#LADS Rafayel

[vellatrelle]

I’m still not over this so u guys have to suffer with me😭

//ok im running back to comms now

[poisonf0rest]

Between Flames and Shadows

♱⋅── sylus x reader x rafayel

♱⋅── about: Rafayel agreed to smuggle you into the N109 Zone, unwittingly thrusting you into danger and the arms of an even more dangerous man, Sylus— who you promised your soul to long ago. Just as you had promised Rafayel your heart. And now they both want what you have so cruelly denied them.

♱⋅── word count: 10.6k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, threesome, pwp, enemies to lovers, jealousy, bondage, exhibisionism, voyeurism, size kink (sylus is big), mating bites/bond, double penetration, minor breeding kink, another horribly nasty duo

art credit to @/sakimenz on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

It’s been six days, fourteen hours, and three minutes since you’ve last contacted Rafayel. 

Not that he’s been counting.

Again, he flips his phone around, scrolling through dozens of notifications, and not bothering to read a single one as he fails yet again to find your name among them. A scowl, and he tosses his phone across the couch. Insane doesn’t begin to describe the spiral Rafayel has descended into since you infiltrated the N109 Zone— since he reluctantly agreed to set you up as bait and watched you get taken away. 

Since he made a deal with the devil on your behalf. 

“The Nest, you actually got it? How?” 

“You doubted me, cutie?”

“Doubt?” You snort, rolling your eyes as you yank Rafayel closer by the collar, gaze flickering from his lips, eyes, and back again. Leaning in closer, you wait until Rafayel’s eyes nearly flutter shut before pulling back, snatching the invitation from his hands with a smirk. “Never, fishie.”

Rafayel now wishes you had. Wishes he finally kissed you, wishes he never let you go. At least, not alone. 

The memories and regrets tug at him so violently that he can’t stand it, every “what if” fear blending in with shattered memories of you dying before him in lives past, bloody and heart torn from your chest as he’s doomed to chase after you again and again and again. 

Rafayel stands abruptly, chair falling back with a bang. 

Fuck it, he’s going after you. 

The damned N109 Zone never changes. 

Different venues, different gang names, different “world-ending” weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant and forever their greatest weakness. That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey. 

It all makes Rafayel’s stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.

He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought for an exorbitant amount, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of idiot…

Rafayel’s frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn. 

Then, Rafayel spots you.

You’re alive. 

You’ve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers a deep red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight. 

Before he even realizes it, he’s running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible,, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lunge– growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.

Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh. 

And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red. 

Rafayel’s breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.

An uproar of murmuring steals your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop. Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather. 

What the fuck is he doing here. 

“Rafayel.” Your voice cuts through him, hissing in warning. But the sound of it— alive, steady, and wholly unimpressed— does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.

Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. “Oh?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you picked up a stray, kitten.”

The nickname grates against your nerves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. “Take your hand off her.” 

More patrons are beginning to notice. 

Sylus’s grip on your waist doesn’t waver. Instead, he tilts his head, “Her? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.” He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. “I think you have it mistaken though, she’s the one who practically dragged me here. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayel’s chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms. 

“Stop,” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?”

His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “I came for you,” he snaps as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, congratulations,” you snort, “You found me.” Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. “And so has everyone else I’ve been trying to avoid.”

Rafayel doesn’t flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “I care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.”

Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder. Pinning you between them. “Touching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.”

Rafayel’s flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylus’s hand off his shoulder. “I already told you to get your hands off her,” he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as he’s mere inches from Sylus’s face.

“Or what?” Sylus taunts smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement. “You��ll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why you’re such a popular target.”

Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayel’s surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylus’s insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayel’s flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. “You’re drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?”

“Mission?” Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. “If this was a mission, why would you agree to work with him?” He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and rising at his back. Shit. 

“Her choice, really,” Sylus interjects, voice dripping with false sincerity. “Not that I blame her. All bark and no bite, aren’t you, puppy?”

Rafayel goes deathly still.

So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. Intimate. “It must be exhausting,” he continues, “Running around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?”

“Say that again,” Rafayel growls, flames licking up his palm.

Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?”

“Sylus,” you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. “You’re both acting like children. The target—”

The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.

You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of an unleashed Aether Core. 

“Run!”

The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.

A deafening boom shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.

Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.

Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel is kneeling beside you, flames erupting instinctively to shield both of you, looking down with wide eyes.

