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.
“You’ve been so good, Sy,” you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”
“Please, sweetie,” he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands “I’ve been... so good...”
He’s lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.
"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"
He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.
“I won’t, though,” you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. “Because you've been such a good boy.”
The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.
Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.
The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.
The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.
He’s over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."
His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.
"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."
Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned he’d send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.
"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"
LINK
You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.
It was not a muffin.
It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.
You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!
Zayne: ...
Zayne: Oh.
You: “Oh”? That’s all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!
Zayne: Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.
You: [Sends a laughing emoji]
Zayne: I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.
You: Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!
Zayne: 🙄
🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺
The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.
Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.
"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"
His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because you’re on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. It’s... fuck... it's about risk management."
"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."
He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that he’d never say in the hospital halls told a different story.
"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."
He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."
"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! It’s just us, isn't it?
You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.
Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.
"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "
He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.
He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.
The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.
" Fuck!" you breathed out.
"God, finally," he growled back.
The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.
He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.
When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.
"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."
Synopsis: Seven minutes in heaven with your college Rival Rafayell couldn't have been more insufferable—except it didn’t end in seven minutes. One kiss turned into another, and somehow the game bled into the night, your rivalry burning hotter in the sheets. Weeks later, you act like nothing happened between you, but Rafayel doesn’t take it lightly. Jealousy flickers sharp whenever he sees you laugh with someone else, as if you plan on pissing him off.
Content warnings: College AU, Rivals to lovers, Jealousy, Heavy Sexual tension, Kissing, Making out in the closet, Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Possessiveness, Riding, Face fucking, Oral sex, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Overstimulation, Dirty talk, Manhandling, Marking/bruising, Jealousy-fueled intimacy, Consensual but rough dynamics, Rafayel gets jealous, mc wants to piss him off
Word count: 10k
chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 — ao3
Chapter 1 - Push and Pull
You despised Rafayel Qi more than you ever wanted to admit, and nothing in this life would have satisfied you more than wiping that smug, infuriating smirk off his face. He was the kind of insufferable you could spot from across a lecture hall, lounging in his seat like the world existed for his amusement, tossing out comments that were always just sharp enough to get under your skin.
For the past two years, he’d been your personal plague, an ever-present thorn in your side. And somewhere, deep down in the place you didn’t like to acknowledge, you almost admired his persistence—how one man could make you want to strangle him in every single encounter.
He never knew when to shut up. Always poking, always pushing, like testing the limits of your patience was his chosen sport. And oh, how you’d made it your mission to give it right back, to make his life just as miserable in return. That was the thing about the two of you, a perfect disaster of cause and effect. The light and the fuse. People didn’t even bother asking how your latest spat had started—they just assumed it had, because it always did.
On campus, your names had become inseparable in the worst possible way, whispered together with knowing grins or exasperated sighs. Group projects? A nightmare. Debate class? Civil war. Even casual conversations in the cafeteria would somehow pivot to, “Did you hear what Rafayel said to her this time?”
You hated it, hated that your name was tethered to his like some cosmic joke.
You could still hear his voice from that afternoon in the library, casual and smooth as ever, leaning over the table with that lazy smile. “Relax, cutie,” he’d said, sliding your textbook toward himself without asking. “If you keep glaring at me with that expression, people are going to think that you fancy me.”
You had snatched the book back, teeth clenched. “The only thing I fancy is the idea of never having to see your face again.”
He’d only laughed, low and infuriating. “Harsh. Guess I’ll just have to make sure you keep seeing it, then.”
You couldn’t begin to fathom what crime you had committed—whether in this life or some unfortunate past one—to deserve being stuck with him every few weeks. Yet here you were, standing on the soft, beer-stained carpet, surrounded by a cloud of cheap perfume, laughter, and the low thrum of bass shaking the floorboards. Alcohol hummed in your veins, warm and distracting, while the partygoers whooped and hollered around the circle.
A chipped glass bottle spun on the floor, wobbling to a stop as if it had been conspiring against you all night. You stared at it like it had just declared war on you, because, of course, the neck was pointing directly at Rafayel.
For a fleeting, wicked moment, you considered grabbing it and cracking it over his annoyingly perfect head. Seven minutes in heaven. With him.
The crowd erupted—half in mock horror, half in the kind of delight that came from watching a train wreck you couldn’t look away from. Simone and Tara exchanged a wide-eyed glance that said they were both surprised and already placing mental bets.
You narrowed your eyes at them, but before you could say a word, movement caught your attention. Rafayel was already walking toward the closet—no hesitation, no acknowledgment of the chaos he left in his wake. He didn’t even look back at you, as if it was a foregone conclusion you’d follow.
That arrogant prick.
You scoffed under your breath and stood, brushing imaginary lint off your jeans, mostly to keep from flipping him off in front of everyone. Simone and Tara nudged each other like middle schoolers about to watch a fight, grinning as though they hadn’t just sold you out to the devil himself.
“Don’t wait up,” you muttered at them, your voice sharp enough to cut.
A guy from somewhere in the back yelled, “My money’s on murder!”
Another chimed in, “Nah, they’re either gonna make out or burn the place down.”
You ignored them all, though your jaw tightened. Seven whole minutes trapped in a cramped, dark space with Rafayel—his cologne, his smug smirk, his constant need to one-up you. And as you reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder at last, that infuriating grin playing on his lips.
“Don’t look so thrilled, cutie,” he drawled, holding the closet door open just wide enough for you to pass. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle you could still see. “You wish.”
His smirk deepened, lazy and sure of himself. “I do,” he said lightly, stepping in after you. “But it’s more fun when you do too.”
The door clicked shut, sealing you into seven minutes of hell. You pressed yourself into the farthest corner as the door shut, sealing out the noise of the party. Darkness swallowed the cramped space, save for a sliver of light leaking through the crack between the door and frame. Your breath caught—not from nerves, you told yourself, but from the sudden proximity.
His cologne lingered in the air, warm and heady, with some other undertone—salted, oceanic—that clung stubbornly in your head. The realization annoyed you more than his actual presence. It was unfair, you thought, that someone so irritating could smell that good.
A faint brush against your arm made you flinch. You turned your head sharply, catching the faint outline of his profile in the gloom.
“Keep to your own space, yeah?” you muttered, your voice low but sharp. You tried to shift farther away, but the closet was far too small, and you hated the way every movement brought you back within reach of him.
His laugh came quiet but deep, curling at the edges with smugness. “My bad, princess,” he murmured, leaning just close enough for the warmth of his words to ghost over your cheek. “Didn’t realize I’d already stepped on your toes tonight.”
You shot him a glare, even if you knew he probably couldn’t see much of it in the dark. His arm was still brushing yours, his casual lean making it clear he had no intention of shifting away.
“I will step on yours if you don’t move,” you warned, crossing your arms tight over your chest and turning your body slightly to shield yourself.
Instead of taking the hint, he tilted his head lazily. “So aggressive tonight,” he said softly, mock sweetness dripping from the words. “Acting like this isn’t the highlight of your night.”
You huffed, the sound sharp in the close air. “In what universe would this be my highlight?”
“In mine,” he answered smoothly, without missing a beat.
You scoffed, the sound sharp in the thick air between you. “You’re so full of yourself, Rafayel.” the words left your mouth like you were flicking a match, each syllable meant to cut.
He only hummed in response, low and lazy, and you hated how close the sound came—how it brushed over your ear like the faintest touch. The closet was warm, the air stale, and you could barely make out anything in the dark. But the sliver of light from the doorframe caught just enough of his face to make his expression clear—amused, entertained, like this was his own private game.
You scoffed again, softer this time, if only to keep from saying something that would sound too much like admitting defeat. He chuckled quietly, that smug undercurrent in every note, and then his arm brushed yours again. You stiffened, your jaw tightening on instinct, but he didn’t shift away. Instead, he leaned in just slightly, tilting his head toward you until you could feel the faint stir of his breath. One hand came up to brace himself on the wall behind you, close enough that you could feel the subtle press of his body against yours.
Your pulse ticked up despite yourself. This was absurd. Infuriating. And yet your chest felt tighter than it should.
“Stop touching me,” you hissed, shifting back as far as the wall would allow.
He gave a quiet laugh, as though you’d just said something endearing. “Where exactly do you want me to go, cutie?” he murmured, voice low enough that you almost missed it. “Closet’s only so big.”
The worst part was that he was right. There wasn’t an inch of space left between you. You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he could probably see the movement in the faint light. “Try harder.”
“Oh, I am,” he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin you could hear in his voice.
Seven minutes had never felt longer.
He smirked, leaning in just enough to test your patience, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly casual tone he always used when he knew he was getting under your skin.
“Kind of convenient, isn’t it?” he murmured, the words brushing against you like a challenge. “Whole party out there, and somehow you end up locked in here with me. Almost like you rigged it. Guess you really can’t stay away, cutie.” his next words ignited the fire in you even harder, “Especially since you can’t beat me when it actually counts.”
Your teeth clenched, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Before you could think better of it, your hand shot out, gripping the front of his shirt and tugging him just enough to close the already minuscule space between you.
“You’re delusional,” your voice was low and pointed, every word pressed like a blade. “Your ego must be eating what’s left of your brain, because you’re lying to yourself if you think I’d choose this. I’d rather be anywhere else.”
You held his gaze, and now you were close enough to make out the sharp line of his jaw, the faint curve of his mouth, and—annoyingly—just how clear his eyes looked in the thin strip of light. He stared back at you with the same infuriating calm, only a slow tug of a smirk breaking the stillness.
“Funny,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for his breath to mingle with yours. “You’re the one hanging on to my clothes like you’re about to tear them off.”
Your own smile curled, deceptively sweet. “I’d rather tear your head off.”
The space between you tightened, silent except for the shallow drag of your breaths. You hated that the air felt heavier now, that the warmth radiating from him made your skin hum in awareness. Neither of you moved back, both locked in the same unspoken dare you’d been passing between each other since the day you met.
He smirked, and you felt your jaw tighten in sync with the way your fingers curled, bunching the front of his shirt in a hard grip. He was too close, close enough that your breath caught against his, every inhale shared in the warm, cramped dark. Your pulse spiked, not that you’d admit it, not even to yourself.
You hated this. Absolutely hated him.
A sharp scoff escaped you before you planted a hand against his chest, shoving him back just enough to reclaim a sliver of space. But before you could take another step away, his arm moved and slid down from the wall behind you until his hand brushed against your waist, steadying himself.
The light contact made your pulse trip over itself. You grit your teeth, biting back the words that wanted to snarl at him to stop touching you—though you weren’t sure if you meant it entirely.
“You don’t seem in a rush for me to let go,” his voice was carrying that lazy taunt that made every nerve in you itch. His hand stayed exactly where it was, with more purpose now, his fingers settling with a certain confidence at your waist.
Your glare could have cut glass. “What kind of delusional state gives you the nerve to think you can touch me?”
You shoved at his chest again, harder this time, but his grip only tightened, pulling you forward with the movement so that your body collided with his. Your breath left you in a startled grunt, the solid heat of him impossible to ignore.
You looked up at him, startled and seething, yet heat coiled traitorously low in your stomach at the new position. Every sharp exchange, every smug remark he lobbed your way had wound itself into something you refused to name, and you’d sooner die than admit Rafayel could have that kind of effect on you.
His smirk curved lower, slower this time, his voice brushing over you like the edge of a dare. “I like it when you bite back,” he murmured, leaning just enough that the air between you thinned. “Makes me wonder what you’d do if I touched you… on purpose.”
His gaze flicked down briefly, then back to yours, full of quiet challenge. “My guess? Not much. You can’t really one-up me.”
The air felt heavy, your breaths matching his in a quick, uneven rhythm. Tension held you both still, tethered in the narrow space between his chest and yours.
“Cocky bastard,” you whispered, every word sharpened between clenched teeth. “You’ll get more than you bargained for.” you tilted your chin up, closing the space by a fraction, your lips nearly grazing his. “So either move your hand… or I’ll make you.”
His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened infuriatingly slow, like he was savoring the moment.
“Yeah?” his voice dipped just enough to brush against something inside you. “And how exactly would you make me?”
His fingers tightened on your waist, not painfully, but with the kind of deliberate pressure that felt like he was testing how far he could push before you snapped. Heat surged under your skin, your muscles tensing as your breath came shallow, matching his.
You couldn’t even say who moved first—only that suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and unyielding, all teeth and heat and reckless challenge. He kissed like he expected you to fight him, so you did, matching the push of his lips with your own bite until the taste of him left you dizzy.
Your whole body pressed into him, seeking leverage you didn’t want to admit you needed. His grip on your waist anchored you, pulling you closer until there was no space left to guard. Your teeth caught his lower lip, hard enough to pull a groan from his chest, low and rough.
The cramped heat of the closet wrapped around you both, the world reduced to the tangle of limbs and breath and the sharp scent of him. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging as his bent knee slid between yours, shifting your weight until your back met the wall again with a muted thud.
He didn’t stop. Your mouths were a frenzy—hot, rough, and desperate in a way neither of you would ever admit aloud. Your hands clutched at him, fisting the fabric of his shirt, not to pull him closer—though it felt that way—but to keep yourself from stumbling under the force of it all.
The taste of him lingered on your tongue, sharp and consuming, each kiss a challenge neither of you wanted to lose.
You bit at his lower lip, he returned the favor, and your tongues tangled in a battle for dominance that left both of you breathing ragged. Teeth grazed swollen lips and the sensitive skin just beneath, his mouth dragging down to your neck. His lips were warm, his breath hotter, and when he sucked a mark there, his smirk was felt more than seen.
“Someone’s enjoying themselves,” he rasped against your skin, his voice low enough to scrape over your nerves.
“Shut up,” you bit back, shoving at his shoulder, though your body betrayed you, arching into him when his hands—bolder now—slipped beneath the hem of your shirt.
Your mouth found his again, urgent and unrestrained, and you yanked hard on his hair, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. The sound vibrated against your lips, and heat pooled low in your stomach.
You were both panting now, breaths coming fast and shallow, and then you felt his bulge—hard against your hip, impossible to ignore. His thigh pressed between yours, and without thinking, you grinded down against it, the friction dizzying.
He groaned again, but this time it was laced with that infuriating amusement. “Cute,” he drawled, his tone deliberately light, even as his grip on you tightened. “Almost desperate. Must be all that pent-up frustration from wanting to fuck me this whole time.”
Your nails dragged slow beneath his shirt, scratching from his ribs down to his stomach before sliding back up again. The movement earned a low, unrestrained groan from him, his breath hitching just enough to make you smirk—though you didn’t get long to savor the victory.
His hands were already on you, firm and unapologetic as they cupped your ass, pulling you down against the solid line of his thigh. The friction sent a jolt through you both, making your bodies lurch together, grunts and gasps spilling into the heat between your mouths.
Even breathless, neither of you could resist the game.
“Feel that?” he smirked, the words curling against your ear in a delicious rasp as he shifted his leg just right, making you gasp. “You’re soaking through, cutie. Didn’t know you could get this wet just from grinding on me.”
You hissed through your teeth, catching his smirk in your peripheral, and refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.
“Yeah? Then maybe you should be more worried about yourself,” you shot back, your voice low and edged with heat. Your fingers slipped lower, brushing the waistband of his jeans. “You’re so hard, Rafayel. I bet if I touched you just a little, you’d cum in seconds.”
His grip tightened at that, a subtle, wordless admission he wouldn’t dare voice.
What you don’t expect is his low, rough voice brushing against the shell of your ear like he knows exactly what it does to you.
“Go on,” he murmurs, the words warm and wicked, “be a good girl… touch me. We could help each other out.” The tease is casual, almost lazy, but the weight of it coils heat deep in your stomach.
Before you can throw a retort, his fingers are already at your waistband, dragging the zipper down in a slow, deliberate pull. Then his hand slips inside, the heat of his palm startling against your skin. His breath hitches in something like satisfaction, and a soft grunt escapes him, carrying both a praise and a taunt.
“Slippery already,” he drawls, his tone dipping just enough to make it sound like a secret. “Must’ve been desperate for me, huh? Can’t help yourself… even just being close to me gets you like this.”
You grit your teeth, trying to swallow the sound building in your throat, but it escapes anyway—a low, unsteady moan—as his fingers slide inside you. He doesn’t ease in; his pace starts steady, controlled, and just dizzying enough to steal your breath.
You’re too far gone to argue, too caught between his touch and the heat thrumming through you to remember whatever insult you’d been ready to throw. Instead, you crush your mouth to his, the kiss greedy and unrestrained, tasting of defiance. His fingers work inside you in a steady, deliberate rhythm, just enough to make your knees threaten to give.
You don’t let him have all the satisfaction. Your hand drifts lower, finding the hard outline pressing against his jeans, rubbing in the same measured pace he’s set for you. The sound he makes is low and rough, pulled from somewhere deep, and you drink it in like victory.
Your mouths stay locked, swallowing each other’s shallow pants and quiet moans, the kiss breaking only for sharp gasps before crashing together again. Teeth catch lips, fingers dig into clothes and skin, both of you pushing harder, faster—daring the other to give in first.
The tension snaps for you in a shiver, your body tightening around his fingers as heat floods through you. He swallows your moan like it’s his, kissing you harder, deeper, until you’re dizzy. A moment later, his hips jerk, a muted groan breaking against your mouth as he follows, the heat between you spilling over into something ragged and messy.
Still, neither of you pull away. You kiss until your lips are bruised, until breath comes in broken pulls, until it’s impossible to tell if you’re clinging from want or because neither of you can stand without the other holding you up.
“Pretty sure that was more than seven minutes,” he murmured against your neck, his tone dripping with satisfaction before his teeth sank into your skin in playful retaliation.
A sharp sound slipped from you—half moan, half hiss—your body still humming from the high, even as irritation flickered hot in your chest.
“Who knew all it would take was a couple of my fingers to strip some of that attitude away, cutie?” he added, the bait curling lazily from his lips like he already knew you’d take it.
Your response was wordless at first—a firm grip on the half-hard length straining against his jeans, followed by a hiss against his neck as your other hand tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him suck in a breath.
“How about,” your voice was low and edged with challenge, “you get me out of here and fuck me until it’s all gone, hm?”
His mouth crashed onto yours before you could blink, the kiss bruising and impatient. His hands gripped your ass and hips with a possessive force, pulling you flush against him as his smirk ghosted over your lips.
“Gladly,” he breathed, smug as ever.
“Bastard,” you muttered against his mouth, earning nothing more than a quiet laugh before he hauled you out of the cramped closet.
The hallway erupted in whistles and amused voices from classmates, but Rafayel didn’t so much as glance at them—his only focus fixed entirely, and unapologetically, on you.
—
Your hands roamed over him in desperate, greedy paths, grabbing at whatever skin you could reach—his back, his shoulders, the flex of his arms—as he drove into you with slow, delicious thrusts that somehow felt both sweet and merciless. His body hovered above yours, holding you caged between his hips and the mattress, each movement pulling ragged moans from your throat.
The air between you was hot, tangled with the sound of panting breaths and the wet heat of messy, biting kisses that kept breaking and reforming like neither of you could stay away for long.
“I can bet,” he moaned between thrusts, his voice rough but edged with that familiar smirk, “you were this wet every time you argued back at me… isn’t that right?”
His flushed face hovered over yours, his gaze locked on you as his palm slid over your breast, kneading and teasing your nipple until it peaked under his touch.
You answered with a scoffing moan, biting back the urge to roll your eyes even as pleasure shot through you when he angled his hips just right, hitting deep enough to make your stomach clench. You lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, still unwilling to give him the full satisfaction of your surrender.
“Why don’t you quit being insufferable,” you grunted, your voice breaking when his teeth grazed your neck, “and fuck me properly instead?”
His fingers found your clit mid-sentence, circling in maddening, precise strokes that made your breath stutter. “Make me cum again, I’m close.”
“Who am I to refuse you, princess?” he mocked in a low, wicked whisper, his tone all heat and challenge.
Your back arched helplessly into him as release tore through you, your body tightening around his cock in pulsing waves. His hips jerked with the rhythm of your climax, your moans mixing with his as you dragged him into a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s sounds. His grip on your hip tightened hard enough to leave faint, perfect marks you’d find later, a wordless claim in the shape of his fingers.
Your palms pressed firmly to his chest, the heat of his skin slick under your fingers as your nails dug in for balance. You rode him in a steady, unrelenting rhythm, each movement pulling a groan from deep in his throat.
Your head tipped back, lips parted, the sound of your panting filling the room as your breasts bounced with every rise and fall. His mouth caught one nipple, sucking greedily before his teeth grazed the sensitive peak just enough to make your muscles tighten around him.
“This must be new to you, right?” he asked, though the lift of his brows and the smug curve of his mouth made it sound more like confirmation than curiosity. His tone was breathless, feigning innocence, which only made it worse.
Too lost in the way his cock filled you, you could only grunt between gasps, “What are you talking about?”
His hands tightened on your waist, guiding you down harder onto him. He murmured against your chest, his lips brushing your skin before closing around your nipple again, biting until a moan escaped you.
“Being on top,” he rasped with a smirk you could hear, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Considering you’re never above me in anything.”
The taunt was punctuated by a sharp thrust upward, his hips grinding into you as a low grunt rumbled from his chest. “How do you like it, princess?”
You bent forward, bracing a hand against his jaw, then sliding it to the back of his neck as his eyes locked on yours—amethyst and heat-drunk, his lips wet and kiss-bruised. Through a breathless moan, you rasped out your answer, your nails biting into his skin.
“Would like it better,” you panted, “if you didn’t run your mouth.”
He only smirked, that maddening curve of his lips catching the dim light before he ducked down to suck another mark into your neck—one of many already burning along your skin. His smugness was infuriating, but it was harder to focus on that when you felt him twitch inside you, his cock hitting deep enough to blur your vision.
“Oh, but you do like when I run my mouth, don’t ya?” his voice was low, curling with amusement before he caught your lips in a kiss that was all heat and teeth and unspent tension. You kept moving on him, chasing the high with relentless rhythm, your breath breaking against his. “Seemed to love it a few minutes ago,” he murmured between kisses, “when it was between your legs.”
A sharp moan tore from you when his thumb found your clit, already slick and swollen from the previous orgasm he pulled from you. The touch was almost too much, your body clenching around him in a shiver that drew a low, unrestrained groan from his chest. He chuckled against your skin, his fingers digging into the soft curve of your ass as if he meant to keep you exactly where you were.
“I even recall you moaning my name so nicely when you came around my tongue…” his voice rasped against your ear, warm enough to send a shiver down your spine.
Your head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as you bounced harder, your mouth falling open on a broken gasp. You were so close you could taste it.
“Never heard my name sound that sweet from your mouth before,” he taunted, his words smug but tangled with his own uneven breaths, knowing it must turn you on.
The sound of his grunts matched the rhythm of your moans, your bodies locked in a pace that was more a challenge than surrender, both of you teetering at the edge.
You blocked out the smug noise spilling from his lips, focusing instead on keeping your rhythm steady despite the burn in your thighs. Your voice came out shaky but biting, laced with challenge. “You better not cum before I do, asshole.”
Your teeth sank into your lower lip hard enough to sting, and his answering thrust made your head tip back. He met your pace with deep, upward drives of his hips, each one threatening to push you over. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, guiding you, controlling the motion as if he owned the moment and you.
“Don’t worry that pretty head, cutie,” he chuckled between low, rough grunts, the sound vibrating against your chest when he leaned in. His eyes drank you in—your slack jaw, your unfocused gaze, the way pleasure had stolen the sharp edges of your expression. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to watch you cum around my cock… so freaking beautiful like this…”
His lips brushed your neck in a fleeting kiss just before your body seized around him. Heat and pleasure tore through you, your thighs trembling violently as you came with a broken, shaky moan. You felt the wet rush coat him, spill between you, soak into the sheets beneath.
His groan was deep and rough, the sound dragging low in his chest as his hips faltered. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was seconds away; you could feel it in the iron grip of his hands on your hips, in the heat radiating from his skin, in the breath he caught like he was holding back the inevitable.
