I'm a terrible writer, but my equally delusional friends put ideas into my head, very good ideas in fact, and I consume an unhealthy amount of fanfiction. I jot down some stuff from my inspired maladaptive daydreaming episodes/fantasies and thought I might as well post them lol.
Interests: Honkai: Star Rail, Genshin, Love and Deepspace, Sk8, ENHYPEN, Tears of Themis, High-Rise Invasion, Moriarty the Patriot and anything smutty.
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This is a reaaaally thirsty blog. I mean it. Absolutely down bad. Girly here also needs a good cry once and a while, might dabble in some darker/sensitive topics for angst and comfort. So please beware.
THIS BLOG CONTAINS CONTENT THAT CAN BE DISTRESSING.
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I am Asian (Korean), cisfemale and bisexual (questioning). though I do have preferences towards men. I write about men. Men are hot. Especially when they are fictional, so you can't argue with them. I probably won't write for AMAB, or just POVs for men in general (don't have a dick so idk). I will mostly write with she/her pronouns but I'm working on switching to gender neutral for more inclusion.
Im really inconsistent in being active on Tumblr cause I'm a full time student and Healthcare worker. Plus, I lose motivation quite easily, change interests even faster.
English isn't my first language but its a close second so there probably wont be any major issues regarding that. But the writing style may be inconsistent. Sorry!
🍓I’ve got lads nsfw alphabet on the way, (thank you @cilomarc for helping with that btw i’d be lost without you on zayne 💀), but I just can’t. cannot. it won’t leave my brain. I need to talk about omegaverse, I need to. Consider this my official introduction to the fandom.
WARNING! The characters are NOT going to be written exactly as they are in canon in some parts. Omegaverse, in my mind, creates a biological and psychological change in a character therefore the lads men WILL be slightly off from cannon. Please give me grace, it’s on purpose.
MDNI
Tw: Omegaverse (lol); Nsfw (duh); marking; rough sex; territorial issues; editing errors (inevitable); I have clear favorites.
Info: LaDS men x reader; reader IS mc
First, we have to establish omegaverse in their universe, because I think it’s functionally different than most AUs. So, there’s they typical alignments Alpha, Beta, Omega and the usual social pressures put on all three of them. However, there is a rapid decline in the number of Alpha’s and Omega’s within the city of Linkon in the past few years. It’s a natural teetering off of the population, these two groups only account for approximately 40% of the population. Not a number to scoff at, but not nearly as large as the Beta population.
There are objectively more Alphas than there are Omegas, but Omegas and Betas are more desired in the average work place. Most Alphas end up enlisting in the military in some way because of workplace discrimination. There is a fear of territorial disputes from Alphas, and a fear of safety for omegas, so many companies avoid hiring them unless their rapport is phenomenal. Usually, though, Alphas take on more hard physical labor because of their natural physical enhancements. While their ruts can make them unruly, Alphas actually work very well together when led by a Beta commanding figure.
Omegas are more desired in typical day to day jobs. They’re friendly, easily approachable, and they’re comforting. Society has numerous protections for them, as they are the smallest portion of the population while still the most desired half. They are discouraged from going into fields with large amounts of Alphas, as there is a fear of territorial fights over who the Omega “belongs” to. This belief has slowly died out as years go on, but government organizations are still hesitant to allow Omegas on their staff.
Omegas and Alphas have heats/ruts that happen typically four to six times a year (depending on the person). They can last anywhere from a week to a month, but having a partner speeds up the process. They’re incredibly difficult, and some can be so painful that they require medical intervention — meaning the forcible suppression of hormones to stop the heats/ruts from happening. They also have the option to remove scent glands if felt necessary.
Now, you are an Omega — a very spunky and headstrong one at that. There’s Caleb to thank for it, of course, he never let you believe you were any less than anyone because of your second gender. Your Evol, combined with your own physical strength, made you the perfect fit for hunting. And, despite hesitations, you were admitted not only into UNICORNS, but into Captain Jenna’s squad. Captain Jenna is the only Omega who leads a squadron, but she didn’t pick you because of your second gender, she picks people solely based on their skill. She was actually surprised to find out you were and Omega, she literally requests records without second genders mentioned to not cloud her judgment.
With that background established, let’s get into what you’re here for. (Ps, they’re all Alphas, sorry. None of them seem like betas or omegas in my eyes.)
XAVIER
Xavier is near undetectable as an Alpha when you first meet him. His scent isn’t strong, nor is his presence. He fades into the background, which is rather uncommon for Alphas, but it’s just how he wants to be. His soft spoken and quiet demeanor doesn’t help his case much either, quite honestly you never would’ve guess he’s an alpha if you hadn’t seen him fight. Whether consciously or not (as wanderers DO react to scents), when he fights he absolutely reeks of pheromones. At least, around you he does. Other people claim the opposite, but you’ve smelled it, you know it’s true.
Speaking of, his scent also is strange for alphas. It’s very soft, easy on the nose unless there’s too much of it. Marshmallows, he smells like marshmallows. Specifically roasted marshmallows, that kinda warm comforting scent anyone could become addicted to. He almost smells like an Omega, if not for the sharp undercurrent of smoke in his scent.
The closer you get to him the more you notice that he tends to scent the air while you’re around. It’s very subtle, like he’s trying to lure you in with a honey trap. Eventually, you start to smell like him after spending time together, and it occurs to you that he’s been subtly scenting you without expressly touching you at all. A very difficult feat without physical contact, something very few Alphas can do outside of a rut.
He courts you in a strange way as well, not inherently creepy or weird, but sort of jarring compared to other Alphas. He’s so passive with the approach, allowing you to set the pace rather than make the moves himself. He won’t take the next step in the process unless you appear like you want him to. You have full control in the pace the relationship takes, which is not typical in alpha/omega relationships, but Xavier doesn’t seem to give it much thought. It makes the build up very slow, almost painful, but entirely worth it in the end.
Once you are together, he’s quite a menace, especially when it comes to scenting you. Within the week of you making things official he goes from subtle scenting to rubbing his scent glands directly against yours in hopes he could rub away your natural scent and replace it with his own. He does not like sharing the way you smell, not at all. Despite his efforts to hide it, though, he’s very much addicted to your scent. You can tell in the way he shoves his nose against your scent glands when you cuddle, and how he makes you wear his clothes until they start smelling like you, then he’ll wear it around all proudly until it wears off.
He’s very territorial, but he isn’t aggressive unless he needs to be, and you rarely get to see that aggression in action. For example, the sweet bread maker Charlie. He’s an Alpha, a very friendly one at that, but entirely harmless (besides, there are too many people who are interested in him for you to think about giving it a shot regardless of your relationship with Xavier). Xavier… doesn’t share the sentiment. At all. He has no ill will toward Charlie though, other than some glaring and pouting because you’re not talking to him. He scents you very thoroughly after he feels “threatened”, even if you’re already dripping in his scent.
The only time you see the aggression is when you’re facing off against wanderers together. Xavier understands that you’re capable and strong, you’re in his squadron for a reason, and he has no worries that you can handle yourself. It does not squash his baser instincts to keep you safe from harm, though. If there is anything that poses a real threat to you, he’s a deadly weapon led only by the gnawing instinct in the back of his head, repeating over and over that he must eliminate any and all things attempting to cause you harm. He is your alpha, after all, it is his job to protect and provide.
-
Now, in regards to sex, it’s not that different from regular sex with Xavier. He’s a little more heavy on leaving physical bite marks behind, and he rubs his scent all over you like a madman, but otherwise he’s still typical dominant Xavier.
You have sex with Xavier far before his first rut with you or your first heat. He’s like a rabbit, despite his sleepy tendencies, so it’s to be expected that he can’t quite keep his hands to himself when he finally has you. He’s wild about you, honestly, but again he mostly allows you to decide when and how and where because your consent is incredibly important to him.
Now, you are aware that ruts are different for Alphas and their demeanor. It’s the same for how heats are for omegas, it’s a harsher physical strain which clouds your judgment. You just didn’t expect Xavier to be so… so… insatiable. He warns you ahead of time, giving you the out to avoid him (and stay with Tara, because having you the floor beneath him during his rut was dangerous in so many ways), which you take as invitation to do the exact opposite.
He doesn’t let you help him at first, keeping his door deadbolted shut and hiding away from you every time your scent wafted into his nose. Yet, at your persistence, he breaks two days into his weeklong rut, opening his door by a sliver and peering at you with those pretty watery blue eyes. It’s all of five seconds of you offering to help that he tugs you into his apartment and jumps you like his last meal.
The whole apartment smells like burnt marshmallows, and you think the place is effectively trashed — it’s hard to tell with the lights off. He is burning hot, likely flushed red and eyes hazy as they roam over your body. He gives you one chance to say no, practically begging you to deny him, but when you give him the go ahead he’s a monster. The dominance is turned up by 100, and he is dragging you all around the apartment.
He fucks you against the door, the entrance table, the couch, eats you on on the kitchen counter, pounds you in the hallway, and eventually ends the rest of the week in his bedroom. It’s nearly non-stop too, he hardly breaks except to hydrate and feed you (and take little naps, of course). He’s utterly unstoppable, but despite himself he doesn’t knot you ever. When he finally comes down from it (two days earlier than usual), you are covered in cum and bite marks, and he is the happiest alpha in the world.
You don’t realize it initially, but he’d avoided leaving a mating mark on you. Preferring to lave at the sensitive skin with his tongue. He’s one of the types who want that kind of process to be more intimate and gentle. (He caves during your first heat together and leaves a bloody swollen mark that takes a week to fully heal up).
ZAYNE
You’ve known Zayne your whole life, you were there for his presentation party, and you saw him grow up into a super cool and collected Alpha. When you think Alpha, Zayne (and Caleb, of course) is the person that first comes to mind. He’s a model of perfect calm and balance, strong and confident, but able to keep himself passive and cool in stress. He’s respected and admired by all types of people, including you, and you’re proud to have a friend like him in your life.
However, he is NOT as put together as you’d like to think. Not around you, at least, he’s overly professional to avoid doing something stupid that could potentially ruin your friendship and his career. To you it seems like he’s just really dedicated, to him he’s thinking of 900 ways to avoid breathing too deeply lest he gets a whiff of your scent and goes insane. It’s literal torture being your doctor, but at the same time, he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you. So, he suffers the consequences of his actions for your well-being, because that’s all that matters.
To you, Zayne smells incredibly comforting, like a home away from home. To others, it’s sharp and bitter. It’s really all about perspective. He does well to suppress his scent through the hospital, not wanting to scare the nurses and patients, but it’s naturally strong and fills up spaces quickly without competition. He avoids the elevator for this reason. That sharp minty scent with the bitterness of dark cacao is commanding of respect, but so very sweet to your little omega mind.
It’s hard not to fall for Zayne, honestly. He’s hard working, intelligent, and put together. He’s got a whole league of people who want to court him, but he has his eyes on you and you alone. Not that he’s going to make any moves by himself — you’re still his patient, and there’s a level of professionalism he’s barely hanging on to.
Yet… when you give him the green light and essentially urge him to try, he’s hopeless. Again, it doesn’t come off that way because he is nothing if not calm and collected, but he’s very to the point once you reciprocate. Traditional courting methods are his go to, flowers, dates, cute little gifts that you can set on your mantle. It’s very simple, he’s easy to understand once he allows himself to let you in, and it doesn’t take long until you’re an official couple. (The nurses had bets on how long it would take him to finally court you, Yvonne won.)
When it comes to scenting you, he’s pretty reserved, as he is in most parts of his life. Not to say that the urge isn’t there. He definitely wants to scent you, very badly, but he chooses to hold himself back for your sake. Having you smell as strongly as he does could cause issues in your daily life, and he’d rather avoid you getting in needless confrontations because of his sharp smell. He does scent you though, it’s just more subtle.
He scents your clothes, not you directly. It’s less strong and allows you to go about your day marked, but not get in the way of socializing. A decent compromise, if you ask him, leaving both of you (mostly) satisfied. Besides, he prefers your scent over his own any day. He expects you to scent his things just as much as he does yours; with your spunk and jealousy streak, he gets what he wants. (It’s also helpful in the workplace, being marked by an omega puts other omegas at ease around him, which makes it easier to interact with them.)
He’s the most passive on this list about territory, but that doesn’t mean he can’t and won’t put his foot down when he has to. If someone is bothering you, that sharp scent is suffocating, like a blade against the persons throat. He’s dismissive and quick, not allowing room for argument as he whisks you away with ease. Quick and precise. It’s not nearly as outward as someone like Xavier or Rafayel, but it gets his point across. He acts like he doesn’t mind it at all, but you can tell with how much more physical he is after that it irritated him to no end.
-
Zayne does not have sex with you until he absolutely cannot hold himself back from it anymore. He has a lot of internalize shame about how badly he desires you; every time that you push for more, he pulls back for fear of going too far. It’s a vicious cycle that eats away at him, but he knows at some point he’s going to have to give in, hopefully before your heat or his rut.
It does not work out like that.
During your first heat with him, he’s very composed and practical about it. He comes over and takes care of you attentively, and he seems entirely unaffected by the way your scent seems to suffocate the air in your apartment. He cooks for you, cleans for you, takes care of your body, all without ever letting his hands stray. Even if you beg for it, he knows you’re not fully in your right mind, so he won’t take advantage of you.
Inside though? He’s dying, it’s total torture to have you there laid out for him and refuse to touch you. His inner alpha is growling and chomping at the bit for a taste, but he refuses himself over and over for your benefit. What if he can’t stop himself? What if he hurts you? What if you don’t like it? It tears him up inside, so he refuses himself the opportunity over and over.
It’s during his rut — he has only three a year, thanks to his constant suppressing of his urges — that things change. He wants you- needs you, carnally, desperately. It shows in the way he looks at you, a desire raging deep behind his eyes. He won’t say it, he doesn’t need to, you can sense it. So when you come over and you offer yourself to him, willingly, knowingly, he loses himself.
All his inhibitions disappear, it’s just you him and his absolute need for you. You’re practically drowning in his affections, not an inch of you is left untouched by his greedy fingers. It’s overwhelming and all encompassing, swallowing you up in the sheer want that he’s quietly harbored for years and years, finally released all at once.
It’s surprisingly gentle, despite how heavy the feelings he’s been keeping in are. An explosion of love and adoration he’s kept under tight lock and key, finally breaking through and laying themselves bare for you. A vulnerability you weren’t even aware he was capable of until he’s buried inside you, mumbling I love you’s through his rut induced brain fog.
It’s embarrassing, but he’s not ashamed of it at all. He’s very proud of how much he loves and cares for you, he just wishes he could’ve expressed that more openly — before his rut did all the talking. Still, he wouldn’t take it back for the world, simply satisfied to finally break the sexual tension and sink into a different kind of love than before. More real and raw.
He’s not that big on marking you, and unlike Xavier he can actually hold himself back from leaving a mating mark, but you have a few nice new imprints on your skin. Mostly for his view, no one else’s. A little secret between you and your alpha, for when you visit him in his office, allowing him to tug the collar of your shirt down to get a nice reminder of how deeply your love runs for one another.
RAFAYEL
Lumerians do not have the concept of Alpha/Beta/Omega; it's just not below sea level. They have their own kind of social structure, and the idea of a "second gender" is a bit ridiculous. At least, Rafayel thought so before he grew a pair of legs and was forced to endure life as a human Alpha. He didn't expect the legs to also come with the biological change, but it helps him blend in better, so he accepts it rather easily. Just another thing he has to put up with for life on land. Sigh.
When you meet him initially, he doesn't really strike you as an Alpha. His scent isn't strong, and while his presence is a bit odd, he doesn't command attention or respect like other Alphas naturally do. He's just... strange. The more you interact with him, the more you find yourself questioning his second gender. Not outwardly, of course, because you just know he'll make some kind of deal out of the question. It's just a passive interest, because sometimes he acts like a beta, sometimes an omega, and others an alpha.
He smells salty, like the sea or the warmth of the sun on a summer's day. Relaxing and easy, making it simple to talk to him, despite his proclivity to sassing you. And, honestly, why would an Alpha like him need a bodyguard? Maybe you were being a bit old-fashioned, but most Alphas wouldn't humble themselves enough to plead for needless help like he did. This odd behavior is what draws you in, and his smooth talking is what gets you to stick around, despite your apprehensions about his second gender.
It's not until you go to him for help getting into the nest that it hits you that he's an Alpha. He tenses at the thought of your plan, scent souring and practically demanding his denial. It's the only real giveaway of his displeasure, but it is strong and it makes you weak in the knees. Telling you, reminding you, that you are in the presence of an alpha (your alpha).
Rafayel doesn't exactly "court" you, not traditionally. There's no gift giving, no explicitly stated romantic intention; he just expects you to get it. He's literally taking you out on dates around the city, he invites you to his art exhibits, and pouts when you show up late, hell, he paints you. Frequently. And shows you each one with pride. You'd have to be blind not to get it after a point, but you really don't. It doesn't click, so Rafayel takes it a step further.
He scents you, very often, without any nuance in what he's doing. If you ask him, he'll tell you outright that he's intending on marking you as his. Unfortunately, because it's so weak, it doesn't stick for long. He always sighs and pouts when you come back to him, no longer smelling like the beach, but he takes it as an opportunity to repeat the scenting process. He always takes a very long time, thoroughly marking you with the hope that it'll last just a bit longer than last time.
He expects the same from you, of course. He wants to smell you on him when you're away, a little reminder that you are with him even when you are not. It scares other suitors who normally harass him away, and it makes him feel more confident (not that he wasn't before). You don't even know when the two of you technically became an item, but Rafayel made damn sure that you were one. He can't stand the thought of some lesser guy marking you up in their scent, treating you like an object and not the treasure you were. Truly, he was the only Alpha worthy of your time, he was just making that abundantly clear to you.
-
You and Raf have sex a lot. Like, A LOT a lot. It's all good fun for both of you, a stress reliever after an ungodly long day away from one another. Truly, he has no fear of your oncoming heat, because he doesn't think it'll be anything too bad. He'll take care of you, and the two of you will come out happy and satisfied.
See... Rafayel doesn't experience ruts the same way that other Alphas do. He has them, of course, just as regularly as anyone else... but his ruts aren't bad. After suffering through so many ebb days alone, his ruts are a cakewalk. He's practically unaffected by the whole ordeal, going about his normal daily life with only a slight ache below his waistline. He thinks the stories of heats and ruts being so difficult are just that. Stories. Nothing to take too seriously. He is mistaken, of course.
When your heat hits you, it's very overwhelming for him. He doesn't expect it to be so painful, and the sight of you writhing and crying from the ache between your legs does the opposite of turn him on. He hates seeing you in pain, absolutely despises it more than anything in the world, and he will do anything to take it away. Even if that means fucking you until you've calmed down enough to think straight again.
He's quite good at taking care of your needs, spacing sessions out so your body won't give out on you, and finding good times to feed you and get you to sleep. He can handle the marathon rounds no problem, you cannot, even if that's what your body and mind are insisting to you. He'll hand-feed you healthy foods that keep your energy up, soothing you when you whine and cry that all you want to eat right now is him. Massage your little aches and pains while you come down from another high, ensuring your joints stay loose enough to continue. It's all very sweet, despite the situation you've found yourself in.
Where it becomes an issue is about three days into your heat, something in Raf clicks. A familiar dull ache in his stomach when he cracks his eyes open, surrounded entirely by the syrupy sweetness of your scent, your walls still snug around him. His dick is... very hard. Too hard for it to just be morning wood, and his mind is hazy, too foggy to really think - and god is he hot. The windows are open, there's no reason for him to be burning up so much, and- oh. Oh. Seems he was more affected by your heat than he thought he was, being thrust into his rut a whole month earlier than it was supposed to come. Far more intense than he'd ever felt it before. Luckily, you were already there to help him out, so it wasn't that bad.
The two of you emerge from his art studio about a week later, dizzy, fucked dumb, and really craving a hot cup of coffee. Oh, and you both positively reek of one another -- it's the strongest Rafayel's scent has ever been, and it sticks to your skin for days after the fact. Not that you need his scent on you, with the vast collection of love bites he's littered your neck with.
He saves your mating mark for another day, though he does promise you that both of you will be walking around with one soon enough. He just has enough self-restraint to make sure it's a more romantic ordeal than the depravity and need of your heat/rut cycles. For now, love bites are more than enough to satisfy his appetite.
SYLUS
Being a Dragon and a natural land dweller, Sylus does not have a second gender. Dragons in and of themselves have their own social rituals that are similar, but not the same as the alpha/omega/beta structure of human society. Firstly, dragons are territorial, extensively so, and they do use their scent as a means of warding off those who encroach on their territory. They have similar means of marking and claiming their significant others, as well as similar courting rituals that blend well with human ones.