“Get—” you try to shout, but another powerful wave of the protocore squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave for breath.

The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayel’s crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to carry you, too.

Then, nothing.

It’s cold. 

The explosion. The Aether Core. Sylus. Rafayel.

A gasp tears from your lips as you jolt awake, your body reacting before your mind catches up. The world spins in protest as you try and sit up, chest heaving like it’s trying to claw back air that’s been ripped away. Spinning, the world is still spinning as control of your body returns to you—pain prickles along your limbs, your skin freezing against the stiff leather beneath you.

Blinking hard, you push up on trembling arms, the faint scent of dust and something metallic clogging your nose. The ache in your skull is relentless, pulse hammering against your temples. You’re not in the banquet hall anymore. There’s no fire, no rubble, no echoing gunshots. 

Instead, shadows claw at the corners of a room you don’t recognize. Empty walls of an office greet you, dark and seemingly abandoned with an unlit fireplace, heavy drapes smothering the windows, and a lavish seating area you’re in the midst of with a couch, coffee table, and—

Someone’s there.

Slumped in a leather chair near the fireplace, head tilted at an unnatural angle, is… “Rafayel.”

You call out to him in a gasp, a raw mix of relief and dread. His head hangs low, chin brushing his chest, his arms seemingly tied behind his back. For one desperate, fleeting moment, you think he’s asleep. But the light catches on something wrong, something warping along his body. 

Shadows.

They slither down his now bare chest and around his legs, dark, writhing tendrils of unnatural energy that pulse and coil, anchoring him to the chair. They’re the only thing keeping his unconscious form upright, taut and unyielding, glowing faintly at the edges with an unmistakably familiar red glow. 

“Relax, he’s not dead.”

The voice is a smooth drawl, and your head whips around to find a heavy desk in the center of the office, and of course, the origin of the voice seated at the head of the desk, arms crossed as he watches you with an amused smirk.

“What did you do, Sylus?”

Your hands instinctively go for your guns but only brush against empty holsters instead. Weaponless, you stumble off the couch, placing yourself between Rafayel and the still-seated man as you glare down at him. 

Sylus doesn’t even flinch. If anything, your anger only seems to amuse him further. 

“We had a chat while you were sleeping.” With a sigh, he rises from his chair, every movement exuding practiced ease as he encircles the desk, making his way to you. A crow circling a corpse. “Turns out you’ve been keeping more from me than I thought. That, and your memory truly is terrible.”

Sylus stops just short of you, tilting his head back as his eyes roam your face, his grin growing sharper, fang peaking out. “Not one but two immortals? You certainly are greedy, aren’t you, kitten?”

Your stomach twists. 

Nothing he’s saying makes sense, but the words cut into your gut regardless. Like a broken promise, like an old wound. “Let him go, Sylus. Now.”

But Sylus doesn’t move. He stands there, tapping a hand to his chin, studying you with a look that makes your heart throb, his right eye beginning to glow a crimson red. Amusement flickers behind his eyes, but there’s something else, too. Something darker.

“Twice,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his gaze slipping briefly to Rafayel’s bound form. “Twice, you’ve cursed those who thought themselves unstoppable. Twice, you’ve bound your heart and soul.” His eyes snap back to yours, glinting with a sharp, cruel edge. “Not that you’d remember.”

Almost like he’s in pain. You stiffen, breath catching in your throat.

“Humans,” Sylus continues, the word dripping with scorn. “So quick to lay claim to what they desire, so insatiably greedy.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, heavy with mockery, hands ghosting down your side as you shiver despite yourself. “And you, sweetie, are no different.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A chuckle, “Of course you don’t.”

Sylus fights the urge to laugh. No wonder the god of the ocean itself followed you around like a lovesick puppy— Sylus was hardly taking it any better, but at least he just had the self-control to hide his obsession.

A strained groan echoes through the room, low and guttural. Your head snaps toward Rafayel, the sight of his head lifting weakly making your heart lurch. His hair is matted with sweat, and when he looks up, his sunset eyes are furious blue, darker than the ocean itself, narrowing to slits as the shadows twist tighter around his body. 

There’s a moment, just a heartbeat, where you see something raw in his gaze. Relief. Desperation. And then, it’s gone, replaced by a scowl that’s as sharp as any blade.

“Well, look who’s awake,” Sylus hums, and you nearly collapse in relief, turning to rush to Rafayel’s side when something stops you halfway. 