Leaning down, you caught the warm line of his neck between your teeth, biting hard enough to draw another groan from him. Your lips found the sweet spot just beneath his ear, sucking until his muscles tensed under you.
That was all it took—he jerked inside you, twitching hard as heat spilled into you in thick, pulsing waves, coating your sensitive walls until you could feel it drip. His head tipped back, breath ragged, and you felt the faintest chuckle rumble in his chest, even through the haze of release.
“Can’t ever say you hate me now,” he rasped, his voice still rough with the edge of release, “not after letting me mark you like this, cutie.”
Before you could snap back, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you down into a kiss that stole the rest of your breath. It was searing and messy, all heat and teeth, his lips moving against yours like he had no intention of letting you go any time soon. Your bodies were still pressed tight, the aftershocks thrumming between you, and every pull of his mouth tasted faintly of victory.
—
Rafayel wasn’t the type to cling to jealousy or waste energy on expectations he never asked for—but watching you slip back into that same dynamic, as if nothing had happened between you, lit something sharp and ugly under his skin. It was one thing to keep up the bickering, the constant push-and-pull you two seemed addicted to, but being so close to anyone else in this place? Laughing, leaning in, letting other people into your space the way you let him, even if just for one night? That ticked him off more than he wanted to admit.
He could lie to everyone else, but not to himself. He was jealous. Or at the very least, bothered—more than before, more than he had any right to be. Especially since you seemed intent on shoving it in his face, as though proving just how easily you could cozy up to other guys on campus might put him in his place.
Seeing you dance with that colleague tonight had made his jaw tighten, a scoff of disbelief escaping before he could bite it back. Because he knew better—he knew what you wanted. He’d felt it in every heated moment you’d given him, in the way your body melted under his hands, pliant no matter how sharp your words were.
You could pretend, you could deny—but he’d already dragged the truth out of you in the dark, in the messy rhythm of tangled sheets and bitten lips. And tonight, all he could think about was how you’d come undone for him, over and over again, chasing release like a spark to a fuse you couldn’t stop lighting—and now you were cozying up with another man.
The dynamic between you hadn’t shifted in the slightest—you still scoffed, still snapped at him, every exchange bristling with the same defiance he had come to expect. Normally, Rafayel thrived on it; it was what made this little game so addictive. But tonight, with the taste of you still burned into his memory, he had hoped for something different—some flicker of change, even if you refused to admit it.
He caught you alone near the drinks table, slipping into your space without hesitation, his shadow falling across you as you tipped the bottle. You turned your head sharply, eyes narrowing, your scoff cutting through the din of music and chatter. “What do you want now, Rafayel?”
The tone—biting, impatient—made his jaw twitch. Normally it thrilled him, but the sharp edge tonight dug deeper. Did you really despise his presence that much? Even now, after everything?
He leaned one elbow against the counter as though he had all the time in the world, his amethyst eyes catching the low light and glinting with that practiced, playful spark. He slipped the mask on as easily as a second skin, the one he always wore with you. “Back to making me work for your attention, I see.”
You rolled your eyes, ignoring the weight of his gaze as you poured yourself a shot. The liquid burned down your throat, leaving your lips wet when you licked the taste away. His eyes tracked the movement without restraint, though you didn’t seem to notice.
“Sometimes I seriously wonder if you don’t have better things to do than pester me all day,” you muttered, as though the idea of his presence alone grated on you.
He nearly laughed, the sound curling up the back of his throat, but the bitterness still lingered like ash. He could hide it well—he always did—but something in his chest coiled tighter, a heaviness he couldn’t smirk his way out of.
He poured himself a shot like it was second nature, tossing it back with the same careless ease he wore like armor. Then he leaned in, closing the space between you with an unbothered smirk tugging at his lips.
“Gonna pretend it never happened, is that it, princess?” his eyes found yours in the low light, sharp against sharp, daring you to flinch first.
You leaned in too, your voice dropping to a hiss that barely carried over the music. “Stop calling me that.”
His laugh was low, warm, almost affectionate in its own infuriating way. “Funny,” he murmured, tilting his glass aside. “Had you in my bed, moaning for me, and the first thing you pick up after is that attitude.”
Your glare could have cut straight through him. You scoffed, turning your head deliberately, your gaze sweeping the room—for him, it wasn’t hard to guess who you were looking for. The guy you’d been dancing with earlier. His jaw tightened before he could stop it, the weight of his stare narrowing back on you.
His voice came out rougher now, laced with the edge of something he usually hid behind a smirk. “So that’s what it is. Maybe I should fuck you slow next time. Sweet, steady—see if that’d finally get you to acknowledge it.” his head tilted slightly, the words a challenge, a taunt, but his eyes searched yours like he wanted the truth more than the fight.
You laughed, the sound sharp as glass. Through your teeth, bitter but smiling just enough to sting, you shot back, “There’s no next time. And I’d rather you dropped the cocky act.” your gaze flicked up, unwavering. “Not everyone wants to end up in your bed, Rafayel.”
The smirk didn’t falter on his lips, but the burn of your words sank under his skin all the same. Oh, how he loved your attitude. The sharpness in your voice, the fire in your glare—it always turned him on, but tonight it scraped against something else too. Annoyance. You dismissed him so easily, brushed everything off as if it hadn’t mattered, as if you’d rather erase it than admit it was real.
But he couldn’t forget. He didn’t want to forget the sound of your moans, the way your nails dug into his skin, the bite of your teeth against his shoulder, your mouth desperate and hot on his. Every mark you’d left on him still burned under his skin.
His smirk came quick, practiced, though his jaw ticked in irritation he couldn’t quite swallow down. “Well, you wanted it,” he drawled, voice low enough to coil between you, “and you seemed pretty determined to show me just how badly.”
The proof lingered—your mark, blooming faint but undeniable on the side of his neck. He saw the flicker in your expression when your eyes caught it, the twitch of your jaw before your glare sharpened even further.
You spit your words back at him, close enough now that he could smell you. Sweet perfume, deliberate and light, clinging to your skin like temptation. The thought of you applying it for someone else—for that guy you’d been pressed against earlier—made his stomach knot in a way he refused to admit. His smirk stayed fixed, masking the flare of heat in his chest, but it didn’t quiet the urge that nearly consumed him—to press his face into your neck, breathe you in, and let himself get drunk on you.
“Seriously, what’s your fucking problem?” you snapped, each word sharp enough to cut. “Yeah, we fucked. So what? You expect me to drop at your feet now and suck you off or something?”
Every syllable was a double-edged knife—turning him on even as it lit a flame of irritation low in his chest. Did you really think that’s what he wanted from you? While he’d never be opposed to the thought, that wasn’t it. Not even close. What he wanted was for you to stop pretending it meant nothing, to stop brushing it off like you hadn’t melted under him, clawed at him, begged for more until your voice broke.
His eyes lingered on yours, refusing to look away, holding the heat of your glare. You looked pissed, but he couldn’t tell if it was your usual game or if he’d really struck a nerve this time, dug under your skin deeper than you wanted him to.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he said smoothly, smirking like he hadn’t just swallowed down the words he really wanted to say—that you were driving him insane, that you’d taken root under his skin, that it wasn’t just your body he wanted. He tilted his head slightly, voice curling like smoke as he added, “Do you want me begging for it first?”
The faint shift in your expression—hesitation, surprise, something flickering behind your eyes—was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. You scoffed, your laugh short and bitter, already angling your body away like you’d had enough.
“I want you to leave me alone,” you shot back, each word bitten off like you meant to end it right there. Your smile was cutting, the kind meant to dismiss, to wound. “Enjoy the party, Rafayel.”
And before he could stop you, you turned toward the crowd—toward him, the other guy—and something inside him twisted sharp, the smirk still plastered on his face doing nothing to smother the frustration building in his chest.
Watching you dance, flirt, and laugh with that guy for hours ticked Rafayel off in ways he couldn’t keep buried—not with alcohol humming in his veins. His eyes followed the sway of your hips, the way sweat caught the low lights on your skin, turning you into something untouchable and magnetic. The guy had slipped away a few minutes ago, probably for another drink or a bathroom break—Rafayel couldn’t be bothered to care.
His focus was on you, only you. The words you’d thrown at him earlier replayed like a broken record in his mind, cutting sharper every time. He hadn’t expected you to cling to him, hadn’t even expected softness or anything close to it—but acting as if you hadn’t spent a night tangled together, bodies desperate, mouths bruised—it set something raw and restless burning in him.
He hated it. Hated how much it mattered. Hated the circumstances, hated that it made him feel like this—like he wanted to drag you away and make you admit every mark you left on his skin meant something more than just a mistake. And he knew it would probably end badly. But watching another man press into your space, lay hands on you—watching you let him, welcome him—it made his blood run hotter than the whiskey in his glass.
Rafayel wasn’t stupid enough to believe you were doing it on purpose just to rile him up. But still, the thought gnawed at him. The possibility that you knew exactly what effect you had on him—and chose to wield it—made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t laugh off anymore.
Your hips swayed slow and unbothered to the rhythm, a lazy, carefree roll that pulled him in before he could stop himself. You hadn’t even realized who pressed up behind you—he could see it in the way you welcomed the touch too easily, as if you thought it was that other guy. That thought alone made his jaw clench, the bitter edge of alcohol still coating his tongue.
His hands settled on your waist, fingers splaying possessively over the curve, and you arched in response without hesitation. That simple movement—that you’d done it for someone else—made frustration coil low and sharp in his chest. His grip tightened, pulling you flush as he dipped his face into the slope of your neck. The scent of your perfume laced with heat and sweat filled his head, dizzying, intoxicating, far too easy to get drunk on.
“You smell so good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low enough to sink right into your bones.
You stiffened instantly, the realization snapping through you. It was him, not the guy you thought. Your body shifted as if to turn, to throw him a glare or maybe shove him away, but his arms circled tighter around your waist, holding you still, pressing you into the steady rise of his chest. His nose brushed just beneath your ear, his mouth dragging close enough that his words threaded warmth into your skin.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked, your voice pitched low, sharp but not steady—caught off guard, unsettled.
His lips ghosted another breath over your neck, dangerous and calm all at once, the lazy drawl of his voice cutting through the bass of the music. “Couldn’t keep watching that guy put his hands all over you.”
You scoffed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stillness, your body swaying side to side with the beat as though he weren’t pressed so close. He took it for annoyance, maybe even defiance, and you threw your words like sparks over your shoulder. “Then don’t fucking look, Rafayel. It isn’t any of your business.”
His chest brushed against your back, solid and warm, crowding you until there was no space left to claim as your own. You rolled your hips again, half in spite, half because fighting him always ended like this—like gravity itself had shifted around him. His breath trembled against your neck, catching faintly on the perfume he couldn’t seem to stop drinking in.
“Are you drunk?” you muttered, sharp with irritation.
“No,” he rasped, voice rougher than usual, his hips sliding in sync with yours. The deliberate press made it impossible to ignore the unmistakable hardness straining against your ass. His fingers found your hips, not tentative but claiming, tightening when you didn’t shrug him off.
You scoffed under your breath, but your body betrayed you, still moving, still letting him. “Then why the hell are you all over me right now?”
He didn’t answer in words first. His lips ghosted along your neck, deliberate and lazy, before catching against your skin in a kiss that lingered too long to be innocent. He pulled your hips flush against his, making sure you felt exactly what you’d provoked, exactly how hard he was.
“It’s how it should be,” he murmured, his voice a low curl of smoke, the smirk etched against your skin as he leaned into your ear. “So do me a favor, cutie, and tell that guy to back off.”
Your laugh came sharp, edged with a bite. “I thought I told you to back off, Rafayel.” still, your hips betrayed the venom of your words, grinding against him like you couldn’t stop yourself. “I’m leaving home soon, anyway.”
That pushed him too far. His patience snapped into something darker, frustration coiled tight with want. His mouth brushed your ear, tone suddenly rougher, meaner, though still soaked in heat. “The next words out your mouth better not be that you’re leaving with him.”
His grip tightened at your waist, and the pressure sent a shiver down your spine no matter how hard you tried to fight it. You hated that your body still reacted, hated that even when you were frustrated—angry, even—it didn’t stop the rush of heat that pooled beneath your skin.
His breath brushed your ear as he leaned in, the low bass of the music vibrating through the floor and through your bones, but all you could hear was him. The two of you swayed together, not to the rhythm, but to something far more reckless.
“Get your act together, Rafayel.” your voice cut sharp, laced with sarcasm as you turned to face him. The flashing lights caught the tension in your jaw, as tight and unyielding as his own, and for a moment it felt like you weren’t dancing so much as locked in combat.
His lips curved—not into a smile, not really—but into that insufferable smirk he wore whenever he wanted to rile you. “Mm, harsh. Though, to be fair, I’m not the one grinding against strangers for an audience.” his words came low, casual, but there was a rawness underneath, the kind that betrayed too much.
Your eyes narrowed, voice dripping with annoyance. “You’re either drunk out of your mind, or you’re jealous. Whichever it is—you have no right to say that.”
His hold only tightened, and the jealousy he refused to name aloud lingered in every breath he refused to let you take alone. His jaw ticked, a scoff breaking past his lips. It was supposed to sound amused, the way it usually did when he was poking at you, but the laugh carried a sharpness he couldn’t quite disguise. Jealousy bled through no matter how smooth he tried to make it. His eyes locked on yours, unblinking, the crowd and the music dissolving into a blur behind you.
“Don’t go home with him.” the words came out low, bitten off, heavier than he intended.
You scoffed, the sound sharp enough to cut, pushing against his chest to put some space between you. He barely gave, his body rooted in place, but you turned anyway, your voice tossed over your shoulder, drowned by the bass but still slicing through him all the same. “Unbelievable.”
The sway of your hips as you walked away was infuriating, deliberate, as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him. His jaw clenched tighter, watching you head straight toward the direction that bastard had gone. Before the thought could even settle, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.
You barely had time to gasp before he was dragging you through the crush of bodies, threading you through the mess of perfume and sweat and music until the two of you spilled into a darker corner, half-hidden near the bathroom hallway.
“What the fu—” the curse was barely past your lips before his mouth was on you.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t measured. It was a smash of lips and teeth and bottled-up want that burned through every ounce of restraint he had left. He couldn’t hear another word of you telling him to back off, couldn’t stand the thought of you storming away toward anyone but him.
And to his reckless satisfaction, you didn’t shove him off. Not right away. Instead your lips parted, your tongue chasing his with a heat that shocked him as much as it thrilled him. The back of your shoulders hit the wall with a thud, and he pinned you there, his hand curling around your jaw like he needed to hold you still, like he couldn’t risk you slipping through his fingers again.
He broke just enough space to breathe, his forehead nearly pressed to yours, breath ragged against your lips. His voice was hoarse, raw in a way you’d never heard. “I’m jealous.”
The confession scraped out of him like it cost something, but his eyes didn’t waver. They bore into you, dark, heated, a storm of frustration and something softer underneath. His cheeks were warm, but his gaze was sharp, almost accusing.
“Didn’t think your little act of indifference would get to me, and it didn’t at first,” he said, his tone clipped, defensive, as if he needed to convince himself more than you. His fingers dug harder into your hips, holding you where you were, his frustration bleeding through every touch.
“Until I saw him all over you. And you—” his jaw tightened again, the words heavier, almost bitten through his teeth. “You couldn’t have welcomed him more sweetly.”
“Is that so?” you scoffed, though the sound came out thinner than you wanted, betraying the heat gathering in your chest. His eyes caught the flicker of yours dropping just once to his mouth before darting back up, a slip you couldn’t take back. You hated that he noticed, hated the way he thrived on it, as if your irritation was his favorite game.
“I don’t remember owing you anything, Rafayel,” you managed through a ragged breath, voice sharp but trembling at the edges.
His grip tightened at your waist, fingers digging into the fabric just enough to make you stumble the slightest step into him. The closeness burned. There were people all around you—laughing, drunk, tangled in the music—but the crowd blurred into nothing, leaving only the thrum of his pulse pressed against yours, the friction of your remarks colliding.
“It’s like you’re trying to piss me off on purpose,” he muttered, low and rough, the words curling warm against your ear before his mouth stole yours.
The kiss was hard, bruising—more a clash than a surrender—but your body betrayed you, answering with the same fever. Your fingers curled into the half-buttoned placket of his shirt, yanking him closer until the last breath of air between you vanished. He groaned against your lips, the sound half frustration, half need, his tongue meeting yours in a reckless tangle. The taste of him was dizzying—bitter with jealousy, sweet with desire—and it made your head spin worse than the alcohol.
When he tore back just enough to speak, his voice was ragged, every word bitten off as though it cost him something.
“I’m jealous and pissed, and so fucking turned on.” his teeth grazed your skin as he caught the line of your jaw, then your throat, nipping at the place where your pulse fluttered out of control.
His breath spilled hot over your perfume, a scent he knew wasn’t chosen for him—and that knowledge set his temper alight.
He inhaled against your neck, lips brushing dangerously close. “Tell me, cutie…” his tone dipped into mockery, sharp and soft all at once, “is that what you were aiming for?”
—
Shutting Rafayel up was easy enough if you played your cards right. And right now, with your thighs draped on each side of his head, his face buried between them, it was the most effective method you’d ever discovered.
He’d pulled you straight out of that party—cocky grin, sharp remarks, his hand at the small of your back like he had every right to lead you wherever he pleased—and somehow, the two of you ended up here again, tangled in the mess of his sheets, tearing at each other’s clothes like you were starving.
He hadn’t wasted a second once the door shut. The moment he shoved you back onto his bed, Rafayel dragged you over his mouth, pinning you there with a kind of desperate arrogance, tongue lapping at your folds like he had something to prove.
Your thighs trembled with every stroke of him, the slick sound of his mouth against you filling the room. He groaned into you, the vibration making you jolt, fingers tightening around the headboard as you rocked against him.
“Fuck—Rafayel,” you gasped, the words breaking into a moan as his hands urged you down harder, forcing you to grind over his mouth like he wanted you to drown him.
You couldn’t help laughing breathlessly, the edge of smugness curling your lips. “Didn’t know you liked shutting up this much,” you panted, voice cracking as he sucked hard on your clit, pulling another shaky cry from you.
He hummed against you in response, and the casual defiance in it made your chest tighten with something more dangerous than lust. Still, you couldn’t resist taunting him, voice pitched with a mix of moan and tease. “Do you wanna make me cum, Rafayel? Hm? So eager to please me for once?”
That had his fingers digging into your thighs, bruising and possessive. He pushed his tongue deeper, fucking you with it, and you cursed, head falling back, vision hazing. But you weren’t done. You leaned into the crueler edge of the game, your smirk curling even as your words hitched mid-breath.
“Maybe the other guy would’ve been just as eager… you know, the one who whispered all kind of things in my ear while grinding behind me—”
Your taunt cut off in a broken scream when he growled low into your pussy and sealed his mouth around your clit, sucking so hard your whole body jerked. The orgasm ripped through you with a violence that made your thighs quake against his grip, soaking his face as you cried out his name like you couldn’t hold it back. And the bastard didn’t even slow down.
“S-shit, ahh…” you gasped, the sound breaking out of you before you could bite it back. His mouth didn’t let up, not until you cried his name, your whole body trembling as your hips moved helplessly against his tongue, too sensitive to bear it yet too desperate to stop. A low growl rumbled in his throat at the sound of your curse, vibrating against you, and then suddenly—his grip clamped around your thighs, dragging a startled cry from your lips as he flipped you onto your back.
Before you could catch your breath, he was already over you, stealing your mouth in a kiss that left you dizzy, his hips grinding down into yours, the hard line of him pressing insistently through the fabric of his pants. His lips broke away only to trail down your throat, and then his teeth found you, sucking rough marks into your skin like he meant to brand you.
“You already got me so worked up…” his voice was rough, almost bitten out, “but then you go and say his name while I’m between your legs?” he sank his teeth lightly into your neck, the sting chased by the drag of his tongue.
Your protest melted into a groan as his fingers slid inside you, stretching you with merciless precision. He moaned low when your release slicked against his touch, making each movement faster, deeper, your body clenching around him in desperate pulses. His other hand spread over your ass, holding you open for him as his mouth closed around your breast, sucking hard, leaving your nipple aching under the wet heat of his tongue.
When his eyes lifted, messy hair falling into his flushed face, the burn in them was enough to make your stomach twist. Jealousy and hunger sharpened the edges of his gaze, the sound of his voice rough and almost mocking. “If you wanted it rough, cutie, you could’ve just asked. No need to piss me off, pulling shit like this on me.”
Your laugh came out broken, shaky, your voice trembling on each gasp. Still, you managed, “Where’s the fun in that?”
He kissed you then like he was trying to win something, all heat and defiance, his mouth clashing against yours in a mess of teeth and breath. You answered with equal force, your hands already curling tighter in his hair, dragging him closer until you broke the kiss just to flip him beneath you.
The motion was sharp, your thighs locking around his hips as you shoved him down onto the mattress, stealing a groan out of him that sounded far too satisfying.
“You’re so easy to trigger, aren’t you?” you taunted, breathless as you pressed your mouth to his throat, nipping at the skin until he tilted his head back with a curse. Your fingers fumbled at his belt, deliberately slow, grazing him in ways that made his jaw clench.
“Maybe it’s time someone puts you in your place. Because clearly…” you scoffed, dragging your nails lightly over his stomach as you marked his neck, “…you don’t know where you stand.”
His hips twitched under the drag of your palm, his breathing uneven now—finally losing that insufferable composure that always drove you mad. His pants and boxers were gone in what felt like seconds, and you perched just above him, teasing, stroking him in slow, deliberate movements that had his eyes darkening, his chest rising sharp with every breath.
When your mouth wrapped around him at last, he swore violently, a hand flying to your hair, gripping hard enough to make your scalp sting. The sound that tore out of him was raw, unguarded, his back arching off the sheets.
“S-shit, fuck…” he hissed, the word breaking, and you almost laughed around him, because the victory was already rushing through your veins, warm and heady. The Rafayel who always had a sharp retort, always stayed a step ahead, was now groaning under your mouth, bucking helplessly into you, fingers threaded tight in your hair as if he’d lose himself without the anchor.
He looked almost beautiful like this—breathless, undone, stripped of every cocky remark he usually wielded like a weapon. You could admit it now, he was dangerous when quiet, his charm sharper in the silence between gasps.
“Cutie shit—just like that,” his voice cracked, raw and heavy as his hand tightened in your hair. “I’m not gonna last.”
The ragged sound of his breathing filled the space, and just when you felt him twitch against your tongue, he pulled you away with a guttural growl. His mouth caught yours in a kiss that was messy, desperate, teeth clashing as if he couldn’t stand the distance for even a second longer.
“Not yet,” he rasped against your lips, his grip bruising your hips as he dragged you up into his lap. “Not until I fuck you so good you forget whatever guy you were entertaining earlier.”
You barely had time to roll your eyes before he flipped you over with startling ease, pressing you down and sliding into you in one rough, unrelenting thrust. The breath tore out of you in a broken moan, nails sinking into his shoulders as your body stretched around him.
“You’re tight, princess,” he groaned into your ear, hips snapping forward, the sound spilling out of him low and guttural. “Fuck, you take me just as good as last time.”
Whatever sharp retort you might’ve had died the moment he set a brutal rhythm, pounding into you with a pace that stole the ground from under your thoughts. Pleasure tore through you too fast, too much—until you were trembling around him, clenching hard as your release crashed over you.
“So sweet when you come for me,” he rasped, voice unraveling as your walls squeezed him tighter. “Squeezing me so goddamn t-tight…”
He pulled out only to drag you forward, manhandling you face-down, ass high, the mattress dipping under his weight as he shoved back inside without warning. The thrust punched a scream out of you, raw and unguarded, and he chuckled darkly at the sound, his fingers digging deep into your hips as if to brand you there.
“You wanted rough, didn’t you?” His tone was half-growl, half-smirk, sharp with the kind of heat that left no space to breathe. He snapped his hips hard against you, deeper, faster, each movement sharp enough to leave you reeling. “Wanted to make me jealous, huh? Then take it.”