By all means, Sylus appears like the typical alpha to most people, as designed, of course. He makes sure that he blends in well with humans, not raising any alarm bells to anyone that he was anything other than the typical crime lord alpha commonly found in the N109 zone. It's almost funny to him how easy it is to blend in and be accepted. He thought human noses were supposed to be more sensitive than that, but supposedly not.
You also take him at face value, thinking he's a harsh and hardened criminal, cruel and unkind to those around him, and using his second gender to get his way around. Everything you really hate in people, you think you see in Sylus, because that is the image he has built up for himself in the public eye. It's a shame you can't see through it initially, but Sylus has faith that you'll be able to figure it out. You always do, after all.
You do find it strange that he... doesn't seem to act like you'd expect him to. He doesn't smell strongly - in fact, he doesn't really smell much at all. If anything, all you smell on him is the rich cologne he wears. Strong, but not overwhelming like an Alpha's scent would be. He's so patient, too, way too patient. It's all so strange, he's forceful but he's not, he's harsh but he's not. You can't wrap your head around him, and he allows you to settle into your confusion. Waits patiently for you to figure it out yourself, for you to remember him, what he's done for you -- what he would do for you.
He only begins to properly court you when you put the pieces together. He is by far the most romantic about it all, too. Extravagance is his forte, and he's sure to make that known to you. Taking you to expensive high-end restaurants, showering you in pretty jewelry and clothes, and treating you like absolute royalty. It's not a typical courting style, less about claiming you as his, but proving to you that you should choose him. That he was right for you, not the other way around. And once you choose him, you become the greatest treasure in his collection - the shining light in his heart that he would never give up for anything.
He does not mark you in a typical fashion because he can't really use his scent to mark you. It's not as strong as an alpha's would be, and your omegan scent overpowers it without any issue. It doesn't bother him, though; he has his own means of showing you off. Namely, the expensive things he buys you, all customized with special little markers that remind you of him. Besides, he prefers it when you mark him anyway, having your scent on him gives him quite an ego rush.
-
As we saw in his Night of Secrecy card, he's definitely not afraid to have sex with you rather early on. Unfortunately for him, though, he feels pretty bad about it almost immediately. It's not how he wants things to go; he wants it to be slow and easy, because he wants things to mean something. Yet, you're always so eager and excited to keep going and give him what he desires, and this need you proclaim only worsens with time. You want to be intimate with him, want to have that connection, and he both fears and longs for it, too.
Now, Sylus does have a rut cycle, but it only happens once a year. It's incredibly long, though, lasting more than a month at a time. He prefers to spend this time alone, because he's very vulnerable while in rut, far too sensitive to outside stimuli for him to be comfortable with. It takes him a while to allow you to see him like that. On the other hand, though, he is more than happy to help you through your heat cycles.
Unlike Rafayel, he's very aware of how difficult cycles like these are on humans -- Luke and Keiran are both Omegas, so he's seen firsthand just how painful they are to people. He intends to help you relieve that ache in whatever way he can. It doesn't even have to be through sex if you don't want, simply being at your beck and call is enough to keep Sylus satisfied. Whatever you need, he is there for you.
If what you need is for him to devour you whole, he'll do it, just to see that little smile of relief light up his face. But, oh, his absolute favorite thing is when you take control of the situation. When you take from him what you need and leave no room for arguing, that he loves more than life itself. You are strong and capable, you can take whatever you need, and when you show that to him he feels a sense of pride well in his chest.
Tell him to eat you out, tell him to let you ride him, tell him to be rougher, tell him to shut up, please give him commands. He's there to serve you, on his knees, like a helpless dog to your whims. You lose yourself in your pleasure, brain too cloudy to realize how forceful you are, and yet it's everything he loves about you. He lives to see you with this confidence to take and take and take, if only you didn't need your heat to do the talking for you. Maybe one day he could get it from you, but until then he is happy to be your personal sex toy to help ease you through the hardest parts of your year.
Ah, and when you beg him to mark you, to bite into that tender bit of flesh that links the two of you semi-permanently to the public eye... It's hard to deny you, not when he wants to so badly. The bite is too big to be human, too deep for the dull pearly whites of a typical alpha. A warning, a promise of what he can do to anyone who wants to encroach on what is his.
CALEB
If Zayne is the model alpha, Caleb is the alpha's alpha. Strong, smart, hard working, charming, he's quite literally got it all. Omegas, Betas, and Alphas alike all stumble over themselves for his approval, just a sliver of his attention. Yet, you get it all for free, and you have no idea how lucky you are to have him so utterly enraptured by you.
Growing up alongside Caleb (and Zayne), you never had to fear for anything, a blessing and a curse as an adult. He never allowed you to think you were less than or weaker because of your second gender, empowering you to do what you like and be who you like, so long as he could keep an eye on you. So long as he could protect you, it would be fine. It inhibits your judgment a lot as you age, making you incredibly naive, feeling nearly invincible when you aren't.
And when he "dies", when all he can do is keep an eye on you from far, far away? He almost regrets locking you up and away so much. Almost. It's torture being so far away from you, but it's for the best, right? You're safer there than you are here... right? A deep grumbling part of him -- his alpha, your alpha -- disagrees adamantly. There is nowhere in the world safer for you than at his side, but he assumed that he could never have that until you are there in front of him again, and all the mental conditioning he has practically shatters at the angry look in your eyes. The hurt, the exhaustion, the absolute relief on your face when you held him again. He was purring like a cat, alpha soothed and satiated because you were here. You were his again.
To you, despite everything he puts you through, Caleb is still home. He's still safety and love, and care, regardless of whether he's still "your Caleb" or not. He still looks like Caleb, he still acts like Caleb (only a little more honest with both of you), and he still smells like Caleb. Like home. Warm freshly baked goods with a hint of spice, just enough to sting the nostrils. You missed it and how safe it made you feel. You missed him.
When it comes to courting, you pretty much call the shots. It's hard to "court" someone you've known and been close with your entire life, and Caleb doesn't exactly make it easy with how dodgy he is. He's a walking contradiction, forceful one second, then quiet and shameful the next. You have to take the lead and guide the pace, show him that he can be a little forward, he can be possessive, and he doesn't have to feel shame for wanting you as badly as he does. It's slow, getting him to realize that there is approval, but when he does, he's very open with you.
Caleb is the most aggressive with scenting and marking, and it's hard to blame him. He's been holding off since you were kids, literally fighting himself tooth and nail to behave when all he wanted was for you to smell like him all the time. Not that he didn't subtly let his scent rub off on you, but he was never allowed to just mark you. Now that he can, it's like an addiction that he can't stop. If you're within arm's reach, you're being scented. Before you leave the house? Scented. Coming home? Scented. Visiting him in his office? Scented. Bumps into you (somehow) while out and about? Scented. It's honestly a little gross to others how much you reek of him -- and trust me, you reek of him even with a little brush of skin. Neither of you care, though, you're just happy you can be together at all now.
He expects, and even demands, you do the same (unless he's on duty the day after, not that your scent sticks for long with how strong his is). He wants to smell you on him, a mix of your sweet little scent and his. It's a dream he's had a million times, and now it's real, and he's hungry for it.
-
It's very important to Caleb that you take things slowly. Your relationship is unique, sensitive, and hardly blossoming. He doesn't want it to wither and die because of silly instinctual desires. Desires, mind you, he'd been successfully suppressing for years and years now. He's practically a professional at pretending he doesn't want to stretch you out and sink his canines into your bond mark. You though? You're not, in fact, you're kinda dogshit.
It is really, really, reaaalllyyyyyyy hard for Caleb to pretend he doesn't want you when you're practically bending over doggy style begging him to take care of you. Still, you can't get him to break; he always manages to pull back and pretend like nothing even happened. His insane 360s in personality and intention can leave your head spinning, completely stunned at how easily he can just act like he doesn't want you the way you know he wants you. (You know where all your missing panties went when you were younger, you're not that dense.)
He breaks for your heat, not during his rut (which he isolates during, out of habit). He's purposefully lined up missions and work for the week your heat hits, having memorized your cycle from when you were younger. It all falls through when you call him, sobbing his name and begging him to come home and take care of you because it "hurts so bad I can't think." You always knew how to get him to bend for you, after all. He finishes his duties so fast, and what he doesn't do, he finds someone else to finish it for him so he can get home and take care of you like he was born to do.
And he comes home to you, flustered and out of breath and just as needy as you are. He's clumsy, he's never had sex with anyone, he'd stupidly saved himself for the one girl he couldn't have -- the girl he was having now. Yet, it's the rawness of the emotion that makes it so good for you. The nakedness in the way he looks at you when he first sinks into your tight, desperate walls. It's another side of Caleb you've never seen, the side that is so utterly obsessed and in love with you -- an embarrassingly boyish side who flushes when you first whisper his name.
To think this big, scary Colonel was blushing like a school boy, being bossed around by his little omega girlfriend during her heat. If word got out, no one would be able to respect him again, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. It was everything he wanted and more, the utter undoing of his being with a vulnerability he wasn't sure he was capable of anymore. For you, though, he was capable of anything.
You don't need to ask him to mark you; he does it instinctively. Leaving evidence of his devotion all along your body, right up to your bond spot, where he dug his teeth deep into the flesh, leaving a harsh red mark to claim you to the world. Insistent that you do the same, smaller, but still claiming your territory. He wears it with pride when he can, practically flaunting your little teeth marks against his neck to anyone remotely interested in him.
He is utterly obsessed with you, and who could blame him? He was a starved puppy seeking your affection his whole life, how could he possibly deny it now that it was in his grasp?
Summary: Caleb died five years ago, leaving you shattered with a baby and a broken heart. During that millennia of grief, Zayne is there to pick up the pieces, stitching your wounds up with a new, different, deep love. Your husband is the perfect partner, and perfect dad. But an angry ghost shows up at your doorstep in the thunder storm, soaked in raindrops, purple lightning flashing in his eyes, and everything falls apart again.
Tags/Warnings: Fluff & Angst & Eventual Smut (MDNI) // Reader is a good mom & a teacher // Zayne is your husband and first (childhood) love // Caleb was your second love and embodiment of “he fell first, I fell harder” // Camden (reader’s son) is the spitting image of Caleb // Still deciding on who reader ends up with // Multi-Chapter Fic // WC: ~2.4K
AN: Ch. 01 is a little slow, but I liked writing it. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 01 || Crashing Down With The Thunder
Camden isn’t Zayne’s child.
How could he be? With violet galaxies for eyes and a side profile that belongs to China’s ideal model, hell, he didn’t even look like you.
“Darling,” a calm, collected voice drifts through the living room. You stand aglow in the warm yellow light from the fireplace. Soft footsteps approach you, the cadence tapping you gently, adding to the cozy atmosphere of your home. You turn, face melting into a smile when you see your husband.
“The little one refuses to sleep. He says he needs a bedtime story,” Zayne says, a subtle, soft smirk playing on the corner of his lips.
“Oh, shoot,” you exhale, looking back at the countertop littered with papers. It’s exam season, and Zayne can see the crinkle of your brows, he can hear the tapping of your foot. If students thought their lives were hard (and they certainly can be), you hope they extend the same understanding to you, as well. Correcting essays— though part of the blessing of being a teacher— takes a lot of your mental energy and time.
Warm hands meet your shoulders, massaging and working the stiffened muscles. A moan catches in your throat and you turn into jelly, leaning your back against Zayne’s hard chest.
Zayne’s breath tickles your hair. “You have your hands full already. I told Camden I can be the one to read to him… But he insists that The Hobbit is a story meant to be read by his mama only.”
You shift so that you can stare at Zayne for a second. He looks at you with soft concern as you drink in the sight of the most considerate, gentle, compassionate man you’ve ever met, ever had the privilege of knowing— and the luck of loving.
“It’s more than alright,” you sigh, “I can spare fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes of joy and magic. Fifteen minutes that nourish Cam’s heart. Fifteen minutes that translate into stability, reliability, and love that he feels,” you say gently.
Zayne glances at your papers, before two hands grab your ass firmly and you find yourself spinning to face him completely— hazel-green eyes looking down at you with a flash of familiar hunger. “You’re a great mom, my love.” Your breath hitches, and Zayne’s voice sends shivers down your skin, “If you want, I’ll gladly take care of you after you finish reading to Camden and grading those papers,” Zayne whispers, and then his feather-soft lips are pressing against yours before you kiss him back.
“Fuck… Zayne—” you hiss, cheeks heated up as he squeezes your ass. His tongue— warm and wet— enters your mouth to dance with yours.
You both pull away at the same time, breaths mingling, chin arching slightly, reaching out for one another. You both know to stop now, or your beloved Camden won’t be tended to.
“You’re always so hot, Zaynie… Give me an hour?” You ask.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The jet black hair, glasses, and the way Camden huddles over any book, might lead some to falsely believe that Camden is Zayne’s son in every way— heart, mind, and blood— but anyone who ever knew Caleb would know in a heartbeat: Your son is the spitting image of your second love.
Every cell that makes up Camden seems like it was cloned directly from Caleb himself— so similar that it wouldn’t be outrageous to think that Camden was a replica of Caleb rather than a human boy. Despite this, you can’t find yourself capable of laughing at the matter. Not when Caleb died. Not when your heart still twists violently and curls in on itself whenever Camden plays with his toy planes, asks for apples at the grocery store. Sometimes, when Camden glances up at you as he normally does, you see him. Memories of childhood rush back to you with the force of water from a broken dam. It’s cruel for many reasons, and also because it’s unpredictable: you can catch glimpses of Caleb at any moment, in the little boy you love dearly and fiercely.
But you could never put that on Camden, your grief and pain. He doesn’t deserve to have his airplane models taken away, and if he likes apples, then the fridge should be stocked with them. (You find it especially hard to follow through with the latter thing. The fridge is tied to Caleb. Cooking, domesticity— it’s all just a painful reminder of the person you grieve hard, grieve endlessly for.)
“You know,” Zayne’s voice, slightly rough from a passionate love-making, drapes over your body like a soothing melody, warm and comforting as you lay boneless in the mussed sheets.
“I was thinking about where we could go this year for travel. Camden has been quite vocal in his wants to see the Aurora Borealis. And you deserve a break from all the hard work you’ve been doing.”
You want to engage in this conversation— really— you do. But Zayne’s hand strokes your hair tenderly as he talks, and the repetitive gesture coupled with your sleep deprivation, the exhaustion that comes with being a mother, and your post-orgasm bliss, lulls you into a bone-deep sleepiness.
You find enough strength to mumble out, “That’s so kind of you, Zayne. Camden would love that… and— me, too…”
“We can talk about that tomorrow,” Zayne finishes, chuckling lightly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You knock out while Zayne gazes at you, hand still stroking your hair and soothing you. He stares at you for a good ten minutes, the sweat evaporating from his skin in chilly winter air as he wonders what non-existent god he has to thank for this life with you.
Gratitude.
That’s a word that Zayne loves. It’s what he practices often, especially now that he has you in his life.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Your name.
The person he cherishes.
Zayne watches from the bench as you chase Camden around the playground, roaring like a monster while your son shouts and giggles, skillfully evading you as he darts up the steps of the red, orange, and blue structure, gunning straight for the enclosure at the top of the slide.
“I’m gonna get you— and when I catch you, little boy, I’m going to eat! You! Up!” You bellow, before you grab onto part of the orange rope bridge and pull yourself up enough to swing your right foot up. You catch Camden’s bright smile when he quickly looks back at you— and you’re surprised to feel only joy. You’ve been thinking of him less. You thought Caleb was forever, and it’s both relieving and deeply scarring that he’s fading away.
You take another shallow breath, regrounding yourself as your son looks back at you again. He’s aware that you’re not chasing him with as much vigor anymore.
“Caaaamdeeeeen—” you growl, imitating a horrifying, guttural voice.
“I wonder which part of you tastes best, hmmm? The meat? The marrow of your BONES?!” You screech and hoist yourself up fully, standing on the rope bridge— now so close to your boy— and Camden shrieks, laughing as he grips the walls of the tower at the top of the slide.
You suppose the beautiful thing about life is that no matter how much you lose— you can still love your son. Being with him is the best gift you could ever ask for. He’s your world, the center of your universe— along with Zayne.
Successfully atop the rope bridge, you cross it and maneuver your body so that your foot touches the red bench on the elevated structure, careful not to touch the blue of the floor, as that’s off limits to you, the Monster.
Before you can decide how to cross over to the tower without stepping on the blue floor, Camden wobbles—
Plummeting in slow motion, falling flat on his stomach atop the rubber ground.
Your eyes blow wide. “Baby! Camden— oh baby—” you hear yourself say, your heart stuttering, fear pounds through your bloodstream as you clamber off the playground and reach your son— but not before Zayne is there, crouched over Camden who is stunned from the tumble.
It’s only three seconds of silence before Camden starts bawling.
You once scolded yourself for having the thought of finally knowing what it looks like for kid Caleb to cry, back when you first saw toddler Camden shed tears a few years ago when he was three and waddling on his tiny human legs.
The only trace of you in your son would be the way he cries easily and openly— no doubt the good result of having two attentive, emotionally present parents.
“Zayne—”
“He’s going to be alright,” Zayne says, eyes not leaving Camden’s body as he scans for damage. “Mama,” Camden cries, and you can’t help but scoop him into your arms. “Cam— does anything feel broken?” You ask, and he just sobs. “Camden, you need to answer mama,” you reiterate, and you grimace slightly upon hearing your voice come out harsher than you intended.
“N-no mama, I don’t think so.”
You’re silent as you rub Camden’s small back, not telling him to hush, not telling him that it’s alright. You just hold him as he cries, the tether and safe space for him.
After a long minute, you speak. “Camden, we need to check to make sure there’s no bodily damage, okay?”
You pull away from Camden slightly, and glance at Zayne. “Dadda’s going to take a look, okay?”
Camden reluctantly leaves your warmth (but he does— and he’s such a good, smart boy for that), and Zayne moves in to thoroughly assess any damage, speaking calmly and warmly to your son. You watch as Zayne asks Camden a series of questions, checks Camden’s head, eyes, chest, and stomach, moves on to guide Camden through a mobility checklist, gently guiding Camden’s arms up and down.
After a meticulous checkup from none other than Doctor Zayne himself, you breathe a sigh of relief when your husband tells you that Camden is medically fine.
On the car ride home, the sky is yellow with purple-gray clouds. The sight is nostalgic— too familiar— and you unconsciously opt to gaze at your son instead, who is sitting happily in the backseat, realizing that getting hurt isn’t so bad because mama and dadda care for him, coddled him, and promised to buy his favorite ice cream tonight.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
“That was quite a scare.”
“Tell me about it,” you groan, hugging Zayne. He clasps his arms around your frame, and you inhale deeply. Orchids, snow, jasmine, and a sprinkle of something bright. The scent of your amazing, loving husband.
“You’re great, Zayne. You make life so much better, smoother, gentler, safer. I’m blessed, honestly…” you murmur.
“I’m glad if I can help you,” Zayne replies, not even accepting the praise with anything but humility and care.
The clock ticks. It’s past ten.
Images of Camden on the ground, so vulnerable and hurt, flash through your mind, and you bury your face into Zayne’s chest. It reminds you too much of the possibilities of Caleb’s death. Did he suffer? You can’t imagine what it feels like to blow up from a bomb. Your heart is sick in its grief, scared and sad, and you shiver.
Zayne’s hand rubs your back, the ministrations starting graceful and smooth as water, as if his hand had been soothing you this whole time.
You bite your tongue, unsure of if you might regret saying these words next. But Zayne is nothing if not a great listener, deeply caring, and perceptive. In the silence, Zayne senses there’s a storm in your head.
“Something’s on your mind. What is it?”
You exhale, half chuckling, before growing serious again.
“I just— Camden… He… reminds me so much of Caleb— fuck— he is half of Caleb, biologically at least. I can’t— what if— it’s just, it made me think— what if I lose Camden too? I’d die— fuck— I’d—”
Zayne breaks you out of your thoughts. “But you didn’t. Camden is alive and well. You’re alive and well. You’ll raise him to survive and be safe, and have a better life than either of us could’ve dreamed of… though we both got incredibly lucky to meet each other and do what we do for work.”
Zayne eases your worries with his practicality. What he doesn’t say is that he’s equally as terrified of anything happening to Camden— or to you. The uncertainty and worry eats him alive, too. When you go to finish grading papers, Zayne says he’s going to sleep. Really, he just goes over a mental checklist of how to keep you both safe from harm, before resuming reading the latest research on congenital heart abnormalities on his laptop— or— the second latest research. He published the most recent one, after all.