Two simple threads of shadow chain you down, dragging you back to Sylus as the other binds your hands behind you, unaffected by your sudden thrashing. In faux comfort, Sylus curls an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace as the other rests against your ribs, drawing comforting circles against your tattered dress—the once pristine silk only just gifted to you destroyed with gashes and holes from the explosion.

Rafayel’s lip curls, his voice a growl despite the rasp of exhaustion. “Should’ve known a snake would take a deal and twist it. This is your plan? This is what you call a friendly competition?” 

Sylus tilts his head, his smirk turning predatory. “Careful, puppy. You’ll get your turn, I never specified who went first.”

Silence. 

You feel like you’re playing catch-up, each word only adding to the confusion as the tension grows thick enough to choke on.

And then Rafayel laughs. His entire body shakes with it, head thrown back against the chair he’s still bound to, laughing and laughing until he’s all but spitting flames. They erupt from his palms, climbing down the marble floors, vibrant pinks and reds curling into empty air as shadows dance to put them out. 

Sylus doesn’t release you, though his fingers twitch against your ribs as the flames light up the room. His smirk falters just slightly, replaced by something harder to read—a flicker of recognition, perhaps, or respect.

Rafayel’s laughter fades, his head rolling forward again as if it took everything in him to laugh at all. When his eyes meet Sylus’s, they’re cold and dark, an abyss in the ocean.

“You really think this will win her back?” Rafayel spits, tremors of barely-contained fury ripping through him as he struggles against the tendrils that hold him. The shadows only tighten in response. His glare cuts to you, begging. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar, a snake. All those ugly cold-blooded beasts do is lie.”

Sylus snorts, hugging you closer as the low scoop back of your dress causes your skin to brush against his chest. “Lie? Are you always this dramatic?” He tilts his head, mocking. “Perhaps you should’ve asked about the rules before we began. Backing out already?”

Flames spark from Rafayel’s body again, this time uncontrolled, swirling in frantic spirals like an inferno around him. His body trembling against the leather. “Release me then! Let me go first, let me show you she doesn’t need you. She’ll remember me.”

“You’re awfully bold for someone tied to a chair.” 

Sylus leans down to graze your neck with his lips, tilting his head like he’s savoring the sight of Rafayel’s frustration as he whispers into your ear just loud enough for him to hear. “Your puppy never stops barking, does he.”

Rafayel takes the bait, fire searing through wood, flickering in and out. “She’s not yours to take,” he seethes, shadows and flames casting violent shadows across the room. “Not yours.”

This is beyond ridiculous. 

You try and jerk away from Sylus, forgetting about the shadowy tendrils also holding you in place. Instead, you settle for pushing Sylus back with your bound arms, glaring at the both of them bickering like feral cats once again. “Both of you, stop! Whatever grudge you have with each other, leave me out of it!”

Sylus chuckles, the sound low and unnerving. “Leave you out of it? Oh, kitten, you’ve always been at the very center. You just don't remember yet.” His hand slips from your ribs to lift your chin, tilting your face toward his as he gazes down at you with something almost… reverent. “But don’t worry, we’ll help you remember everything.”

His words send a pang through you, a strange and unbidden ache that threatens to consume you from the inside out. You’re left suspended between them, chest heaving, mind a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. And yet, somewhere deep inside, you can feel it—an echo of something ancient and unshakable, something you don’t understand. Something they both seem to know.

That alone seems to calm Rafayel, at least, for long enough that Sylus can bind his hands together, unable to conjure any more flames before gagging him with a veil of shadows too. Something that immediately sends the man into a frenzy as he curses and squirms against the restraints. 

“What are– Sylus, release him right now—”

“Relax.” You’re also being hoisted higher up into the air, feet barely touching the floor as your arms strain above your head. “He’s simply upholding his part of the deal. Besides, he’s not the one who deserves to be punished tonight. That, sweetie, would be you.”

But before you can rebuke, a huff of hot breath caresses your neck, Sylus humming against your ear as you shiver involuntarily. “You can’t blame me. After all, you’re quite cruel to curse both of us and then go about forgetting entirely.” 

Sylus drags his hand down your ribs, thumb catching a rip in your dress as he tears it all the way down until his fingers reach the bare plush of your thigh. His grip tightens, and your sudden moan startles you nearly as much as it does the other two, shaking and needy at barely a touch, your body pulled upwards by Sylus’s shadows as you’re now balanced precariously between his hold and the brush of your toes against the floor. 