Your mouth hung open, words failing as he pushed you past every edge, the drag of his jealousy turning him feral, reckless—eager to ruin you until there was nothing left in your head but him. And in truth, you loved every second of it. Because this version of Rafayel—the one who burned with want, who touched like he was starving, who let his jealousy unravel into raw need—was utterly, devastatingly irresistible.
.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!
Summary: Caleb finally comes back to Linkon after a long mission and hes starving 😋
Warnings: established relationship, porn with no plot, softdom!caleb, oral (f receiving), squirting, mating press, p in v sex, unprotected, creampie, breeding kink, spitting, clit slapping, dirty talk, moaning and whimpering caleb, pet names (Pips, baby, pretty girl, princess), needy Caleb, pussy drunk caleb (my fave), pls tell me if i missed anything 🙏
Notes: this came to me randomly one day and then i lwk forgot about it for 4 months…
First post kinda nervy
You weren’t really sure what had happened — one second you were practically leaping out of your spot on the couch to welcome Caleb home, and the next you were being pushed backwards, your back pressing into the cushion, and Caleb’s face pressed against your thigh as he dug his fingers into your pyjamas shorts, looking up at you.
“You just got home aren’t you tired?” You looked down at him, one of your hands moving to pull the colonel hat off his head and dropping it in the space next to you. He shook his head, your fingers drifting into the strands of his hair as they gently brushed against you, messing it up further. His eyes trailed down your body as his cheek pressed firmer into your thigh before looking back up at your face.
“You haven’t even changed yet…” Your eyes drifted away from his face, taking in the sight of him on his knees in front of you, desperately tugging your shorts off as he still adorned his uniform. The sight would’ve made you go feral if you weren’t focussed on the fact that he had just arrived home after being gone for almost two months and was probably exhausted.
“Pips,” his voice came out husky as he spoke, “you think too much about shit that don’t matter.” He offered you a small devilish grin before pressing a kiss into your bare thigh, tossing your bottoms behind him as he shifts in his spot. His eyes focus on your lace panties, the pale red colour deepening as your wetness grew from his words.
“This,” he pressed a kiss further up on your thigh, “is all i care about right now,” another kiss; right next to the band of your panties as he pushes your legs further apart.
You shuddered at his actions, realizing that theres no way you’re going to get him to do anything before he takes his time to greet you properly.
“You really missed me that much huh?” You teased, shifting your hips downwards. “How could I not? Look at you” he mumbled, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses over your clothed pussy, his tongue pressing flat against your clit on top of the fabric. You gasped at the sensation, your hand resting on his head as you stared down at him.
“How are you still teasing after being gone for so long?” You whined, tugging at strands of his hair. He looked up at you from between your things, his tongue moving to slide along your clothed slit, adding to the wet patch already on your panties. His purple eyes seemed darker as he chuckled, the vibrations making your twitch. “Yknow… you’re so wet I can taste you even through these.”
Your eyes widened at his words, feeling a new wave of heat coarse through you as your hand moved to smack into his shoulder. “Caleb! Oh my god” Your face was red, you could feel it. His intense gaze did nothing to help the burning under your skin; the slight twitch of your body every time his mouth ghosted over you. It was insane. How did this man want to devour you and tease you at the same time? He knew exactly how to make you go crazy for him.
He laughed again, pulling away slightly to stare at the damp spot on your panties. His index finger hooks into the top of them, pulling them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor next to him. His hand moved back between your thighs, his thumb slowly pressing into your clit and rubbing circles into it.
The sensation had your legs spreading wider, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. His face moved closer to you, his tongue licking into your slit as his thumb continued to slowly rub at your clit. Your head rested back against the pillows, your hips shifting down against his face.
“Fuck Caleb…” you moaned softly at his actions, eyes locked on him as he moves between your thighs. His own eyes flutter shut as he pressed against you further, his tongue pushing inside you. He hums at the taste, a low sound that vibrates through you, the heat building under your skin growing. He lazily fucks his tongue inside of you, grinning against your pussy as your legs tighten around his head and you moan out louder.
His hand moves down from your clit to press your thighs open wider, folding you in half on the couch as his mouth moves up from your slit, lips wrapping around your clit to suck on it gently.
You cry out at the action, his middle and ring finger teasing your entrance — the tips of his fingers pressing inside slowly before pulling out, barely sinking inside you. “D-dont be fucking mean ‘leb” you whine, tugging at his hair. He releases your clit from between his lips, looking up at you with a grin.
His chin and lips are soaked, your slick on his face glistening in the faint lighting of your shared Linkon apartment. Your skin was flushed, chest heaving as his fingers push into you, sinking in till the knuckles. Your eyes flutter shut as he takes his time, slowly fucking his fingers into you and curling them.
“Youre so pretty like this, Pips” he groans against your skin, biting into your thigh and sucking until you twitch away from him. “Wanna make you cum all over my face, say sorry for leaving for so long” his eyes look at your face, free hand trailing up your body to push your shirt up, freeing your tits for him.
His eyes lock on them, face moving back to suck at your clit, free hand grabbing at your tits while his other spreads up, fucking his fingers into you harder. You moan out, the pressure in your lower stomach building steadily as you clench around his digits, eyes squeezing shut.
“Can tell she missed me,” he mumbles against your clit, sucking it into his mouth between words, “squeezing me so fucking tight”
“Calebbbb” you whine out, the sound ripped from your throat and high pitched. You wish you weren’t folded like a pretzel beneath him, only for the reason that you wanted to drag your hips across his face and ride it.
“I know, princess, feels soooo good right?” He teases, biting back a laugh as he watches your reactions. He decides to take pity on you, doubling his efforts and speeding up, teeth nipping at your clit as his fingers push into you faster, loud squelches filling the room.
The pressure in your stomach feels like it’s gonna explode, you’re so wet, slick dripping down around his fingers and pooling on the cushion below your hips. Your head falls back, a loud moan of his name falling from your lips desperately as you claw at his shoulders before tugging back at his hair.
“Caleb- fuck- ngh!” The pressure snaps before you can warn him, pussy gripping around his fingers as you gush, squirting on him. His fingers pump deeper, a wicked grin on his face as his mouth latches onto you, drinking in the liquid gushing out of you.
Your leg tries to move, tries to push him away as your orgasm washes through you, vision going white as you sees stars. His actions dont let up, even as you come down from the high, hips twitching and your hand reaching down to swat at his shoulder.
“C-caleb-!”
He shakes his head as you whine out his name, looking up to see small tears pricking your eyes from the overstimulation. He grins, pulling his fingers from you, soaking wet as slick drips down into his palm. He licks it up, sucking on them as he looks at you before stuffing them into your own mouth.
You let out a small gasp as theyre pushed past your lips, sighing at the taste of you before his tongue runs back over your entrance, lapping up your juices.
“Tastes so fucking good” he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, raising from the ground to crawl onto your body. Your legs are still thrown over his shoulders as he kisses you, knees pressing into your shoulders as he grinds his hard cock against your core through the slacks of his uniform.
He breaks the kiss, mouth moving to latch onto your neck and jaw, kissing along the skin. “Could stay down there forever, my pretty girl just tastes so good” he emphasizes the word with a groan, biting into the skin of your neck. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, small moans and whimpers escaping your lips as he marks your neck, taking his time.
His hips grind against your pussy, the rough fabric of his military slacks rubbing against your clit deliciously. You try to move against him, still folded beneath him in a mating press, a small whine escaping you. “Caleb… please”
He moves down to your chest, sucking and biting over your tits. He smiles into your skin, his voice low as he ruts against you again, “what is it baby? Need something from your Colonel?”
“Need you” you moan out, pulling his head back up to kiss his mouth, biting into his plush bottom lip. He kisses you back desperately, hands sliding down your body to grab at the button of his pants, tugging it undone before pushing them down to free his hard, throbbing cock.
He moans into your mouth, hands gripping your hips as he ruts his length against your folds, slick coating him. He breaks the kiss by biting your lip and you whimper out in response, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Gonna fuck this pretty pussy so good,” he groans out, forehead dropping to yours as his tip prods at your entrance, “stuff you so full your pussy never forgets what i feel like”
He lets out a laugh as you moan at his words, biting and kissing at his own neck. “Tell your Colonel how good that sounds, say please sir i want it” he teases, pushing into you and slotting himself inside until theres no more room.
You moan out, pushing at his shoulders so you could look at his face better. “Sounds s-so good, sir”. His grin widens at your words, hips pulling back to thrust into you roughly, tip hitting your cervix. You grip him harder as he pulls away, eyes locked on how your stuffed pussy spreads around him, how pretty you look taking him.
“Fuckkk, theres my pretty girl” he groans out, spitting onto your clit before his finger moves to rub it. His thrusts are hard and slow, cock dragging through your walls to the tip before slamming back in. You cry out every time his tip slams into your cervix, fingers trailing down to his arms to dig your nails into his biceps, pulling a whimper from his lips.
“Need m-more Caleb, please” you whine out breathlessly, your cunt so full of him but still not enough. “W-want you to fuck me like you really missed me”
His eyes snap up to yours, head tilting as he gives a few more slow, hard thrusts before nodding. His hips immediately picking up their pace, pistoning into you roughly. “Like that, baby?” He asks, eyes still on yours as he presses your legs further against your shoulders, fucking into you harder.
You cry out at the pace change, highpitched moans leaving you as your head falls back and your eyes squeeze shut. Hes so deep inside you, every inch stuffed into you and every vein dragging against your tight walls. You squeeze around him, drool slipping from your lips as the pressure in your stomach builds.
“Answer your Colonel” he grunts out, voice low as he speeds up even more. The couch slides back on the floor as he thrusts into you, one of his hands flying up to grip onto it to stop himself from falling. He lets out a laugh, hips not slowing their motion as his other hand return to your clit, fingers rubbing quick circles into it before pinching.
Your body jerks at the motion as you nod, struggling to find words. “J-just like- fuck- like that”. Your legs are sore, thighs burning from being bent in half, nails still digging into his skin through his stupid uniform. You wanted to rip it off of him, wanted to see the sweaty, soft skin underneath the layers of it. Everything feels fuzzy, your eyes opening slowly to look down at where he sinks in and out of you lewdly, wet noises filling the livingroom. You look up, eyes trailing over where his toned abs and chest hide behind his uniform, before settling on his face. His cheeks are flushed, sweat drenching his messy hair as it falls in front of his face. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, eyes half lidded and dark with lust. Curses fall from his lips along with small grunts and whimpers, eyes shutting briefly every time your slick gummy walls clench around him deliciously.
You shudder at the sight of him, pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him as you twitch, right on the edge of your orgasm. You whine and moan, clawing at him as he fucks into you, spitting down onto your clit against before slapping it roughly. “Need you to cum, baby,” his eyes meet yours and he shivers “fuckkk i wont last if you keep looking at me like that” he groans out, head dropping to rest on your chest as he ruts into you wildly, fingers slapping at your clit again.
You cry out his name, insides squeezing as you cum, white hot bliss washing over you as you twitch and shake under him. You babble out useless words, things that dont even make sense as drool slips from the corner of your lips, vision going white. Your ears are barely able to register his words as he moans above you, lips kissing over your breasts.
“Gonna cum inside, gonna make sure it sticks. You’d l-love that right? If you had my baby then I really will be inside you forever, youd always be mine”.
You feel so dizzy, his words making pleasure bloom right under the orgasm your body was still coming down from, his hips relentless as they chase his own high. His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers still play with your clit. You try to push his hand away, overstimulation making your nerves feel like theyre on fire.
He slams his hips into you till the hilt, emptying inside of you. Thick spurts of his cum paint your walls, filling you up to the brim before slowly slipping out and rolling down the curve of your ass. You tumble into a second orgasm, less intense but still enough to punch the air from your lungs as he cling onto his tighter, walls squeezing him like a vice.
He whimpers as he cums, hips rocking against yours before stilling, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he pants above you. Your fingers slip into his hair, both of you coming down from your highs as you twitch against each other.
He kisses your shoulder before pulling away, softening cock pulling out. He looks down, watching his cum slip out of you and soak into the couch below your hips, the fabric now thoroughly ruined.
You look at him with a lazy smile as he pushes strands of hair from your face. “I missed you”
His boyish grin lights up his face as he pulls your legs down from being pressed against your shoulders, the pressure easing as he massages your thighs. He slides down to the floor in front of you, kissing your lower belly before moving to your thighs.
zayne ⋮ he's too overwhelmed seeing you in white .ᐟ caleb ⋮ you just cannot get your hair right .ᐟ xavier ⋮ your wedding is in 5 hours and you haven't slept a wink .ᐟ rafayel ⋮ he finally gets to fuck his bride .ᐟ sylus ⋮ he's not allowed to see you .ᐟ
CW :☆: MDNI! unprotected sex (p in v), semi-public sex, blindfolding, spit play, overstimulation, edging, dirty talk, thigh-fucking, creampie, rafayel nearly ebbing, LIs being mushy
ZAYNE LI ☆
It’s a modest wedding—just close friends and family gathered to bless the two of you. Still, you’re getting married. So here you are, dressing together, and Zayne—god, zayne, is overwhelmed at the sight of you in white. Ready to marry him.
And he doesn’t know what to do with it than to—
“y-yes, use me.” His hand comes up to your chin, grip trembling as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss, your lipstick smearing across his mouth. Your wedding dress is bunched at your waist, layers swallowing your husband-to-be as he pistons his hefty dick into you from below. You grind down into him, fingers tangled in his slicked-back hair, holding him there.
“hah—! how are you deeper than before?” you mewl, face in his neck, sucking marks into his heated skin. “can feel you s’deep…”
“you can, can’t you?” he bites back a sound only for it to rip through as a whimper. Your hot, gummy walls spasm around the whole of his length and his hand spreads across your back, holding you flush to him as his hips falter.
His cock twitches inside you before stilling. “on second thought, stay still.” he pulls away. “Let me move. We can’t have you getting too hot.”
He’s moving before you can nod. And all you can do is clutch him tight while his cock grinds into your cervix at each long stroke of his. Your knees dig into the strong muscles of his thighs.
“mmfuuck—!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut.
“spread your legs. We’ll ruin your dress.” His legs part, guiding you wider for him. and somehow, it gives him enough leverage to pull out of you alllll the way out and then bury himself to the hilt, dragging his thick cock over every sensitive inch of your walls in lewd schlick schlick schlicks despite the layers.
His hand disappears in your dress, fingers brushing over the lace garter around your thigh and then higher to part your soaked folds.
“w-wait I’m gonna cum.” You tell him. his pace grows desperate.
“mngh… don’t worry,” he pants, losing whatever composure he had left. “I am too.”
His thumb finds your clit, moving through your slick—down to your hole—where your puffy pussy lips are stretched around him to the limit—and back up to the throbbing bud.
waves of heat roll over your body as you cum with a silent cry. You feel him jump in you, balls tightening against your ass. “finish in me,” you tell him.
He lets out a strangled moan—unable to muster up the composure to protest—spurting jets of warmth in you, pumping you full of his load. Your spasming cunt wriiings out every last drop of release.
He pulls your face close to his, nose bumping with yours as you come down together. He places a small, shy kiss on the bridge of your nose.
“shall we go get married now?”
CALEB XIA ☆
It was supposed to be right. And it was—on paper. It was a wedding ripped right out of the cheesy dramas you binge. except. Your hair didn’t get the memo. Your bridesmaids sat helpless while you handled it in tears—only to toss the curling wand away.
“heyy, what’s wrong?” caleb invites himself in the room. The women step out immediately. Screw the not-seeing-the-bride-before-the-wedding bad luck. This was bad enough.
You sniffle, pressing your face into his chest. “caleb it’s all falling apart…” you look up at him with teary eyes and before you can even stop yourself, your lips crash against his.
“fuck baby—you’re extra soft today, mm?” his long cock pummels into you. his hand reaches down, peeling away a layer of your dress. “hold it up f’me, pips.”
You’ve clutching the thick layers against your chest like your life depends on it while your fiancé absolutely obliterates your leaky cunt one thrust at a time. “s-slow down ‘leb…” you whimper, back arched like a bow for him.
“slow down? how do you plan on making it on time to our wedding?” he chuckles, leaning down to spread your swollen, slick coated pussy lips to reveal your pulsing little bud for him. he drools at the sight. And doesn’t let it go to waste. His warm spit lands on your aching bud, trickling down to mix with the juices you ooze out.
He watches the way your poor, overstretched cunny still manages to swallow him—and god he knows he’s too big for you but look at you. tears prickling at your eyes, whimpering under him dressed in white to be married to him. how on earth did he get so lucky?
“m’so clooose—!” you whine, thighs attempting to press together.
“good god, pips. Y’look so pretty round my cock…” he groans. His hand curls around your thighs hiking it up, letting his fat cockhead drill its way into your sinfully soft channel. His thumb brushes against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, making you yelp beneath him.
it doesn’t take long for you to finish, clamping around him in wet pulses that his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. Still, he keeps moving. He keeps pounding you through that vision blanking orgasm, until you’re practically sobbing under him.
“mmf—please… s’too much—hic!” and still, you make no attempt to escape. You’re exactly where you want to be—your overstimmed pussy being bullied into another orgasm.
“jus’ like that, keep clamping baby. I’m right there…” he pants, leaning down to kiss a tear away. “you’ll let me cum in you, right? Let caleb stuff you full?”
“y-yes! yes please—oh?!” His dirty talk alone tips you over the edge again, milking him for his release. And he does. Ropes after ropes after ropes of hot, creamy cum pumping into your pussy.
And when you finally calm, he gathers your hair, fixing it into an elegant low bun—murmuring quiet “thank you”s through sniffles for marrying him.
XAVIER SHEN ☆
“I couldn’t sleep either.” You jolt at your fiancé’s voice behind you. You’re ecstatic. And in that excitement, you were dressed and ready before time. In 5 hours, the wedding you dreamed of begins. an early morning ceremony, walking the aisle under stars, sealing it with a kiss as sunlight finally breaks.
The venue lies hushed as you stand together on the balcony, gazing down at the flowered arch where you’ll soon be married.
“xav—ngh!” you grip the railing harder. Your pussy moulds so perfectly around your fiance’s cock, stretched obscenely wide.
His hand reaches around your throat to tip your chin up to have you watch the place you’d soon say vows at. “a-are you sure this will help you sleep?” his voice sounds too normal for his actions.
He’s nearly jackhammering into your velvety hole, causing it to squelch and ooze more of your love juices down your thighs. His foot nudges your legs farther apart, the need to drill deeper into you consuming him enough to bury his face in your hair and groan low.
“mmhm, mhm ye—ah!” you nod, hips pushing back to meet his deep pounding. “don’t want eye bags.”
By the pace at which he’s ramming into your pussy heat, you can already imagine it—imagine yourself walking toward him with shaky legs, his cum still leaking down your thighs. Fuck. There’s no way you were going to clean up after your session. Your legs are quivering at this point, held apart only by his knee.
“alright,” he murmurs, halting entirely. You bite back a whine. “keep them pressed if you want it that way.” He pulls out. His fingers find your gaping hole, two plunging in to coax out translucent strings of your arousal and his pre cum, smearing it between your thighs. And that’s when you feel the fat head of his cock again—pushing its way where your plush thighs press the tightest, and yet, making sure that your swollen clit isn’t left out.
“you keep looking at the arch,” he leans in, one of his hands guiding his cock between your syrupy slit. Your thighs press harder. You’re so close but there’s no way you’re cumming empty like this. He lets out a chuckle, soft enough to be mistaken as innocent. “are you going to cum to the thought of our wedding?”
He breaches your puffy lips again, sliding in with ease with the lewd amount of slick gathered there. “filthy girl… I’m right.” His hand presses down on your lower back, arching you for him as he buries himself balls-deep.
“oh! Hic—just… just let me cum, already!” you clamp around him, all the obscene ideas making your pussy walls stir.
Xavier’s fingers spread your ass cheeks for him and he sinks deeper than ever. You let out a choked sob—very close to rutting your needy clit against the glass if he keeps you on edge any longer. “it’s okay. I’m thinking of that too,”
He pinches your clit once and that has you creaming around his pulsing length. Your pussy clamping around him like heartbeat has him finishing too, keeping you plugged like that for a moment until you come down from the high.
“there’s no way I can sleep after this,” you pout. Xavior huffs out a fond laugh behind you.
“pfft okay, we’ll take a long nap together after the wedding,”
RAFAYEL QI ☆
You wanted to give him something unforgettable for your wedding—something truly special, because he’s been certain about marrying you for as long as you can remember. No exaggeration. And you knew simple nudes wouldn’t cut it.
Until an evil idea pops in your mind. You were no stranger to his “bride kink”. So why don’t you just play with that?
“fuckfuckfuck cutiieee,” he whines pathetically.
his eyes are snapped shut. All he can do is push his stuttering hips flush against yours, feeding your leaking cunt more of his stout inches—all while holding your dress as far away as he can from the mess. Your hole pulses, dribbling out a mixture of your cream and his pre cum that his angry red head can’t stop spilling.
“mngh you’re suuuch an angel—hah!” he grips your thighs, holding them apart as he destroys your overstimulated cunt. “such an angel for letting me fuck this pretty pussy in your wedding dress babymmff—”
He’s made you cum several times—on the pink muscle in his filthy mouth, his slender fingers and even on his pretty cock. And yet, he hasn’t finished once—holding back for lord knows what.
“ra-raf s’enough already!” you whine. It only spurs him more—he buries himself to the hilt, nudging your spongy spot, now swollen from his cruel overstimulation. “we’re gonna be late. Just cum!” your hips chase his as he pulls back and then with a lewd schliiick, slides back home.
“I know I know,” he rasps out too quickly. He’s flushed, dazed. Delirious. And god help you, it’s pushing you closer to that delicious edge. “wanna hold it out. Wanna tattoo the patterns of your pussy walls onto my dick,”
You let out a groan at that, walls fluttering around him in response. He starts moving once again. long brutal strokes, massaging you perfectly, warming you for yet another orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum…” you tell him, your hand coming down to rub your clit. He frowns before swatting your hand away with a pout, replacing it with his.
“me too,” he says fucking finally. “m’gonna fill my pretty little bride up.” he angles his cock to your sweet spot, making you cum so hard that you see stars.
“ohhh baby fuck—!” he groans deep, hips faltering as he spills into you. “take my cum, my pretty bride. Love feeding your womb…” he pumps his load into you, as deep as your body can take it. Until he begins to melt—
you nearly kick him away before he can start again.
“ow! What was that for?” he looks down, momentarily admiring the trail of white dribbling from your hole before he jumps to his feet.
“uh-oh uh-oh!” he grabs a rag and cleans you up in time.
And later, as you walk down the aisle toward him, you both can’t stop breaking into ugly, snotty laughter at the memory.
SYLUS QIN ☆
“boss lady!”
“boss-man’s back!”
The only downside to marrying the leader of Onychinus was the interruptions—even on your wedding day. You believed Sylus when he said you wouldn’t have to dirty your dress over “pests,” that he’d handle it himself. Still, that didn’t stop you from pacing, restless as you waited for him to return.
“how scandalous,” he lets out a rumble of laugh as you fuck yourself on his impossibly fat dick. “my fiancé ravaging her husband-to-be while our guests outside wait for us to be wed,”
“consummating our marriage before we’re even ma—"
“mmffuck! B-be quiet, sylus.” His cockhead brushes against your sweet spot and you keep him there, grinding.
His fingers hook under the blindfold to see that fucked out expression on your face that only his dick manages to poke out of you. “do-don’t! keep it on.” You swat his hand away. He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender.
“I can’t see you before the ceremony but you can fuck me? you’re only following rules that are conveni—” you silence him with a kiss, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip. He hisses, before kissing you fervently, holding you still as he pistons his cock into you, just where you want it. You sob into his mouth—all which he happily swallows.
He flips the two of you. “sylus don’t take it—”
“mm im hurt, kitten. do you truly think i need to see you to fuck you proper?” with that, he’s dragging you to his hips, sheathing himself back into you.