You’re woken up by a crash of thunder. You lift your head from the counter, grimacing when you notice sticky saliva on your cheek, connecting to the marble. You look blearily at the shelf. The clock reads 2 AM. Zayne is likely asleep— if he was awake, he would have carried you into bed and tucked you in.
You exhale tiredly, sitting up and tilting your head to stretch your sore neck. Rain hammers down like bullets outside, and you can’t recall the last time it stormed this hard. Another roll of thunder booms, closer this time.
A loud clattering right outside the door jolts you up.
Your stare at the door, wide-eyed, heart hammering. The wind must’ve knocked a flowerpot over—
You curse silently. The weather forecast didn’t mention anything about a storm. You and Zayne would’ve moved all your plants indoors had you known—
— Another clatter, louder this time. You move swiftly now, alert and ready to get wet from moving your outdoor garden indoors.
You unlock the hatch and the door swings open in the howling wind—
Lightning flashes. Brilliant in the darkness, a jagged streak of hot-purple and tendrils— briefly painting backlight on the figure that towers over you.
Your heart knows before your mind does. You stand and gape at the ghost before you, clad in a dressy, expensive uniform. Clearly one of esteem and power, but that barely crosses your mind. It’s him. No— it can’t be—
“N—no…” you hear yourself say. You’re dead. He’s dead— Caleb— Caleb died. Who are you— You look—
Icy rain patters against your skin, chilling you, but your focus is caught in the maelstrom of your late first husband’s eyes.
Violet and bright tangerine— the same one as Camden’s— beautiful nebulas— the exact same face as your son, only older, colder, harsher—
You look like him— but you can’t be him—
The ghost who has haunted you, your motherhood, your marriage— that ghost is here, glaring down at you.
The terrifying look on his face— it cuts sharper than steel, deeper than bone.
Wind makes your hair whip across your face, your features stretched and frozen in shock, confusion, horror. It all happens that night, your life forever changed, again. It takes a solid ten seconds for your brain to catch up.
Caleb? You look—
You played pretend earlier today. You were a vicious, outwardly evil monster in your game with Camden, so blatantly harmless that your son shouted and squealed in amusement at your tactics. It was so silly, so fun.
Nothing prepares anyone to face a real monster. The ghost opens his mouth, perfect canines glinting ivory in the night.
—Evil.
“‘No?’ So you’re not happy to see me, huh, pipsqueak?”
imagine sneaking up to zayne at his workplace to help him stress relief . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Doctor ZAYNE x Fem MC reader
cw: blow!job, workplace smut, praise kink, spanking, Zayne is kinda rough with MC
A/N: ignore any typos I wrote this late at night sorry
SMUT BELOW——-
The lights were dim in the break room and the loud tick of the clock echoed in the room. Zayne had just finished performing a long surgery and longed to see his lovers face. Part of him wished he could just run back home and cuddle you but he knew he had another 12 hours left on his shift due to staff shortages. Zayne sighed and looked at the clock.
1:34 am.
only 26 minutes more until i need to do another set of rounds.
Night shifts truly were the worst. He tapped his phone to check for any notifications from you but saw nothing. He’s glad that you’re now sleeping on time and not ruining your sleep because of his schedule but a part of him longed to see your face. To hold you, caress you. He craved your scent, your taste, your touch. Only you could soothe this tiring night.
Zayne rested his head on the table, hoping to get a quick nap before his next task. A soft click of the door woke him up just as he was about to fall asleep.
“Who—?” he squinted his eyes as the bright light of the hallway hit his tired eyes.
“Shhh doctor it’s just me.”
It was you. A part of him thought that this may be just a stress-induced hallucination so he blinked several times only to realized you were here. In the break room. In the middle of the night. He was beaming with joy, but he knew it would’ve been irresponsible to encourage this behaviour.
“y/n” he sighed “as much as I love having you here, you know it’s the middle of the night right? And you have work tomorrow. You should be at home sleeping”
You sneak in and quietly close the door.
“Don’t worry Zayne, I’ll call in sick tomorrow. I haven’t seen you for so long… I was worried I’d forget your face”
Zayne chuckled and held your hand. “My love, it’s been 3 days”
“That’s too long. Anyways how’s work so far?”
“Pretty stressful, Greyson took a week off to travel to the islands with his new hunter girlfriend plus this week several staff members took sick leaves so I’m covering their shifts”
“Wait….Greyson actually managed to find a girlfriend with your advice? Your advice was terrible!”
Zayne pulls you into his lap and nuzzles his head on your back, savouring your scent. “Worked on you right?”
You grumbled but leaned into his touch.
“Zayne, I want to help you.”
“What do you mean? You being here is enough for me”
You untangled yourself from his embrace and lowered yourself on your knees. Zayne panicked.
“What are you—“
“shhhh let me”
.
.
.
You bend down and slowly unzip his pants. To your surprise he was already painfully hard, so you gently remove his underwear and find his tip glistening with pre-cum.
Zayne’s body heats up, his ears slowly turning red.
“Honey this is dangerous.”
“Relax doctor, I locked the door behind me..”
“…. y/n you’re so…”
He moans as you lick his tip. You lick around his dick and then slowly lower your head. You look up at him to find him resting his head back, moaning your name.
You tighten your grip on his thighs and bob your head up and down. Zayne bites his lip.
“y/n…. you’re so skilled…”
He moans louder and grabs your hair, pulling you down further, cause you to gag around his long dick.
“what a good girl…taking me so well. I am so close…”
You speed up your movements and he thrusts roughly into your mouth. You try your best to keep up the pace, while massaging his balls, encouraging him to come undone inside you.
You feel the wetness pooling inside your underwear. You squirm and rub your thighs together, finding some relief. Zayne was using your mouth to relieve his stress and you were loving ever second of it.
“You’re all mine..now take it all in your pretty little mouth. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”
You look up and nod your head, anticipating his release. After a few more thrusts, he pulls your head closer and releases his cum down your throat. You take it all in, savouring every drop.
Zayne breaths heavily, still reeling from the intense orgasm. He glances at the clock.
1:45 am
He smirks down at you and remarks “I have fifteen more minutes. Take off your clothes and lie on the table. We’re not done here.”
As soon as you get up, he turns you around and smacks your ass, pushing you on the table.
hii! so, i saw someone recently suggested an audio- when i tell you there’s this one creator that sounds exactly like zayne. ways of speaking and everything
like it literally implies in the audio they couldn’t help themselves with some sweets!!
Synopsis: Our favorite Dr. Zayne is facing his rut all alone! That is, until you come along and make him all better!
Warnings: Omegaverse, AlphaxOmega, Breeding, Breeding, Knotting, Overstimulation, etc.
Authors Note: Surprise! This is Zayne’s full length version of ‘Into the Slick of It’! Comments are very encouraged! Tell me who you want to see next!
‘Zayne can you answer me pls?’
You stare down at the last message you had sent to your Mate. Your head thunked against the headboard of the hotel room. Zayne was a loving, caring Alpha. He strictly removed you from your shared den despite your desperate pleas that you would care for him during his rut.
You chew your lower lip. He had taken a week off from the Hospital to deal with his Rut. But that left him alone, fighting his hormones.
The drive to your home was short, almost as short as the dress you wore. It barely covered the bottom of your ass, something you knew would drive Zayne mad.
When you entered, the normally pristine state of his house was destroyed. Your dirty clothes were thrown everywhere, there were scratch marks on corners of the wall as if something-or someone-had to basically drag themselves to the bedroom.
The gruff sounds from the bedroom were easily distinguished as an Alpha in the throes of Rut.
When you finally gained the courage to investigate the feral sounds from the bedroom, your knees went weak.
Zayne had his tie stuffed in his mouth, his button up shirt had been torn open and the shreds hung around his bulging biceps.
The poor toy-oh god, it was molded after your insides, was completely destroyed. The gooey silicone was barely holding together. His thick cock has literally torn the toy into nothing but mush.
His sharp hazel eyes snapped to you, your scent was enveloping his senses. He took a deep whiff, the lashes fluttering. His hand didn’t lessen on the sad remains of the pocket pussy.
“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” He growled through the black tie, his eyes never tearing away from you as the toy disintegrated in his hand.
The tie is soaked in his saliva, mostly drool by now from his feral attempts of silencing himself. His usually blunt fangs were now elongated and tearing through the fabric.
You approached him like you were afraid of frightening a cornered animal. His eyes locked onto the scent patches that were ever present on your glands. His pupils dilated, and he dropped the gooey mess of a toy on the ground, along with his tongue pushing the tie free from his mouth.
“What have I told you about those patches? Are you disobeying me?” His soothing voice xe was tinged with a growl. He stalked towards you with his lip pulled back in a snarl. His cold fingers tore off the patch and within seconds his nose was right against your throbbing gland.
“Z-Zayne I-“
“Silence.” He nipped at the flesh as a warning. Be quiet, and still. Or risk his teeth puncturing your sensitive skin. “These pathetic excuses for suppressants are nothing more than a facade. I could smell you down the street. This sweet cunt-“ he cups your dripping sexy under your short dress “-could have attracted any Alpha within a 5 mile radius.”
Your thighs shiver when his fingers push your sopping panties aside. A long digit probes your folds, pushing through the thin layer of slick. Zayne brings his fingers to his mouth and laps at the essence.
He was a huge lover of sweets. But nothing was sweeter than your slick.
“Is that what you want, Little Dove?” He purrs against the shell of your ear, pinching at your puffy folds until you are dripping over his palm. “Do you want just any Alpha to claim you?”
Your voice tries to stay steady, but a pathetic whimper is all that escapes you.
“N-no…” you bite your quivering lower lip. Zayne is panting, the corner of his mouth still dripping with drool. “I wanna help you.”
Zayne’s chuckle is dripping with false hope. False hope that you will escape this unscathed. “Is that you talking? Or her?” He gives an open palmed slap right on your aching pussy and your legs clench.
“Tell me, Little Dove. Do you truly think you can take this in your current state?” He walks closer, picking you up in a swift motion so your legs are wrapped around his waist. There, he presses his aching cock against your abdomen.
He’s fucking huge.
The head of his cock is nearly purple with need, leaking what you could only assume was pointless orgasms into the ruined toy at your feet. The cum pooled right above your belly button under the dress, creating a crevice of his seed. You audibly gasped at the pure size that seemed to nearly double that of his usual girth.
“See? It would go against all of my medical expertise if I put this all inside of you.” He carrys you over to the bed, which he has decorated with torn remains of your underwear, and lays you on the fabric like an offering before him. “I can smell you from here. I told you to stay away.”
He falls to his knees like the cavern between your legs is an altar. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries like removing your underwear. He tears through your panties with his fangs, barely nipping your inner thigh as he tosses them aside
“Thank you for this meal~.” That’s the last thing you remember before he digs in.
Zayne has always been a very generous lover. But the way he has your toes curling should be illegal.
“Haaa-Zayne! I can’t-I can’t-I can’t-“ is all you can mumble after your fourth orgasm. His gleaming hazel eyes shoot up and he pulls back to catch his breath. Your juices are all but dripping down his chin, painting the prettiest picture you wish you could burn into your brain.
“One more, Angel. You can do it.” His third finger joins the first two and you fear you might lose control completely. Zayne isn’t any better. He’s halfway off the bed, rutting his hips against the edge for any sort of friction. You feel bad for your poor and desperate Alpha.
But he doesn’t have the same mercy for you.
His mouth is wrapped tightly against your throbbing clit, fingers thrumming against that perfect spot inside of you. Your hips are bucking back and forth-to get away or to ride his mouth.
“Please! I can’t Zayne-need you inside!” The tears in the corner of your eyes are spilling now. You try and wipe them away with the back of your hands. Zayne gives pity, removing his mouth from your nub before lapping up the slick dripping down the crevice of your ass.
“Shh Angel, it’s okay. I got you.” He shoves your face into his throat, allowing you to inhale his pheromones like a drug. He chuckles while you nearly burrow yourself in his flesh. “My, my, did I trigger someone’s Heat?”
“Shut up-“ you hiccup with need, closing your thighs to try and stop the waft of Heat from reaching his nose. But Zayne didn’t undergo years of medical school to let his nose be fooled. His hands grasped the back of your thighs, pulling you towards him until your back hit the mattress flat. He bent your thighs until your knees met your chest.
“Hold those up f’me Little Dove.” You obeyed and gripped behind your knees like your life depended on it. He tapped his heavy cock on your weeping cunt, relishing in the soft gasp that left you. “Remember what I taught you. Deep breath, and-“ the first sting was always the worst. Despite his Rut ridden state, he would never push you beyond your limits. “I know Angel, I know.”
The burn from your inner walls is stinging. You look up at the Alpha with watery eyes. But he’s so guiding, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “H-hurts…”
“You’re behaving so well for me now. I’m so proud of you.” He praises. His hands ensnare your hips as he presses inch after inch. Your hands shoot up to push against his chest and- “Down. Do not push me away.” He punishes you with a sharp thrust that has you grasping at his forearms.
When every single inch besides his knot is fit snug inside, you let out a gasp you weren’t aware you were holding. “F-feels like I’m gonna split in half.” You were being dead serious, but Zayne’s cock only throbs. He presses two fingers to the pulse point under your jaw.
“Your heart rate is stable. Can I move?” His body is quaking with need. Who are you to deny an Alpha so desperate to knot you?
“Please-please…” you plead. Zayne eagerly pulls out just a bit, before thrusting back inside. He gives a snarl at your small gasp. “A-ah!”
“Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock makes you feel.” And you sing for him. Your legs are shaky as they struggle to wrap around his hips. But Zayne doesn’t seem to mind, if the debt in the bed was any consolation to his feelings.
He’s now feeding you every inch over and over. Foaming white rings form around the base of his cock with each thrust. “Do you regret coming here now? Now you are trapped by a beast.” He growls next to your ear. Both of his hands are lifting your hips to meet his thrust.
“Wanna be with you! Wanna be full of your knot!” You mewl. Your heat would not fully set in for a few days, but that did not stop your fertile scent from filling Zayne’s every sense.
When his first orgasm peaks, he’s pleading onto your swollen scent gland. “My knot-need to fill you-may I? I’ll give you everything. All of my clothing for your nest, the best care for you and our pups. I need to-“
“A-Alpha!”
His fangs sink into your neck over a healed mark, and he’s done for. His knot stretches you far beyond what you thought was possible. “C-Can’t-“
Zayne pulls away from his new mark, licking his bloodied fangs with a growl. “Your womb is full of my seed. You can take it.”
Zayne promised himself he’d patch you up as soon as his Rut passed, as soon as he finished pummeling your ruined pussy over the back of his couch.
He had defiled every corner of his home with his cum and your slick. It started on the bed, then he moved you to the fucking floor. With promises of-‘don’t you dare cry, you wanted this Angel.’ Then to the kitchen where he tried to feed you water while still buried inside of you because he ‘didn’t want you fainting on his cock’.
And finally on his plush couch. You lost count after 5 orgasms on his cock. Your inner thighs were soaked with slick and leftover cum.
You had tried to crawl away from the mean ‘ole doctor twice now, but each time he just pounced, keeping you pinned beneath his body weight, chasing you like a mutt who couldn’t get his fill.
“Are you refusing your Doctor? Are you refusing the best medicine I can give you, my seed?”
Your vision danced with black spots. He was insatiable. You never quite realized how massive he was, how easily he manipulated you with both his words and his strong grip. He finally gave a warning growl, pinning your hands to the small of your back.
“You wanted to play Doctor so bad, wanted to heal me of my woes. So take it.”
Your body was being used as a vessel for his seed now. You didn’t have the strength to try and escape his hold. The bed was long forgotten, probably broken at this point. His sharpened claws anchored down your hips to the once pristine couch and drilled you up and down his length.
“A-Alphaaa! Gonna-I can’t-a-ahhhh!” You sob into his home, head thrown back as you gush a final time over his cock. Zayne coos his praise into the side of your head.
“There we go. My good girl-just-“ he groans as his knot locks in place for the final time. His cum gushes out even around the taunt flesh, signaling how truly overfilled you were. His weight pins you to the couch and you squirm. “No…settle down Little One…” he coos into your hair.
An hour passes and Zayne is lapping up your dried tears with his tongue, murmuring apologies for being so rough.
But deep down, he could feel his cock swelling again. He’d call and cancel the rest of your hotel stay after he finished breeding you full again.
Hybrids of opposite species were usually complete opposites. But the world was changing, becoming more accustomed to the idea. Now when you walked on the streets you saw Hybrids of all shapes and sizes together, some even holding the hands of little mixed-species children who lapped happily at ice cream.
That was the world you lived in.
Who else were you fated to spend the rest of eternity with if not your beloved Caleb?
You were raised side by side, every good and bad moment from your childhood was shared with Caleb.
He was a canine Hybrids, a military grade to be exact. His chest was wide, shoulders broad and muscles for the hunt were always coiled like a spring.
You on the other hand, with your cute pouts and sass, was all Feline. Sharp eyes, independent attitude and all.
Learning to love each other was the easy part.
Your nearly glowing eyes looked at the clock on the wall with disinterest. But inside your anxiety made you want to hide under your bed and surround yourself with Caleb’s uniforms. He was supposed to have been home an hour ago.
The smell of your early on-set Heat was filling the apartment. You weren’t supposed to start for another week at the very least.
Caleb forbid Heat suppressants in this house.
“Fuck…” you mewled at the uncomfortable heat pooling between your legs. Every hair on your body was on edge. You were sprawled across the couch, your belly against the fabric as you fought the urge to please yourself. You found out a long time ago that trying to relieve that pressure only made it worse.
Finally. Finally the door opened, and the soft sound of humming came from the doorway. Oh, your big, goofy mate couldn’t take the hint of it hit him in the face. He pounces on you from behind (as if he could ever surprise you).
Caleb laughed and nuzzled the back of your neck. He was far too energetic and happy to notice that tell-tale signs of your Heat. “Did ya miss me Pips? Oh I missed you! Oh-“ he took the arching of your back as you trying to throw him off, not the arch of a Heat induced Omega who needed his knot. “Trying to buck me off? You’re so cute Pips. Well then-“
His jowls clamped the back of your neck, not in the claiming way you desired. More like a dog that was throwing around its favorite rope. His head twisted as he bit down around the flesh and you couldn’t keep playing the game anymore.
“Caleb~!” Oh, that tone. The way your eyes narrowed, mouth fell open and you grinded back against him. He took a sharp breath and you felt him throb through his uniform pants. He had to be sure. He snuck his head down to press his face into the side of your neck, right above your mating mark. “Stupid, big, dumb dog-“
He silenced your insults by sinking his teeth right into the healed over mark, pinning your face to the couch. Your response was a purr of pleasure, maybe even a squeak but you’d never admit it.
He lets go of your neck and laps at the trickle of blood. “Oh Pips, your Heat started early huh?”
Smug, Arrogant, Mean-
He turns you from under him so you are finally gazing up into his big beautiful purple eyes.
Handsome, Lovely, Strong-
“Help me…” you mewl out, arching your back into him. His ears twitch, his noise mimicking the motion. He moves back to his knees, stripping off his uniform too, medals and badges flying every which way.
“I know what you need Pips. Give me a sec.” His voice is doing little to soothe the ache. He peels open the buttons of his undershirt and you are on him in a second. Rubbing your face in his scent, tongue peeking out to taste his flesh. “Pretty girl, use your words ‘kay? Tell me what you need.”
Caleb was big on consent, even when he was throbbing in his tight pants. You whimper, still trying to drink in his taste. “Hey, no.” He grabs the hair on the nape of your neck, pulling you from him by mere inches. “Eyes up here.”
You try to focus your bleary eyes on his features, lips parting in a mewl. “Hurts…” you hiccup, ears flattening back on your head. Caleb coos yours cry, wiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch the stray tears. “Need you Caleb. Feel like I’m gonna die.”
Caleb gives a soft chuckle to your overdramatic display. “I’ve got ya Pips. What do you need from me?
Your hands rest on his shoulders as you pounce, straddling his lap as you grind forward against his bulging cock. “Need your Knot, need it splitting me open, need you to k-a-ahh!”
Before you could finish your pleading, he pushes his hand down the front of your pajama pants. “You’re soaked. My poor girl. Lean back, show me.” You are usually argumentative, baring your teeth and telling him not to tell you what to do. But you are tugging yours cry pants down to yous ankles, grasping the back of your thighs and presenting yourself like the most delectable prey.
Caleb can’t help the actual drool that dribbles down the side of his mouth as he stares at your glistening folds. “Don’t s-stare!” You whine, moving to close your legs again.