“Tell me, does it hurt? That part of you that used to belong to us?”

The sensation is so foreign, the warmth and gentleness of his touch such a contrast to the cruelty he's displayed, but your traitorous body welcomes the contrast, leaning into his palm. “What are you talking about?” Your voice is shaky, unconvincing even to yourself. “I don’t—”

“Oh, you don’t remember,” Sylus cuts in, mockery dripping from his words. “But your body does. That’s the funny thing about bonds, darling. They don’t care about your memories. They care about promises. The ones you made. The ones you broke.”

You can feel the heat of Rafayel's gaze on you, watching as Sylus slowly runs his hand up your leg, the heat of his touch deliciously contrasted by the cool iron of his rings, making you shudder as they circle the tender flesh of your inner thigh. You fall forward, pulling against the restraints, unable to resist the urge to push into his touch.

Behind you, Rafayel lets out a muffled roar, thrashing against his binds. His fury burns through the room, flames licking at the air around him, casting wild, flickering light that illuminates the shadows writhing against his skin. Even gagged, his expression a storm of conflict, boring into Sylus with a fire that refuses to be smothered.

“See how desperate he gets?” Sylus laughs, his breath hot against your ear. “Always so loud, so needy. So quick to burn himself, like that’ll make you notice him more.”

Rafayel’s muffled snarl grows louder, and the flames around him surge, threatening to overwhelm the shadows keeping him bound. He jerks forward, the chair groaning under his strength, his entire body trembling with the effort.

Sylus smirks, unbothered, even amused. “Careful, puppy. Else I might think you’re trying to cheat.”

You wrench yourself away from Sylus’s grip as much as the shadows will allow, suddenly aware of how exposed you are with your torn dress.

“Cheat at what?” Thrashing, you try to slip from the restraints, which only has Sylus’s Evol squeezing tighter, pulling your wrists from behind your back to up in the air.  “Let us go, now.”

“Feisty,” Sylus purrs, hand moving from your thigh to your jaw. Squeezing your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb, he wrenches your gaze off Rafayel, forcing your neck to crane up to look him in the eye as he presses up against your back.

“That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it? Always resisting, even when you don’t know why.” His lips quirk into a wicked smile. “In that case, say no.”

And then Sylus’s lips are on yours, warm and insistent.

Your eyes widen, a muffled sound of surprise rising in your throat as the warmth of his kiss spreads across your lips. It’s instinct, the way your body immediately leans into his embrace, desire and confusion tearing at your chest. 

The logical part of you wants to pull away, but oh, something deep inside you sings so sweetly at his touch, making your mind fuzzy and body hot as Sylus tilts your head to the side. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, trapped between Sylus’s possessive grip on your neck and his chest, yet you swear it’s the dichotomy between the pain of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted.  

This close, his scent is entirely intoxicating, a heady mix of spices and smoke, breath hot against your mouth, his lips surprisingly soft, gentle against yours. He doesn’t rush, a low, contented noise humming in his chest as you deepen the kiss, already licking against his bottom lip as you crane your neck for more, grinding back against him as best you can with your arms now bound above you. 

You don’t even realize you’re doing it. 

The bond with Sylus purrs in realization, and he has to summon up every ounce of strength and control left to break away, groaning into your skin as his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your neck, teeth grazing every spot that makes you shiver, and yet refusing to sink in. Refusing to mark you as his own. Not yet. 

When Sylus finally pulls back, you're panting, flushed and breathless. An absolute mess. 

"You're fussy, kitten," he murmurs, panting, his large frame practically surrounding you, heaving as you stumble forward under the weight. "But if you want more, you need to answer me."

"I don’t understand.” You’re panting, and fuck, it’s hard to breathe. ”What does this have to do with…"

The hand not busy laying claim to your throat travels down to meet the rip in your dress, brushing across your bare ribs. You feel Sylus smile into the nape of your neck as you moan at the icy burn of his rings caressing the flushed skin of your chest, his hand large enough to cup the entirety of the poor, sensitive flesh. 

That is, until his touch retreats entirely, the searing heat of his presence replaced with an empty chill. 

“Yes or no?” Sylus’s voice is low, rough, and commanding, but there’s a crack in his tone that gives him away. “I need to hear it, kitten. I need to hear you say you want this.”

You groan, head lolling forward, feeling the last shreds of your resolve crumble. It’s almost too much to bear, shadows coiled around you like velvet chains, holding you upright even as your strength falters. 