“sy o-oh!” your voice cracks as you let out a scream—too far gone to care about the people murmuring outside. “m’gonna cum,”
Sylus leans down, his hot breath fanning over your temple. “I know you were worried. But we are getting married.” He promises, his pace slowing to deep, long thrusts—still managing to knock the air out of your lungs. You sob out, nodding in agreement. “right after I make you cream,”
His hips slam into yours, each thrust punching out choked sounds out of you. his fingers find your clit, gathering all that syrup you’ve dribbled for him. and ohhh the way he touches you down there is nothing short of obscene. A stark contrast to your perfect, innocent white wedding dress you’re getting fucked in.
He massages your pussy lips, fingers moving from your wide-stretched hole, to your clit and back down. he parts your slit only to close your puffy pink lips back around his length as he spears into you with reckless abandon.
Your back feels like it snapped in two as you finish, chanting his name. one more thrust into your juicy, quivering hole has him pumping his thick load into you.
“am I to marry you in this?” he plays with the edge of the cloth over his eyes, still huffing.
[ how they c-m + when they clean you with their mouths ]
featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb
[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]
you were settled on top of the proud onychinus leader, riding him sloppily as you chased your high. with your palms pressed against his broad chest, you kept bouncing up and down his cock-
practically melting when he let out low groans of your name with each push of your hips.
you felt your walls clench around him, surrounding his cock with your juices as you cried out to him-
your hips stilled as you basked in the sensation of his seed filling you to the brim as your cunt worked on milking him for all he was worth. you felt every twitch of his cock and the way he weakly thrusts upwards into you, ensuring he was completely emptied before you landed on him.
for several seconds, you remain in a comfortable silence. your cheek (damp with sweat), rests against his broad chest as you attempt to even out your breathing. just as your heart rate slows to a regular pace-
sylus begins to move.
the first sensation you felt was his soft cock slipping out of your heat, earning a soft moan of protest from you. feeling too weak to move, you didn’t even complain when sylus swaps positions with you. placing your naked form against the bed, he flashes you a mischievous grin before settling himself between your legs.
“w-what are you doing?” the heat of his breath felt against your sensitive cunt causes a wave of heat down your spine. when he doesn’t answer you, you were about to ask again-
only to feel your words dies against your throat when he engulfs your aching sex with his mouth, tongue already exploring your channel as he worked on cleaning the evidence of your respective releases away.
your eyes roll to the back of your head as sylus devours you, losing all of your senses as he kept sucking-
feeling as though he were ready to devour the entirety of your soul as you became weak to his growing hunger.
you gasp when zayne kept pumping himself into you-
keeping your body pressed against the bed as he worked on chasing his high while constantly building up your pleasure. the tightness in your abdomen was close to snapping, and when you arched your back in response to the way zayne slightly tilted his hips-
you allowed your release to crash down on you-
consuming you in the sweetest of ways as you clenched around zayne, feeling him shoot his essence within your heat before inevitably collapsing above you.
your heart does this weird flutter within your chest, seeing how zayne looked utterly wrecked due to what had just transpired. his usually calm and composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen-
from the way his hair became mussed due to how your hands kept constantly running through them,
to how his lips were slighted parted as a prominent blush dyes his usually refined cheekbones-
you were utterly enamored with him.
after a few minutes had passed, he groans, kissing at your lips while pulling out of you at the same time. zayne’s expression was apologetic for a few seconds before he spreads your legs, settling himself between them without another word.
you sit up in bed, picking yourself up with the help of your elbows. you were about to question him when zayne suddenly surges forward, covering the entirety of your entrance with his hot mouth. losing all train of thought, you lost momentum and fall back into the mattress-
mind going hazy when his tongue pushes deeper into your channel, licking away all of the evidence of your respective arousals with a groan. you felt each little sound he made vibrating through you, making you cry out as you bite down on your fist to get some semblance of control.
yet when you felt zayne’s tongue curling around on your swollen clit, you knew all of your inhibitions had left you as you came into his hot and eager mouth-
knowing that this was far from over when you felt him smiling against your core.
you were on your hands and knees when xavier mounted you-
feeling every breathtaking inch of him in this new angle as he manages to reach even deeper inside of you-
making you feel him in parts that you didn’t even know existed.
as your hands clawed at the sheets, you felt xavier’s heavy weight settled on top of your back. he braces himself over you, sliding his cock in and out of your core at a rapid pace while chasing his high.
with your climax quickly approaching, you cling to the comforter with your hands, letting out a loud moan of his name as your walls clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper into your heat as your juices were felt running down your inner thighs. xavier reaches his completion just mere seconds later, biting down on the back of your shoulder before removing his limp cock from your dripping sex.
believing he was satisfied, you were ready to lay down and rest-
only to have xavier’s hand stop you as he calls out your name.
“not yet, starlight. you need to be cleaned.”
his gentle words masks the sinfulness of his actions as you felt him behind you, pressing his lips against your cunt as he licks away all of your juices mixed in with his seed. you feel your skin heating up in response to his actions, making your knees tremble as you tried to stay in an upright position.
as if sensing your struggles, your philos prince grips you by the hips, keeping you steady with both hands just as his tongue slips into your tight channel. you were trembling now, knowing that his actions would cause you to climax again as you fought against such a hedonistic sensation-
only to realize that the battle had already been lost the moment xavier began flicking his tongue over your swollen clit as you felt the familiar tightness in your abdomen snap all over again.
rafayel lay behind you in bed, watching with an avid adoration at your backside. you were bouncing yourself above him, bracing yourself on top of his knees as both of your moans echoed throughout the room.
you hear the lemurian’s soft whisper of your name, tone filled with such worship that you had to slow down your movements just to look back and kiss him. with your lips locked with his, rafayel continues to move for you-
his upward thrusts meeting with your hips each time as he draws out your release with ease. as if responding to your silent desires, he grips at your hips one last time with a sharp angled thrust that causes you to see stars just moments later.
you felt your climax hitting you in waves, your legs tightened around him, making rafayel feel every inch of your cunt clenching him oh so sweetly in response. letting out a gasp of your name, rafayel hides his face within the curve of your neck, filling your silky walls with his seed.
by the end of your intimacy, you had been turned into mush. you fall against his slightly damp chest, ready to sleep when he suddenly spreads your legs, dipping his fingers into your heat as he draws out the evidence of your completion.
you moan at the sensation, eyes going hazy when he removes his slender fingertips. rafayel looks at how wet his fingers had become, cloudy with his seed yet still retaining the shininess of your honeyed arousal. without missing a beat, he leans in and licks away at the evidence of your respective climaxes-
causing your whole body to became engulfed in flames at the mere sight.
“mmmm… so good.” rafayel’s eyes had turned into deep onyx when he lays you back in bed, “why don’t you just sit back and let me get a real taste of you… since i have no intention of stopping, princess.”
caleb had your back pressed to his chest with your legs held open by his hands alone. he kept whispering filthy things within your ear all while slotting his cock in and out of your heat like he owned it-
(he did, but you wouldn’t willingly admit such a thing to him.)
he had taken you while just waking up in the morning, too stubborn to simply ignore his morning wood as he used you as a means to alleviate his symptoms. you had lost count of how many rounds he had given you (or the times you had came so quickly), yet you felt like he was nearing the end of his passions.
the telltale signs were there-
the way his cock grew a bit bigger,
how his thick girth kept brushing against your swollen bundle of nerves, (still so eager to tease even when he already has you)-
and how his breathing became more uneven and labored before stilling his hips completely inside of you.
you felt him before you could hear his deep grunts, feeling thick ropes of his cum painting your walls white as your overly sensitive cunt gave him one last clench. your juices mixed with the thickness of his seed, and you were grateful that your colonel was finally satisfied.
at least, that’s what you had hoped for.
caleb slides of your heat with a low groan before lying you back down. “tired already? that’s no good, babe…”
he trails off before spreading your legs wider for him, “look… i can’t leave this pretty flower in such a messy state. i gotta clean her up.”
without any further warnings, you gasp when you felt caleb surging forward, engulfing the entirety of your cunt as his tongue works on devouring the evidence of your respective release. you felt every push and twist of his tongue in your tight channel, making you cry out to him when your hands automatically delve themselves into his messy hair.
caleb’s groans of satisfactions vibrates through you as you clench your legs around his face-
perhaps you were becoming just as addicted as he was as you found yourself matching with caleb’s insatiable thirst.
end notes: woke up from a wet dream lowkey and had to immortalize it in an unedited daydream 🙂↕️
all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!
caleb is absolutely hammering into you, his pace heavy and completely relentless. his broad chest is slick with sweat, grinding against yours with every single hard thrust. he’s buried so fucking deep inside you that your head is spinning, the bed frame groaning loudly as his thick cock stretches you open, bullying its way past your wet folds. you’re pinned flat on your back, fingers scratching harsh red lines down his back.
“caleb–fuck, slow d-down for a second,” you gasp out, voice breaking from the feeling of him absolutely wrecking you.
he lets out a breathless little laugh, his purpole eyes staring into your hazy ones. “can’t do that,” he murmurs, voice full of warm, lazy affection. “you’re the one who got me this worked up.”
it was true. caleb had returned from a two week long mission and god could you not keep your hands off of him.
suddenly, his large warm hand slides up your chest and wraps firmly around the front of your throat. caleb squeezes.
the firm, heavy pressure instantly cuts off your air and the steady restriction sends a violent jolt up your core. your eyes fly wide, pupils dilating as a desperate, needy whine gets trapped in your throat. it’s exactly what you like– the feeling of him being in control making your soaked cunt twitch and clench around his cock.
your hands grip his wrist, not to pull him off, but to press it down harder against your neck, begging for that pressure.
caleb leans down, his face inches from yours. his usually bright eyes are dark and heavy but his expression softens into a fond smile when he sees how much you love it.
“you’re my absolute weakness, you know that?” he murmurs, voice raspy snd breathless before he leans down to press a deep and sweet kiss to your lips.
he dosen’t slow down at all. he drives his cock even deeper, bottoming out completely inside your twitching cunt. then, he takes his hand and presses his palm against your lower stomach.
right there, his palm sinks against your skin. he can feel the distinct bulge of himself stretching you out from inside. your hips give a suddenly and involuntary jerk at the feeling. a tear of pure pleasure slips down your cheek, choked cry trapped by his grip on your neck.
caleb lets out a sharp groan at the feeling, his smile turning into a breathless grin. he presses down hard with his palm, while his hips slam forward again and again.
“look at you,” caleb pants, his breath hot against your face as he uses his thumb to wipe a tear away. he holds you perfectly steady while he watches your expression blow out. “you’re taking every fucking inch of me. so beautiful like this.”
“mmh—caaaleb...just....harder,” you choke out, your chest heaving as you look up at him, completely drunk on the lack of air and sheer size of him tearing you apart. he keeps pounding into you, tip battering against your cervix.
soon, your vision blurs and your back completely arches off the mattress. the coil in your stomach snaps and it has you gripping him like a vice. caleb kisses you through the peak of it, holding you securely until you slowly start to come down.
afterward, the room is completely quiet except for your heavy breathing. caleb collapses right next to you, completely spent and pulls you against his side. he lets out a long, satisfied sigh, pressing numerous kisses to the crown of your head. “i love you,” he whispers.
you smile and snuggle into him. yes, you love him too.
reader x xavier | also on AO3 | explicit content | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, CNC, primal play, praise kink
Your cheeks burned with shame as Xavier pinned you against the wall. He leaned down, biting the side of your neck until you gasped, as you tried to shove him away.
"Come on, starlight," Xavier said. His eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them as he stared down at you, one side of his mouth curved up into a cruel smirk. "We both know you want this. Want me."
This wasn't supposed to happen like this.
You'd wanted Xavier. Of course you'd wanted him. He was practically perfect, after all - tall, strong, sweet when he wanted to be, unfairly handsome, and somehow knew just what you needed when you were feeling down. You'd dreamed about him for months, far longer than was appropriate for someone who was supposed to be your Hunter partner/neighbor. On more than one occasion, you'd moaned his name so loudly while touching yourself that you'd worried he heard you.
And now, here you were. Pressed up against the wall of a club, tucked into the shadows so your friends couldn't see how Xavier had trapped you.
You whimpered as he pried your legs apart, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes unless you wanted to sit on his thigh.
Why had you chosen to wear this dress tonight? It was the shortest one you owned, which made your legs look a mile long. Maybe you'd worn it to tease Xavier, considering how often you caught him staring at you, but it also made you feel sexy, and hot, and wanted, as plenty of other people had made their appreciation of your body known tonight too. One of whom, Xavier had given a death glare before you'd walked away, entirely content to go back to the dance floor until Xavier had dragged you over here.
Unfortunately for you, with Xavier's thigh between your legs, you had to stand on your tip toes to keep the gusset of your underwear from pressing against him. The tiny dress was a flimsy protection to keep the truth of your arousal from him.
His hands rested on your thighs, tightening just a little.
"No," you said, shoving at Xavier.
Despite all of your training, all of your time at the gym, Xavier barely moved under your touch. As if he took your refusal as a challenge, his hands wrapped around your hips, tugging you farther up his thigh.
You couldn't help the shudder that ran through you at his touch and you had to turn your face away to hide how badly you wanted him.
But not here. In public. Where anyone could see you. Where your coworkers were a few feet away, dancing and drinking.
Not when you and Xavier had never had a single conversation about your feelings, or what this meant to either of you, or how this would affect your relationship as partners or-
"No?" Xavier asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "I think this needy little pussy of yours would disagree. Or are you trying to tell me that if I slid my fingers under this dress, I wouldn't find you dripping wet?"
You clenched your jaw, trying to keep another shudder running through you at Xavier's words as you shook your head.
"No, Xavier," you said, pushing against his chest again. "Let me go."
Xavier grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so you had to look at him. In all of the time you've spent with Xavier, you'd never thought he was condescending or predatory. The only time he'd ever looked dangerous was when he was chasing down wanderers.
Now though?
Now he looked like he was ready to devour you whole.
"I don't believe you," he said. The hand not holding your chin slid from your hip to your thigh as he slowly trailed it towards where you were pressed against him. "I can feel you shaking. I know you want this. And I know how good you'll be for me when you finally give in."
You pushed his hand away before he could reach the line of your underwear. Xavier only smirked in response, leaning in closer until there was no space left between you, your face tucked underneath his chin. He bent down so he could speak directly into your ear.
"I'll make you a deal, starlight. I'll let you go. If you can make it back to our apartment building before I catch you, we can pretend like this never happened. You can go home, curl up in bed alone, and touch yourself until you're crying out my name like you do every night."
You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you at his words. Had Xavier been spying on you? You'd never been that loud, right? You'd always been so careful, or at least, you thought you had.
Xavier's hands trailed up your sides now, his fingertips barely brushing the fabric of your dress as he kept talking.
"But if I catch you, you're mine."
He let one of his hands fall from your body, resting it on the wall next to your shoulder so you were completely trapped. His other tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling at your hair until he could drag his nose down the side of your neck as he breathed you in deeply.
"Completely mine. In every way I want you. Until you break underneath me and forget everyone but me."
You could feel your underwear growing wetter with his every word, even as part of you screamed that this was wrong. He was your coworker, your neighbor, your friend. You couldn't do this. This was wrong on so many levels. And you were still in public.
"I'll even give you a head start," Xavier said, slowly stepping away from you so you felt the loss of his body heat. When goosebumps appeared across your skin, you didn't fight the shiver that ran through you. Xavier smirked again, tilting his head slightly as he watched the evidence of your body's reaction to him.
"What are you waiting for, starlight? Run."
You didn't wait to see what happened next, your Hunter instincts kicking in as Xavier looked every bit as predatory as the S-class wanderers you fought. You were out the club's side door a moment later, already cursing your shoe choice for the evening as your heels slowed you down.
You bent down and slid them off your feet, but your heart was pounding in your ears as you gripped them and took off again. How much of a head start was he going to give you? Was he already chasing you? How much time had you lost already by pausing?
You mentally mapped out the fastest way home, debating how many public parks and alleyways you wanted to risk to make your trip shorter. Alleyways were out of the question immediately - not while you were barefoot. But there was at least one public park you could skip through. It was technically closed at night, but you were agile enough you could get over the fence. You just had to make sure you could get there before Xavier saw you.
You paid no attention to the random passersby on the sidewalk as you sprinted down the city streets. A handful of people yelled as you ducked around them, bumping into shoulders and bags as you went, but you could only mumble an apology as you made a split-second decision and ran across the street.
Several cars honked at you, one of the drivers even rolling down their windows to yell, but it didn't matter.
Faster. You had to be faster.
Your Hunter training was put to good use as you pushed your body to its limit, running several miles, zigzagging between pedestrians and traffic and other random obstacles, before you turned the last corner and saw the park in front of you. Finally, you let yourself glance behind you, scanning for any sign of Xavier.
Nothing.
You refused to relax, sprinting full-speed at the park before you vaulted up and over the metal fence. You felt the corner of your dress snag on one of the spiky tips of the barrier, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered other than making more distance.
You had to beat Xavier home. You had to. You couldn't let him catch you, no matter what. Your apartment complex was only one block away. All you had to do was make it through the park and you could reach the apartment's back doors. And then you'd be safe.
You were halfway through the park when the streetlights around you started to go out.
"Shit."
Knowing you were out of options, you ducked into a copse of trees, hoping you could break Xavier's line of sight for long enough to make some distance. You needed every advantage you could get.
It worked for a few seconds, until strong arms wrapped around your middle and you were yanked against a tree.
"Gotcha," Xavier said, his teeth digging into the flesh where your neck and shoulder met until you cried out.
No. No no no no no.
This wasn't happening.
This couldn't happen.
You slammed your head back, feeling the crunch of Xavier's nose as he released you. You knew you couldn't risk checking on him or even looking back at him, so you didn't.
You were so close to your apartment building. Through these trees, there was a gazebo, and a small fountain, and then the main entrance. If you could just get there.
You'd lost your shoes when Xavier grabbed you, but now you were grateful for it. With your hands free, you could grab at the tree branches around you, using them as leverage to throw yourself forward a little bit at a time.
It was hard to hear with your heart pounding so hard and your breathing ragged, but you knew Xavier was close.
Sure enough, all of the lights in the gazebo went out as you escaped the treeline. You dodged the edge of the structure at the last minute, deciding to run around it and through the fountain instead. It wouldn't be faster, but it could hopefully shock Xavier enough to-
There was a flash of light and Xavier had you pinned again. This time you were pressed into the dirt, as Xavier trapped you underneath him. You could feel how hard he was as he ground his hips into your ass, both of your wrists caught in one of his hand as he laughed softly in your ear.
The bastard wasn't even breathing hard.
"Can't pretend I'm not a little disappointed, starlight," Xavier said. "I expected more of a fight from you, partner."
You tried to kick at him, twisting to get at his knees, but he only pressed you more tightly against the ground. You were too tired from sprinting so far - your Hunter training was meant for enduring long gunfights, not distance running.
"Now, you're mine," Xavier said.
He shifted above you, just enough for you to try and headbutt him again, but he was waiting for you this time. In one smooth move, his hand was in your hair again, pulling you backwards until you could only see the stars in the night sky and Xavier's dark eyes.
"I don't think so, little bunny. You're not getting away from me. Ever again."
He released his hold on your hair, digging his fingers into your hips instead. You gasped as you heard fabric tearing as Xavier removed what little fabric still covered your lower half. Your dress, which had barely been holding on, was now in tatters, the scrap of fabric you'd previously called your panties cast somewhere on the ground around you.
"Xavier, wait-"
You thrashed against him, trying to dislodge his hold, but it was no use. He was too heavy, and you were too tired. Even if you did get away, you knew you were out of stamina to make it very far.
Xavier ignored your words as he shifted, pushing your legs apart with his knees so he could have better access to you. When his hand ran along your inner thigh, you whimpered, closing your eyes as if that would keep him from doing what he was about to do.
There was no coming back from any of this.
"You make the prettiest sounds," Xavier said, biting into your shoulder again as his fingers traced the outer lips of your pussy. "You're doing so good for me. Fighting so much, knowing that we'd both be more turned on from it. I knew your pussy would be dripping for me."
You were shaking your head, but it didn't matter. Not when proof of your arousal coated his fingers. Not when your closed eyes meant that you were hyper-aware of how and where he was touching you, when there was nothing else to focus on.
You were taken aback as Xavier's hands returned to your hips, holding you in place as he sat up and leaned away from you. You shifted, now only half-trying to pull away from him, as you tried to figure out what he was doing. He wasn't opening his belt, was he? You opened your eyes to see him fully behind you, his gaze completely focused on your pussy.
"Holy shit, starlight," Xavier said. You felt a sudden warmth before you realized that Xavier had stuck his entire face between your legs. You couldn't help the shudder that went through you as you felt his heavy breaths against you. "I can't believe you've been keeping this from me for so long. You're perfect. I'm never letting you go again."
The moment his tongue brushed against you, you moaned, throwing your head back so you could see the night sky. If you focused on something else - if you pretended this wasn't happening - maybe you could salvage your partnership.
Xavier's hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you towards him as he opened your legs wider.
"You taste so good, angel. Now, stay just like that. Be good and hold still for me."
You tried wiggling again, trying to pull away from his touch, but Xavier was too strong. When you felt one of his fingers slide along your inner folds you gasped, your hips instantly stilling as you made another pathetic sound.
"Xavier, please," you said, as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. "We can't. I don't want to do this."
He shifted then, flipping you onto your back so you were staring up at him, your thighs wrapped around his hips. You watched, entranced, as he brought his fingers to his lips, tracing your slick over them before his tongue flicked out to taste you on his skin. You were too shocked to do anything but watch.
Xavier tilted his head as he studied you, taking in the sight of you below him. You were already completely wrecked - your hair a mess, cheeks flushed, dress tattered and rucked up around your waist, pussy dripping wet and achingly empty. His mouth quirked in a satisfied smirk as he dragged his fingers through your folds again, leaning over so his face was inches from yours.
You did your best not to react, to not show any sign of what he was doing to you, but it was no use. You saw the glint of triumph in Xavier's eyes as you tried to keep yourself from squirming under his touch and you failed, your hips instinctively rocking towards him as your body sought more. When he brought his newly slickened fingers to your lips, he held them just out of reach, waiting for you to finally accept what he already knew.
You wanted this just as much as he did. You could fight him as much as you wanted but at the end of the day, you were always going to end up here, underneath him.
His.
When you opened your mouth for him, he slid two fingers inside without any hesitation, pressing against your tongue so you were forced to taste the proof of your own desire.
"That's it, starlight," Xavier said. "You've been so good for me tonight, trying to pretend you didn't want this all along. But we both know better now, don't we?"
You bit down on his fingers hard - hard enough to draw blood as you used your Hunter training to throw off his center of gravity. You heard Xavier curse again as he lost his balance, but you were already scrambling away from him, dragging yourself to your feet and trying to run despite your exhaustion.
You were never going to outrun him. Not when you were this tired and he had his Evol on his side. But you could make this as difficult as possible for him. He wanted a fight? You could give him a fight.
This time, when he caught you, you went limp in his arms, forcing him to support your body weight before you twisted in his arms, shoving him away from you.
Xavier laughed at that, teleporting in front of you a moment later with dark eyes and the now familiar predatory tilt of his head.
You were panting as the two of you stared each other down. You glanced away from him for a moment, mentally calculating how far it was to your apartment building. Xavier was in front of you a moment later, his face blocking your line of sight.
"You're already mine, little bunny. You can make it to the apartment, but I'll only follow you. I won."
You punched him.
It wasn't that hard - you were too exhausted to put much force behind it - but you did succeed in clipping him on the chin. You wanted to watch his expression as he frowned and pouted at you for it, but you couldn't stay and watch. You were already at the fountain, jumping over the edge and splashing through the water to try and make it to the other side, hoping the water would slow him down as much as it was you.
When the flash of light happened this time, you tried to dodge out of the way, but there was no use. There was no universe where you could move faster than him, as long as he had his Light Evol.
One moment you were in the fountain, ankle deep in water, and the next, you were inside a building.