But Caleb shoots out his hands and grasps both of your ankles in one hand, pushing them back until your knees are in your chest. “Don’t you dare hide from me. You need this, need me.”
His gloves are still covering those long fingers you want inside of your throbbing cunt. They run down your swollen folds, his eyes flicking from your need to your eyes.
“Pretty Kitty, I’m sorry you had to deal with this today. Let me make it up to you?” And before you can answer, he’s taking off his hat, placing it on your head, and going to town between your legs. Your eyes are rolling back as he devours you. His tongue plunges into your leaking hole, gathering slick on his tongue just to push it back into you.
Your fingers extend to those cute little claws, digging into his scalp. His tail, poking out from his pants, is wagging so fast you fear he might hurt himself. But his eyes never leave your face. He craves your praise, even when the evidence of his good deeds is leaking down his chin.
“Caleb! Ca-ahhh fuck!” His gloved hand comes down sharp on your inner thigh. He pulls back to lick his chops, sharp fangs glistening with your wetness.
“Language, Pipsqueak.”
You mewl, arching your hips back up towards his face.
“Need you! Need your cock! Need your knot! Need-“ Caleb cuts you off with a lunge, pinning your knees to your chest. The motion knocks the air from your lungs. Your legs dangle over his shoulder and he rubs his aching tip between your folds.
Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
The noise could make any sinner blush. Your fluffy ears flatten to your skull as you try to find the proper words. Your blubbering out nonsense that would no doubt make you feel embarrassed afterwards.
“Here we go Kitty. Bigggg stretch! Hey no, claws away. Good fuckin’ girl~” His length is stretching your gooey sopping walls to the upmost extent. You are mindful of the claws in his shoulders even as you feel the air push from your lungs.
warnings. fem! reader, brat taming, dirty talk, rough syx, big dicks, they took it personal, petnames used: darling, sweetheart, princess, brat, pretty girl
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne
not the reaction you've expected yet zayne laughs like you've straight up offended him— a low, vicious sound dragging through the lengths of his throat as his hands dig into your flesh, dragging you down on his cock until your breathing was caught sharp in your throat.
"you wanna run your mouth, pretty girl?" his voice sinks low, dragging through the heat between you like smoke, his gaze glinting with something cruel and sweet, "then take all of it, come on, take every inch."
he grabs your ass with roughened palms, pulling you flush against him as he fucks into you with a brutal snap of his hips, "really, so small?" he spits, "you really wanna lie like that when you're leaking down your thighs?" as he starts pounding into you like he's trying to prove a point, thrust until your slick walls take his shape, pulse around him like he's the only thing you've ever known as each thrust felt heavier than the last— utterly thick and brutal rubbing on your walls, so deep it made your eyes roll back.
"can't even handle me," he growls, "you keep trying to squirm away— where's all that bratty shit show now?" you're crying from overstimulation, in fact, everything was just way too hot and too wet, your ass tingling where his hands kept slapping it, squeezing and holding you into place.
"darling," he pants, "you said it, yeah? now you take it," and zayne doesn't stop, not until he's spilling into you with a broken groan, pressing down so you cannot move an inch, grinding through the aftershocks just to make sure it sticks.
"that feel small?" he exhales through his teeth, something like a laugh dying in his throat as he sinks deeper into your warmth, "cause you'll be leaking for me for hours."
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier
"...what did you just say?" confusion draws over xavier's facial features as his voice drops into a tone that doesn't even sound human anymore— turning quite disbelieving as his pupils blow wide, staring at you like he might devour you whole.
"you're really gonna say i'm small in the middle of it?" to tease him a little further, you decide to utter it once more, just to see what he'll do and fuck— he snaps, rightfully so as he grabs your thighs, spreads you open with both hands, wide enough that it burns, so you can see the outline of him as he slides back in, "does that feel small?" he snarls, voice thick with possession and something even worse— the urgency to prove you wrong.
"look at your pussy, baby, swallowing me like it's starving— look how fucking deep i am," and you do look as it ruins you, the way he stretches you, the fat base of his cock dragging against something so sensitive it made your stomach seize up, the wet squelch of your cunt fluttering around every inch he buries inside.
he draws back just enough to look, eyes gleaming like he's studying something rare and irreplaceable as his palm snaps sharp against your inner thigh, not out of rage but precision— a sound so wet and filthy it bloomed between you as he watches the recoil with a kind of cold interest that bordered on worship.
"don't lie, you're dripping, look, and i've barely even started moving," as he turns his head down and spits— right where you're joined, thumb smearing the globule of saliva into your clit and mixing it up with the filthy mess, like he wanted to make you see how wrong you were.
"i'll ruin you slow," xavier promises, voice husky, "fuck you until you can't sit without thinking of me, if this is small—" he thrusts deep and laughs, your vision whitening out, "—then you better pray i never really stretch you open."
your nails dig into his back like you're trying to anchor yourself to reality, in fact, to him, to anything, really— because you see, the way he fits inside you was devastating, your stomach coiling and wracked with the agony of being sprawled too rough, his cum thick and endlessly coming in white, warm ribbons as he groans with sin and need, as if your bodies were made only to drown together.
your breath catches onto every gasp as if even the air has become too much for you to endure, your hips stuttering and grinding without meaning, most importantly without will, just chasing the friction that made you feel alive as his cock was the only thing grounding you towards your pleasure.
a fractured hiss slips from him, the sound of a man too far gone as his jaw clenched, eyes wild, like your cunt was some divine punishment and he was utterly grateful to be ruined by it, "that's right, feel how big i really am, sweetheart."
"say it," xavier hisses like he's savoring it, like he wanted you to hear the desperation in his lungs, "say i'm not small— say you love how i fill you up," and you do, because it's true, correct? every single inch of you was wrecked by now, opened up around his cock like you were made to stay there.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel
"oh?" rafayel gives you an intrigued look, his eyes flicking to where you're spread wide for him, all flushed and aching and already gushing around his cock yet spelling out something so laughable, "small?" you don't get the chance to respond before he pushes in with one fast snap of hips— rougher than he had any right to go as he smiles when your legs begin to shake immediately.
"funny," he hums, "considering the way you're clenching down on me like you cannot let go," he stops mid thrust when you whisper it once more, his cock stilled inside within a long pause as you can hear the tick of his jaw when he exhales.
he leans over you now, hand palming your breasts hard enough to make you gasp out into his mouth, "but you're trembling," he drawls underneath his exhale with his jaw locked, like the feel of your walls tensing around him was too much— like it was destructive on him of how tight you were, how greedy and how bratty you were to him yet rafayel still wanted more.
the man watches you like he's analyzing a painting, "you seem to struggle from something so small?"
"you feel that, no?" he growls, hips grinding in slow, devastating circles, "that's me stretching you out, filling every fucking inch— claiming you, so tell me again, come on, who's too small?"
at this point, you cannot even form the simplest of words, drooling down your own chin as your cunt was squelching and twisting around him loud enough to echo within your bedroom as he just grins filthily.
"that's what i thought," rafayel whispers, his tongue moves in slick circles over your tits, voice low like a secret carved out of sin as if he's telling your body what he's going to do without ever asking, like your entire soul was already promised to him, "you're gonna keep me inside for hours, sweetheart, i'll keep cumming until your body knows the shape of me."
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus
what got sylus the most was the way you've said it to him— quite soft yet smug, with a saccharine coated pout like you're honestly disappointed in his ability to pleasure you.
what else was he supposed to do other than still himself inside you in shock, the deafening silence that followed next not really being silence, because in reality the atmosphere was charged— you could compare it to an animatic stillness as his grip on your wrists were slowly tightening just enough to make you shiver under him, "you know what you just said?" his voice echoes softly against your cheek, too soft, in fact, as if he was trying the words out on his tongue like a wine he's about to spit out.
the laugh he lets out next was the last warning you'll get, because sylus doesn't say anything else— he just grabs both of your ankles and folds you in half, hips snapping forward with a brutal slam that punches the breath straight out of your chest.
"so small?" he grits, voice breaking into something high and ragged, hips jerking as he fucks you into the mattress like he's attempting to fuck the thought straight out of your darling skull, "you're creaming all over me like you need it, and you've got the nerve to lie like that?"
your tits bounce from the force of his hips, and of course, of course, his hands are all over them, squeezing and pinching your nipples, spreading the mounds of flesh as if trying to claim every inch he's obsessed over as he leans in, biting down just under your nipple, growling, "gonna call me small when you can't even take all of me?"
"all this mess, and you still wanna lie?" and you feel it— the tension between your legs, the burning stretch and your swollen folds, how slick your pussy sounded every time he slams himself back in, every twitch of his thickness dragging against your soaked walls, your body straining and holding, straining and holding, the sheer pressure of him inside you enough to make your vision go halo, like you're being reshaped from the inside out into something that belonged to him.
alas, you put a mental sticker inside your head to never lie to sylus again— you simply can't, in fact, you're already crying from the rough pace he's going for, shaking so bad he has to hold you in place by your wrists just to keep going.
you feel him add additional grinds on your pussy whenever you swallowed him whole, his tip pinching against your sweet spot every time he sinks too deep— like he's reshaping your frame, like your body was always meant to swell around the size of him.
you sob out his name while being stuffed full, thighs shaking from the pressure as he bears down on you, a rhythm built from slow destruction, the pressure inside you mounting as your belly contracts tight, your cunt milking him raw and seizing from how thick and hard he moves and shoves his hips, "there, there's your truth, not so small now, am i?"
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb
caleb pauses, his brain rewiring and blinking down at you in complete disbelief, "you really think that's funny?" he asks you earnestly mid thrust, like he didn't just bottom out and leave you totally whiny underneath his broad figure.
you nod devilishly, lips curled up into a smug little grin when, well, that's what does it, really— with that he leans into you like a challenge, tucking a hand behind your head with his fingers tangled tight in your hair, fucking through the tightness of your hole, all the way until you choke up his name, your smirk suddenly crumbling.
caleb kisses the corner of your tear stricken eye, his ragged breathing warm against your cheek as he coos, "not so small now, huh? it's like your body knows who it belongs to."
the man only just begun and doesn't think your thighs shaking around his waist was enough for you to understand to never say that again, not when your mouth falls open with a strangled moan of his name, not when you attempt to whine that it's too much when he just shushes you sweetly with his soft lips.
"hm, i forgot i'm dating a comedic," he says it like it hurts him and for a second, you see it flicker in his eyes, real heartbreak, or just feigned innocence? before his gaze twists into something dark, near devotional, "princess, oh princess," he coos, grabbing your face in both hands and fucking into you slow and tender like he's trying to reach your heart from underneath, "no, you don't mean that, you're just being cruel, aren't you? just trying to get me to break?"
his cock pulses deep inside you, thick and dragging over every trembling ridge of your cunt as your toes curl and your legs kick just a little, involuntary from the stretch, "you feel that, baby? you feel how your pussy's milking me already? tell me— does something small make your breath hitch like that?"
to caleb, there was nothing more mesmerizing than hearing your voice falling apart, adoring it whenever he's making you taste the consequences of every bratty little lie you've told him, "oh, you're perfect, you're so damn tight i can feel everything, you're gonna take it all for me, every inch, yeah? and then i'll ask if you still think it's small, okay?"
your whines come out in shattered bursts, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, mind fraying at the edges from the slow, relentless drags of his thick cock grazing at your walls, in fact, you're shaking under him as he plays with your body, brain emptied by the way he keeps filling you up.
praise kink: okay so he gets off of being praised, like tell him he's the only one in the world who can satisfy you. Tell him he's the only one you need, and he'll show you just how well he can pound you.
lingerie kink: something about sneaking into the lingerie stores of the girl he's loved since childhood, the shedding of innocence and seeing you as an adult for the first time.
dacryphilia: I believe he has a savior complex. Seeing you cry and call out his name to save you would turn him on 100%.
powerplay: he's the colonel ffs he def gets off having authority and would love to display it in bed, having you at his mercy. The two of you get mutually turned on by this.
golden shower: The dawg in him will pee on you to mark his territory, especially after he sees literally any MALE interact with you, he'd feel the need to drown you in his piss and show you who you belong to.
➸ sylus
cockwarming: sylus is someone who needs external stimuli while working, since he tends to work all day. What is a better stimulus than your warm walls hugging his lonely cock as he types away on his laptop, or attends calls with his dealers, or cleans his guns...
body worship: will 10/10 be bowing down to every inch of your body. No matter how insecure you are, HE can't BELIEVE that all of you belongs to him AND he's allowed to touch it. Expect a lusty compliment every 10 minutes, sex or no sex.
sensory deprivation: canoncially believes that switching off one sense heightens the other so.... expect a lot of blindfolds and other innovations he might come up with to please you to the fullest
motorcycle sex: some days he wants to ride his motorcycle, some days he wants you to ride him, atop the motorcycle sfhsfk. he'd take you out on a ride to see the nightlights and you'd find a spot dark enough to climb on top of him and ride out the adrenaline rush.
size kink: big fat dragon cock, you'll definitely need to be trained to take in. It will take a few sessions but Sylus is more than patient.
➸ xavier
roleplay: I think specifically like... he wants to roleplay as hunters who bang bang after killing off a particularly difficult bunch of wanderers after a perfect display of teamwork? I can see it as something he'd want to do in real life but can't so he makes up this scenario in bed.
consensual somnophilia: he sleeps so much, he gives you the permission to play with him even when he's asleep. He'd often, to his delight, wake up to you sucking him off as he giggles drowsily
groping: possessive kitty, will grope you in public if anyone even looks at you. He'd grope your ass anyway frequently but he'd bolden up and grope your boobs too.
anal: ... he loves your other cavities but the shitter is his favorite place to nest.. something about the deviation from the norm and the chance to plug in 3 fingers into your pussy while he fucks your ass really gets him off.
also, golden shower: would def pee on you too. Wants you to swallow it mostly. Does it more than caleb, and not to mark his territory - he just likes peeing on you. Love when the sound of the trickle bounces off your tits.
➸ rafayel
waxplay: well melt some candles with his evol and pour it over you. It really resembles his cum. Spreads it around your body to guage your reaction.
neon paint play: Loves having sex in the dark but also wants to see the shape of you properly. Paints your curves with neon paint as he watches you illuminated breasts marked with glowing Xs bounce around in the dark as he thrusts into you.
underwater sex: again, he loves watching the flabs of your body, especially your breasts and ass bounce in the water when he pounds into you. He also feels this is his natural habitat and the most natural way for him to make love to you.
also roleplay: he'd love to play the hostage with you as the capturer, sorry not sorry.
foot fetish: hear me out, him licking your toes and rubbing up wet strips up your sole and kissing your heels. He wishes your feet were a tail but they aren't so he shows his admiration for you by lathering up your legs.
➸ zayne
bondage: he likes it when you take away his ability to move. He's the one the likes to be bound up so he can frown and snarl at you while you have his way with him. Closeted sub boy.
nipple play: loves loves lovessss suckling on your nipples like a baby. Wants to have you boobs constantly in his mouth, rent free. Will especially need a nip session post a tiring work day.
car sex: He has an AUDI for a reason and it's not mileage or performance. It's to make it reek with the smell of sex after you and him go multiple rounds atop the expensive leather of the back seats. He makes sure your head never hits the car interior
face sitting: Sit on him, sit, put all your weight on the wicked curve of his nose. Don't just hover over his face, plant yourself DOWN. He will give you the best head of your life while his angry cock slaps itself on his abdomen, waiting for its turn.
breeding kink: Dr. Zayne wants to knock you up so bad but you aren't ready yet. So whenever you decide to be on birth control, he will absolutely fill you up with his seed and watch it pool inside you, guaging your fucked out expression and dreaming of the pretty babies you will make in the future.
‘Schlick, Schlick, Hooray!’ : LADS Omegaverse, Heat Version
Synopsis: The ‘Heat’ version of ‘Into the Slick of It’! Your Heat has begun and without the help of Suppressants, only your Alpha can soothe this fire.
Warnings: Omegaverse, Knotting, Oral (m&f), Talks of Pups/Eggs, use of ‘Gege’, Caleb likes seeing you cry, Scenting, Marking, it’s another dirty one.
⋆˚🐾˖° Xavier
Xavier tried his best to keep you at an arms length as he tried to nurse you through your Heat. He had came knocking the moment the alarm on his phone went off, signaling your impending Heat.
The Hunters Association had cut back on Suppressants for Omegas, something for ‘budget cuts’.
The state he found you in could only be described as a fucking wreck. The sweat had already kicked in. You were wearing one of his t-shirts with nothing underneath.
When you opened the door, his eyes immediately went to the slick staining your inner thighs.
“Shit-“
“Help me.” Your whimper broke him. Forgotten, was the fruit basket in his hands. He backed you into your own apartment.
Your hands were immediately trying to tear at his sweatshirt. The feeling of his abs under your fingertips made you want to be under the flesh in more ways than one.
Clothing was torn left and right. The race to the bedroom was filled with you clinging to Xavier, one of his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist.
“Xavier, need you inside. Need you filling me up. My Prince-My Love-“ You dry humped against the tent in his pants. His normally stoic facade cracked at the seams.
Your back hits the comforter and you can’t get your hands on him fast enough. His fingers thread to your hair.
“Starshine, you don’t need to-“
“Shut up.” It was the only thing you say before you pulls down his pants and underwear, stuffing the head of his cock snugly in your mouth. You ignore the burn in your throat as you take him inch by inch.
“S-Shit-“ he stumbled over his words. You look up at him through damp lashes when your lips finally meet the base. Your drooling, moaning around his delicious length like it was the last thing you’d ever taste. Your wandering hands cant sit still for long. “Dirty girl, are you touching yourself?”
Xavier knew the answer. Even before the scent of your arousal hit his nose, or the sound of your fingers sliding through your slick folds reached his ears. His hips snap in a rolling motion, cooing down at you as you make a mess of yourself.
“Such a filthy Omega. What would you do without me, hm? Waste that perfectly good slick on your own fingers?” His voice was always so sweet. But when those filthy words fell from his mouth, you can only moan around his length.
His pretty cockhead bullied the back of your throat over and over again. Your tongue flattened to the underside, a mixture of gags and wet noises filling the bedroom. Xavier used your hair as leverage as he chased his own release.
“Yeah? Yeah, my Pretty Girl. Gonna choke on my cum, hm?” His own sense were overwhelmed by your pheromones. His Alpha instincts screamed at him to take you, to dominate you, to make you his all over again.
He barely pulled his throbbing length out just in time for his thick, hot ropes of seed to coat your face. “Aht! Mouth open-that’s it. Good Girl.”
The final few strings coated your eager tongue. His long fingers pressed on your tongue to smear his cum around your tastebuds.
“We’re not done yet. Ass up.”
⋆˚🐾˖° Rafayel
You didn’t mean to walk so far in the midst of your Heat. It had hit you right after your final mission against a tough Wanderer. You thought you could make it to Rafayel’s before it sat in fully.
But when you showed up to his Studio, reeking of your Heat, he was already waiting with the door wide open. He met you at the doorway and pulled you in before you could even explain yourself.
Without a second thought, Rafayel moves swiftly across the studio, his long legs eating up the distance between you. He wraps his strong arms around your waist and lifts you up, carrying you to the makeshift nest he’s created for you without breaking eye contact. His hands tremble with need as he begins to undress you.
His heart aches at the sight of you, so deep in Heat that you're already apologizing. He gently lays you down on the bed, his hands caressing your face tenderly. “Shh, it's not your fault, my love. You didn't do anything wrong."
Rafayel quickly removes his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. He can smell your need, thick and heavy in the air. He climbs onto the bed, settling between your legs. His hands roam over your body, soothing and comforting as he tries to calm your racing heart.
You are rubbing your face in the crook of his neck, marking him with your own scent. “Missed you. Need you so much.”
His breath catches at your words, one hand tangling in your hair while the other trails down your side. "Missed you more than anything, Cutie. Gods, that scent..." He nuzzles against your neck, marking you back with his own smell. “How long has this been building?"
Before you can even answer him, his nimble fingers push between your legs to feel just how soaked in Slick you are. That cocky smile of his returns
He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your lips before trailing down your neck. “Looks like someone's been a very good girl, all hot and bothered for her Alpha." His fingers circle your entrance, teasing you with gentle pressure. “Soaked and ready, just for me."
"Your poor little body, aching like this..." He adds another finger, starting a slow rhythm as he speaks. “Did you try to take care of yourself before coming here?" He already knows the answer - the raw need in your scent tells him everything. “You didn't, did you?"
“Came straight from work. I-I couldn’t. You know I can’t do it myself.” Your nails dig into his shoulders, a needy whine tearing from your throat.