Why were you even fighting in the first place? The thought slips from your grasp, fleeting as a wisp of smoke. You can barely recall why you’re mad at them, at Sylus, at Rafayel. The failed mission, the target slipping away…it all feels inconsequential now, eclipsed by the molten desire in your chest. Did you not want them both? Did you not dream of this? Did you not die for this? 

The flicker of Sylus’s red eye pierces through the dark, pulling you out of your own thoughts and anchoring you back to this reality as you feel the rumble of his laugh vibrate through your chest even though he’s no longer touching you. You wish he were. 

“Then say it.” You hear him step closer, but still refusing to touch you. “Say you want this, or else it stops.”

And then it’s back.

A violent surge tears through your chest, flashes of color—of memories—fluttering by in a tempest, in an unintelligible inferno as the burning within your heart returns tenfold. Images flash too fast to comprehend, but the feelings linger: love so deep it swallowed you whole, betrayal like a knife twisting in your ribs, desire that turned your world to ash. 

They ripple through you, each thread of memory, each red string of fate tying itself tighter to your soul.

You’re gasping, trying to grip your chest as it feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest, desperate for relief. But Sylus’s Evol makes it impossible to move, snaking down your body instead as it anchors you against the pain attempting to seize your entire being. 

You want them. 

You need them. 

After all, they were always yours.

"Yes."

The word tumbles out, barely audible, a whispered confession that feels like release and surrender all at once.

Control returns to you in waves, your body trembling as if it’s been dragged from the brink of collapse. Your thighs quiver, and even the hold of Sylus’s Evol isn’t enough to stop the shuddering. Everything burns. Gods, everything burns. 

Behind you, Sylus makes a low sound that only makes the shaking worse. It’s raw, guttural—a noise you feel rather than hear. His control is unraveling, and for the first time, you realize he’s as close to breaking as you are.

He’s trembling.

Even with his iron control, even with his Evol wrapping around you like armor, he can’t stop the way his fingers hover just shy of your skin, tracing the curve of your neck, your spine, your waist, like he’s memorizing you. And he’s close—too close. 

His breath is hot against the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tension radiating from him, maintaining that invisible barrier as he replays your ‘yes’ in his mind again and again and again.

“What was that?” His voice is a rough whisper, but the challenge is clear. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Yes!” You nearly yell it this time, humiliation burning across your cheeks, but it’s dwarfed by the heat of your desire. ”I said yes.”

Sylus lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and every reason he’s had to hold back shatters. His Evol ripples, shadows weaving around your body in a dark embrace. Hands fly to your hips, a palm squeezing your thigh as your left leg is lifted completely off the ground. 

Sylus inhales you in greedy mouthfuls, lips dancing down your neck, your shoulder blade, nipping into the skin, reverent and desperate in equal measure. This new position was beyond vulnerable, Sylus forcing your quivering thigh higher and higher until it presses into your chest, the crude slice in your dress providing absolutely no resistance or chance for modesty, allowing everything to be exposed to the chill of the office’s midnight air. 

And to the hungry gaze of the man seated before you. 

"So needy, kitten. Are you finally remembering?” Sylus coos against your ear, but his smirk is fixed on Rafayel, looking directly at him as his free hand trails down between the slits of fabric, toying with the lace band of your panties, long, rough fingers slipping under them in teasing circles. “Beg.”

“What?” You hate the way your voice quivers as Sylus teases your cunt through the thin, already-drenched fabric. “You’re out of your—ah, fucking—mind, Sylus.”

“Quite the opposite. After all, we have an audience to impress.” A sudden slap against your clothed pussy has you moaning, jolting against your restraints, futile, and yet the disturbance is just enough for the left strap of your dress to slip off your shoulder, exposing the swell of your breast just shy of the nipple that was no doubt already hard enough to peek through the sheer silk all on its own. 

“Go on, beg for me.”

You don’t even get a chance to argue, not when Sylus delivers another harsh slap on your clit, soothing it with a cruel swirl, just enough to have you chasing the friction, grinding down against his palm with a choked sob. His middle two fingers tease against your slit, teasing but never breaching as the soaked fabric is stretched around his digits. He’s breaking you, and it’s working. 

"...Please." It comes out in a whine, and you bury your face in his chest as you feel yourself burn in embarrassment. 

A hum and Sylus’s hand leaves your cunt, making you whine at the loss. That is, until it's replaced on your neck, pushing your head up. A squeeze. "I said beg."