Inside Xavier's apartment.
You barely had time to process this before he had picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder so he could carry you to his bedroom. When he tossed you onto his bed, you bounced a little, giving him the beautiful sight of your confusion and shock before he was climbing on top of you. His thighs trapped your legs as one of his hands caught your wrists above your head again.
"You've been so good for me, starlight," Xavier cooed, kissing along your collarbone and the side of your neck. "You're my sweet little bunny. My new favorite meal to catch."
His hips thrust against you at his last word, his cock pressing against your clit through the fabric of his pants. You couldn't help but moan at the contact, turning your head away as if that would help. Xavier, as if expecting this response, bit the side of your jaw.
"No? You don't want to look at me?"
You wanted to close your eyes again, but you already knew what that would do to you, so you stared at his wall instead.
"Fine," Xavier said, pressing a soft kiss to the place his teeth had been a moment ago before he slid down your body. "I know what will change your mind."
When Xavier's mouth closed over your clit, you cried out, your back arching off the bed as your thighs clamped down around his head. You felt the rumble of Xavier's laugh as he continued worshiping your pussy, alternating between sucking and licking around your clit until you were shaking and coming apart underneath him.
"You're so beautiful when you come," Xavier said, pressing soft kisses along your inner thigh before he returned to your pussy, this time sliding one finger inside of you, stretching you slowly before he added a second. "I want to hear you make those noises every day."
Xavier didn't let up, pulling one sensation after another from your body with single-minded focus. Every time you came, he had nothing but praise for you. How beautiful you looked. How much he loved every sound you made. How good you were being for him. How perfect you were, now that he finally had you.
Now that you were his.
Your body was reaching its limit, all of your muscles worn out as you gasped for air after orgasming again, though you'd long lost count of how many he'd given you. You looked down at Xavier, still kneeling between your legs, to find him staring up at you. Despite how feral he'd been earlier, he looked perfectly at peace now - his blue eyes wide and hopeful as he watched your every reaction, his cheek pressed against your thigh as he watched you.
When you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged, Xavier came willingly, crawling up your body with your slick still covering the lower half of his face. You reached up to wipe it off but Xavier caught your hand, using it to clean every drop off of your skin before he licked your hand clean. None of it went to waste.
You opened your mouth to say something, but Xavier was the one shaking his head this time, before he leaned down and kissed you.
His mouth was warm and soft against yours, a sharp contrast to how he'd acted earlier. He moved slowly, pressing soft kisses along the line of your jaw, your brow, the tip of your nose. When he pulled back, all signs of his predatory behavior were gone, his face the perfect example of innocence yet again. The transition had been seamless, as if he was just as comfortable in this state as he was being the aggressor.
"Was I too much?" he asked, his voice soft and more hesitant that you'd ever heard it.
"No," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him in for another kiss. "But next time, we should plan better. I bet Tara is panicking right now because we disappeared from the club without a word. She probably thinks I was kidnapped."
Xavier's cheeks and ears turned so red that it was visible even in the dim light. He shifted on top of you, as if he was embarrassed, but you only held him tighter.
"Don't leave yet. Please."
Xavier returned to his previous position immediately, wrapping his arms underneath you so you were as close together as possible.
"I'll send her a message real quick and then turn off my phone," you said, already trying to figure out how where your phone was and how to explain your sudden disappearance. "Besides, I do think I was promised something about being used in whatever way you wanted? Now that I'm yours."
Xavier's mouth quirked up at that and you saw a glimpse of the predator in him returning.
"Better text fast then, starlight. As far as I'm concerned, you're never leaving my bed again."
CW: Smut. Stalker reader. Stalker Caleb. (they match each other's freak) Cameras. Fingering. Smut. P in V. Oral. Jealousy. 🔞 MDNI🔞
Celebrate 1700 with me ❤️❤️🎉🎉
Apple masterlist
HIS POV
He knows. Of course he knows. There are two cameras in his room, tucked away in the corners like little plastic parasites, blinking away in the shadows. He’ll play the part, though, he’ll keep on pretending he’s oblivious while she watches him. There’s something almost touching about the way she thinks she’s the only one doing the stalking.
Cute
He knows she's been playing detective, tracing his steps, hunting for some grand revelation to justify her suspicion. It all started because of that one photo Gideon posted of him and a girl from work, a face he can barely remember through the fog of his own fractured memory, but Caleb doesn't correct her. Why bother? If she wants to play the investigator, let her.
He leans back, closing his eyes for a second, and there it is. That scent. Her perfume. It’s a goddamn olfactory ghost, haunting every inch of his home. It’s on his couch, it’s in his bedsheets, practically etched into the walls. A little flag planted in his territory, announcing her presence.
She’s good, he’ll give her that. A master of the artful lie, a silver tongued little thing who can spin a web of deception with a smile so bright it could practically blind you. She thinks she's so clever, hiding the truth behind those pretty, innocent expressions. But he’s known her since they were children, since the days of thunderstorms and shared secrets. He’s watched her evolve, watched her sharpen her wits and harden her heart, and he sees right through the facade.
But that’s okay. He likes it. He likes the game, the way she dances around the truth, weaving a web of half lies and omissions. It’s a mirror of his own mind, a reflection of the masks he wears every single day.
They’re two halves of a single, fractured soul, spinning in a haze where love and obsession become indistinguishable from one another. Caleb finds himself wondering, with a dark sort of amusement, who’s actually going to catch who in the end.
But for now, he's going to give her exactly what she’s looking for.
As the sun finally drags itself below the horizon, Caleb slips beneath the sheets of his bed and strips naked.
He knows she’s watching. He knows her eyes are fixed on him.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushes the silk aside. He lets the cool air hit his skin, exposing himself to the lens. He angles his hips just so, a lewd, shameless display of his fat cock, making sure the camera catches every single inch of him. His breathing shifts, getting heavy, ragged, catching in his throat as he strokes himself imagining is her hand around him. He lets out a guttural moan that he knows will vibrate through the speakers in whatever room she's hiding in.
And then, he whispers her name.
“...”
He wants her to feel the weight of it. He wants her to realize that even in his most private, vulnerable moments, she is the only thing that exists. He lets her watch as he strokes himself towards a messy release, painting his expenaive sheets with thick spurts of cum.
But a tease is never enough for a man like Caleb.
He rises from the bed, his bare feet making almost no sound on the hardwood as he strides out of his bedroom. He doesn't head for the kitchen or the balcony. Instead, he moves toward the living room, toward the wall that looks perfectly ordinary to anyone else. But with a practiced touch, a hidden mechanism clicks, and a secret door swings open, revealing his true sanctum.
He sits heavily in the chair before the glow of the computer monitors. With a few keystrokes, the screens bloom to life, and the room is flooded with a digital kaleidoscope of her.
There she is. Everywhere. Photos from the street, grainy surveillance footage, shots of her sleeping, laughing, even crying. His obsession. His entire universe, distilled into pixels and light.
He turns his head slightly, looking toward the direction of the hidden camera in her room, and he sees her. She isn't disgusted. She’s mesmerized. She’s a mirror of his own unquenchable thirst.
She might be smart, she might be a damn good Hunter, but she’s playing against a man who has turned his entire existence into a singular, sharpened point of focus. He is always, always one step ahead.
As he watches her on the screen, a satisfied rush of adrenaline surges through him. He wonders what she’ll do next. What new lies will she tell? What new traps will she set? He’ll just keep enjoying the thrill of the chase, the exquisite tension of knowing that she’s watching him, wanting him, needing him... just as desperately as he needs her.
One thing is certain, as certain as the gravity he commands, he will have her. Come hell, come high water, come the end of the world itself. She is his destiny, his beautiful, chaotic fate.
And he is never, ever letting her go.
The game isn't over. It's just getting interesting.
YOUR POV
The image of him is burned into the back of your eyelids. Every time you blink, you see it again. His face contorted in pleasure. The way he moaned your name had you trembling where you sat. You can't unsee the way his knuckles went white, the way his body shuddered, or the shameless desperation in the way he found release.
A traitorous part of you, the part that's a little too obsessed with the thrill of the hunt wishes you’d been braver. Dammit, why didn't I put a third one in the bathroom? Or the hallway?
You really want to catch every single, private second of him.
But then reality hits, cold and sharp. You shake the thought off, Caleb isn't an idiot, he's a Colonel. The risk is massive. The terrifying thought that he might actually know creeps into your mind like a shadow.
No, you tell yourself a little too quickly. It’s hidden. Undetectable. He’ll never know.
Yet, even as you try to settle, that bitter, hot knot of jealousy starts to twist in your gut again. Your mind drifts back to that photo Gideon had uploaded. The girl. Her smile had been too bright and her hand had been positioned a fraction of an inch too close to his. It’s a memory that sits in your mind like a splinter, irritating and impossible to ignore.
Is he truly yours? You don't know and the uncertainty stings.
But then you remember the way he cried out your name. It wasn't just lust, it sounded pained. Maybe it isn't the pure, uncomplicated love you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe it’s something much darker, something more complicated and far more dangerous.
You really, truly wanted to see him today. There was this hollow ache in your chest, a craving for the warmth of his smile and the way those eyes always seemed to pull you in like a gravitational tide. But it's the last Saturday of the month, which means he’s locked into that rigid, military schedule of his, keeping him far away from you.
So you sink onto the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under your weight, and pull your phone from your pocket. Your fingers are a little unsteady as you tap through the layers of encryption to reach the hidden apps. These aren't the apps a normal person uses, these are your windows into the man behind the Colonel.
Your pulse hammers against your throat when you log into his accounts, holding your breath as you scan for anything new. A message? A notification? A slip up?
Nothing.
It’s the same stale routine. A few banal exchanges with Gideon, a dry work email from the Fleet, and a social media feed that looks as frozen in time as a museum exhibit. No new photos. No new posts. You let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, your shoulders finally dropping an inch. There’s no sign of that girl from the photo. No evidence that anyone else has managed to pierce his orbit lately.
You’ve been doing this for years. It’s a ritual now, a habit so deeply ingrained in your bones that you don't even realize you're doing it until you're already deep in his digital life. You've had these same tracking apps installed on your phone since high school. Back then, it was different, you’d watch the flood of thirsty messages and scandalous nudes from girls all over the school hitting his inbox, watching them wait for a reply that never came. Caleb never played the game. He was always too disciplined, too untouchable. He never gave them the time of day.
And that? That was the drug that hooked you. Knowing that even when the world was throwing itself at him, he remained unyielding. He could be yours, and yours alone.
You know it's messed up. You know that a "sane" person wouldn't spend their Saturday nights dissecting a man's private digital footprint like a forensic scientist. It’s an invasion, a total lack of boundaries.
But you can't just stop. You can't resist the gnawing need to know every detail, to inhabit the spaces of his life even when he isn't looking. If you have to bury this obsession deeper just to keep it alive, then so be it.
You'll keep digging. You'll keep watching. Because the only thing scarier than knowing too much is knowing nothing at all.
---------------------------
Hours later you're standing in the fruit aisle of the supermarket, staring at the produce as if there's an answer to your life written in the skins of the fruit. But just when your fingers graze a perfect, gleaming apple, they brush against something else. Warm skin.
You jump, nearly dropping the fruit, and an apology slips out of your mouth before you can even think.
"Sorry..."
"Y/N?"
The voice hits you like a sudden gust of wind. You lift your head, and your breath hitches. Eyes you haven't seen in years. "Ian?" you ask, a genuine, startled smile breaking across your face. "Oh my god, is it really you? It’s been... what, years? How have you been?"
Back in school he was one of those small, sweet crushes, the kind you remember fondly but don't lose sleep over.
Ian grins, but there’s a different energy to him now. As he speaks, you catch his eyes roaming over you, a slow sweep that feels a little more intentional than a casual glance. "I'm good," he says, his gaze lingering on the curve of your hips just a beat too long. "And you look..." He lets the word hang there for a second "...incredible."
A faint blush creeps up your neck at the compliment, but the moment is interrupted by a flicker of something else. You notice Ian’s eyes darting around the aisle, shifting restlessly as if he’s scanning the crowd for a specific face.
Confused, you follow his line of sight, expecting to see someone familiar, but there’s nothing. Just the usual grocery store chaos, people debating over cereal brands and teenagers laughing near the frozen goods. The aisles are empty of anyone who looks like they belong with him.
"Are you here by yourself?" he asks. He’s still scanning the perimeter, his brow furrowed in a way that feels almost anxious.
"Yeah..." you reply, your voice trailing off as a small knot of confusion forms in your chest. "Is everything okay?"
Ian snaps out of whatever trance he was in, shaking his head and forcing a laugh that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, no, it’s nothing. Really," he says, though he doesn't sound convinced. "It’s just... well, back in high school, you and Caleb were practically joined at the hip. I just kind of assumed he’d be trailing behind you like a shadow." He gives a little apologetic shrug, trying to play it off as a casual observation.
You feel a tiny prickle of annoyance at the mention of his name. "We weren't always together," you say, brow furrowing.
He chuckles, but the sound is a little dry. "You were! Trust me, everyone was way too intimidated to even get within five feet of you because of him. Especially us guys."
You tilt your head, genuinely baffled. "Why on earth would anyone be afraid of him?"
Ian laughs again, but this time there’s a distinct edge of discomfort in it, a sort of nervous energy that makes you uneasy. "Come on, don't play coy. We were all terrified to get too close to you. Nobody wanted to be the one to accidentally piss Caleb off."
You let out a light, airy laugh, but the sound dies in your throat when you see the way his jaw sets grim, hard. He’s glancing around the produce section again, his eyes scanning the shoppers as if he’s worried someone might be eavesdropping on this specific conversation.
"No way," you say, trying to sound breezy, but your voice feels thin, lacking any real conviction. "You're kidding, right?"
"He almost beat the absolute crap out of me," Ian confesses. He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that feels far too heavy for a grocery store. "He told me straight up that you weren't allowed to date anyone. And it wasn't just me, either. Half the guys at school..." He trails off, a visible shudder running through his shoulders as if the memory still stings.
Suddenly, your mind starts racing, flipping through years of memories like a deck of cards being shuffled at high speed. You think about all those missed connections. All those guys who had been so eager to take you out, only to vanish at the last second, or suddenly lose interest after just one date. It wasn't just a high school thing, either, the pattern had followed you like a ghost through college. A long, frustrating trail of aborted romances and broken promises that you just chalked up to bad luck.
Could it really be true?
Had Caleb really been the invisible hand, pulling the strings of your entire romantic life for years? Had he been quietly pruning away every potential boyfriend before they even had a chance to reach you?
You search Ian's face, desperate to find a flicker of a joke, a glint of anything to suggest he’s lying. But there’s nothing. Just the truth etched into the lines around his eyes and a lingering shadow of old fear.
A wild impulse flares up in your chest. It’s reckless, maybe even a little bit stupid, but before your brain can talk you out of it, the words are already tumbling out.
"Well... he's not around right now," you say, your voice a little higher than usual. "How about we head back to my place? We could grab some coffee and actually catch up properly."
You wince internally the second the invitation leaves your lips. God, that sounded so needy, you think, but beneath the embarrassment, there’s a bubbling urge to prove something.
Ian glances around the aisle one last time, his eyes darting nervously as if he expects Caleb to materialize from behind a stack of oranges. He looks hesitant, a shadow of doubt crossing his face, but then he offers a small, tentative nod. "Alright," he says softly. "Let’s go."
The walk back to your apartment is a blur. Ian shares mundane snippets about his job and stories about visiting family over the summer. But to you, it all sounds like static. Like white noise. Your entire world has narrowed down to the thudding rhythm of your own heart and the terrifying thrill of what you’re about to do.
Finally, you’re standing in the hallway, the cool air of the apartment complex settling around you. You fumble with your keys, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated, when your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket.
The vibration feels like a lightning strike.
You pull it out with trembling fingers and swipe the screen awake. And there it is, staring back at you is a message from Caleb.
"Hey Pips, I'm free tomorrow. Wanna come over?"
The simplicity of it, the casual warmth of that nickname makes your head spin. You don't even try to reply. You don't think about how it might look or how long you're leaving him on read. You just toss the phone onto the small entryway table with a dull clack, the screen still glowing.
There is no doubt, there is a camera on the hallway. Are there any inside?
Taking a long, shaky breath to steady your nerves you turn back to Ian and reach out, your fingers curling around his hand to pull him inside.
Let him come looking, a spark of defiance lights up in your chest. Let him see.
The second the door clicks shut, you shove Ian back against the wood and crash your lips onto his. It’s clumsy. An awkward clatter of teeth and uncoordinated scramble of tongues.
The silence of the apartment is shatters.
Your phone begins to wail from the entryway table. The sharp ringtone cuts through the air like a blade, and you know, you just know it’s him. Caleb’s name flashes on the screen, a digital ghost looming over the room, watching you from the dark.
Gotcha.
This was the answer you’d been hunting for. Caleb wasn't just a part of your life, he was a spectator. He was watching right now. How many of them were there? Hidden in the smoke detectors? Tucked into the corners of the ceiling?
Is he seeing the way your chest heaves right now?
You don't let the fear paralyze you. Instead, you use it. You grab Ian’s hand and lead him toward the bedroom, he looks a little dazed by the sudden shift but he isn't exactly complaining. As you move, the phone on the table goes absolutely haywire, bombarded by a rapid fire succession of messages. He’s practically vibrating with the need to reach you.
He wanted to watch? You’ll give him the best performance.
Once you reach the bed, you push Ian back onto the mattress and straddle him. You dive back into his mouth, hands roaming over his chest, fingers bunching and gripping the fabric of his shirt as you lose yourself in the rush of the moment.
His hands find their way to your thighs, sliding under your skirt to cup your ass. You let out a broken gasp into the kiss when he finally hooks his fingers under the edge of your panties, sliding them aside.
A small, rational part of your brain is screaming this is insane, you barely even know this guy anymore! but that voice is drowned out by your own heartbeat. Logic is a luxury you can't afford right now. All that matters is the risk, and the invisible eyes you know are staring at you from the shadows.
Breathless, you break the kiss, your eyes darting around the room in search. And then, you see it. Tucked away in the shadowed corner of your closet, a tiny, unblinking red dot glints.
The moment you realize he’s actually watching you a rush of heat floods your entire body. The phone on the table outside starts to ring again.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Ian asks breathless "it could be impo..."
You don't let him finish. You silence him, crashing your lips back onto his to stifle the question, determined to keep this investigation going. You squeeze your eyes shut, and suddenly, the illusion becomes almost too real. As Ian's fingers slide deep, pushing two fingers inside you, your mind betrays you. You aren't feeling Ian. You're picturing Caleb. You're imagining those strong hands, those calloused fingers, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress.
When Ian’s thumb finally finds your clit, grazing the sensitive nub, the world simply... shatters.
Your head lolls back and as your pleasure peaks Caleb is the only name on the tip of your tongue.
The echoes of your climax are still rippling through your nerves when the reality of what you’ve just done slams into your consciousness like a bucket of ice water. The high vanishes, replaced by sickening clarity.
Ian is staring up at you, his hand is still between your thighs "Hey... is everything okay?" he asks softly, his voice sounding far too loud in the sudden silence. "You were... really into it a second ago..."
You bolt upright, nearly tripping over the duvet in your rush to get to your phone.
Your fingers are shaking so badly you can barely grip the device as you snatch it from the entryway table. You swipe the screen open, and your heart drops into your stomach. The notification bar is a graveyard of missed connections.
Thirteen missed calls. Over thirty unread messages. And every single one of them, every single text is punctuated by a single, chilling period.
A shiver runs down your spine as you stare at those glaring notifications. You can almost feel the weight of Caleb's quiet fury pressing in on you, heavy and suffocating. You know him well enough to know that a single, lonely period is far more dangerous than a shouting match. It’s the silence before the storm, the kind of rage that doesn't need to make noise to be absolutely terrifying.
You grip the phone so hard the cold metal bites into your palm.
The sound of water running from the kitchen sink cuts through the heavy silence. You turn to see Ian coming out of the kitchen, wiping his wet hands on his clothes, looking confused and increasingly uneasy.
Before he can even open his mouth to ask what's wrong, the lie just spills out of you, born of pure desperation. "Caleb is on his way," you blurt out, "He... he should be here in a few minutes."
Ian’s eyes go wide. He doesn't ask why he's coming over. He doesn't even say goodbye. He just bolts. He practically scrambles for the door, like a man fleeing a crime scene. The door slams shut with a resounding bang, leaving you standing there in the oppressive stillness. You are alone. And there, in the quiet, your phone screen continues to glow, its light glaring at you like an accusation.
-------------------------
Caleb’s silence expands until it fills every corner of your life, suffocating you. It’s a cold silence that makes you feel like you’re walking on a frozen lake, waiting for the ice to give way.
All day Sunday, you go through the motions, nod when people talk to you, eat your meals, smile when expected. But underneath, there’s a jagged pulse of panic. You know he knows. You can feel his gaze on you, even when he's miles away.
By Monday morning, you’re done. You can't breathe, you can't think, and you certainly can't stand the silence.
You catch the Coelum Express up to Skyhaven, your heart hammering against your ribs when you unlock Caleb’s home with your spare key. The apartment is unnervingly quiet. It’s so still that the sound of your own breath feels too loud. As you wander through the living room, you stumble across a broken vase. Shards of ceramic lay scattered across the floor like a starburst of jagged teeth. Did he do this?
You don't have time to wonder. You’re on a mission.
You start tearing through his things like someone looking for a lost part of their soul. You open drawers, rummage through closets and cabinets, finding nothing. It’s all so normal. It’s infuriating
You’re moving from room to room, looking for the eyes. You’re looking for the way he sees you when you think you're alone.
Finally, you find yourself in the bathroom, staring at your own reflection in the mirror. You look exhausted. Your eyes are dark, underlined by the shadows of two sleepless nights.
You tilt your head, squinting at the ceiling. There, tucked away in a corner where the light barely reaches, is a small, slightly crooked square. It's so subtle, so almost invisible, that if you hadn't been looking with the eyes of a person hunting for a secret, you would have missed it entirely.
Using the small stool beside the tub, you manage to hoist yourself up, your fingertips press against the drywall until click. A box tumbles into your hands, you catch it just before it hits the floor. Your hands are shaking so badly you can barely work the latch.
When the lid finally gives, the air leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp.
There are photos everywhere. Not the kind you take together in the sun, but shots captured from the shadows, you laughing in high school, you studying in college, even recent ones of you just living your life. All of them taken from a distance.
And then, the things that make your blood run cold. Ribbons you were certain you’d lost years ago, their once vibrant colors now faded and dusty, tangled like dead vines. Nestled in the middle of the mementos are two pairs of your panties. One went missing during a trip to your grandmother's back in college, the other? That one vanished just last month.
He hasn't just been watching you, he's been collecting you.
You’re still processing the depth of his obsession when a voice slices through the air.
"Happy now?"
You nearly leap out of your skin. The box slips from your numb fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud, sending the photos and the stolen fabric scattering across the cold tiles like debris from a wreck.
Caleb is standing just a few feet away. He isn't shouting, he isn't even angry in the way you expected. He's just there. Leaning casually against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you.
"What... what is all this?" you manage to stammer, though your voice is so thin it’s barely a whisper.
A low chuckle vibrates in his chest, a sound that has no business being as smooth as it is. "Are we really going to play the offended victim now?" he asks, his tone dripping with a cruel sort of mockery. He takes a step toward you, his eyes never once wavering from yours. "Or do I need to remind you about that little cameras you tucked away so... cleverly... in MY room?"
You try to act like a clueless victim, grasping at the most transparent lie in the book. "What?" the word feels pathetic the second it leaves your lips, weak, flimsy, and a little embarrassing.
He doesn't buy it for a second. He closes the distance between you, stepping into your personal space until the cramped bathroom feels like it’s shrinking, the air turning thick and stifling. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and holds it up like a weapon.
"Or we could just check your phone. See if there are any new notifications waiting for you. I bet a smart cookie like you has everything all figured out, don't you, Pipsqueak?"
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stand your ground, trying desperately to flip the script before he crushes you completely.