His eyes flash with primal desire at your words and the way you cling to him. “That's my girl..." He removes his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He teases your entrance slowly, letting you feel every inch. "Only I can give you what you need."
"Please..." You beg, your hips bucking up to try and force him inside. Your face is flushed, hair a mess from your frantic markings. “Need you inside me, need your knot!“ You sob the last part, the desperation clear in your voice.
Rafayel chuckles at your need. He reaches over to the bedside table where a messy paint pallet rests. He grabs the clean paintbrush right as he starts to fill you with his cock. “You stretch so beautifully around me.”
He praises. He lowers the paintbrush to tease around your nipples, watching them pebble under his administration. You cry out and try to jerk away your chest but he silenced you with a punishing thrust. “Ohhh, easy Cutie. Feels so nice when you gush around me like this.”
You nearly lost your fucking mind when the bristles touched your clit.
⋆˚🐾˖° Zayne
Zayne had thrown out your Suppressants. He’d personal ensure the physician who prescribed them to you at such a young age would never practice in medicine again.
You had stumbled into his office. He wasn’t even sure how you had made it here in one piece by the way you smelled alone. You barely had both feet in the door before he rushed to lock the door to his office.
His fingers were peeling open your eye, shining the pen-light into your pupil. You were pleading as he examined your Heat-stricken symptoms. “Z-Zayne I need them. Just one. Please!” Your pleads fall on deaf ears.
“Absolutely not. Those placebos only mask the issues, they do not solve it.” Zayne removes his glasses just as you launch yourself at the Doctor.
“Need your cock, Dr Zayne. No, need your knot.” You plead on a broken whimper. Zayne tries to just talk to you as a physician, and not an Alpha. But how could he ignore those pretty pleas. You were practically humping his dress pants, clinging to his lab coat.
“This is what you needed right?” His voice is almost mocking when he has you laid out on the examination table, knuckles deep in your squelching cunt. The latex from his gloves are too slick, not enough pressure. You try to squirm under his touch, you need more.
“No Darling,” he pins you down with a strong hand on your stomach, pinning you back. “Preparation is key. I’d like to avoid tearing you.” His fingers move faster, clipping that spot inside that makes those white stars flash behind your eyelids.
“Or maybe-“ he purrs, rubbing your stomach as though he’s petting an affectionate cat. “Being torn apart is what you need.”
Those words have you spasming under his touch, soaking the thin paper sheet on the examination bed. You Heat is blossoming in your belly and as soon as one orgasm leaves you, you crave to be filled yet again. You grasp at the edge of his lab coat sleeve which is now wearing evidence of your Slick.
“Inside-oh Please!”
“Patience.” His fingers quickly pull his throbbing length from it confines, pants barely shimmied down his hips. His cock is furious, the tip nearly purple with need, leaking already. It’s teasing your dripping folds and you gasp, afraid you might come undone right then and there.
When the bulbous head presses forward you tear at the thin bed cover, back arching. Zayne hushes your cries, hand over your mouth. His knee lifts to the edge of the bed for the right angle and-
You cry out loud behind his hand as he enters you in a single thrust. The burn is so delicious, so welcome, but your breath leaves your lungs at the pure size of him. “Shh, shhh…just take it. I took all that time stretching you. Open up for me. Good girl.”
The rickety bed is on its last legs as Zayne is letting you anywhere but go. His glasses have slipped down his nose while he growls and slobbers against your scent gland.
“You are making a mess all over my office.” His chuckle is nearly a put when he pulls your hair away from the crook of your neck. “If I ever catch you taking those suppressants again, I’ll keep you locked away and force you to ride out your Heat on your own. Understand?”
Oh you understood alright.
Understood enough to cream on his cock again.
⋆˚🐾˖° Caleb
If you thought Caleb was going to leave you alone through your Heat, you were sorely mistaken.
He made a makeshift nest for you right in his apartment. He even took a few days off work to ensure his Pretty Omega was taken care of.
He dropped off everything you needed at the door.
The first two days were fine, besides the sweet smell of your pheromones leaking through the door. But on the third day, it was like fighting off a caged tiger.
“No Pipsqueak, c’mon let’s get you back in bed.” He had tried to pry you off of him. You promised him you only need to come out to use the bathroom.
But here you were stripped down to nothing, arms wrapped around him while your Slick coated the living room carpet.
“If you make me go back in there I’ll die.” You sobbed out, big crocodile tears spilling over your flushed cheeks. “You can take care of me like you used to when we lived at Gran’s. I’ll even be quiet like I used to be. Won’t make a noise when I take your-“
“Enough.” That voice was something he used for his soldiers, not his darling Pips. So when he snapped and those tears started to spill faster, his strength dissolved. “Hey no, none of that.”
He hated seeing you cry.
Well.
Except in this current moment.
Your knees were pressed to your chest, it had been so long since he’d been inside of you. Each time felt like you were back in your Senior year of high school when he took your virginity.
You were crying.
You weren’t sure if they were tears of pain from the stretch, or from finally getting a knot to stuff your hole.
“I’ll be good, so good! Feel so good inside! F-Fuck Caleb-“
“Pretty Omega’s don’t cuss at their Alpha’s Pipsqueak.” His dog tags bump your chin as he begins stuffing you full of his cock.
He leans down and laps at your tears, letting the salty taste linger for a moment.
His strong hands push the back of your legs up until you are nearly bent in half. He watches his cock slide in and out of your sopping hole like it has him mesmerized.
“You wanted to cry so bad Pips. Cry for Gege, cry for your Alpha.”
His thrust is so punishing it feels like he may be a ‘Gege’ shaped hole in your guts by the time he’s done. But it’s exactly what you need. You need him to drill every thought out of your pretty head.
“That’s right Princess, oh I know, I’m so mean,” he fakes a pout as another one of his thrust send you spiraling “Tell me how mean Gege is.”
⋆˚🐾˖° Sylus
Contrary to belief, Sylus is far from a forgetful Alpha. He has the days of your Heat marked down on every calendar available. He has you in the best nest money could buy. No price is too high for his little Omega.
He’s sprawled out in his desk chair as he types away at his laptop. He can smell you before he sees you. You are clutching one of his shirts to your chest so tightly it might mold with your skin.
“Kitten, you should be in bed.”
“It started.”
“I know, Sweetie.” He pushes his chair back from the desk and opens his arms. He knew your Heat can be a frightful experience. Especially after taking Suppressants for so long. But he’d convinced you to stop taking them, that they were damaging to your body.
You crawl into his lap and he purrs, his own scent calming you just a little. “Where does it hurt Sweetie?”
He knows exactly where it aches. But he wants your permission of course. You grab his hand, guiding it down the expanse of your stomach and into the soaked panties you were wearing. “H-here.”
“Oh Kitten,” his finger squelch through your Slick and you squeak and cling to his arm. “Shh, it’s alright. Your Alpha will take care of you. Just relax.”
The nest he had spent so much time maintaining was in disarray. His tongue and fingers draw out a third orgasm and you feel like you might explode. “S-Sy! No more, no more, I need your knot!”
Sylus pulls his lips from your throbbing clit as he licks his lips. Your juices coat everywhere from his nose to his lips. He chuckles as he withdraws his fingers and slick gushes onto the sheets. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”
You let out a whine that says ‘if you don’t fuck me, I’ll lose my mind’
The first thrust is the hardest. His cock almost bends as he tries to fit it inside of your sopping hole. “Relax Kitten.”
“I-I can’t!”
“You can, yes you can. Oh, there we go. Good girl, I’m inside. Can you feel it?”
Oh God you can feel it.
You can feel how he’s taking up every piece of your guts, belly, fuck it’s almost like you can feel it in your chest.
“Oh, easy now Sweetie. You don’t want to inflate my ego. My Knot is doing enough inflating for the both of us.”
Sylus lathers your face and throat with his tongue and fangs. He wants to be like this forever, he never wants to let you go again. Your souls and bodies are intertwined in a dance that is millions of years old.
“I’m never letting you go again. So take this fuckin’ Knot and be mine again.”
hello! i wanted to ask if you could write a scenario where the boys find the reader's self harm scars that the reader has been hiding for years? i know it's a difficult subject and feel free to ignore this ask or change up the request however you wish if it's something you're not comfortable with. no pressure at all! my favorites are zayne and sylus but i'm not picky, you can write the prompt for someone else if you'd rather! your writing is amazing and i really appreciate you sharing your work! :)
an: thank you for trusting me with this request, wherever you are, I’m sending you love.
sylus – protective, soft but quietly wrecked
he didn’t mean to see. he was tracing your skin with those featherlight touches. his usual calm reverence written into every movement.
but then his fingers stilled. “…angel,” he murmured.
you froze. he didn’t ask what it was. he already knew. his jaw clenched and for a second his fingers tightened around you. but when you tried to move, tried to hide, he caught your hand and kissed the scar instead. then another, and each that he could find.
“this… this doesn’t scare me,” he said thickly. “but it hurts that you went through something like that alone.”
he held you all night and whispered that he was proud of you. that you were still here. that he’d protect you from every shadow, including the ones in your own heart.
zayne – devastated, gentle, desperately wants to understand
he spotted it when you were changing. your shirt had barely lifted before he saw the marks. his entire expression dropped, his entire body went rigid.
“…baby?” his voice cracked. “can i… ask you something?”
you turned away, but he rushed to you. not to demand answers or to see, but to wrap you in his hoodie, pressing his forehead to yours.
“i’m not mad,” he whispered. “i just… i wish i’d known. i could’ve held you when it was bad. i still can. please don’t hide from me.”
that night, he made you hot cocoa and wrapped you in his clothes, in his blanket, in his arms. and let you talk or cry or say nothing at all. he sat beside you on the floor, lacing your fingers together, as if to silently say, “you’re not alone anymore.”
he noticed the scars when you reached to grab something. you didn’t even realize until you saw his eyes on your wrist. he didn’t speak right away, because what do you say when the love of your life was hurting and you didn’t know?
“tell me who hurt you,” he said. “and if it was you… tell me what made it feel like the only choice.”
his voice didn’t carry judgment. just fury that something in this world—something in your past, or even right now—could carve that pain into someone he loved. he kissed the skin gently and said, “scars don’t scare me. but not knowing what you’re carrying does. so talk to me. or let me hold it with you.”
and he did. whatever you need, caleb would give it to you. forever.
xavier – emotional, deeply shaken, poetic and present
you didn’t think he’d notice. not through the long sleeves, but xavier always noticed everything about you. one night, curled in bed, you shifted, and your sleeve rode up. he saw. his heart dropped before beating so fast, like it tried to claw out of his chest, and to yours. to surround you with love, warmth and protection.
his fingers ghosted over the mark. “was this pain?” he asked, his voice hollow. “or… silence?”
you didn’t answer right away. but your eyes brimmed with tears and that was enough. he took your wrist in both hands, kissed every inch with reverence, like he could rewrite what had happened with softness.
“these scars,” he whispered, “don’t define you. but they’re part of your story. and i’m not afraid of your shadows. i love all of you. even the aching parts.”
rafayel – surprisingly serious, stays with you through every emotion
he usually makes everything lighthearted until he saw the faint scars on your thighs. his voice dropped to a serious low. “you did this to yourself?”
you nodded, too scared to look at him. he didn’t joke or tease. he stepped forward and knelt in front of you, resting his cheek gently against your leg, as a quiet act of devotion.
“i’ve made mistakes, too,” he said softly. “you don’t have to hide the hurting from me. i want the real you, even the parts you think are unlovable.”
he pressed a soft kiss to the scar before he got up again, and wrapped you tightly into his arms. “i got you. no matter how heavy the pain is, we’ll carry it together. okay?”
final words - you are not your scars. you are not broken. you are worthy of gentle love, understanding hands and unwavering presence.
and my dear? you’re so strong for being here.
these boys—sylus, zayne, caleb, xavier & rafayel—they wouldn’t run from your past. they’d stay, heart first.
caleb isn’t the type of alpha who demands. he asks. soft voice, patient hands, eyes that never leave yours. but his scent? it wraps around you like velvet, thick and grounding, impossible to ignore.
deeply controlled rut cycles. he’s trained to suppress them with medication if needed, but that doesn’t mean the instincts disappear. when he’s around you during your heat, he gets quiet, still, too focused.
“do you need me?” he asks, knuckles brushing your wrist. “you don’t have to say yes. just nod.” you do. every time.
he’s a nurturer at heart. loves scenting you before bed, especially when you’re anxious. presses his face into your neck and murmurs things like:
“i’m here.”
“you’re safe with me.”
“let me carry it for you.”
but there’s possession under that gentleness. he doesn’t want to own you. he wants to devote himself to you, body and soul.
during your heat, he’s focused on your comfort first. pain meds, soft blankets, heated scentscapes, and then, if you want him, he’ll ruin you slowly.
so gentle at first. fingers between your thighs, soft kisses along your scent gland. “tell me if it’s too much,” he says, even as his knot starts to swell.
and when you whimper for him? the control frays. “omega,” he groans, voice breaking. “you feel so—fuck, you’re perfect. you were made for me.”
knots you with careful reverence. murmurs praise as you tremble beneath him. cleans you up gently afterward.
very quiet aftercare. strokes your hair. kisses your forehead. laces your fingers together and holds you tight until you fall asleep knotted to him, safe and claimed.
he doesn’t see rut or heat as shameful. he sees them as intimate and sacred. the most vulnerable, instinctive parts of you being entrusted to him.
and he never, ever forgets what a gift that is.
his first rut with you:
caleb thought he could handle it. he’d prepared, like he always does. meditated, dosed early, made contingency plans. but he didn’t account for you.
your scent was everywhere in his space, lingering on his bed, his clothes, in the air. it curled around his thoughts like smoke, like static.
he didn’t even realize he was going into rut until it was too late. the meds failed. his body burned, his skin itched, and his thoughts all narrowed down to you.
“you shouldn’t be here,” he said when you stepped into the room. but his pupils were already blown, voice thick with strain, jaw locked like he was holding himself back from lunging.
you whispered, “i want to stay.”
he broke.
the moment you moved toward him, caleb caught you in his arms and buried his face in your neck with a low, aching growl. he inhaled like your scent could save him. like he’d die without it.
“omega,” he rasped, voice full of awe and desperation. “you’re really here. you want me?”
the rut took hold then, hot and primal, but even while trembling with need, he was still caleb.
so gentle. so reverent. stripping you slowly, kissing every inch of skin like he was memorizing you. letting you climb into his lap and guide his hands with little whimpers and needy sighs.
“let me take care of you,” he begged, lips trembling against your mating gland. “please. i’ll be good. i’ll make it good for you.”
and god, he did.
every thrust came with soft gasps and low growls, your name whispered over and over like a prayer. he held you tight as his knot swelled, moaning your name like it was the only word he remembered.
“gonna fill you up,” he gasped. “mark you. keep you safe. no one else can have you. not now. not ever.”
but then you cupped his cheek. and his voice softened again. “does it hurt?” he asked, eyes full of worry even as you pulsed around his knot. “i don’t want to hurt you.”
you shook your head, smiling through the haze. “you feel perfect.”
and caleb, sweet, kind alpha caleb, broke down. kissed you like it meant everything. like you were the only thing anchoring him through the heat.
when you both finally stilled, tied together and drenched in heat-slick and love, he held you against his chest and whispered, “thank you for trusting me.”
his voice was hoarse, cracked, shaking. “i’ll never forget it.”
paring : wolf!zayne, sylus, caleb and xavier x fem!reader.
synopsis : You got lost in the woods, just trying to find a way out. Instead, you found him—half-wolf, all muscle, and painfully in heat. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. One look, one growl, and you knew exactly what he wanted. And god… you wanted it too
note : I FINALLY FINISHED THIS, IT FELT LIKE YEARS!! Also didn’t do rafayel since I was too tired and didn’t feel like it. also there might be alot of mistakes since it ain’t proofread. ✌🏼
－ZAYNE ．
You were just trying to find your way out.
A wrong turn, a dead GPS, and an eerie quiet. The deeper into the woods you went, the heavier the air got. The moon hung low—full and yellow—watching.
Then you saw him.
Tall. Bare-chested. Black ears pinned back. Broad shoulders rising with ragged breaths. Zayne.
But not the calm Zayne you knew.
This one had hazel green eyes blown wide, tail twitching like a metronome behind him, body radiating heat like he was burning alive from the inside out.
“Y-you okay?” you asked, barely able to speak with how hard your throat clenched.
He didn’t answer right away. Just stared.
Then sniffed.
Hard.
And groaned. Low. Deep. The kind that made your knees wobble.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, voice hoarse. “I was trying to be alone.”
“Zayne…” You took a small step closer. “Are you—?”
“In heat.” His jaw clenched. “It’s… hard to fight.”
You swallowed. He looked huge. Wild. His muscles twitched, like he was holding himself back with the last bit of sanity he had left.
He took a shaky breath, ears flattening as he forced out, “You need to leave, sweetheart. I can’t trust myself.”
But you didn’t run.
Because fuck, the way he looked at you—like prey he’d die for—had your panties soaked. Your thighs clenched.
He noticed.
His nostrils flared again. “You’re… turned on.”
You nodded.
That’s all it took.
He was on you—hands gentle but firm, pushing you against a tree. He kissed you like he’d waited years for it, like his tongue could taste the want leaking out of you.
“I’m sorry,” he growled into your mouth, grinding into you. “You smell too good. You’re not safe with me—unless you say yes. Say it now, and I’ll stop. Please. Say it.”
Your body arched to his.
“Zayne,” you gasped, “Please. Fuck me. I want it—I want you.”
His restraint shattered.
He growled, spun you around, yanked your panties down and pressed your back against a tree trunk rough with bark. His cock—thick, hot, leaking—rubbed between your soaked folds.
“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make sure you’re too full to walk. You sure about this?”
“Breed me,” you begged.
And that was it.
He plunged in slow, dragging a moan from your throat. He was massive. You swore you could feel every inch rearranging you, kissing the back of your pussy.
“That’s it… good girl,” he whispered, holding your hips as you trembled. “You’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well.”
Crack!
You yelped when his hand smacked your ass.
“Stay still,” he growled. “Let me fuck this little pussy like it’s mine.”
He slammed in again, deeper, harder. You gasped, arching against the tree, toes curling in your boots.
You couldn’t even speak. Just drooled and cried out while he used your cunt like it was built for him.
Then—he bit.
Teeth sank into your shoulder, not enough to draw blood, but enough to mark. Your pussy clenched around him, fluttering as you came.
“That’s it,” he groaned, voice feral. “Mark you—so everyone knows. You’re mine. Say it.”
“M’yours,” you slurred.
He laughed softly, wrecked and breathless. “God, you’re so pretty when you go dumb for it…”
He grabbed your hair, gently pulled you back so he could watch your face as he shoved deep—so deep his tip pressed right against your cervix.
“Fuck—you feel that? That’s your limit. And I’m still not all the way in.”
You moaned, wrecked, dripping down your thighs.
He kissed your cheek. “One more. Let me knot you.”
His knot—it was swollen at the base, barely able to push in. He grunted, forcing it past your entrance. You screamed, body locking up as it stretched you wide, plugging you.
“Shh… I got you,” he whispered. “Just let it happen. I’ll take care of you.”
Then he came.
Hot, thick ropes shot into your womb, filling you so fast it spilled out around his knot. Your legs gave out. He caught you with both arms, pressing soft kisses to your neck even as he stayed locked inside.
“You’re so full, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. I can feel your cunt milking me—wanting it.”
You were a mess. Barely conscious. Babbling his name.
He held you like glass.
“I’ll carry you back when my knot goes down,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me hold you. Let me take care of my mate.”
You whimpered into his chest.
You’d never been claimed like this.
And you’d never wanted anyone else again.
－SYLUS ．
You should’ve never wandered into the woods after dark—but you couldn’t help yourself. The moon was full. The air was thick. Something in your chest had been aching, restless, and now your legs carried you deeper and deeper until the world went quiet.
That’s when you felt it—eyes on you.
Then you saw him.
Standing in a clearing like he belonged to it.
Sylus.
His usual composed, unreadable expression was gone—replaced with a glazed hunger, his red eyes glowing with something ancient. His white hair was tousled, his white ears twitching slightly, that thick, soft white tail low and flicking. His skin glistened, shirt discarded, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. His cock—already hard—strained against his pants, the bulge obscenely thick, the knot at the base already swelling.
He was trying to control it.
But the moment your scent hit him—your arousal blooming in your panties just from the sight of him—he snapped.
“Kitten,” he said lowly, voice rough and calm, like he was lecturing you. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re in heat too, aren’t you?” He stalked closer. You backed into a tree. His hand braced beside your head, body towering over yours. “Look at you. Tits bouncing with every breath. Eyes begging for it. Don’t lie to me.”