The pressure of his hold and the sweet demand of his voice only makes you wetter despite yourself. "Please," you repeat, shaking, each breath cut off just slightly by his thumb. "Please, Sylus, need it."

At first you think the bastard is doing this for himself, but as soon as you finish gasping out the words, his hand moves from your neck to your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look across the room. 

Forcing you to look right at Rafayel.

Still bound and gagged, desperate doesn’t begin to describe him. Straining against his bounds, Rafayel’s entire body is shaking, trembling from either need or fury, gripping the leather until his knuckles turn white. Sunset eyes are glassy, blown out with unshed tears as they struggle to focus on everywhere Sylus touches you, the bruises against your neck, the quiver in your leg, the slick dripping down your thighs up to your clothed cunt.

Fuck, he’s hard. Rafayel’s cock strains painfully against his pants, an obvious dark spot tented up against his trousers, rocking against empty air with a muffled sob.

He looks more wrecked than you, and he hasn’t even been touched yet.

And that realization does horrible, terrible things to you. 

“Please. Need you, need it s’bad it hurts. Wanna cum so, so badly, please,” you whine, deliberately sweet, locking eyes with Rafayel as you drag out your moan. “Sylus.”

There’s a click of a belt buckle and you’re being lifted up into the air. Sylus holds you up by the backs of your knees, completely at his mercy as your hands flail against the restraints pulled taut above your head. Your legs are spread wide, hugged tight to his chest as you feel his length, hot and desperate, pressing into your ass. 

"Hold her down."

The shadows pull taut, wrapping around your knees as they allow Sylus’s hands to wander elsewhere, suspending you against him. At the same time, his fingers are hooked against your panties, snapping them against your weeping cunt and giving Rafayel the perfect view as the two men lock eyes.

Rafayel’s reaction is almost immediate, falling forward in the chair, moans stifled against the shadows as he watches Sylus push your panties to the side and then, without warning, thrust two fingers in knuckle-deep. 

"You're so sensitive, aren't you, sweetie? Or is it because he’s watching?" As you cry the man simply drags you flush against his chest, forcing your legs higher as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. And looks Rafayel dead in the eyes. “She’s taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Sylus follows Rafayel’s gaze, unfocused and starving as he watches the two of you, more specifically, where your cunt greedily sucks up Sylus’s fingers, meeting every grind and curl of him deep inside you as you writhe against his chest. 

Rafayel hates it, he hates it, and he hates how turned on he is at the sight.

You’re so easy, walls clenching around his digits, obscene suck following each and every movement as clear evidence even as your words fail you. With another curl of his fingers, Sylus twists his wrist, admiring the glint of your slick dripping down his palm and forearm. So wet, even as he purposefully avoids giving you what you’re seeking, planning to drive you insane before fucking you in any way that matters.

A particularly deep thrust of Sylus’s fingers has him grazing that sweet spot, and your entire body convulses, your cries echoing across the empty room in time to the lewd, wet squelches of Sylus’s ministrations. You're sobbing, struggling to find respite from the sensations as your legs tremble and familiar heat coils in your core embarrassingly fast. 

"Ah, ah," Sylus chides, and his touch disappears, leaving you empty and unsatisfied as your head lolls back against his shoulder. It takes all of your willpower not to beg him to keep going, but the look on his face makes it clear you're not allowed.

"I need—”

"You need," his grip is firm, "To learn patience. Aren’t you forgetting something? If you cum so quickly, do you really think you’ll be able to handle the both of us?"

Sylus says that, and yet he’s not exactly helping. Finally giving attention to your clit, his pace is merciless, the slick sounds of your pussy sucking his fingers in making his cock twitch in his pants.

"Yes. Yes, Sylus, I want ah– wait," you gasp, unable to move, squirming in the air as you look directly at Rafayel, almost in a plea. But that only makes the poor man almost cum at the eye contact. His entire body flushes an erotic pink at the sight of you, pathetic whimpers and unintelligible praises muffled into the shadows.

Sylus smirks, feeling you clench around his fingers, and grinds forward, your protests dissolving into static as you feel his cock grind between your thighs. Fuck, you’re close.

But Sylus isn’t looking down at you, not anymore. He’s rather focused on the poor man looking nearly hypnotized at the show you’re so generously putting on. 