"How many cameras do you have in my apartment?" you demand. Your voice is a little shaky, sure, but you lace it with as much accusation as you can muster.
"Enough."
The single word is final.
"How long..." you start, the question catching in your throat, but he cuts you off before you can even finish.
"Since the day you moved in"
You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, a burning blush you can't suppress. Your heart is drumming a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you struggle to find the courage to ask the one question that's been clawing at your mind.
"Did you..." you begin, your voice dropping to a humiliated whisper, "Did you watch... when I touched myself?"
He doesn't blink. He doesn't even offer the mercy of a pause. He answers instantly.
"Yes."
The word hits you with more impact than a shout ever could. You want to fight back and scream, to tell him he’s insane but the words die in your throat when you realize you are not much different.
"Just like you watched me on Friday," he adds, proving your point.
You try to move back, looking for an escape route, but the movement is futile. You’re already backed up against the hard, cold edge of the bathroom counter. "I... Caleb, I..."
"I watched every single time your hips rubbed against the mattress, searching for friction..." he pauses "...or maybe you were searching for me."
He’s so close now. You can feel the warmth radiating off him as he leans in, his hands coming to rest on the counter on either side of you. His fingers splay out, wide and firm, effectively pinning you in place.
"Except Saturday..."
"How long?" The question bursts out of you "How long did you watch us?"
His hands tighten on the marble, knuckles turning white. He leans in even further, his lips hovering just a hair's breadth from your ear.
"Long enough to know that I could have done it so much better," he whispers, and the sheer arrogance of it makes your knees weak. "I could have made you scream my name. I could have had you begging for more."
"Caleb..." your voice is a soft plea for mercy or perhaps something more.
His hands hook under your thighs and he hoists you up with a single, effortless motion. Before you can even gasp, you're perched on the cold edge of the bathroom counter, legs dangling, your face brought level with his.
"I would have licked my fingers instead of washing them like he did, I would have tasted every fucking drop of you."
The mental image of his tongue makes you ache with a sudden emptiness. A broken whimper escapes your lips, a sound of surrender you didn't even know you were making.
"Did you like it?" He digs his fingers into your hips, pulling you forward until there isn't a single inch of air left between your bodies. "Did he give you what you truly wanted?"
You stare back at him, a spark of something new igniting in your chest. If he thinks he’s the only one in this room with leverage, he’s dead wrong.
Your lips are hovering just a fraction of an inch from his when you reach down.
Your hand glides with deliberate intent, your fingertips finding the front of his pants. Under the fabric, you feel the hard, unmistakable length of him, heavy and pressing against your palm.
Caleb freezes. For a second his mask slips and you see a flicker of genuine surprise, the raw shock of a man who didn't expect his prey to bite back.
A small, triumphant smile tugs at your lips. He’s just as wrecked by this as you are, and the knowledge is intoxicating.
Before he can reclaim the control he’s so desperate to hold, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth, just barely grazing the skin, and exhale the truth like a secret.
"I was thinking about you the whole time," you murmur, the words a soft vibration against his lips. "Every touch, every moan... every single second. It’s always been you, Caleb. Always."
For a heartbeat the world stops and then he breaks.
His lips crash into yours, rough, hungry, and almost violent, demanding everything you have to give.
Your fingers weave themselves into the dark silk of his hair, pulling him closer, needing to erase the last of the distance. Your bodies are fused together, your curves molding perfectly into the hard lines of his chest. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling deep in your hair to anchor you, to hold you steady while he ravages your mouth.
But the heat is too much to contain. You can't wait.
Driven by need, your hands drop from his hair to his waist. You go straight for his belt. The leather groans as you work it, and the metallic clink of the buckle hitting the marble countertop echoes sharply through the bathroom. You don't break the kiss for a second, tongues dancing a messy rhythm, driving him toward the edge of madness.
Caleb’s hands aren't idle, either. They’re everywhere at once. His palms catch the hem of your skirt, his fingers bunching the fabric, shoving it up, up, up until the cool air of the bathroom hits your thighs. He doesn't stop until the skirt is around your waist, leaving nothing but the thin barrier of your panties between his hands and your skin.
You hear the sound of his zipper as you pull his pants down, mixing with the quick, shaky breaths you both take. His boxers come off right after, and then his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach, thick and already leaking with need.
Your small hand wraps around him, but you can barely get your fingers to meet on the other side. The moment you touch him his hips jerk, cock throbbing against your palm. A broken groan tears from his throat, forcing him to break the kiss and rest his forehead against yours, breath coming in harsh stabs of air.
But you aren't going to let him catch his breath just yet.
You gather a mouthful of saliva, and then, opening your mouth wide, you let the spit fall from your lips, the wet, warm drool dripping down the length of his cock.
Caleb’s eyes go wide, his mouth falling open in a stunned gasp. "Fuck, Pips..." he nearly whimpers, voice cracking, "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"
You don't answer with words. Instead, your fingers begin to glide. You tease the sensitive underside, building tension, swirling the moisture around the tip of his cock until his head falls back.
The expression on his face is the kind of delicious agony that comes right before a breaking point. "Fuck," he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. "You have to... stop... because if you don't... I'm gonna..." He loses the thread, his coherent thoughts dissolving into a haze of pleasure.
He shifts his weight, his hips working of their own to guide your hand, adjusting the angle so your grip hits exactly where he needs it most. His cock is pulsing in your hand, a fast heartbeat. "Dont stop," he begs, his voice is now stripped of all his usual colonel like discipline. "Please, baby... don't stop... you're gonna...make me fucking... Unghh... cuuuuum..."
With one last stroke, Caleb cums in your hand, splattering your fingers and your covered cunt with warm streams of his release. He continues to push forward, his hips moving fast as he rides through the waves of his climax, smearing the proof of his lack of control on your hand and the fabric of your panties.
He slumps forward, resting his forehead against yours again, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. When your lips brush against his a breathless giggle escapes you.
"Is that how you do it?" Caleb asks, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. With an impatient jerk, he yanks them down your thighs and off your legs. The scrap of lace catches on the toe of your shoe for a split second before he tosses it aside.
You cock your head to the side, one eyebrow arching in genuine confusion. "How do I do what?"
Caleb doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he sinks to his knees on the cold bathroom floor, his eyes locked on yours.
"Bring a man to his fucking knees"
His hands grip your thighs to pull you to the very edge of the counter, and then his mouth is there, lips latching onto your bare cunt.
He nestles his nose into your soft pubic hair, the warmth of his breath making you gasp, before his tongue pushes forward. He runs the flat of it in a long, slow stroke along your slit, the slick, warm muscle parting your lips before he begins to swirl around your puffy clit in a devastating circle.
Your thighs tremble uncontrollably and your toes curl inside your shoes when you fight the urge to just grind against his face.
There is a strange, invisible weight pressing against your thighs. It's a force that keeps your legs spread wide, pinning you open even as your muscles instinctively try to squeeze shut to hide from the sensation. Caleb is using his Evol.
Looking down, you meet his eyes as his tongue flicks out to lick a slow stripe up your slit, all the way from your entrance to the very tip of your clit, making the sensitive bud bounce against the tip of his tongue.
You tear your gaze away, staring at the ceiling, terrified that if you keep looking at him, you’ll shatter before you're ready.
"Look at me"
"I... I can't," you stammer, your cheeks burning with a hot blush that spreads all the way down to your chest.
Caleb lets out a sinful chuckle, a vibration that you feel much more in your pussy than in your ears. "Why not, princess?" he teases, his breath ghosting over your drenched cunt.
"Eyes on me" there is no teasing in his voice now "Look at me, or I'll stop."
Your eyes fly to his, wide and vulnerable.
"There you go" his tongue picks up the pace, flicking and swirling around your clit "You taste so good, I could eat your pretty pussy for hours."
He proves it by thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance before dragging it back up with a heavy, wet friction, finally sucking your clit into the heat of his mouth.
"You like having your fingers inside this needy little cunt, don't you?" The words are vulgar, unashamed, falling from his lips like honey. "I've seen you, countless times... fucking yourself stupid, wishing it was my cock splitting you open instead."
As he speaks, his fingers begin to dance along your inner thighs, teasing the sensitive skin just enough to keep you on the precipice.
Then, he focuses entirely on your clit again. He puckers his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, creating a vacuum of heat. Everything in the bathroom, the gravity, the world itself simply falls apart.
When the wave of pleasure finally hits it takes over your entire consciousness. Caleb doesn't let you go, though. He works you through it, his tongue wringing out every single last drop of pleasure until you feel completely hollowed out. Only then does he finally release you, a final, parting suck sending one last, full body shudder through your limbs, leaving you clinging to the edge of the counter just to stay upright.
The hard, insistent weight of his cock pressing against your inner thigh should have been a warning sign of just how insatiable he is. The way he’d practically shredded the rest of your clothes, baring you to the air and leaving himself just as exposed made it pretty obvious, he wasn't even close to being done.
He settles himself between your splayed thighs, the fat head of his cock teasing the very edge of your soaked entrance. A part of you knows he’s going to hurt you. You know the stretch, the burn of being split open by him, is going to be more intense than anything you've ever felt. But nothing could have actually prepared you for the visceral reality of it.
The second the crown of his cock pushes past your entrance, your body goes into a panic. Your walls clench down with a futile strength, trying to fight him off, trying to keep him out. The burn is immediate. It’s a stretching ache that makes your eyes water and steals the breath from your lungs. As he continues to press forward, you feel yourself being pulled wider than you ever thought physically possible, your cunt trying to accommodate his girth as he sinks deeper and deeper.
"You're squeezing me so hard, pretty girl," he grunts "Breathe for me, baby. Just... nice and slow."
He can see the distress in your eyes, the way your face is pinched in pleasure and pain. He pauses his forward momentum, leaving half of his cock nestled inside, and ducks his head down, catching one of your nipples between his teeth.
He drags his teeth slowly over the sensitive peak, applying just the slightest, most agonizingly delicious pressure. In response, your walls clench around him even harder, the muscles fluttering as a bolt of liquid heat races through your core.
"Fuuuuck, y/n!" he has to grit his teeth, knuckles turning white as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, physically anchoring himself to keep from snapping his hips forward and burying himself balls deep in one thrust.
He knew he had to distract you. If he didn't help you relax and adjust to his size, he was going to lose what little self control he had left. So, he diverted his focus, lavishing all his attention on your breasts. He began circling your nipples with the tip of his tongue, tracing the delicate, sensitive edges of your areola before flicking the peaks back and forth, back and forth, driving you crazy. All the while, his hand was busy, kneading the soft weight of your other breast, rolling and plucking at the neglected nipple until it puckered into a stiff peak, mirroring the one currently in his mouth.
Under his palm, your heart beats like a trapped bird. He can hear the uneven hitch in your breath as you struggle. He knows its a lot, he knows it hurts, but he also knows that your body can take it. That with just a little more time, a little more patience, you will mold yourself around him until it feels like you were made for this.
"Shhhh, baby, that's it, just breathe through it. Feel how deep I am inside your sweet little cunt. You're doing so well. Taking me so well. Such a good girl."
His words, filthy and dripping with praise, wash over you like a balm. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you feel the tension begin to bleed out of you. Your body starting to yield to the inevitable. Your walls soften around his cock, still tight, but the sharp, stinging ache turns into something more manageable. Your breathing, too, eases into something that resembles a normal rhythm.
He didn't stop, though. He kept licking and nipping at your nipples until they were flushed a deep red and glistening, until your back was arching and your fingers were tangled deep in his hair, pulling him closer.
Instead of thrusting, he begins to roll his hips in slow circles. He wants you to feel everything, every ridge, every pulsing vein.
"Caleb..." you gasp in a broken plea. "... please"
He knows exactly what you are begging for. He feels it in the way your hips instinctively arch up to meet his rhythm, but he wants your verbal surrender.
"What? Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
His hand slides down the curve of your belly, fingers diving between your legs to find your clit. He begins to circle the swollen nub, his touch so feather light it feels like torture.
"Caleb... I need..." You choke on the words "I need you to fuck me. Deeper... please!"
With a hard thrust of his hips he buries himself to the hilt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.
"You feel... god, you feel incredible. So fucking hot... you're perfect."
Your body has stopped fighting and started surrendering. Every time he drives into you, he strikes a spot deep inside that sends bolts of electric bliss straight to your brain. Your walls, once stubborn and resistant, are now molding to him, eagerly stretching.
He leans down, trailing open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His day old stubble rasps against your skin, a friction that makes you squirm. When he reaches your collarbone, he pauses, his teeth grazing the bone before his lips close over it. He sucks hard, a bruising pull that you know will leave a dark mark for days.
"Please... Ca... Caleb," you manage to swallow, your voice breaking. "Fuck me faster. I want to cum, please!"
"My princess gets whatever she wants."
He begins to hammer into you, you can swear you feel the head of his cock kissing the entrance of your womb with every thrust, the rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours echoing in the room.
"I'm gonna cum! Just like that... please!" you keen, fingers scrabbling at his sweat slicked back, your nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave angry, red crescent marks. "I'm gonna cum, Caleb! I'm gonna... !"
"Let go, pretty girl, give it all to me."
Your body obeys. You tighten around him like a soft, pulsing vice, your entire being narrowing down to the feeling of him inside you as your orgasm crashes over you in a beautiful wave.
"Yes! Fuck! Just like that!"
With two final thrusts, he buries himself to your deepest reaches. Just when you think he is going to stay inside, he wrenches himself out at the last possible second.
Thick ropes of his release paint your clit and spill down onto your entrance in a messy end to the madness. He hovers over you, his eyes dark and obsessive, as he whispers a single, repeated vow against your skin.
CW: Enemies (they are trying to kill each other). Blood. Smut. P in V sex. 🔞MDNI🔞
Starfruit Masterlist
Repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
The air in the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the N109 zone feels thick with tension.
You've been on high alert for several minutes now, until you hear it, a soft sound behind you, like the whisper of fabric on fabric. You turn around, already knowing who’s there: Lumiere, the bane of your existence.
His eyes, as piercing and cold as you remember, are fixed on you and there's a cruel, almost sadistic glint in his eyes.
He takes a step towards you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He's really enjoying this, the hunt, the anticipation of finally ending your life. You know he won't hesitate, not after all this time. You've seen the way he looks at you, the hatred and disgust in his eyes.
You take a step back, not because you're afraid of him, no, you're afraid of what he's capable of, the destruction he can cause.
He takes another step closer and this time a grin spreads across his face.
"You look nervous" he says, his voice a mocking drawl. "Don't tell me you're scared, after all this time of chasing each other, you're finally going to give up?"
He's close now, close enough that you can see the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hand clenches into a fist at his side.
When he suddenly vanishes from your sigh you blink, disoriented. The sudden absence of his presence leaves you feeling vulnerable as you quickly scan the warehouse, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant drip of water and the ever present hum of the city outside.
He's still there, watching you from the darkness. He's not the type to run away, not when he has the upper hand.
You tighten your grip on your dagger, the cool metal a comforting weight in your hand. You won't let your guard down, you've trained for this and you won't let him catch you off guard.
Suddenly, you hear a crash behind you, the sound of something heavy and metal hitting the ground. You spin around, dagger out in front of you, just in time to see a large, rusty pipe come tumbling down from the rafters above.
You dive out of the way, rolling to the side as the pipe crashes to the ground where you were standing just a moment before. You come up in a crouch, dagger still out in front of you, heart racing in your chest.
That's when you see him again, his figure darting between the shadows, moving with a speed and agility that defies belief. He's coming at you with a long sword in his hand.
He won't give up, and neither will you. And only one of you will walk away from this warehouse alive.
As he charges at you, you let out a fierce battle cry, ready to meet him head on. He's fast, too fast, and he also anticipates your moves, leaning back to avoid the blade. In that moment you see your chance. You drop to the ground, rolling beneath his outstretched arm, and come up behind him, dagger pressing against the small of his back.
"Don't move," you hiss, "or I swear I'll run this blade through you."
He freezes, his body tense as he drops the sword. You can feel the slight tremble of rage and frustration that runs through his body. He's not used to being caught off guard, not used to having the upper hand taken away from him so suddenly.
"You think you're clever, but you don't have the guts to do it. You don't have what it takes to take a life, not even mine."
You press the blade harder against his back, until you can feel it digging into his flesh, until you can see the first blood stain.
"Don't test me," you warn him "I've been fighting for my life for months, been running from you, been looking over my shoulder every moment of every day. You really think I'm going to hesitate?"
His muscles tense and you can sense the way his mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this situation. But there is no way out, not this time. This time, one of you will die, and sure as hell it won't be you.
You hold your breath and stare at the growing blood stain with a sense of satisfaction. But your moment of triumph is short lived, shattered by his mocking words.
"You think you got me at a disadvantage?" His voice sounds even more dangerous in the dark, sending a chill down your spine before he disappears again.
Before you can react, before you can track his movement, you feel the cool silver of your own dagger pressed against the delicate skin of your throat. The edge bites into you, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make your heart race with fear.
But you can also feel the firm press of his body against your back. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, holding you in a grip that makes it impossible to struggle. He's so close, too close, his body a furnace of heat that seeps into your skin, making your blood run hot and fast.
His breath feels warm against your jaw, lips brushing against your ear as he leans in close, pressing the tip of your own dagger along your jugular "You know, you've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Always chasing you across the city, always just out of reach, always slipping through my fingers like smoke"
You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart pounding so loudly that you're sure he must be able to hear it. But even in this moment of fear and vulnerability, you refuse to give in, refuse to let him see the terror that grips your heart. You turn your head carefully, eyes flashing with defiance as you meet his gaze.
"You talk big for a man in your position," you retort "I know you won't do it. You can't do it. Killing me here, like this? not your style."
A sudden sharp pain makes you hiss as the dagger's tip breaks through your skin, a single red droplet sliding down your collarbone. Your heart pounds furiously in your chest and the cold steel moves lower, the tip pressing softly yet firmly against your racing heart.
"Oh, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to enjoy it. I've dreamed of this moment for months, and now I have you right where I want you."
"I would have thought you'd at least try to torture me for information." you say, holding his stare
A cruel smile curls his lips "This isn't about knowledge, I already have all the information I need," he exhales. "It's all just hate."
Your fingers slowly creep towards your pocket, moving carefully, trying to keep your actions hidden from him. The cool metal of a dagger's hilt grazes your fingertips just as he begins to speak again.
"Don't think I haven't noticed your little attempt to grab that hidden dagger" he chuckles "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for months, learning your every move, your every habit...."
"Fuck you!” you cut him off.
"Watch your tongue" he snarls, the dagger digging a bit deeper into your flesh as the result of your outburst. The pain is blinding, white hot and searing, drawing a gasping cry from your throat.
But you're already moving, adrenaline surging through your veins. Your left hand comes up in a swift, desperate punch, fist connecting with the side of his jaw with a sickening crunch.
He grunts in pain, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. For a moment, his grip on you loosens, the dagger's edge slips from your skin, leaving a thin line of blood welling up in its wake.
His angry snarl cuts off abruptly as your fist swings towards his face once more. He barely manages to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the blow. In the same motion, he slams you back against a rough brick wall, knocking the air from your lungs with a painful grunt.
His right hand drops the dagger and shoots out to grab your wrists before you can strike again, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrenches your arms above your head, pinning you more firmly to the wall with his body. You jerk and struggle against him, trying desperately to break free. Angry, vicious curses pour from both your mouths, your voices rising to a feverish pitch as you scream and snarl at each other.
The distance between you shrinks, your faces just inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked in a furious, hate filled gaze. And then, without warning, his lips are on yours.
In a kiss filled with all the anger and frustration that has been building between you for months. Suddenly, he lets go of your wrists and your arms fall over his shoulders.
His lips move roughly over yours, demanding, brutal, punishing. He nips at your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste of it mingling with the taste of him.
The pain only serves to ignite something dark and desperate within you, so you bite back, teeth sinking into his lower lip.
He hisses into the kiss and your nails dig into his shoulder. His hand fists in your hair, gripping the strands tightly, using them like a rein to control your head as he devours your mouth. You feel the sting of hair being ripped from your scalp, but it only adds to the sensations overwhelming your senses.
You bite him again and in retaliation he forces his knee between your thighs, roughly pushing your legs apart, the hard muscle pressing insistently against your core making you both moan into the kiss.
Your body moves on its own, instinct taking over as you roll your hips forward, grinding down his thigh.
His hand slides down your shoulder, nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks as his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast.
But before you can process it, his teeth are on you again, sinking into the soft flesh of your top lip. You cry out, pain mixing with pleasure as his teeth pull and nibble at your lips.
Your hand moves on its own, trailing down the muscles of his chest until your fingers find the leather of his belt, wrapping around it tightly, desperately, pulling at the buckle as if your life depended on it
His lips leave yours, trailing a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your face, your jaw, your throat. You can feel his breath, ragged and hot against your skin, tongue snaking out to taste you, to trace the contours of your jaw before he bites and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, marking you.
A moan catches in your throat as your head falls back against the wall, giving him better access
At last, your fingers succeed in unfastening his belt buckle, the leather gliding through the loops of his pants with a gentle, pleasing noise. Meanwhile, his hands shift and firmly grab the fabric of your skirt. He yanks it up, the fabric sliding over your thighs, the chilly air brushing against your warm skin as he gathers the skirt around your waist.
You don't stop him. You can't stop him. Instead, you press yourself harder against his leg, seeking more of that delicious friction, that pressure, that promise of relief from the ache that consumes you.
Suddenly he shifts his leg away and his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, pussy clenching, empty and aching, desperate to be filled.
A broken moan escapes your lips as he traces your slit and without warning he's pushing your panties to the side to push two fingers deep inside you.
Your head falls onto his shoulder as you struggle to gasp for breath. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and the wet sounds of your arousal fill the air. His thumb finds your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves already throbbing and swollen, begging for his touch.
His lips find yours again, silencing your moans as he pulls his fingers from your cunt. His hand shifts to his pants, swiftly unfastening the button and zipper with urgent movements.
You catch the sound of him growling, muffled against your lips as he holds your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin firmly enough to leave marks. Then, with a hard thrust, he's inside you.
Your head falls back again with a sound tearing from your lips that is somewhere between a moan and a scream. Every inch of his cock stretching you in a way that borders on pain, the sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that tears spring to your eyes.
He is big, unbelievably big, bigger than any man has a right to be. It stretches you to the limit, your walls squeeze around it, desperately trying to accommodate its girth.
His teeth sink into the flesh of your neck as he pounds into you so hard it that borders on violence. His hips slam against yours, the force of his thrusts shaking you to your core.
Your fingers grip his hair desperately, clinging to him, nails raking over his scalp.
He hitches your leg up, his arm sliding beneath your knee, lifting it up and out, opening you so he can fuck you deeper. You moan as he hilts inside you with each thrust, your back slams against the wall and you're sure it will be bruised by morning.
He kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue invading your mouth, dominating it. It's a filthy, wet kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, and you feel yourself growing dizzy, your head swimming with the intensity of it all.
You wrench your mouth away, gasping for air, before you attack his neck with your own lips, your teeth sinking into the skin. You bite and suck, your own desperate need to mark him, rising up to match his own lust.
You had never known a passion so overflowing, a hunger so fierce. It wasn't about gentle lovemaking, nor tenderly exploring each other's bodies. It was a battle, a war, the clash of two souls consumed by lust and rage.
Each hard thrust gives you a jolt of pain and pleasure, a feeling that leaves you wanting more. You are drenched, your arousal dripping down your thighs, coating his balls and cock. Your body betrays you, welcoming his touch, craving his brutal possession.
And yet, even through the haze of pain and pleasure, you feel a twisted sense of rightness, of inevitability. With him, in this moment, the old rules no longer apply. Boundaries crumble, leaving you raw and hungry for his touch like you've never been before.
You want to hurt him, to mark him, to make him feel a fraction of the agony and ecstasy that currently consumes you. Your nails and teeth dig into his skin and still you crave more because you fucking hate him. Hate him with every fiber of your being, with every ragged breath, every needy movement of your body.