He reached between your legs. Two fingers pressed against your soaked underwear and dragged up, slow.
“So wet already…” he murmured. “What were you thinking, wandering this deep, smelling like this?”
“I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but his fingers pressed harder, right against your clit, drawing a whimper from your lips.
“Yes, you did. You wanted to be found. Wanted someone to take control. Wanted me.”
You couldn’t answer.
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.
“Say it. Say you want my cock.”
“I… want it,” you gasped. “Please, Sylus—want all of you.”
He chuckled softly, then kissed you—slow and deep, tongue sliding in with all the patience of a man about to lose it. One hand slid up under your shirt, cupping your tit, thumbing your nipple until you moaned into his mouth.
“Perfect fucking tits,” he murmured, squeezing it in his palm. “Soft little handfuls—gonna leave bruises on these.”
He shoved your shirt up, mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking it between his teeth while his hand rolled the other. You clawed at his back, trembling.
Then he moved—quick and smooth—pushing you to the forest floor, flipping you onto your back and dragging your shorts off with one hard pull.
“Open up, kitten,” he ordered. “Let me see.”
You spread for him.
He hissed between his teeth. “Fucking gorgeous. And this little pussy—fuck—it’s drooling. You really did come out here for cock.”
Two fingers slid in without warning. Your back arched off the mossy ground, eyes rolling back.
“So tight,” he said, watching your hole stretch around his fingers. “So fucking needy. Bet you’ll milk me dry the second I knot you.”
He curled his fingers up, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, pumping until you were shaking—until your thighs clamped around his wrist.
“You gonna cum already?” he whispered. “Just from my fingers?”
You nodded helplessly.
“Then cum. Right now. Do it while I watch.”
Your pussy clamped around his fingers, soaking him. He held you through it, still working you as you sobbed into your arm, overwhelmed.
“That’s one,” he said. “We’re not done.”
He stripped off the rest of his clothes, cock slapping heavy against his stomach—long, flushed, throbbing, and veiny. The tip leaked pre-cum in thick drops. And his knot… gods, it looked impossible.
“You’re going to take all of it,” he promised. “Even this.”
He lined up and shoved in.
You screamed.
His cock was massive, stretching you to the edge of pain—but it was perfect. You could feel everything. Every throb. Every vein. He bottomed out, hitting your cervix, and stayed there.”
“Kitten,” he whispered against your cheek, holding still, letting you feel him twitch inside. “You’re already stuffed. But you can take more.”
He started moving—slow, deep strokes that rocked your whole body.
He grabbed your tits again, squeezing and slapping them lightly. Watching them bounce as he thrust.
“Love these. So fucking soft. I could fuck them too. Make you lick the head while I slide between them. Would you like that?”
You moaned, brain melting from how full you felt.
He leaned down and bit your tit—hard. Not enough to break skin, but enough to leave his teeth behind.
Then he grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, biting your neck next—deeper. Harder. Marking you.
“Mine,” he growled. “You hear me, kitten? I’m going to fuck you until your womb knows it. Until you feel me every time you walk.”
His pace grew brutal. No more patience. Just raw, slapping thrusts as his knot started to catch on your entrance.
“You ready?” he panted. “I’m gonna plug you. Gonna fill you up so deep it won’t leave.”
You begged, moaned, cried for it.
And then with a feral grunt—he forced it in.
Your pussy screamed around it, stretched wide, locked.
Then he came.
Hot, thick spurts flooded your womb, each one timed with his cock twitching, his hips jerking involuntarily. There was so much. Too much. It leaked around the knot, smeared down your ass.
You were sobbing, overstimulated, completely ruined.
And he still held your tits like they were his favorite toys, thumbing your nipples even as he emptied himself inside you.
He leaned down, kissing your throat.
“Shhh, kitten. You’re okay,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot. Just breathe.”
He stayed knotted, holding you close, petting your hair.
“You’re mine now,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting go. Not tonight. Not ever.”
You’re still shaking when he rolls his hips again.
Still spread open beneath him, pinned to the forest floor, his massive cock locked inside you by that thick, swollen knot. Your pussy stretches around it—wet, swollen, twitching. His cum leaks out in warm, milky drips, making a mess of your thighs and the moss beneath.
You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum. How many times he made you cum.
And Sylus? He’s just smiling.
Not that cocky, boyish smirk. No. This one is slow. Quiet. Predatory. His glowing red eyes never leave your face. Not even for a second.
“You look beautiful like this,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face. “So full. So fucked-out. My perfect little kitten.”
You whimper, barely able to respond. Your arms are limp around his shoulders, your chest heaving as he starts slowly grinding his hips again.
The knot grinds against your inner walls, stretching you just enough to ache—and Sylus watches you fall apart again with quiet satisfaction.
“Sensitive already?” he hums, tilting his head. “But you’re still so tight around me. Squeezing like you want more.”
Your nails scrape his back. “Sylus—nngh—can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” He leans in, nuzzling your neck with his nose. “You will. You’re made to take me, kitten. Look at your poor pussy, still clenching, still drooling for me. You want to be ruined again, don’t you?”
He thrusts—just once. Shallow. Cruel.
You scream.
It hits your cervix, hard, and you feel him throb inside you. The pressure of the knot keeps you stretched, stuffed, plugged, and now he’s moving again—just enough to push you over the edge.
“Cum for me,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Do it. Let me feel you.”
You don’t even need to try.
Your whole body jerks, pussy spasming around the knot as your eyes roll back. You’re sobbing. Barely even conscious. All you know is Sylus—his heat, his cock, the growl in his throat as he starts to rut into you again.
“Good girl,” he breathes. “There you go. Just like that. Let it all out. Let me feel this greedy little cunt choke on me.”
He pulls out just enough to tease, dragging his cock along your walls, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch of his swollen tip before forcing the knot back in. You cry out again.
“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I know, kitten. I know it’s too much. But you’re taking it so well. So perfectly. I’m going to keep going until you’re bred so full, it leaks out for days.”
He leans down and bites your neck again, deeper this time—his canines sinking in just hard enough to sting, marking you all over again. You can feel the heat of his breath, the calm in his voice, even as he uses your body like it’s his.
His hand slides down to your chest, cupping your tit and kneading it slowly. He brushes a thumb over your sensitive nipple, then pinches—just to hear you gasp.
“Still so soft,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I could spend hours just playing with these. My hands were made to hold them.”
You moan, incoherent. Everything’s too much.
And Sylus knows it.
He watches your face closely as you writhe under him, your legs spread wide, his tail swishing lazily behind him. Every time you sob, he kisses your cheek. Every time your pussy clenches, he praises you.
“You’re doing so well, kitten. Letting me fill you like this. Taking my knot like a good little bitch in heat.”
He slows down again. Just grinding now. Letting the knot drag against your g-spot while his tip kisses your cervix with every roll of his hips.
It’s devastating.
You’re mewling, twitching, your fingers tangled in his white hair, clutching him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality.
“Don’t stop,” you whisper, lips trembling. “Don’t pull out. Ever.”
You’re drooling. Moaning his name like a prayer. His red eyes glow brighter in the moonlight as he watches you unravel, slowly, completely.
Another orgasm rips through you.
And he doesn’t stop.
Not until your body gives out, limp and twitching beneath him, your pussy still fluttering around the knot like it misses him already.
He holds you there, gently, his hand stroking your thigh while his cock pulses with one more slow, deep release—thick cum flooding your insides again, pushed up against your womb, warm and claiming.
You can barely speak.
You’re ruined.
And Sylus?
Still hard. Still in you.
Still whispering into your ear, calm as ever:
“You’re not going anywhere tonight, kitten. I’m going to keep you like this. Plugged. Bred. Mine.”
— CALEB ．
You should’ve turned back when the sun dipped low—but you didn’t. The woods had grown darker, quieter, and every path looked the same. You’d lost service hours ago, your legs ached, your heartbeat pounded behind your ears, and the air was thick—hotter than it should’ve been.
Then you heard it.
A low, ragged pant. Not like a dog. Deeper. More desperate.
Then—your name. Half-growled, wrecked, hungry.
“…You came.”
You froze.
He stepped out from between the trees, his wolf ears twitching, tail hanging low and stiff behind him. His eyes locked onto yours like he was starving—and you were dinner.
Your breath caught. You didn’t speak. You didn’t move.
He did.
Caleb closed the distance fast—hands grabbing your hips, holding you still, panting against your neck like he’d been chasing you for miles. You felt his whole body trembling. His voice, when he spoke, was guttural, cracked with restraint.
“I tried to wait,” he breathed. “I did. But it hurts.”
You shuddered.
His nose skimmed your neck, dragging in your scent. His groan vibrated against your skin. “Fuck. You’re… perfect. Your smell—you’re ready, too.”
You weren’t sure when your back hit a tree, or when his hand slipped between your thighs—but suddenly your shorts were on the forest floor, and his fingers were dragging slow, wet circles over your clit.
“Already soaked?” he murmured. “You came out here wanting this, didn’t you?”
You whimpered.
Two fingers slid inside—deep, slow, curling in just the right place to make your legs shake. His tail thumped the ground once. He licked his lips.
“Your body knows what it wants. Knows who it belongs to, pipsqueak.”
He dropped to his knees. You nearly screamed when his tongue replaced his fingers, licking deep and slow and messy—like he was starving. Your thighs clamped around his head. He groaned into you.
“You taste like heat,” he growled against your cunt, licking faster. “Fuck—I need to be inside you.”
You were shaking when he stood back up, your slick dripping down your thighs, cunt fluttering from just his mouth and fingers. He turned you around before you could speak—hands bracing you against the tree, fingers digging into your hips.
You felt the heat of him. Thick. Heavy. Pressing against your entrance.
He leaned in, mouth against your ear, breath ragged. “I’m going to ruin you.”
And then he pushed in.
You cried out—stretching wide around his cock, gasping when he bottomed out with one deep thrust. He was huge. You felt everything—his tip nudging your cervix, his shaft pulsing inside you, the obscene drag of his length as he started to move.
“So tight,” he groaned. “So good—fuck, you’re squeezing me like you were made for this.”
His rhythm picked up. Every thrust hit deep. His hips slapped against your ass, hands spanking you when you clenched too hard.
“You like it when gege fills you up like this? Gonna take it all, aren’t you?”
Your answer was a sob.
Then—you felt it. That stretch. That pressure. His knot was swelling.
You shook your head. “Caleb, wait—!”
He growled. “Too late. You said yes with your body.”
His knot forced inside with a wet pop. You screamed as it locked deep in your cunt, locking you together, sealing you around him.
Caleb slammed one last time, hard and deep, groaning as thick waves of cum pulsed from him, filling your womb so full you felt it ache. Your stomach fluttered. Your body trembled. You couldn’t move—only feel.
“You feel that?” he whispered, biting your shoulder just enough to leave a mark. “I’m breeding you, pipsqueak.”
And he didn’t stop.
Even as your legs gave out, even as your cunt fluttered from overstimulation, he held you tight, whispering filth into your ear.
“Round two’s coming. You’re not done. Gotta make sure it takes. Gotta feel you swell with me.”
He fucked you through it, again and again, even as you sobbed and begged—his tail twitching, his ears perked, hands stroking your clit, tugging your nipples, spanking your ass until you were gasping.
You lost count of the orgasms. You lost track of time.
But he didn’t stop until the knot finally deflated—only to build again.
Because once wasn’t enough.
— XAVIER ．
You didn’t mean to wander so far. The sun had been up when you started walking—but now the woods were bathed in silver light, shadows crawling across the underbrush, air thick with something humid, heavy, and strange.
You felt it before you heard him.
A pulse in your chest. A flicker of instinct. Something was watching you.
Then—his voice.
Low. Shaky. Familiar. “You shouldn’t be here.”
You turned—and there he was.
Xavier.
His usual sharp composure was gone. His silver hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. His shoulders rose and fell with each uneven breath. His tail was stiff behind him, twitching. His wolf ears were flattened, trembling. His eyes were glowing.
You didn’t have to ask. You didn’t need to.
Your legs wobbled. Your heart pounded.
He stepped closer, slow, every movement tense—like he was holding himself back.
“I can smell you.”
Your breath hitched.
“Do you know what that does to me?” His voice cracked. “I haven’t touched anyone in years. I’ve avoided this. But now you’re here. You’re wet. You’re ready.”
You should’ve run.
But your body ached. Every part of you wanted him.
You whispered his name—and he snapped.
He was on you in seconds, shoving you back against a tree, his mouth crashing into yours with a hunger that bordered on feral. His hands tore at your clothes, pulling them off in pieces, until you were bared to the cold air—and his burning skin.
His mouth trailed down—neck, shoulder, breast. He latched onto your nipple, sucking, teeth grazing, tongue flicking. Your moans echoed in the trees. One hand groped your ass while the other slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding in deep.
“So tight,” he growled. “You’ll stretch for me.”
His fingers worked you open—slow at first, then harder, rougher. You cried out, clutching his shoulders. Your body trembled.
“I need to be inside you,” Xavier said, voice broken with need. “But I have to warn you—I’m not human when I’m like this.”
You nodded. You didn’t care.
He turned you around, bending you over a mossy rock, his hands gripping your hips. You felt him press against your entrance—huge, hot, throbbing—and when he finally pushed in, you screamed.
He bottomed out in one slow thrust, hips grinding against yours, cock so thick it kissed your cervix. Your body spasmed. He groaned low, fangs bared.
“Fuck—you’re perfect.”
He started moving—deep, hard strokes, hips smacking against your ass, each thrust rougher than the last. You sobbed his name, your walls clenching. He spanked you when you tightened too much.
“You like being filled like this?” he snarled. “You were made to take my knot.”
You didn’t know how long he fucked you like that. Your thoughts were gone. Everything was heat and pressure and him. His cock throbbed deep in your belly. Your slick dripped down your thighs.
Then—you felt it.
His knot.
Thick. Swollen. Pushing at your entrance with every thrust.
“I’m gonna lock inside you,” he growled. “Gonna fill you. Mark you.”
You begged. You cried. You said yes.
With one brutal thrust, his knot popped inside. You screamed—stretched wide, locked full. He growled as he came, hips grinding as his seed spilled inside you in thick, hot waves.
Your belly ached. Your legs gave out. He held you tight.
Still knotted. Still hard.
“You’re not done,” he whispered into your neck. “You can take more.”
He flipped you over without pulling out, your back pressed to the grass, his knot keeping you locked. His hand slid between your thighs, stroking your clit, making you sob. His lips found your other nipple, sucking deep, marking it with his tongue.
“I want you full,” he growled. “Want it dripping out of both holes.”
“Like what?” Zayne whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, slow and sweet. “Like you mean something to me? Like I can’t stand the thought of you marrying Caleb?” He raises his brows, trapping your chin between his thumb and finger, forcing you to meet his eyes when you look away. “Like you’re the only one for me?”
a/n: *stands around awkwardly* hey y'all.... i know it's been a while and i'm sorry it's taken me this long to get zayne's chapter out!! hope you all enjoy!! mwah mwah <3 (little sylus snippet at the end :3)
also on ao3!
series masterlist | next up: the devil
“Would you sit still and stop hobbling around?”
Zayne’s exasperated voice has you giving him your own irritated glance, letting out an annoyed huff of air to voice your displeasure. He’d been insistent, hovering around you ever since he’d seen you today, his eyes narrowing when he’d seen the awkward way you were adjusting yourself to make the ache in your thighs and hips more comfortable, no doubt courtesy of Caleb from the night before.
“I’m fine ,” you say, flopping down on his couch when he sends you a stern look, snuggling up against the cushions, hugging one to your chest. “Just a little sore.”
“Apart from the obvious,” Zayne clears his throat, gesturing vaguely to your neck where the splotchy marks still lingered, although much lighter than the days before. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Of course I’m up to this,” you grouse, sitting up with a wince. “You’ve put me through far worse, Zayne. I’m insulted.”
“That’s not-”
You watch with a smug smile when Zayne’s cheeks flush pink, his hand moving to cover the lower half of his face. The tips of his ears are still enough to give him away, your smile growing wider when he adjusts his glasses agitatedly, pushing them up to sit higher on the slope of his nose.
It wasn’t as though your claim held no weight, not when evidence of Zayne’s exploits still lingered in your camera roll, well-hidden among a mirage of other photos. His long hours were what had made him crack the first time you’d ever slept with him. You’d been met with a weary expression and loose tie that night, his phone in one hand and a bag of take-out in another.
You’d never seen him so wound-up before, the unfamiliar, agitated bounce of his knee piquing your interest. A few attempts at prodding for answers later, Zayne had snapped. Exhaustion forgotten, you’d been at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and cock, the grip he had had on your hips enough to leave bruises until the next day and a limp in your walk much similar to the one you were sporting today.
“No,” Zayne says when he sees the questioning expression on your face, shaking his head, “I’m not doing- we’re not doing that .”
“Boo,” you sigh, head falling against his shoulder when he sits down beside you. “I thought you’d at least be jealous, Zayne.”
“Were they?” he asks, leaning back against the couch.
“Yes,” you muse, taking his arm, your fingers drifting over the pale scars that covered his forearm, thumbs rubbing across his warm palm soon after. “Xavier and Caleb particularly.”
“I’m not surprised,” Zayne sighs, his head falling back as you dig your thumbs into his palm more firmly, massaging his hand with purpose. “You’ve made them desperate.”
You peer up at him, taking in the relaxed expression on his face, the exposed length of his neck. The lack of reaction makes you pout, however, your lower lip jutting out at Zayne’s calm acceptance. It was a stark difference from the other three men, unruly impatience replaced by cool indifference, hastiness by languidness.
“What does that make you?” you ask curiously, “the one that lurks in the shadows and bides his time?”
“I’m experienced in that aspect.”
His words make you pause, your brows furrowing when his head lifts and he stares down at you. No , you think, a breathless laugh escaping you; although it sounds more akin to a strangled wheeze. When Zayne’s gaze doesn’t waver, you begin to shrink back, your foot pushing at his thigh when he tries to move closer to you, keeping him anchored to one side of the couch whilst you move towards the other end.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathe out flippantly, refusing to look at him when his lithe fingers curl around your ankle, brushing across your skin in a gentle caress.
“Maybe,” Zayne murmurs, his voice low. “But you’re not completely stupid, are you?”
You send him a glare, trying to pull your foot free to no avail, flopping back when he simply digs his thumb into the sole of your foot, massaging absentmindedly. When he doesn’t say anything else to explain himself, you let out a disgruntled noise, sitting up agitatedly.
“You and Caleb are the worst ,” you announce, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, does it look like I’ve been blessed with telepathy?”
“No,” he replies coolly, reaching across to flick your forehead.
You whine at the action, rubbing at your forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain that lingers. There’s a smile pulling at Zayne’s lips as he watches you, his fingers drifting across your ankle again in lazy motions. It irks you slightly, the way he looks so invitingly domestic, and the thought of a baby, your baby, being held in his arms isn’t helping at all.
“What did he say?” Zayne asks after a few moments, his eyes finding yours. “If you let him cum twice, he must have said something worthwhile.”
“I’m not telling you,” you scoff sharply, cheeks growing hot when you remember Caleb’s confession and the aftermath that ensued. Your face scrunches when Zayne’s fingers drift across the sole of your toe fleetingly, your knee jerking out in response, the ticklish feeling making you curl away. “It’s none of your business, Zayne,” you protest adamantly, a wheeze leaving you when his fingers don’t let up, an involuntary laugh bubbling out of you soon after, “you- you wouldn’t like what he said anyways.”
The latter part of your sentence makes Zayne’s fingers pause abruptly, his gaze fixing onto you sternly. “Tell me.”
You wiggle your toes, hoping for him to continue massaging your ankle, a frown coming across your face when he shakes his head stubbornly. All you can manage is a heavy sigh, your head tilting to rest against the back of his couch. “Apparently he’s been pining after me for fifteen years,” you begin, watching Zayne’s expression carefully.
It’s subtle, but when you inch closer under the pretense of getting more comfortable, you can just spy the darkening of his eyes. If anything, his reaction spurs you to reveal more.
“He also said the baby was going to be his,” you say off-handedly, biting back a wince when Zayne’s fingers tighten around your ankle, the muscle in his jaw tensing as he grits his teeth together. “Rafayel and Xavier said that as well, so I suppose it doesn’t-”
“What else?” Zayne interrupts out, his voice sounding strained.
“I don’t why you’re prying for more,” you say exasperatedly. “We- we should just leave it here. I did tell you that you wouldn’t like it, Zayne.”