You arch your back against the wall, pushing your hips forward to meet his every thrust, desperate for more, for everything he can give you. Your fingers claw at his collar, the fabric twisting and tightening around his throat, probably hurting him and choking him but you couldn't care less.
His movements grow harder and faster, his need as desperate as your own. You can feel him swelling inside you, the coil of tension in your belly winding tighter and tighter until you think you might shatter from the force of it all.
Your eyes roll back, vision blurring, your world narrowing down to the feel of him, the scent of him, the heat of his skin against yours. And then, his fingers are in your hair, gripping it tightly, painfully pulling your head back, exposing your throat to his lips.
You come undone with a scream, your mouth opening in a cry of pleasure as he bites down hard on your neck. Your body convulses, shaking and shuddering, waves of pleasure drowning you, leaving you gasping.
His hips twitch and jerk against yours, the aftershocks of his release coursing through him, his grip on your hair loosening as he struggles to catch his breath. Your head falls forward, forehead resting against his shoulder.
Your legs feel like jelly, the muscles having turned to liquid, unable to support your weight. It's a good thing he's holding you up, pinning you to the wall with his body, or else you would have collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.
When the fog of lust begins to lift, as your racing heart starts to slow, a sense of icy horror starts to seep through your veins. Your mind, once hazy and clouded, starts to clear, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
Oh god. Oh fuck. What have I done?
The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you frozen and stiff in his arms. You just fucked Lumiere.
A wave of revulsion crashes over you, the urge to push him away, to scream, to run, nearly overwhelming. But you're trapped, pinned, held in place by the grip of his arms, the weight of his body, the sickening realization of what you've done.
His body goes rigid against yours as the horrifying reality of what just transpired sinks in, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. His head, which had been resting against your shoulder, jerks back slightly, the side of his head no longer leaning against yours.
How the fuck did this happen?!
Before he can say anything, you push him away. Your aching, trembling limbs suddenly find strength, a surge of adrenaline propelling you forward, forcing him back.
He staggers, his softening cock slipping from your slick, swollen pussy with an obscene sound that makes your stomach turn. But he doesn't reach out to stop you, doesn't try to pull you back into his arms. He stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes wide and horrified, as you yank your skirt down over your thighs.
You walk away, your arms shaking, legs unsteady. But as you put one foot in front of the other, as you force yourself to leave, you can't escape the echoes of his moans, the deep groans that still ring in your ears. The sound he made when he came inside you.
Each step feels heavier than the last, your panties growing wetter and stickier with his release. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his self loathing a physical pressure that urges you faster, desperate to escape. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.
He is gone. Lumiere disappears as suddenly as he appeared. But you know he'll be back. He'll return to torment you, to haunt you, to remind you of the terrible thing you've done.
Because deep down, you know this isn't over. No, this was just the beginning. The first step down a dark path from which there may be no turning back
The thick, hard length of Zayne's cock throbs inside you as you grind your hips back and forth, wet cunt squeezing and milking his dick with each clap of your ass against his skin.
He loses himself in the sight of your ass rippling and bouncing with each thrust, eyes tracing each lacy stretch marks etched into your plump skin.
Suddenly, the sharp crack of his palm striking your ass cheek echoes through the room, followed by another and another. The stinging pain mixes deliciously with pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. Your clit grinds soooo gooood against his heavy balls with each movement, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine as his pretty cockhead kisses your cervix over and over.
You stop for just a second to plant your hands on his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, and start bouncing again, harder this time.
"God, look at you," Zayne rasps, his voice rough with lust when he sees you arching away from him, hair cascading down your back, muscles rippling beneath your skin. "You were made for this" his large hand slides up the curve of your back possessively, as if he could mold your writhing body to his will.
He fists his hand in your hair, pulling your head back and arching your spine, opening you up completely to his thrusts. Your breath hitches on a keening cry, thighs trembling as you slam down one last time, shattering into a million pieces.
His name tears from your throat on a sob and you feel him swell and pulse inside you, his own release imminent. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding you steady, anchoring you as he buries himself to the hilt, warm cum painting your insides.
Mating press (He likes it hard and deep)
Your tight grip on Caleb's arm is the only thing keeping you anchored as his body cages you in, surrounding you completely. His thick biceps and forearms flex, holding your hips steady, pounding into you with deep thrusts that drive you further into the mattress with each snap of his hips.
The angle is brutal, your shoulder and neck pressed at an uncomfortable angle, sure to leave a bruise later. But the sharp sting barely registers as Caleb's fat cock fills and stretches you to the limit.
Folded nearly in half, your knees nearly touching your chest, you're completely at the mercy of his relentless fucking, helpless to do anything but take the ruthless pounding and the pleasure-pain of it.
The room fills with the obscene slap of his balls on your ass, the creaking and squeaking of the mattress springs as he fucks you into them.
You can barely hear anything over the noise of your own body's responses, the breathless hitches and sharp cries spilling from your lips with every deep, cervix rubbing thrust.
Your mind is hazy, drowning in a sea of conflicting sensations, the sharp zip of pain from your strained position warring with the liquid heat of pleasure low on your belly.
"Fuck, Cay," you hear yourself moan, the words slurred and distant, as if spoken from the depths of a dream. Your train of thought is shattered, derailed by the pounding of Caleb's hips against yours, cock splitting you open and reshaping you to fit him perfectly.
Somehow, miraculously, you've managed to hold out this long, your high building with each thrust. But as Caleb leans in to brush a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, you feel the last of your control slipping away.
"You look so good folded like this, Pips, makes it so easy for me to fuck you nice and deep." He punctuates his words with a sharp, aggressive thrust, grinding his tip against your bruised cervix and forcing a strangled cry from your throat.
Your legs tremble, thighs quaking and toes curling when the pleasure builds to a fever pitch.
"Caleb-!" his name tears from your lips as you come undone, but Caleb doesn't stop, doesn't let up, even as your cunt spasms and clenches around him. He rolls his hips, fucking you through your orgasm with deliberate strokes that draw out your pleasure until you're a boneless, mewling mess.
He pulls out, only to slam back into you with a filthy squelch, your over sensitive folds parting.
"Fuck!" you cry out, back arching off the bed. Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, nails digging into the fabric trying to anchor yourself.
"I'm not done with you, princess. I wanna hear you scream for me again" he demands, one large hand sliding around your throat, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes. "Until you can't think of anything but me"
Missionary (he also likes when you ride him but he adores missionary.)
Sylus leans into you, closing the distance between your bodies until your breath mingles, hearts beating in sync. For a moment, you resist, fingers tightening around his throat in protest, but he's having none of it. Your hand slides around to grip the back of his head, fingers tangling in his silky hair, and you pull him to you, capturing his lips in a kiss.
He lets you lead for a heartbeat, before his teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging, demanding more. A squeal of pleasure escapes your throat when he hilts inside you one last time before he grows tired of your defiance. The room blurs around you as he flips you both, and stars explode across your vision when he slams back into you.
Your back arches off the bed as you moan your ecstasy, and he laughs, relishing the sounds he's dragging from your throat. Struggling to meet his eyes, you brace yourself against the wall with trembling hands, only for him to grab your hips and yank you back down.
Now he fucks you, really fucks you, each thrust driving you up the bed again.
His fingers find yours, tangling, squeezing, a silent warning that he's close "You feel so good, sweetie, so fucking tight"
His lips trail down the column of your throat, his breath sending shivers racing across your skin. He reads you like an open book, knows your body's every desire before you even voice it. Your head tilts to the side, giving him unrestricted access to the smooth expanse of your neck, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your racing pulse.
He scrapes his teeth across your skin, the way he nips at the underside of your chin is your complete undoing. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you come undone beneath him.
"Just like that," he growls, feeling your pussy clench around him "Come on my cock, doll. Squeeze me just like that."
He holds you tight, curling around you, molding your curves to the hard planes of his body. He drives into you with unrelenting intensity, chasing your pleasure, pushing you further.
Just as your muscles begin to relax, sated and pliant, Sylus's body tightens. His hips jerk, slamming into yours one last time. A loud groan tears from his throat when he finds his own release. He pulses inside you, filling you, marking you as his.
From behind (no explanation needed)
He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest when he sees the way your tight little cunt swallows his girthy cock over and over, a perfect creamy ring forming at the base when he pulls back, only to vanish again as when slams forward.
"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight bunny... I love seeing my dick stretching out your greedy pussy," he pants, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you in place, fucking into you with deep, purposeful strokes that have your tits bouncing and jiggling.
One large hand snakes up to wrap around your throat, tilting your head back as he nips and suckles at your neck, surely leaving marks for all to see. The other hand slides around your waist to your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles over it.
"That's it, fuck..." he growls filthily in your ear, hips never ceasing their rhythm as he rails you into the wall. "You love this, don't you? Love being split open on my dick?"
He gives a sharp thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he rubs his finger just right against your clit. The combined stimulation makes your pussy clench and flutter around him as you rapidly approach your peak.
"Come on bunny, let the whole building know who this cunt belongs to."
“Oh God Xav, I’m about to…”
He drapes his body over yours, the heat of his chest searing your back, molding himself to you. His forehead rests against the side of your neck, silky strands of hair tickling your skin as he pants softly, still rocking his hips in shallow thrusts. The new angle keeps him buried deep inside you making your eyes roll back.
"Imgonnacum! fu..." the words dissolve into a drawn out keen and you collapse forward, only to be caught and held tight against Xavier's chest. He wraps you up in his arms like a ragdoll, one hand splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned to him as the other grips your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh hard enough to bruise.
You squeeze around him and his hips stutter and jerk, losing their rhythm when his own release follows yours.
"Shit, I'm gonna...unngh...cum!" he grunts, burying himself inside you. His cock throbs and pulses, spilling hot ropes of cum. He rocks into you with short, sharp thrusts, working you both through the aftershocks until his release tapers off to a trickle.
Lotus (He loves to keep you close)
"Have I ever told you I love your tits?" Rafayel murmurs appreciatively. His hands skim down the curve of your waist to grip your hips, guiding your movements as he starts to thrust up to meet your downward bounces.
With each thrust, he drives his cock deeper, the fat head kissing your cervix, making you see stars.
His hands come up to cup and fondle your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers. He leans down to capture one pert bud between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard before swirling his tongue around it. Pleasure sparks through, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.
You arch your back, pressing your breasts further into his eager hands and mouth. Your nails rake down his chest, leaving faint red lines. He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending pleasurable tingles straight to your clit. His hands move to map the contour of your spine, fingertips digging into the muscles as he pulls you flush against him.
Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, you grind your hips in circular motions, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he loses himself in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. The room fills with the heady perfume of sex and sweat, a potent aphrodisiac driving you both closer to the edge.
As the minutes tick by, Rafayel's thrusts grow more urgent, more insistent. He grips your ass, lifting and dropping you onto his cock with increasing force. The bed creaks beneath you, headboard slamming against the wall in time with his pumps. You can feel him twitching inside you, his release fast approaching as he chases his pleasure in your tight pussy.
"Cutie, you feel so fucking good"
His hands skim up your sides, mapping the dip of your waist before cupping the soft swells of your breasts. He lowers his head to worship the tender mounds, laving each nipple with devoted attention until they pebble beneath his tongue and teeth. "I can't..." Rafayel's voice is strained, a hoarse whisper against your skin as he fights to hold back. "I'm going to... cutie, I'm so close."
Each thrust grinds his pelvis against yours, stimulating your puffy clit "Yes," you gasp out, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper. "Don't hold back" Your hands fist in his hair "Give me everything you have."
You bury your face into the crook of his neck when your pleasure crests, your body shaking in his embrace. His arms wrap around you, crushing you against his chest as he too gives in to the force of his release. His breath coming in ragged pants against your scalp as he grinds his pelvis against yours, pushing through the aftershocks that wrack your body.
I will post another one later today, which one do you prefer?
CW: P in V sex. Backshots duh. Dirty talk. Choking.
🔞MDNI🔞
Repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
Rafayel fucking adores taking you from behind. It's not just the mind blowing depth of his thrusts that drives him wild, the way he can thrust into your warm, wet pussy or how he reaches parts of you no one else ever could. No, it's also the decadent freedom to worship your body, to tease out your pleasure until you're begging for more.
His fingers dance over your skin, skimming along your sides before curling around the soft swells of your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh, feeling your nipples harden beneath his touch when he rolls and plucks at the sensitive peaks.
But he wants more. Always more.
His other hand trails lower, over your belly and down to the apex of your thighs. Your clit throbs beneath his touch, swollen and aching for attention. He circles it, feeling you clench around him as he strokes it with devastating precision.
"Shh, not so loud cutie, wouldn't want to give the neighbors a show now, would we?" He smirks knowing his thrusts are already loud enough to make your neighbors question what's happening on the other side of the wall.
"Here, pretty girl," he coaxes, pushing two fingers past your lips, sliding them along your tongue, getting them nice and wet. "Suck"
And you do, your mouth hot and eager around his digits, mimicking the way your pussy grips his dick. He groans low, feeling your walls clench down again when you suck his fingers deeper into your mouth.
"Yeah, just like that"
Your body seizes, back arching as a silent scream catches in your throat.
"That's it, breathe cutie" he whispers, rubbing now fast circles over your clit, pushing you ruthlessly towards your peak.
Your slick gushes around his cock, dripping down your thighs to soak the sheets beneath you when your orgasm crashes over you.
You suck hard on his fingers, moaning wantonly around them as your body shudders, consumed by the white hot pleasure. Rafayel hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he fills you to the brim, prolonging your release until you're boneless and spent in his arms.
"You turned such a pretty color. I wanna see it again"
Fucking you from behind never fails to drive Zayne crazy, this position allows him to appreciate the stunning vista of your back in its most breathtaking form. It's no secret he likes your back, he gets hard just looking at it, especially when its bent at such a lovely angle that it makes his mouth water.
He likes to fuck you like this, especially when you've been a brat all day, because it's easier to slap your ass and watch it turn a pretty shade of red.
He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, the way it juts out invitingly, just begging to be grabbed and squeezed. Then he leans down, pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, feeling you shiver beneath his touch. His hands skim over your ribcage, spanning the narrow width of it before gripping your hips firmly, pulling you back to his cock.Hard.
"Zay...I...can't..."
One hand moves to press firmly between your shoulder blades, holding you in place to keep your face buried in the pillow. The soft fabric muffles your needy whimpers and gasps, your hot breath escaping in sharp bursts with each thrust of his hips.
SMACK! His palm connects with the tender flesh of your ass, the sharp sound of the impact filling the room. "That's for your attitude this week, let it happen again, and it will be so much worse." To make his point clear, he brings his hand down on your other cheek, the reddening skin blooming under his touch.
Your body squirms beneath him, muscles flexing, clinging desperately to the sheets. The sight of your arms straining and your back arching so beautifully, pushes him closer to the edge. "You look so pretty taking every inch, love. Give me another one."
His hand leaves your hip, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit with intent. He circles the swollen nub, teasing it, drawing needy cries from your throat. Leaning down, he brings his lips to your ear "I like it when you're overstimulated like this. It makes you cum so much harder on my cock, keep going, you're almost there. I can feel you tightening around me, fuck..."
He brings you right to the cusp of release, before finally allowing his fingers to graze over your clit. The instant contact has your body seizing, pussy clenching down hard on his dick. Your scream of his name muffled against the pillow, the fabric absorbing your cries of rapture as your walls spasm and flutter around him.
His hips jerk with each spurt of his release triggering aftershocks of bliss that leave you trembling and gasping for air.
"I think you have a few more"
He's an ass guy, plain and simple. This position gives him the most delicious view of your ass. The way it jiggles and bounces with every thrust of his hips, the slap of skin on skin pure poetry to his ears.
But what really gets him going is the view of your back entrance, clenching and fluttering every time he pulls back, the tight pucker a magnet for his gaze, drawing his eyes to it again and again.
Your ass. It's the first thing Xavier notices when his hands skim up the backs of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before gripping the soft globes tightly. Kneading. Squeezing. He pulls you back against him , grinding his dick against your ass crack. Your body instinctively clenches, hole fluttering around nothing, before relaxing into the sensation.
It's only when he lines himself up, feeling that tight heat of your pussy pressing against the tip of his cock, that he pauses. Savoring the anticipation, the moment right before he sinks inside. And then, with a roll of his hips, he pushes forward, burying himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust.
"Do you remember your safe word?" he murmurs softly, even as his hands tighten on your hips.
You feel the wall in front of you press against your chest, and it's a good thing, because the instant you nod he fucks you like a man possessed.
He doesn't hold back. Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, your breath coming in sharp gasps, trying to keep up with his pace. His hands on your hips move, fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. Exposing you completely.
You feel the wet warmth of his spit land directly on your asshole and before you can process it, his thumb is there, pressing insistently against the entrance, slowly sinking in until he's buried knuckle deep in your ass.
Your hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around it. Every thrust rocks you forward and his thumb pushes deeper inside.
He's chasing something, working out the demons of his jealousy, and god, it feels incredible. Your body is alight, every nerve ending singing with pleasure as you hurtle towards release.
"Louder bunny, let him hear how good I am to you"
He changes the angle of his hips and your hand moves faster over your clit, fingers slick with arousal chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.
Your moans grow higher in pitch, louder in volume, too lost to care how you might sound.
When he lets you cum your vision goes white and your body rigid. Your back arches, pressing your ass firmly against him. You're dimly aware of his hands moving from your ass to wrap around your waist, lifting you up and off your feet as he fucks up into you.
Your toes leave the ground, body weightless and pliant in his arms as he chases his own release and then he's spilling himself inside you. Your stomach bulges slightly from the force of his thrust, marked by his possession.
You're both gasping for air, chests heaving as he holds you close, your back pressed to his chest, his softening cock still nestled inside you
" Again"
Sylus has a size kink so this position is ideal for him. He likes to watch how your pretty pussy takes his thick cock. How you always struggle to take him, It's so fucking hot to watch you try.
He knows he's too big for you, knows you're going to be sore tomorrow. But fuck, the way your cunt grips him... pure heaven.
"Biiiiig stretch"
He groans in appreciation, watching your body struggle to fit him. The way your walls clench and flutter around him, trying to adjust to the thick head of his dick stretching you open. He loves seeing the delicate, wet flesh of your pussy stretched taut, hugging his girth like a second skin.
He savors every inch of your silky heat as he sinks deeper, your body yielding slowly to the pressure.
He takes his time, letting you feel every vein and ridge. The tiny, breathless noises spilling from your lips music to his ears.
Then he pulls back until just the tip remains inside, admiring how your pussy clenches greedily, trying to keep him in and he drives forward again, splitting you open.
"Is it too much sweetie?" he taunts, voice dripping with false concern.
He watches your face, seeing the way you scrunch up trying to form words. But you are too wrecked by pleasure to do anything more than let out choked little whimpers and mewls. He can't help but smirk at how debauched you look, lips swollen and glazed, eyes hazy and unfocused.
"What's the matter kitten? You can't speak? I supposed we can just keep going until you find your big girl words"
His hands move to your thighs to spread you wider. The new angle allows him to drive even deeper, the fat head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. He groans at the exquisite feeling of your slick, warm folds caressing his heavy balls with each deep thrust.
He swipes his fingers along the milky arousal coating his dick and brings it to your pretty clit, circling it slowly.
Your body's reaction is immediate, a sharp gasp and the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt tells him everything he needs to know.
He throws his head back with a low moan, eyes fluttering shut, feeling your body open and accept him fully. "Fuck, kitten... you're ready for it, aren't you?
He doesn't wait for an answer before he starts to move again. He sets a brutal pace, knowing your body can take it. His fingers never stop moving over your clit, pushing you closer and closer. "That's it, sweetie... let me feel you. Squeeze my cock juuuust like that."
When you cum, he pulls back to watch in awe and fascination as your walls begin to pulse around his cock. The sight of your greedy little pussy milking him, trying to suck him even deeper makes him surrender to the building pressure.
He pulls out slowly and aims the flushed tip of his dick at your entrance and with a long groan begins to paint your folds with his release, watching in satisfaction as ropes of pearly cum splatter across your sensitive flesh, using the head of his cock to spread the warm, sticky fluid all over it.
And when he thrusts inside you a few seconds later he whispers against your ear "You actually thought you were getting a break?"
In this position, Caleb is in his element, his darkest desires laid bare. He can grab and touch you however he wants. It's a stance that consistently makes Caleb lose himself, enabling him to fuck you exactly as his body craves.
Pure fucking as opposed to love making.
Unable to focus on just one part of your body without risking an early release, he seeks out the smallest reactions, like the way your hands clench the fabric beneath you during particularly deep thrust.
Caleb reaches forward, his hands taking your wrists. He tugs your arms back, bending them at the elbow until they're splayed across your lower back like reins. With your face now pressed sideways against the mattress and your ass lifted and presented to him, he begins to move faster.
You cry out, voice muffled by the sheets, and Caleb grins darkly at the sound of his name falling from your lips.
"Caaaaaaleb..."
"Saying my name won't make me stop doll, my name isn't a safe word" his grip on your wrists tightens, pinning you in place.
He moves his left hand to your hip and squeezes it tightly, leaving indents of his fingers in the soft flesh. The sharp pain makes you jump, "I know it hurts," he whispers, "but those bruises are going to look so pretty on you tomorrow"
"You are mine, say it." despite the commanding tone, you shake your head and your hips buck back to meet his thrusts, your body betraying your true desires. Caleb smirks at the challenge, accepting it eagerly.
He leans down and his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your shoulder, another mark that will surely bruise by morning. The sharp sting sends a jolt through your body and you can't help but arch into him, craving more.
"Stubborn little Pipsqueak," he murmurs, his hand sliding from your hip to your core. He grips your cunt possessively, fingers splaying across the wet folds.
With his other hand, using his grip on your wrists as leverage, he lifts and presses your body flush against his chest.
"Oh my god, yes, harder"
He grabs your chin forcing you to meet his eyes. "Tell me you're mine," he demands "And I will."
Your hand moves, covering his, and with a surge of boldness, you guide his hand lower, until his fingers wrap around your throat. "I'm yours" your voice trembles, but you press on "Now choke me."
He freezes for a split second, eyes widening in shock at your request. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"
Your fingers tighten around his hand, nails digging into his skin. Caleb's gaze drops to his hand, wrapped around the vulnerable column of your throat, making his cock twitch.
His fingers flex, not cutting off air, just applying a delicious, threatening pressure.
"Fuck yes" you moan when he begins to move again, his fingers working together with his thrusts.
His cock plunges hard and deep as he rubs your clit, and the feeling of his hand around your throat in complete submission to him breaks you both.
His arms tighten around yours, holding you close, keeping you anchored to him even as the world spins.
Cw: Jealousy. Dom Raf. Smut. P in V. Rough sex. 🔞MDNI🔞
Dragonfruit masterlist
Repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
"You walked into my room like you actually stood a chance at leaving," Rafayel scoffs, the words coming out low and rough as he drinks in the sight of you. You're kneeling there, breathless and flushing, chest heaving like you're already fucking gone and he hasn’t even laid a finger on you yet.
His hands are already working his belt loose - shhhk - and before you can even blink, the leather's wrapped tight around your wrists. He cinches it, pulling the belt snug until the edges bite into your skin just enough to sting. Just enough. Just enough to remind you exactly whose you are.
"Up we go, cutie," he mumbles, hauling you up by the belt. He doesn't stop until your back hits the wall with a dull thud, drawing a perfect, helpless gasp from your throat. God, he loves it when you make sounds like that.
His fingers start their slow descent, tracing the line of your stomach down to your navel, then lower finding you already slick and waiting and he just smirks. You try to twitch your legs together, trying to play shy, but his palm clamps around your throat just firm enough to remind you who's calling the shots here. Not you. Never you.
"Open up for me, doll," he whispers and you know he doesn't want your mouth right now.
When you finally give in and part for him, he wastes no time. Two long fingers slide knuckle deep inside you hot, wet, perfect. He finds that one specific spot that makes your hips lift off the wall and presses into it.