You squeak when he pulls at your ankle, tugging you across the length of the couch, his hands smoothing over your waist as he picks you up, settling you on his lap. Your breath hitches at the sudden change, throat drying when he leans closer, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly.
“Something about marrying me,” you confess breathily, hands landing on Zayne’s shoulders. “Caleb said he’d marry me,” a nervous laugh escapes you, “probably- probably didn’t mean anything by it.”
“But you let him cum twice,” Zayne murmurs, peering up into your eyes searchingly, “you let him. Clearly, you were moved.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” you ask, shooting him an incredulous look. “I mean what the hell was I supposed to do with fifteen years, Zayne?”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever kissed.”
You slap your hand over Zayne’s mouth before he can reveal anything else, your heart beating out of your chest. “No,” you say sternly, shaking your head, trying and failing to process his words as his fingers slip under your shirt, stroking across your waist gently. “No, no - you don’t get to do this.”
It’s difficult to glare at him like this, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment when his hands skim higher, a soft, breathy sound leaving you when his thumbs slip under the elastic band of your bra, stroking across the underside of your breasts in a soothing motion. You try to keep your eyes open, teeth sinking into your lower lip when one of Zayne’s thumbs brushes over a hardening nipple, an unbidden noise slipping out of you.
“Don’t marry him.”
Zayne’s words pull you out of your haze of pleasure, bleary eyes blinking open to find that your hand has slipped off of his mouth. You move to cover his mouth again, but he stops you, his fingers lacing with yours instead.
“I never said I was going to marry him,” you sigh, slumping against his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I haven’t even had the baby yet, Zayne.”
Zayne lets out a weary sound in response, his hands rubbing across the expanse of your back. You squirm closer, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressing closer, chest flush against his. It’s nice , you think belatedly, warm and cozy and… safe. The change of pace is welcome, the dull ache in your thighs ebbing away slowly, soothed away by the practiced motions of Zayne’s thumbs.
“So have mine,” he whispers after a moment, his fingers curling into your shirt. “Have my baby.”
“You know better than anyone I can’t choose ,” you muse, peering up at him, a wry smile pulling at your lips. “You’re being illogical.”
“You seem to make me that way,” he replies, cupping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together for a moment before letting go. “Funny how I can’t seem to think straight when you’re around.”
You flush at the words, letting out a flustered sound. “You sound ridiculous,” you sputter, yelping when he grabs your wrists firmly, stopping you from pushing at his chest.
“And Caleb didn’t?” Zayne retorts, raising his brows in question.
“That- that was different!” you protest, “you’re- you’re you !”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asks, leaning towards you. “Hm? Am I not good enough?”
“I never said that,” you say, feeling short of breath when Zayne leans in further, the tip of his nose brushing yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, every shuddering breath that escapes you fogging up his glasses slightly.
“I’d be a good father,” Zayne murmurs, his lips brushing across your jaw fleetingly. “Diligent,” his fingers slip back under your shirt, “patient,” you bite back a whine when his hands cup your breasts through your bra again, “attentive,” you mewl when he pinches your nipples.
“What about me?” you whisper, fisting his shirt to pull him closer, squirming on his lap when his lips brush over yours fleetingly. “Would you take care of me, Zayne?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
Your eyes flutter shut when he finally closes the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, soft kiss. Zayne’s glasses dig into your cheek when he presses closer, but you’re too busy tilting your head in an attempt to deepen the kiss, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks.
“Am I really the only woman you’ve ever kissed?” you mumble against his lips, finding yourself drawn into another kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more.
“Yes,” Zayne replies, a content noise escaping him when you slip your fingers into his hair and you begin to pepper his cheek with kisses. “That- ah- that night,” he rasps, cupping the back of your head when you bite his neck, “you were my first-”
You reel back at his words. “ What? ”
Zayne sighs, trying to pull you down for another kiss, his brows furrowing when you resist. You stare into his eyes, searching for some sign, any sign that what he’s said is some ill-mannered jest, but you find none, even when you go to the desperate lengths of taking his glasses off.
It didn’t make any sense for it to be his first time, not when you so clearly remember the way he’d maneuvered your body seamlessly. His head buried between your thighs, smooth strokes of his tongue and gentle, affectionate kisses to your clit which were enough to make you cum embarrassingly quickly. Not to mention the feeling of his hips settling between yours, hard cock slipping into your wet, aching pussy without hesitation, measured thrusts that had had you clawing at his back and seeing stars.
“What do you mean I was your first ?” you ask, breathless and taken aback.
“It means exactly what you think it does,” Zayne replies bluntly, his head tilting. “I wanted it to be with you.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” you shoot back, throwing your hands up.
“I was…” he pauses to clear his throat, a light flush tinging his cheeks, “preoccupied at the time.” His hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in closer despite your panicked protests. “...Much like I am now.”
You sag against him when he kisses you again, gasping into his mouth when Zayne stands, his hands sliding under your thighs to keep you against him. The wall is hard against your back when he presses you up against it, your legs locking behind his back, a needy whine escaping you as he presses his hips between your thighs, evidence of his arousal rubbing up against you.
“We- oh - we have to talk about it,” you begin, head tipping back when Zayne’s mouth drifts, dragging down your throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “Zayne-”
“Later,” he grumbles, his grip on your thighs loosening as he lets you down, back down onto your feet. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, fingers curling into his shirt when Zayne’s mouth ghosts over your ear, gently kissing the shell of it. “We can discuss it once we’re finished.”
You blink up at him when he pulls back, letting out a sigh. When Zayne dips his head, you meet him halfway, landing a quick peck to his lips.
“I thought you’d be the most hesitant,” you confess, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt absentmindedly. “I didn’t think you’d even agree.”
“But I did ,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again, “and I meant it, so stop worrying and let me take care of you, love.”
“Don’t call me that,” you whisper, heart twinging uncomfortably in your chest, “stop- stop acting like-”
“Like what?” Zayne whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, slow and sweet. “Like you mean something to me? Like I can’t stand the thought of you marrying Caleb?” He raises his brows, trapping your chin between his thumb and finger, forcing you to meet his eyes when you look away. “Like you’re the only one for me?”
“I hate you,” you say, voice small and trembling slightly, “I wanted a baby… not- not whatever this is.” You gesture between your bodies agitatedly. “ This wasn’t a part of the agreement.”
“You’ll end up choosing one of us,” Zayne says, his thumb smoothing over your cheek, while his other hand drifts lower, pressing against your stomach. “I want it to be me , I want to see you glowing with my child, not someone else’s.”
“This was a terrible idea,” you sniffle belatedly.
“Yes,” Zayne smiles faintly, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, “you seem to be brimming with those. Perhaps I should have let you show us that presentation after all.”
“You missed out,” you mumble, “definitely better than whatever you’d see at a medical conference.”
Zayne’s laugh makes you feel warm, body curling into his, your fingers tugging at his shirt until he follows the motion, leaning down. Your head tips back, hands sliding up his chest, arms wrapping around his neck to draw him into another kiss, lips working against his eagerly.
You both stumble into his bedroom, Zayne’s lips refusing to detach from yours even when you try and push at his chest to get him to lay down. He ends up pulling you down with him, hands lifting you up easily to settle you down on his lap, a squeak escaping you when his hand squeezes at the fat of your ass.
“We’ll go slow,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, “I don’t want to tire you.”
“That’s considerate,” you breathe out, capturing his lips hungrily, “but I have something else in mind.”
Zayne grunts, his brows furrowing when he feels the absence of your weight on top of him, sitting up to watch you slink down from the bed, settling between his thighs with feigned innocence. He lets out a soft sigh when you paw at his trousers, pulling them down with eager hands, your gaze turning hazy when you see his hardened cock, the thick bulge in his boxers enough to make your thighs squeeze together needily.
“Come here,” Zayne whispers, patting his thigh, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, head tilting to nuzzle into the warmth of his palm, the stroke of his thumb enough to have you letting out a quiet whine. “Come here, love,” he tries to coax again, hand stroking over your hair, “let me take care of you.”
“N- no,” you pout, shaking your head, “I want you in my mouth.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but you’re already dipping your head, mouthing at his boxers, the fabric darkening with your spit as you whine and nuzzle against his clothed cock. Zayne groans at the feeling of your mouth, your eyes flitting up just in time to catch a glimpse of the exposed length of his neck, his head tipped back in pleasure.
You smile, suckling a little more, shifting back when Zayne’s hips buck up, chasing after the feeling of your mouth.
“ Fuck ,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair to peer down at you. “Take me out then, love. It’s all yours.”
You do as he says, eager hands pulling at the waistband of his boxers, throat drying at the sight of his cock. Pretty , you think, biting your lip when you see the tip of his cock, colored a few shades darker than the flush on his cheeks. Zayne’s cock is long and thick, and you’ve spent enough nights together for him to have taught you how to swallow his cock, the gentle stroke of his thumb across your chin enough encouragement for your mouth to drop open.
Zayne rasps out a curse when your mouth envelops the head of his cock, his hands curling into fists beside him, his hips jerking involuntarily. You mewl, the sound muffled by his cock filling your mouth, your head dipping to take him deeper.
There’s a moan following soon after, the low, hoarse sound making your eyes squeeze shut in delight, tongue eagerly swirling around Zayne’s cock.
“That’s it. Taking me so well, love,” Zayne whispers, fingers ghosting across the bulge of his cock outlined in your cheek whenever you bob your head, “good girl. My good girl.”
The taste of his pre-cum, heady and intoxicating, combined with the whispery utterances of praise have you shuffling closer, your hand slipping into your shorts and panties to stroke across your dripping pussy. The sounds are obscene, spit dripping from the sides of your mouth and down your chin as you suck and lick the best you can.
You whine when Zayne tugs at your hair gently, pulling you off of his cock. “‘m not done,” you complain, hand wrapping around his spit-slick cock, squeezing enough to have his thighs twitching and more thick globs of pre-cum beading at the tip.
“If I cum,” he sighs, his hand petting your hair, the soothing, stroking motion of his hand making you feel dazed, “I won’t be able to cum in you.”
“But ‘m being good,” you mumble, leaning forward to mouth across the hot length of his cock, tongue lapping across a prominent vein, following it towards the base of his cock, your nose brushing against the coarse hair that lays there. You press a kiss to his hip, eyes flitting up to meet his. “Just wanna make you feel good, Zayne.”
“You- hah- ,” his head tips back when you grip his cock more firmly, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when you lave your tongue over his balls. “You are ,” he manages out, voice strained, “you always do.”
The suckle of your mouth on his balls is enough to have Zayne biting his fist, the muffled sounds of his desperation combining with the soft gags that emanate from you when you envelop his cock again, cheeks hollowing as you suction, nails digging into his thighs when Zayne’s hand presses against your head, holding you in place.
You whimper, fingers pressing inside your aching cunt, hips humping needily, panties and shorts now drenched with your slick. Every bob of your head has his thighs twitching, Zayne’s groans making you mewl, the hoarse sounds escaping his throat encouraging you further, fingers massaging his balls greedily.
Every soft suckle at the head of his cock makes Zayne’s patience fray, his fingers pushing at your forehead when you whine and try to kiss the tip of his cock, your lips smeared with spit and pre-cum, the debauched sight of you making his cock throb .
“Come here,” Zayne rasps, his hands sliding under your arms to haul you up onto his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, mouth slotting against his eagerly, moaning when he licks into your mouth. He can taste himself on your tongue, a grunt leaving him when you paw at his chest, your fingers pulling his shirt over his head hastily.
You squeak in surprise when he suddenly flips you over, peering up at him with a shy smile and flushed cheeks.
“I love your cock,” you slur dazedly, cooing when Zayne cups your cheek, the reverent kiss placed there making your heart flutter.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, smiling against your jaw, “what else do you love, baby?”
“How smart you are,” you sigh dreamily, hips lifting to help him as he pulls your shorts down. Your fingers run through his hair when his face buries into the crook of your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. “How patient you are with me,” you continue breathlessly, letting him slip your bra and shirt off, your back arching when Zayne’s mouth drags lower, across your chest.
Zayne lets out a low noise, a heavy breath of air leaving him when he sees your bare breasts, his jaw clenching at the sight. You bite your lip when he kisses the side of your breast, sighing softly when his tongue swirls around your areola, nails scratching at his scalp when his mouth envelopes one of your tits.
“Love your smile,” you mumble, thighs pressing together when he stares up at you, the lewd image of his tongue flicking against your hardened nipple enough to make you mewl. “Love- ngh- love your eyes, Zayne.”
The scrape of his teeth has you tugging at his hair, mouth dropping open and head tilting back into the pillows when Zayne bites down with measured restraint, tugging at your nipple with his teeth. It doesn’t seem to help when his hand slips between your thighs, lithe fingers pulling your panties to the side, your body seizing when his fingers slide through the wetness coating your dripping pussy.
“Is that all?” he asks quietly, tongue swirling over your other areola, his lips pressing against the side of your breast in a fleeting kiss.
Your breath catches when he lifts his head, the implication behind his question becoming clearer the longer the silence between you grows. Too soon , Zayne thinks to himself, his gaze softening when he feels you twitch, his lips brushing across your cheek in an apology.
“Zayne, I-” you begin, pausing when words fail you, mouth opening and closing while your brows furrow, nervousness making your fingers tremble.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, muffling your needy sounds with his mouth as he sinks two fingers inside of you. “It’s okay, love. We can work up to it.”
You nod, thighs spreading open wider when his fingers curl up, hitting exactly where you need him to, the sensations making your aching cunt clench around his fingers. Every scissor of his fingers and flex of his wrist has you crying out, nails raking down his back when he quickens his pace.
“Good girl,” Zayne breathes out, his mouth latching back onto your breast, “such a good girl for me, yeah?”
“Y- yes!” you gasp, tears beading at the corners of your eyes with every thrust of his fingers, every brush of his thumb against your throbbing clit, fingers reaching back blindly to grab at the pillow, teeth sinking into it as you moan and whine. “Zayne- oh- Zayne, please! ”
“That’s it, love,” he whispers encouragingly, mouth dragging along your jaw, peppering soft kisses to your cheek. “That’s it… cum for me, baby.”
A strangled sort of moan works its way out of your throat when Zayne crooks his fingers a little more and presses his thumb against your clit firmly, the sensation making your thighs twitch. You can feel his smile against your skin when your back arches, his lips returning to your tits, teeth nipping and tugging, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as you cum.
You blink up at him blearily, shaking your head with a whine when he settles between your thighs, his hands guiding them to rest on his shoulders.
“Another one,” Zayne murmurs, his head lowering to kiss your puffy folds, “give me another one, love. Please?”
Good manners were going to be the death of you. You watch as he thumbs apart your folds, hips jerking weakly when his lips press against your still swollen and faintly throbbing clit.
“Just one more?” you ask meekly, the heat in your lower stomach already beginning to build again when he kisses your clit once more.
“Yes,” he replies, lips pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. “One more and then I’ll fuck you, love. Nice and slow and fill you to the brim so you’re bred, hm?”
“Who taught you how to speak like that?” you ask exasperatedly, throwing an arm over your hot cheeks, unable to stop the thrill that Zayne’s words had sent down your body and was now dripping out of you, the strings of slick clinging to your folds.
There’s no answer given, instead Zayne’s tongue gliding over your wet, fluttering pussy, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. You’re sensitive, thighs twitching at every minute ministration, fingers tangling in Zayne’s hair yet again.
“Oh fuck ,” you whine, toes curling against his broad back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
Zayne grunts into your pussy when you tug at his hair, his body shifting forward to hike your legs up higher, mouth latching onto your clit. You whimper when his tongue flicks against the achy bud, cunt clenching involuntarily as he sucks, the soft smack of his lips against your pussy enough to make you drool.
The motions of his tongue and the massage of his fingers around your thighs is too much, your back beginning to arch once again, hands pushing at Zayne’s head weakly as you try to squirm away, the pleasure too much.
“You can take it,” Zayne says, his voice hoarse, “if you let Caleb fuck you twice, you can take this.”
“I- I can’t-” you whine, hips bucking up when Zayne’s tongue slips into your empty pussy. “Oh my- fuck- Zayne! ”
He keeps you pinned down, your sharp, little breaths only spurring him on, his cock still hard and throbbing, hips grinding against his bed to try and relieve the ache. You’re seeing stars, much like that first night, eyes squeezed shut tightly as every thrust of Zayne’s tongue inside of you leaves you gasping for air.
You try to sit up, rising up onto your elbows, head tipping back while your legs jerk out as Zayne’s face presses right between your thighs, the bridge of his nose pressing up against you deliciously.
“All you have to do is cum,” Zayne says, his eyes watching you carefully, “that’s all you have to do, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“‘s too much,” you hiccup, making Zayne hiss in pain when you pull at his hair without abandon when his tongue presses inside of you again.
His mouth returns to your clit soon after, sucking with renewed fervor, the sensations making your elbows give out, body flopping back down onto his bed tiredly, cheek squishing against the pillow, spit leaking from the corner of your mouth.
“‘m gonna-” you slur, cunt clenching desperately, toes curling once more. “‘m gonna c- ah! ”
“Cum,” he rasps, fingers slipping back inside of you once more, lips smacking against your clit in lewd, sticky kisses that leave his chin and lips shining with your slick. “Cum for me, love. Be good and fucking cum .”
The roughness of Zayne’s voice coupled with the command has you squirming and writhing, hands flailing around to grab onto anything you can find, only to find your hands pinned down by Zayne, his fingers lacing with yours tightly as you cum, your noises muffled by his mouth slotting over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth.
The press of his knee against your pussy isn’t helping, your hips rocking up involuntarily resulting in your pussy grinding across his thigh, a yelp escaping you when he presses his thigh against you harder, his kiss growing hungrier. You feel like you’re being devoured, mind blank except for the ever encompassing presence that is Zayne and the pleasure that leaves you quivering.
“Good girl,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently, his hand brushing your hair out of your eyes, “did so well for me, love. Always do.”
You preen at the praise, arms wrapping around his neck tiredly as he settles between your thighs, the soothing motion of his hand stroking over your hair making you feel content. The sweet words he whispers make you relax further, eyes drooping shut.
“Do you want to stop?” Zayne asks softly, rubbing his shirt across your cheek, cleaning the spit that had leaked out from your mouth earlier.
“No,” you whisper, peering up at him, your fingers splaying over his neck. “I want this, Zayne. I- I want you.”
His head drops forward, his breaths warm against your shoulder. Your hands slide up, cupping his cheeks to lift his head, thumbs smoothing across his cheeks gently. There’s a tense silence, something unreadable flitting through Zayne’s eyes, a sigh leaving him as he rises onto his knees, fisting his cock in one hand, jerking himself lazily.
“You’re annoyed,” you supply, hooking a leg around his hip as he shuffles forward, the head of his cock brushing across your clit fleetingly.
“Maybe,” Zayne replies, “but not at you. At myself.”
“Why?” you ask, teeth sinking into your lower lip when he smacks his cock against your pussy, translucent strings of your slick clinging to the length of his cock with every smack, pre-cum smearing across your clit in thick globs.
“Because I should have never let you leave after the first time.”
There’s barely enough time to register his words, Zayne’s cock sinking in immediately after, his hips pressing forward and hands landing on either side of your head. It isn’t fast or feral, just a slow, measured rock of Zayne’s hips that have him burying inch after inch of his cock inside of your pussy until he’s bottomed out.
You watch his expression with desperate eyes, an airy sound leaving you as he draws his hips back before sinking his cock back in with a languid thrust. It doesn’t feel like fucking , doesn’t feel like all the other times that you’ve had with Rafayel, Xavier or Caleb, it feels unfamiliar in a way that has something wretched curling around your heart.
“Go faster,” you mumble, desperately trying to deflect, “I want it harder.”
“No,” Zayne’s reply is blunt, “feel this, love.” His hand slides over your thigh, hiking your leg up higher as he fucks into you, slow and deep. “Feel this , feel what I feel.”
And you can feel it, you can feel the soft touch of his fingers, the brush of his chest against yours as he lowers himself, your breasts squishing against him. You can feel the brush of his lips over your forehead, over your cheek, the gentleness of his kiss as he captures your lips. You can feel the drag of his cock, deep, rolling thrusts that have you whining and whimpering and digging your nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.
“Whose baby?” he asks, staring down into your eyes intensely, “whose baby are you going to have?”
“Yours,” you blurt out. You’ve said it to each of them, each man before Zayne, but this feels different , your eyes fluttering shut. “Yours, Zayne,” you breathe out, “I’m going to have your baby.”
“Yes,” he whispers, “yes, you will, love.”
Zayne lays kisses along your jaw, mouth working lazily just as his hips do, his tongue laving over your neck, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin. You whimper, trying desperately to pull him closer, back arching under his weight.
“Take my cock,” Zayne murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck, “take what I have to give you, baby.”
“I- I am taking it,” you whine, legs tightening around his hips, lips puckering up. “Wanna kiss, Zayne.”
He lets out a laugh, the low, hoarse noise making your cunt clench around him, Zayne’s laugh morphing into a groan when he feels how tightly you’re gripping him.
“I’ll give you as many kisses as you want,” he soothes, pecking your lips sweetly. “Kiss you all the time when you’re all swollen with my baby and when you’re grouchy when your ankles start to hurt. I’ll kiss you all over, love.”
“‘m gonna hold you to that,” you mumble airily, moaning softly when his cock thrusts into you at the same time, buried so deeply in your cunt that there’s a bulge in your stomach, Zayne’s fingers drifting over it.
“Look at that,” Zayne says, landing another kiss on your lips as you blink down, eyes wide. “That’s where you’ll have my baby. I don’t need to cum twice to know that it’s going to be mine .”
It’s too much, his words coupled with his kisses, your gaze unable to stray from the bulge formed by his cock, the sight so distracting that Zayne lets out a noise of displeasure, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, his lips slotting over yours firmly.
“Zayne,” you mewl, thighs quivering when his cock drives into you over and over , “Zayne- ah- ‘m gonna cum…” you whimper when he buries his cock to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass. “‘m gonna cum!”
“That’s it,” Zayne rasps, his voice strained as he feels you clench around his cock, your fluttering walls making his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. “Cum, love. Let me breed you.”
You cry out, Zayne’s name leaving you in a strangled chant, your nails raking down his back when he drops his weight onto you fully, cock pushing in deeper and deeper , until you can spy the bulge in your stomach when he shifts to give you a brief glimpse.
He groans into your mouth when you pull him into a kiss, hissing at the pain that burns across his scalp when you pull without abandon, his cock twitching and jerking inside of you while you cum, head thrown back and legs shaking.
“ Fuck- love, please- ”
Zayne doesn’t know what he’s even asking for, the tight grip of your walls making him gasp, his hips stuttering as you lick into his mouth, the kiss sloppy and clumsy. He can’t hold back anymore, not when you’re begging for him so sweetly, not when your cunt is so obviously trying to milk him dry.
He cums with grunt; thick ropes of hot cum spilling inside of you, the sensation of your fluttering pussy drawing out a ragged breath from him, his hands giving out as he slumps atop you, his arms wrapping around you tightly.
“Don’t pull out,” you whisper, pouting slightly when he lifts himself after a few moments, drawing away from you.
“A few more minutes,” Zayne relents, his eyes fluttering shut when you kiss his cheek, heart thudding when he feels how soft your fingers are against his skin.
You bite your lip when he finally draws away, thighs pressing together tiredly as you watch him walk into the bathroom, the muscles in his back flexing, eyes lighting up at the sight of the red welts dragging down the length of his back.
“All marked up,” you announce, arms stretching above your head, letting out a yawn when he returns. “Looks pretty.”
“Grayson is going to give me a hard time in the changing room,” Zayne muses, his hands running along your sides, head dipping to lay kisses all over your stomach. You brush his hair out of his eyes, smiling when he kisses your lower stomach.
Zayne’s hands are warm as they rub over your thighs, massaging out the ache, his lips drifting across your hip as he lays reverent kisses to your skin. You let your fingers slip through his hair lazily, thighs shifting when he wipes between them with a hot, damp cloth, your eyes fluttering shut at the soothing comfort.
“Keep the rest in for me,” he whispers, his fingers stroking across your puffy pussy, pushing in the cum that threatens to leak out even after he’s cleaned you up.
“I’ll try,” you mumble sleepily, arms looping around his neck, hips squirming as he pulls your panties back up over your hips, your body curling into his.
Every stroke of his hand over your hair lulls you, a tired smile coming across your face, lips pressing against Zayne’s in a slow kiss. His hand slides over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip, curling around your thigh to bring you closer, lips working against yours gently.
“Thank you,” you whisper, face pressing into his chest, “for always taking care of me.”
Zayne clears his throat, his arms tightening around you. “I don’t plan on stopping,” he murmurs into your hair, the feeling of your body against his enough to make his heart lurch.
“Ever?” you ask, voice small, your fingers tracing across his skin absentmindedly.
When Zayne’s hand slips between your bodies, you shiver, his palm pressing against your stomach firmly. You don’t know what compels you, but your hand slips over his, fingers lacing together, the intensity of his gaze like a binding vow.
“Ever,” Zayne promises, his hand caressing your stomach, lips pressing against your forehead.
The stroke of his thumb over your lower stomach doesn’t seem to help, eyes growing glassy with tears. “Maybe you should stop talking,” you suggest, letting out a shaky breath, “it’s making me hormonal.”
Zayne huffs out a laugh, his eyes bright with amusement. You scrunch your nose when he nuzzles into your cheek, squeaking when he squeezes the fat of your ass.
“I’ll say much sweeter things to you when you’re pregnant,” he muses.
You can’t stop yourself from letting the question slip out of your mouth. “Like what?”
Zayne kisses your forehead, his lips brushing across your ear soon after. “First hint,” he whispers, pulling you closer as though trying to meld your bodies together. “Three words.”
-
Crows were never Sylus’ favorite animal.
Although that was before he’d ever found Mephisto, and the small, injured crow that had tapped its beak against the sweeping windowpanes of his penthouse had been enough to fill him with a sense of pity towards the little creature all those years ago.
Still, pets had to be trained, didn’t they? He’d started off small, a hidden stash of seeds here and there until the stubborn, pesky, and still recovering bird had finally given in and flown off to uncover whatever treasure was awaiting him.
Sylus still wasn’t unsure how it had happened, but the crow had taken a liking to him. Perhaps it was the little blobs of jam that had managed to bribe the creature, or perhaps it was the gentle scratches Sylus had offered him, the soft features under his fingers making his guarded disposition crumble until he’d caved and given the impish crow a name.
It hardly matters now, however, not when Sylus’ mind is now occupied by thoughts of you , laced with festering moments of longing that leave him feeling embarrassingly flustered.
Sylus supposes its why he’s here now, sitting behind his desk in the late hours of the night. He narrows his eyes at Mephisto when the crow pecks his fingers teasingly as he carefully loosens the collar from around the crow’s neck, gently stroking across Mephisto’s tuft of feathers in a silent thank you.
The small camera embedded in the collar is unharmed. Sylus feels foolish doing this, but he can’t seem to help it, possessiveness clawing at his insides until he relents. The footage is shaky and slightly blurred by the glass, but it’s enough for him to catch a glimpse of you.
The way you curl up into Zayne’s body has Sylus’ hands tightening into clenched fists, knuckles turning white when he sees you bare and sated, his teeth grinding together when he sees Zayne brush a kiss to your forehead.
It’s not normal to obsess , not like this at least, the drive on his laptop filled with footage of you over the past four days. Sylus mutters a curse under his breath when he sees you smile and lean into kiss Zayne, the sound of his laptop slamming shut drawing a startled caw out of Mephisto.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out to pet the crow’s head gently, “I left some jam and seeds in your bowl. Eat up.”
Sylus’ fingers work with practised ease as he wraps his fingers with tape, his shirt pulled over his head, tense shoulders rolling in an agitated motion as he stalks towards the punching bag. The first slam of his fist doesn’t make him feel better. Neither does the second, or the third… or the twentieth.
He wipes at the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand, rolling his shoulders again, the familiar sluggish ache of exertion beginning to settle in. The punching bag no longer hangs from its hook, strewn half-way across the room instead.
Synopsis: The LI’s are deep into their Ruts. Oh no! Whatever shall our brave MC do to satiate their hunger?
Warnings: Omegaverse, Whining, Submissive Sylus and Caleb, Slight pew pew play, Lemurian’s are double slinging in this, Drooling, Slobbering, Caleb’s mechanical arm malfunctions in the best way, its dirty ya’ll fair warning.
⋆˚🐾˖° Xavier
Xavier was usually a dignified Alpha. He held open doors for you, bought you anything under the sun, even left his much needed naps (hibernation) to spend time with you.
But when his rut hit him like a freight train, you tried to ignore the scent of him literally leaking from his apartment above. He had locked his doors, curled up in his bedroom with only his fist and one of your sweatshirts.
He’d forgotten to lock his balcony door.
You managed to pull yourself to the railing and slide open the door. His scent enveloped you, as if seeping into your very pores.
The sight the greeted you when you managed to shimmy the lock out of his bedroom door was nearly pathetic.
He was fucking his fist, face flush and balls drawn up so tight to his body in need, they looked like they were aching. Your scent hit him before the sight of you did.
He had no more fight in him.
His pre-cum had completely soaked his fingers. When he pulled his hand away, long, sticky strings of cum connected his palm to his cock.
“M-mm fuck-fuck I can’t stop it. Please,” he was fast, nimble. He was upon you in a second, face buried into your pulse point. From behind his back as he nipped and lapped on your covered scent gland, you spotted the rabbit plush you sprayed perfume on for him.
It was absolutely soaked in his pre-cum. The once pristine black pearl eyes coated his drooling cum.
“Xavier-!”
“M-mm sorry, so sorry, couldn’t help it.” His fingers tear off the scent patches and his nearly busts right against your clothes stomach.
“Just a taste baby, please.”
That taste turned into his rutting into you in the meanest mating press known to man. He was so careful not to let his knot slip inside. Even lacking the few inches of his knot, his nearly purple cockhead drilled into the wall of your cervix like a prayer.
“Haa-X-Xava-ahhhh!” You drooled his name out like a curse. Your hair was splayed everywhere like a halo. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
“Good Omega, good girl-take it-take it! I know you can. Gonna give you this knot. Gonna have you begging for more,” he growled, his canines graving your pulse point.
“Accept this gift from your Alpha.”
⋆˚🐾˖° Rafayel
You ran a washcloth down Rafayel chest. The one pale, milky skin covered with scales. Lemurian rut was different than that of humans. It was more primal, more unhinged. His long tail hung out over the edge of his massive bathtub still.
A fan was sat on high intensity, blowing back his purple locks and the gills behind his ears. “Cutie, can’t I just have a nibble? You are killing me here.” His multi-chrome eyes flashed with a hunger that sent a shiver up your spine.
“That’s the Rut talking Raf, you told me not to listen to you when you’re like this.” The statement was true, but your resistance was wavering.
He was like a pretty siren luring you to your death. He couldn’t control his shifting, nor the way his tail splashed water out of the tub and into the floor.
An hour ago, the slit in his tail had separated, a gush of liquid making way for not his one-but two cocks. The length on top was longer, thicker, angrier.
Rafayel reached with a clawed, webbed hand and locked eyes with you as you tried to cool his off with the water. “My Muse, let me take care of you. I’ll take you back to Lemuria, make you my Queen. You’ll give us so many strong children. I want them to have your eyes.”
It was as if he was dirty talking himself. Whimpers of need spilled from those soft pink lips.
Perhaps Rafayel was the siren from those sailor tales.
Because why else would you have been dragged into the water, fully clothed? Why else would you have let him rip clear through your shorts with his claws?
Why else would you let him not only imaple you with one length, but let him try to coherse you into taking his second one?
“Just once baby-c’mon Pretty, you can take it.” He hushes your blubbering about being way too full. His cocks felt like they could impale your lungs at any second. “I know her so well. She’s strong, just like-oh, ah, fuck!”
Your tight walls gave way just enough for his second cock to snugly stretch out your organs. The rock of his thrust sent the bath water flooding the bathroom floor. His tail nearly had a mind of its own, flopping like a fish out of water while he used you as a means of breeding.
“F-fuck! Rafayel I-I can’t-“
“You can, how else will you be a powerful ruler, if you cannot worship your God correctly?”
⋆˚🐾˖° Zayne
Zayne took all of the necessary precautions to keep his interest during his rut. So much lube, suppressants and less than flattering toys. He always kept this locked away in a trunks. You didn’t need to worry your pretty head about such things.
He bought you an extended stay hotel room until his Rut had passed but you were stubborn. So stubborn that you used the passcode for his house gate and welcomed yourself in.
When you entered, the normally pristine state of his house was destroyed. Your dirty clothes were thrown everywhere, there were scratch marks on corners of the wall as if something-or someone-had to basically drag themselves to the bedroom.
When you finally gained the courage to investigate the feral sounds from the bedroom, your knees went weak.
Zayne had his tie stuffed in his mouth, his button up shirt had been torn open and the shreds hung around his bulging biceps.
The poor toy-oh god, it was molded after your insides, was completely destroyed. The gooey silicone was barely holding together. His thick cock has literally torn the toy into nothing but mush.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” He growled through the black tie, his eyes never tearing away from the toy disintegrating in his hand.
Zayne promised himself he’d patch you up as soon as his Rut passed, as soon as he finished pummeling your ruined pussy over the back of his couch.
He had defiled every corner of his home with his cum and your slick.
You had tried to crawl away from the mean ‘ole doctor twice now, but each time he just pounced, keeping you pinned beneath his body weight, chasing you like a mutt who couldn’t get his fill.
“Are you refusing your Doctor? Are you refusing the best medicine I can give you, my seed?”
Your vision danced with black spots. He was insatiable. You never quite realized how massive he was, how easily he manipulated you with both his words and his strong grip. He finally gave a warning growl, pinning your hands to the small of your back.
“You wanted to play Doctor so bad, wanted to heal me of my woes. So take it.”
⋆˚🐾˖°Sylus
Sylus was a dragon at the end of the day. A great beast who hoarded his treasure.
That hadn’t changed when he was trapped in the body of a man.
It hadn’t changed how during his Rut’s, he ordered the Twins to keep you away as he hoarded everything precious to him in his room for the next few days.
But unfortunately the two goofballs were not the best at keeping you away. Not that you think they actually tried. Kieran had locked eyes with you when you tiptoed around the corner, before winking and going back to his card game with his twin.
When you pushed open the double doors or his chambers, he was meticulously cleaning the muzzle of one of his guns. But what caught your eye was his cock, flagging and twitching to leave a sticky mess over his belly button.
His eyes snapped up and a low growl escaped his throat before he tried to reign himself in. “Kitten, I told you to stay away.”
He stood from the bed with a grace not befitting his size, his swinging cock, nor the gun still in his hand. He tipped your chin back with the point of hiss and gave your face a deep whiff.
You swear you felt him spurt just the tiniest bit of precum on your sweater.
“Maybe I should let you help me. Let you realize what happens when Prey tempts the Predator.”
But oh-ho, it did not turn out his Sylus had expected.
You were straddling his massive length, his knot resting just outside of your stretched entrance. But his gun was now pressed against his parted, whimper filled lips by yours truly. You were a mean Mistress, watching him beg to pop his knot in.
“Gods above woman, I’ll do anything I-i just-“
You squeezed your fluttering walls around his cock like a vice. “What did I say, big boy?” Your voice was so sweet he might bust at just the thought.
The white haired man bowed his back so beautifully it appeared he might snap in half. His nature was screaming at him to bend this disobedient Omega over and use her like a dirty flashlight. But not her, never her.
Sylus gritted his teeth, that suddenly looked a lot sharper. But his fearsome look was interrupted by his pathetic groveling.
“My Love, My Heart, My Cruel Temptress,” he mumbled, red eyes rolled back to his skull. “Give me the grace of knotting you and I’ll give you any Empire you desire. Just for the chance at breeding this treasure of a cunt.”
⋆˚🐾˖° Caleb
Caleb threw the empty bottle of suppressants so hard against the wall, the flimsy bottle had made an indention in his apartment.
This couldn’t be happening, he could be hitting his Rut on the day you were visiting Skyhaven. His mechanical arm whirred, a loud noise that broke him from his contemplating.
Yeah, of course this thing would act up when his hormones were bouncing all over the place.
When you rang his doorbell three times without an answer, you decided letting yourself in was the best option.
Caleb now regretted giving you a key to his apartment, but not really.
His left hand, the cold one connected to his arm, had short circuited. To the point he could control it. He had growled, tried to push the piece of junk away from his throbbing cock but to no avail.
It was trained to protect him, to relieve any stress or danger he might be in. In that moment it had decided his aching cock and swollen knot were his enemy.
When he looked up at you from the couch, man-spread with his hand pumping his cock, his eyes were filled with tears.
“Pips, Pips don’t look, please-a-ah oh F-“ his but his lips to stifle the noise as a third orgasm ripped through him. The dark gray mechanical hand was coated with white cum, his thighs twitching and knot throbbing with unspent need.
“Oh Caleb-“ you took a step forward, and that was the only permission Caleb needed. His Alpha instincts were in a full rage. He had you pinned down to the living room floor by his fangs digging into the back of your neck. His mechabical bicep was cold against your throat as he drilled into you.
The wet noises were a symphony of just how much he needed you. “Here comes the knot baby-no-no, be a Good Girl. Open her up for me, don’t fight it, oh yeah-oh Good-Good fuckin’ Girl!” His praises sounded jumbled when his knot popped through.
Nothing could beat the way his knot stretched you to the point of tears.
“T-Too big Caleb! Take it-take it outttt!” He would stop in a split second if he knew it wasn’t just your instincts pleading with you to at least give this Alpha a run for his money. He hushed your over-sensitive cries and bottomed out in your warm and very welcoming pussy.
“Nu uh, Sweetpea. You were born to take my cock. Go on, take it baby! Oh, Good Girllll, That’s My Girl!”
something really funny happened to me rn😭 i was changing my tshirt and didn't close the curtains (thought it'd be a quick change) but i accidentally ended up flashing a WINDOW CLEANER😭😭😭😭 thankfully i was wearing a bra
anyways it got me thinking how the lads men would react if you end up flashing someone accidentlly and tell them
YOU WHAT?????? Omg…friend 😭😭😭😭
FLASH!
“You what?” Xavier asked blinking in disbelief. You didn’t say that. Of course you didn’t he’s hearing things.
“I flashed Charlie. I didn’t know—“ Xavier stood up abruptly making you pause as he walked to the window.
“What are you doing?” You ask a bit scared of your flurry of light.
“He won’t remember by tomorrow.” His voice cold and deep. You jump up grabbing his waist.
“Xavier wait!” It took you almost ten minutes to talk him off the edge. Poor Charlie was saved by your heroic act.
“So you flashed the neighbor?” He questions in confusion. You nod frantically.
“I was half sleep and thought I had my pajama shorts on.” You groan in embarrassment. The neighbor was polite enough to cover his eyes though!
“I’ll handle it Pips.” He caresses your head before you hear his gun cock.
“Caleb—“ He walks to the door with you hot on his heels.
“I just wanna talk to him.” He casually spoke as he opened the door. “Caleb relax—“
“I just wanna talk to him.” As he walks onto the lawn with the gun raised. You try to catch up with him.
“Caleb don’t.” You try to sound authoritative but it doesn’t work.
“I’m just gonna shoot him.” He calmly says aiming for his front door. Long story short the guy begs for Caleb’s forgiveness as you scold him for scaring the guy.
“It was an accident! I’ll have to be more careful next time.” You explain embarrassed. You didn’t know Rafayel had to change the curtains because they got paint of them.
“There won’t be a next time.” He says confident as he starts whispering in Lumerian. You quickly cover his mouth with a glare.
“No curses.” You say sternly making him roll his eyes. You walk away only for him to continue. You fly in the air to tackle him.
“I said no curses!”
Sylus does not play about you and you know it. As soon as you tell him he makes whoever it was disappear and with the snap of his fingers. You were shocked by his dramatic reaction.
“Was that necessary?” You snap at him. You just wanted to forget you embarrassed yourself.
“Yes because this’ll make him forget.” He shrugs before walking away.
“Where did he go?” You ask following behind the tall man.
“I’ll return him before sundown.” He pats your head making sure you don’t worry. We all know Sylus wasn’t going to bring him back by sundown.
Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He asks you to explain again how you got yourself into this situation. It wasn’t your fault the currents were open! They’re on a timer they open themselves! Zayne asks who saw you as you panicked.
“The neighborhood dog!” You cover your mouth as he stood there. He took a deep breath before he spoke, “The dog?”
“Yes! What if he’s traumatized?” You panic grabbing your hair. Zayne grabs your hands softly taking them out of your hair.
“My love. He’s a dog…he cannot speak.” You froze at his words. Your brain registers what he said.
“Oh.” You say before nodding. “Did you forget?” He asks genuinely concerned.
“Psh no!” You wave him off still thinking about it.
“You forgot.” He murmured standing up straight. Your jaw slacks as you stare at him. “I did not!”
As you can see I didn’t know how I wanted to display Zayne’s situation 🤫