"You spent sooo long down in the N109 Zone I started thinking you'd forgotten all about me. Did you have a little fun with... what was his name again?" His fingers curl deeper, hitting that spot again, hard enough to make you whimper. "Sylus, right?" He spits the name like it’s poison. "Tell me you weren't having fun with him."
"I wasn't... "
He watches your thighs tremble as you instinctively grind against his hand, chasing friction like a starved animal. You look pathetic, completely undone and he absolutely loves it. But he's not done playing with you. He rips the belt free with a sudden tug, just to hear you let out a startled noise, and drags you toward the bed.
He flips you onto your stomach with zero regard for your comfort, yanking your hips up until you’re arched perfectly for him. Then he does something unexpected- Ptooey - he spits right between your cheeks. You make this broken little whimper when the warm, obscene slide of his spit drips down your already soaking wet cunt, and he just chuckles.
The sound of his zipper is the only warning you get before he’s driving into you.
He doesn't even pretend to be gentle. The rhythm gets brutal, steady and merciless, pounding into you with a force that makes your toes curl. You try to snap your legs shut, to put some distance between you, but he just grips your thighs harder, his fingers digging in enough to leave bruises.
"Raf!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a sob.
"Say it."
You try to fight it. Stubbornly, desperately, you hold back the words he’s clawing for. But he just fucks it out of you anyway, harder and deeper.
"Please, s... Sir..." it comes out as barely a whisper.
He hears it. He owns it. Uses it to wreck you even more, driving into you until your body tightens around him, so close and desperate and completely his.
And then just when you think you can finally cum he stops. No warning. No mercy. Just sudden, jarring stillness that sends tears streaming down your face.
"Oh, my poor sweet miss bodyguard," he coos, tracing a mocking caress up the curve of your spine that sends a fresh shudder through you. "Did you really think you'd get off that easy? That I was done with you?" His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet that burning, luminescent gaze. "Shhh, don't cry baby."
The tension is unbearable like a knife's edge pressed against your sanity. You're leaking, desperate to break, to just give in, but he refuses to let you fall.
"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice dripping with fake, sugary sympathy as he starts moving again. But it's not fast. It's slow. Deliberate. Each thrust a measured, agonizing slide of his cock dragging against your walls.
Before you can even think to arch up and meet him, his hands shift. Fingers dig hard into the soft flesh of your ass, pinning you still. Tsk. That sharp, disapproving sound of his tongue cuts through the air.
"Was it this good, cutie?" His voice drops, an edge of jealousy finally cracking through "Does he fuck you just as good as I do?"
No, that can't be right. He owns you, body and soul. He has no need for jealousy.
You try to shake your head, mouth opening to tell him, to swear to him that no one, no one ever made you feel like this. But he's already moving faster again and your body just gives. Your back arches, a scream catches in your throat, and you're so close.
And then? Nothing. He stops again.
"Hush now," he mutters, sliding his fingers into your mouth to stifle the sound. He looks down at you, all dark and devastating "You're not here just for pleasure, remember?"
He thrusts one more time and you clench so hard it fucking hurts both of you. He uses that pain, that desperation, until you’re sobbing around his fingers. Tears leaking from your eyes, drool leaking from your mouth, completely wrecked.
Your cunt flutters desperately around him like it’s begging for permission to cum, and he pulls back just to admire it. He's watching your pussy grip his cock, watching the strings of your arousal connect you both. And then because he's a fucking menace he reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks, putting your needy, soaked through hole on lewd display.
"You want to cum?" One hand slides down to your lower belly, feeling the shape of him throbbing inside you. Demanding. Insistent.
"Y.. yes, fuck, fuck yes, please " You're babbling now, too far gone to even form real words, just pathetic, beautiful sounds.
"Then fucking earn it," he growls, nails digging into the soft flesh of your stomach. "Beg for it."
His hand moves lower, his accuracy fucking terrifying and finds your clit. He rubs your puffy nub in slow, grinding circles, applying just enough pressure to make you use his favorite word again, loudly this time.
"Please, Sir..."
"Good girl. Now cum for me." He isn't asking for your release, he's looking for your obedience.
With one last swipe of his finger against your clit, you shatter. Your body seizes, jerking and locking up, before you just collapse into the mattress. Spent. Broken.
And he stays there. Buried deep inside you, his hands gripping yours tightly behind your back like reins. Even when your walls spasm and squeeze him hard, he doesn't stop. He thrusts one last time, riding out your climax, using your own release to drive himself over the edge.
When you're both just trembling wrecks of skin and sweat, he leans in. His lips brush your temple, his breath hot and ragged.
"Now you know what you are... " he whispers.
He licks away a fresh tear as it spills down your cheek, tasting the salt and the surrender and the fuck you I told you so. Then, in a voice that leaves absolutely no room for doubt, he speaks the only truth that matters.
CW: MMF. SMUT. ORAL. P IN V SEX. ANAL. JEALOUSY. EDGING. SPIT AS LUBE. 🔞 MDNI🔞
The sun is beating down, far too bright for the storm brewing in Caleb’s gut. If looks could actually kill, those two idiots you were talking with would already be buried six feet under the sand.
Caleb isn't even pretending to enjoy the view anymore. Usually, he’s the man who keeps his shit together regardless of the chaos around him. Not today. Today, his posture is stiff, he's sitting there with his eyes narrowed, tracking every single movement of yours like a hawk eyeing a particularly troublesome mouse. Every time you laughed at one of those strangers' pathetic little jokes his jaw tightens visibly. A muscle jumping in his cheek, a sign that his internal monologue was probably steps away from committing homicide.
Xavier looks annoyed as fuck, but Caleb looks like he’s ready to exert enough gravitational force to sink this entire beach into the ocean just to get you away from the crowd.
When you finally walk back to them, playing the part of the innocent little lamb, the silence that greets you is deafening.
"What are you two scowling about?" you ask innocently, acting as if you have no idea about the effect you just had on them. "Is everything okay?"
You reach out, plucking the tropical drink right out of Xavier’s hand. The condensation is cold against your palm and you take a long, slow sip, letting the sweetness of the pineapple linger, watching them over the rim of the glass.
Xavier’s voice cuts through the sound of the crashing waves, sounding almost breathless. "Did you have fun?"
It’s a stupid question. Of course you had fun playing them like fiddles. You don't give him a verbal answer right away. Instead, you perform a slow show, settling onto your stomach on the lounger. You make sure to arch your spine just enough to make the minimal fabric of your bikini bottom strain against your ass. You know exactly what you're doing. You can feel it the sudden stillness of the two men.
"Nope," you drawl, tossing the word out like a piece of bait. It drips with a feigned, sugary nonchalance that you know is driving them absolutely mad.
Xavier shifts beside you, his voice rougher somehow. "How about we go back to the hotel so you can wear something else?"
You don't rush. Why would you? You turn your head, letting your hair spill across your shoulder and lock eyes with Caleb.
"I... really... like... this... bikini," you murmur, stretching the words out. You’re practically tasting the mischief on your tongue as you say it.
Satisfied with the havoc you’ve wreaked, you turn back to face forward towards the ocean, reaching up to adjust the top of your swimsuit. You make it slow. Methodical. An exquisite torture of shifting skin and straining fabric.
Suddenly, the silence isn't peaceful anymore. It's heavy. Dangerous. You can feel the exact moment Caleb stops pretending to be the polite gentleman. The atmosphere shifts and the sand beneath your towel vibrates with localized pressure.
The heat of the midday sun is suddenly eclipsed by the two men looming over you. It’s funny, really, the way they hover, like twin storms brewing on the horizon, threatening to break at any second.
Xavier is the first to lean in, crowding your space until his scent fills your senses. "You and every other guy around here seem to like it too," he mutters "Maybe a little too much."
You just shrug. A tiny, dismissive motion of your shoulders that says so what? You know exactly which buttons you're jamming, and seeing them rattle is far too satisfying to stop now.
Deciding to raise the stakes, you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. From this point, you can see the conflict written all over their faces. You look from Xavier's simmering frustration to Caleb’s darkening expression, a cheeky grin spreading across your lips.
"What's the matter, boys?" you tease, your voice airy and entirely too provocative for the situation. "Can't handle a little friendly chat?"
Caleb doesn't join in the verbal sparring. He’s never been one for games once his temper starts to simmer. Instead, he leans in too and presses your plush, white towel into your hands.
"Here," he commands, his tone clipped, lacking its usual warmth. "Wrap this around yourself."
You look down at the towel, then peer up at him through your lashes, refusing to budge. "But I'm not wet yet" you counter, injecting a note of stubbornness into your voice. You hold the towel loosely, making absolutely zero effort to actually cover up.
Xavier lets out a sigh so heavy it sounds like a groan of pure exasperation. He closes the final inch of distance until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear.
"Either you wrap that towel around your body or I'll bend you over this chair to fuck that attitude out of you... and give those guys a much bigger show than you've already given them."
A soft laugh escapes your lips, bright and reckless. "What makes you think I wouldn't like that?" you let the implication hang there, heavy and humid. "Maybe I want them to watch..."
You realize, perhaps a second too late, that you haven't just poked the bear, you’ve walked right into its den and started dancing.
Moving with a calculated slowness, you sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the lounger. You stand, taking your sweet time to tug at the hem of your bikini bottoms and readjust the delicate straps of your top, knowing damn well their eyes are tracking every millimeter of skin you reveal.
"I think I'm going to enjoy the rest of our time here before we head back to the hotel," your confidence masks the slight flutter in your chest. You slide your sunglasses on, the dark lenses creating a barrier between your mischievous eyes and their intense scrutiny.
With a theatrical toss of your hair you turn your back on them and begin to walk toward the shoreline, ensuring every stride carries an exaggerated sway of your hips. You can feel them. Like heat lamps, their gazes are scorched onto your skin, tracking the movement of your body with hungry focus.
The sand is warm, yielding beneath your soles as you approach the frothing edge of the tide. The rhythmic hush hush of the waves provides a soothing soundtrack to the internal riot you've just ignited.
Just as the first wave licks at your ankles, you pause to glance back over your shoulder, peering over the rims of your shades with a grin that is equal parts angel and devil.
"Aren't you two coming?"
🍎 ⭐ 🍎 ⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎
"Caleeeeb..." you whine, the name stretching out into a plea that’s all desperation. "Why are you doing it like that?"
You are sprawled across the king sized bed, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Your bikini is a crumpled afterthought on the carpet, abandoned the moment the door clicked shut. Right now, the only thing that matters is the weight of Caleb’s hands. His grip on your thighs is firm, forcing your legs wide open to grant him total access.
He isn't rushing and that's the problem.
His mouth is a warm, wet heaven, but he’s treating you like a gourmet meal he intends to savor for hours. His tongue swirls against your clit with slow precision, each stroke deliberate, making your vision blur.
Minutes bleed into one another. Your back arches instinctively while your knuckles turn white from gripping the expensive sheets. The pleasure is building, coiling tight in your gut, but it’s a cruel buildup that refuses to peak. It’s too slow. Too careful. It’s driving you insane.
In a fit of frustration you toss your head back against the pillows, hips bucking uselessly against his face. "Stop making out with my pussy!" you snap, with a hint of the bratty attitude that got you into trouble earlier.
A low chuckle rumbles against your inner thigh. Caleb lifts his head just enough to flash you one of his stupid grins before he uses his fingers to spreeeead your folds apart, and with a brazen lack of ceremony, he spits directly onto your pulsing clit.
The slick moisture of his saliva mixes with your arousal making your toes curl into the mattress. You can feel the wetness begin to trickle, a warm trail sliding down toward your ass.
And then, the trap closes.
While Caleb remains positioned between your legs the air near your ear is displaced by someone else. Xavier. "What did we say about sassing?"
The illusion of control, that precious, flickering thing you’ve been clinging to all day finally snaps.
Below you, Caleb’s hands change, his fingers dig deep into the soft flesh of your thighs, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
"You have two options," Xavier’s voice rolls over you, heavy and authoritative "You can be quiet and take what we give you..." slowly, he swipes his tongue over the peaking tip of your breast, making your insides quiver.
"So soft," he breathes against your skin.
You try to summon a spark of defiance, but your voice betrays you, wobbling as you whisper, "...Or?"
"Or..." he continues, his tone hardening into something darker "I will find something to shove inside that bratty mouth and take what we want anyway. So, what’s it gonna be?"
Panic and desire collide in your chest, and you slam your mouth shut, catching a small, pathetic whimper behind your teeth.
"Good girl," Xavier murmurs. The praise is a reward, but it’s gone before you can even bask in it.
In a transition from tenderness to torment, he nips you. His teeth sink around your nipple until a cry builds in the back of your throat, a loud moan that begs to be released but you fight it. You bite your lower lip hard, desperately trying to keep quiet.
But the charade of silence collapses. There’s no pretending you’re composed anymore, not when Caleb decides to reward your temporary submission with a brand of pleasure that is unapologetically cruel.
Down below, he stops the slow swirl of his tongue for something far more direct. He runs the tip of his tongue in long, sweeping strokes, moving from your entrance all the way up to your clit, over and over again. Each pass is a lightning strike to your nerves. Just as you think you might shatter, he drives a finger deep into your core, hooking it to stroke that singular spot that makes your brain go fuzzy.
That needy sound you’ve been trying to swallow spills out of you in a loud moan. Resolve? Gone. Silence? Forgotten.
"Caleb, please..." The words tumble out of you "More... god, I need more..."
"She sounds so sweet when she begs, doesn't she, Caleb?"
There’s no answering him verbally, mostly because you can barely remember how to breathe when Xavier’s hand tightens around your breast, squeezing just shy of pain. Your nipple aches under the pressure, yearning for more.
"Do it again," Xavier is enjoying this too much to let you off easy. "Beg for it, and maybe we'll make you feel good."
He runs his tongue over your nipple again, a wet caress that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. Caleb makes it worse when he slides a second finger inside you.
Your orgasm is no longer a possibility, it's an inevitability. It’s a tightening coil of white hot tension winding tighter and tighter behind your navel.
A breathless smile touches your lips. Because even as they pin you down, even as they dictate your every breath and moan, you know the truth, you haven't just survived the hunt. You've mastered it. You have these two powerful, lethal men wrapped so tightly around your finger that they'd burn the world down just to hear you ask for one more thing. And the view from the edge of oblivion is spectacular.
"God, you are such a fucking brat, all you had to do was behave yourself, and we would have fucked you the way you deserve." Xavier’s coordination is terrifying, he reaches around to pinch and roll your both of your nipples, timing the tugging perfectly with the thrusts of Caleb’s hand below.
The edge is right there, shimmering in the periphery of your consciousness.
"I'm gonna... Fuck, baby..." your voice breaks, eyes rolling back.
You are soaring, ready to leap through the golden gates of heaven and dissolve into pure bliss.
And then, someone slams the doors shut in your face.
Just as the first tremor of your climax begins to ripple through your pelvis, just as the explosion should have detonated, the world abruptly freezes.
Both men stop. Simultaneously.
"Wait, no!"
Xavier grabs your wrists and hauls your arms up, pinning them securely above your head. He anchors you to the bed, rendering you immobile, stripping away your ability to chase the ghost of the friction you were just drowning in. Your orgasm collapses in on itself. Instead of a tidal wave, it becomes a pitiful, lukewarm drizzle, fizzling out into a frustrated ache that leaves you whimpering and twitching helplessly.
You look down to meet Caleb’s gaze, he is watching you struggle against the emptiness.
"Did you really think, after today, that you deserved to cum so fast?" Caleb mocks you, his voice infuriatingly calm. "You haven't earned that pleasure yet, brat."
Hot, stinging tears prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring the sight of the two men standing victorious over their wreckage. Your chest heaves, your lungs struggling to catch enough air to fuel the ragged rhythm of your breathing. Your nerves are screaming, clawing at the air for the release they were promised, only to find… nothing.
"If you wanted to be touched, you just needed to ask," Xavier says, his voice devoid of apology. He gives your wrists a sharp tug, a reminder that while you might have teased them on the beach, here, in this room, the hierarchy is set in stone. "We saw how those fuckers were looking at you. Like you were some kind of trophy. A piece of meat."
"Next time, remember this is what happens when you forget to ask nicely for what you want." Caleb adds.
The humiliation feels like a feverish heat in your cheeks. Trembling, you try to gather yourself. You reach down intending to pull the sheets over your naked body to reclaim some shred of modesty, but the movement is cut short.
Before your hands can even graze your hips Caleb moves, he hooks his hands under you and hoists you up. The cool air of the room is replaced by the heat of his skin when he settles you firmly on his lap, straddling his thick thighs.
Confusion clouds your mind, momentarily overriding lust. You blink up at him, your bottom lip trembling when you whisper, "I thought... we were done?
Caleb doesn't answer with words. Not at first.
Instead, he shifts his hips just a fraction. Through the slick heat of your cunt, you feel the blunt head of his cock catch against your entrance. The sensation is staggering, the hardness of him a wonderful contrast to the void he left moments ago.
"Oh, princess," he murmurs, eyes locking onto yours "That was just a warning. Now comes the lesson."
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your waist with a firmness that says you are no longer allowed to move anywhere.
Then, he begins to push you down.
Your eyes fly wide, pupils dilating until the world turns dark at the edges. A choked gasp hitches in your throat when you feel the tip of his cock stretch you open.
Your head swims when you feel the unmistakable chill of his metal piercings. Whenever he enters you like this, the stark temperature contrast makes your cognitive functions simpy evaporate.
"One..." Caleb grunts. He’s counting. You aren't sure if he’s tracking the depth...
"Two... Three..."
Or if he’s obsessively noting the way your walls pulse and catch against each individual piercing, trying to mold themselves around him.
"Four... Five... Six..."
By the time he reaches seven you are seeing stars, then with one final surge, he gives your waist a grounding shove. He sheaths that last, agonizing inch, burying himself so deeply that your pubic bone crashes against his, seating you fully atop his cock.
"...Eight."
His hands move to your hips, pinning you to him with immovable strength as he begins to rotate his pelvis. He works his cock in slow, shallow circles, dragging the textured metal against your interior in a way that makes your eyes flutter closed.
"Look at me," he orders, eyes burning into yours, "this is how it feels to be ours."
A shaky moan breaks from your lips, especially when you feel Xavier’s hands swoop around from behind, his palms squeezing your breasts with a grounding weight. Between the two of them, you are caught in a vice of pure masculine intent.
Desperate for the pleasure they stole from you, you stop fighting the rhythm and start leading it. You lean into the sensation, rolling your hips in a searching grind, trying to milk every possible drop of friction from the hard, pierced cock buried inside you.
Every time you grind your ass against Xavier's thickening cock, you feel the shudder that goes through him.
"Don't be greedy, bunny," Xavier warns right against the curve of your ear "If you keep pressing your ass against my dick like that, I'm going to fuck it."
Caleb continues his rhythm undeterred by your growing impatience. "Careful what you wish for, Xavier's not quite as patient as me. He might just decide to take exactly what he wants."
But warnings are useless when you're standing on the edge of a cliff. Logic has fled the room, replaced by a reckless kind of courage.
"And that would be a problem... why?" you manage to pant out, rolling your hips again.
Xavier lets out a sharp huff of air and delivers a brutal thrust forward with enough force to knock the wind from your lungs.
"Because, once I start, I won't stop," he grinds harder, pinning you against Caleb's lap. "And right now, your little cunt is far too busy milking his cock to handle anything else."
"Is that what you want?" Caleb asks "To be fucked until you can't even walk straight tomorrow?"
You don't even hesitate. A shameless nod is your answer followed by a whispered "Yes".
That's all it takes to shatter the last of Xavier's restraint. He spits crudely into his palm, coating his fingers with saliva. Before you can process the lewd gesture, he's pressing the slick fingers against your back entrance.
"Do you deserve it?"
"I don't..." you sob, the truth tumbling out in a broken plea "But I need you right now, Xav... please!"
Without a single moment of warming you up, he presses the head of his cock against your tight, puckered hole. Your body reacts instinctively, your ass clenching tight around the intrusion in an unready squeeze.
But Xavier has no intention of being gentle.
He doesn't stop until he's bottomed out, balls thudding against the underside of your cheeks. The sudden stretch makes your back arch into a bow. Your fingers scramble blindly, digging into Caleb’s chest, trying to find purchase in a world that is spinning out of control.
"Fuck, Caleb..."
"What?"
"I can feel your fucking piercings," Xavier groans when Caleb's piercings slide against his cock inside you, creating a dizzying friction.
Caleb doesn't offer an apology. Instead, his hands slide down to grip your ass and spread your cheeks wide to give Xavier better access. When he begins to thrust again, his rhythm picking up a new, more aggressive tempo, he lets out a satisfied smirk. "You're welcome"
"Xav, baby, I need you to move... please!"
Your hips are working on their own, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the impossible fullness of being stretched in two directions at once.
Behind you, Xavier is fighting a war with his own restraint. He’s tensing, his muscles corded and rigid, trying to ensure he doesn't lose the battle and spill himself the second he starts to move.
"Hold on to Caleb and remember that I love you, star" he murmurs, his breath making your skin prickle. "Because in about five seconds, it’s going to feel like I don't."
It’s an ominous warning, a dark omen of the storm to come. And then, he delivers.
He pulls back, a slow retreat that leaves you feeling hollowed out for a split second, until only the very tip of him remains inside your ass. Then, he buries his entire length deep inside you in an unyielding lunge.
Your mouth falls open in a silent, wide eyed plea for oxygen, but there is no relief to be found. Every time they move Caleb thrusting into your front while Xavier hammers into your back the air is driven out of you.
Caleb notices your breathless state. He leans in and catches your lower lip between his teeth. It’s a teasing nip that makes you jump, but before the sting can even register, he releases it, his tongue darting out to lave over the skin.
"You wanted to be fucked stupid, princess?" he asks, his voice dripping with a terrifying sort of affection.
You want to tell him yes. You want to scream it. But you can't.
Xavier lets out a low chuckle as he watches your head loll back, your eyes glazed and unfocused. "We're getting there...fuck... she just lost her ability to talk."
Caleb throws his head back, the tendons in his neck stand out, his muscles coiled and flexing as he chases his pleasure.
Tears track hot paths down your cheeks as you sob, the words barely making it past your lips. "I can't... I can't...anymore!"
"Yes, you can, you stubborn little thing," Xavier whispers against your shoulder "Look at how well you're doing. Look how much you're taking."
The world starts to tilt. There is no up or down, no before or after "It's too good... it's... Xav, I'm... I'm about to..."
"You don't need my permission, bunny, don't you dare hold back now."
"Caleb..."
"Cum for us. I'll be right there with you."
With a swipe of his finger against your clit, Caleb sends you hurtling over the edge. Your entire body convulses, a beautiful earthquake of pleasure that detonates behind your eyes and turns your vision into a blinding white haze.
Caleb's hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he slams up into your spasming cunt, his own orgasm building rapidly.
"Fuck!" Caleb moans, his eyes squeezing shut as the first hot, thick spurt of his release paints your cervix.
"Shit, I'm so close too," Xavier pants harshly "Don't you dare fucking stop, Caleb!"
The world finally goes quiet. You collapse, a heap of trembling limbs, your face buried in the crook of Caleb’s neck as you struggle to remember how to breathe.
After a long, quiet moment, a strange sound bubbles up from your chest. A giggle. It starts small, a breathless, incredulous little thing, before it breaks into a full blown, exhausted laugh. Caleb looks down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a trace of amused warmth breaking through his usual mask.
Still laughing, you tilt your head back to meet his gaze, eyes bright with relief. "You two... you seriously need to get that jealousy under control."
Caleb’s brow furrows, his expression shifting into something more serious, more possessive. He cups your chin, his thumb brushing over your swollen lower lip in a gesture that is almost tender if you ignore the hard, demanding edge in his eyes.
"We don't want you talking to guys like that anymore," he states, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
"You can't just order me..." you protest, though the strength is barely there in your voice.
"We can, and we will," Xavier interrupts, rolling his hips lazily against your backside, stirring the warm, heavy mess of his release inside you. "See, that's where you're wrong, bunny. It's our cum filling you up right now. Not theirs."
baratheonpilled
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