So why not take it further? Sylus directs his Evol down, ripping Rafayel’s shirt and squeezing his thighs as they tease and tighten against his trembling muscles, grinning at the man practically falling apart without so much as a touch. 

"You want a taste, puppy?” 

Sylus smirks, kissing down your neck, finally undoing his Evol gagging Rafayel’s mouth as a pathetic whine echoes across the room alongside every heaving breath. “Ask nicely, and maybe I'll let you. If she cums, she’s all yours."

Rafayel has never wanted to burn a building down so badly before. 

He's a god for fuck's sake—he, the bringer of tempests, the master of tidal waves, and the keeper of fire, unable to even fucking breathe at the sight of you. This is not desire; this is sacrilege. 

But then he hears it. His name. Shattered, trembling, falling from your lips like prayers ripped from a throat too broken to care—Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel—your thighs quivering in the air, your body offering to something you don’t fully understand, each syllable searing through him like molten iron, branding him, unmaking him.

Rafayel’s fingers twitch with the need to destroy—burn, drown, something. But when you scream his name once more, cumming around Sylus’s fingers, the god inside him shatters.

"Please," his throat is raw from cursing through the gag, each word tasting like ash and salt on his tongue. "Please, Sylus."

It’s not enough. Sylus tilts his head, amused. Rafayel sucks in a shuddering breath, nearly falling from the chair to his knees as the restraints loosen.

"You want a god to beg?" Rafayel laughs, fury crackling beneath his desperation. "I’ll beg. I’ll kneel. I’ll crawl to her. Please, just let me taste. Don’t make me wait anymore."

“Then crawl.”

You’re only just coming down from your orgasm, bits of Rafayel’s and Sylus’s nth argument flickering through your mind— before you’re suddenly gasping for breath. 

A silent scream rips from your mouth as the restraints above you flicker with every tremor that seizes your body, knees buckling as a searing sensation against your leg bites again.

You didn’t even see Rafayel get off the chair, let alone process when he got on his knees beneath you. 

“Rafayel!” Looking down through tear-lined lashes, you watch the man lick his lips, his only apology a wet, messy kiss to the violet bruise already blooming against your inner thigh. He’s whimpering apologies into your leg, tongue slipping out to meet your quivering skin, collecting your sweat and dripping slick, smearing it higher and higher along your inner thigh. You swear no human tongue is that long.

As if coordinated, the moment Sylus releases your leg from his hold, Rafayel drapes it over his shoulder, your body suspended between them. Your hands writhe helplessly above your head, desperate to lace themselves into the man's hair and pull— closer or further, you do not know. 

Rafayel’s yanking you forward, moaning into your cunt as his lips meet your own swollen ones—too hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. He’s eating through the fabric like a man starved, teeth grazing your clit as his tongue slips under, burying himself between your folds, tongue fucking up into you as his moans and whines are muffled only by your own and the wet squelches of your cunt.

"I— R-Rafayel—Sylus!"

Your head rolls back, falling onto Sylus’s chest as you feel Rafayel moan, the vibrations sending a shockwave up your spine. Your cum is dripping down his chin and chest, and he’s lost in the heat and taste of you, head spinning as he makes out with your pussy, sucking the drenched fabric of your panties, his poor neglected cock straining against his pants, begging for attention. In truth, Rafayel doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life.

Rafayel presses closer, nose brushing against your clit in sync with the curling and twisting of his tongue as it reaches that spongy abused spot deep inside you, the hot friction enough to send your eyes rocking into the back of your skull. 

Now you’re certain, the way it writhes inside you is most definitely far from human. 

Sylus is more than content to just watch over your shoulder, transfixed. Watch as the god kneels beneath you, head moving in a frenzy, desperate for more, a slave to his own hunger. When you try to writhe away from Rafayel, overstimulated, Sylus merely wraps his burly forearms around your waist and neck to pin you in place, the squeeze of Sylus’s biceps and Rafayel’s kissing to your cunt making you gloriously light-headed. 

Sylus watches your muscles begin to tremor, thighs locking around Rafayel’s head, and he brings his palm down to curl his fingers up into you alongside Rafayel’s tongue. 

“My, just look at you.” Sylus chuckles against your forehead as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, stifling your moans as you bite—hard—down into his sweat-slicked skin. “So needy for the both of us. Do you remember now? Do you realize the only thing your body craves is us, that we will be the only ones ever able to satisfy you?”

"Sylus, oh god, please," you moan, already delirious as you beg. 

Rafayel's head snaps up, panting between your legs, your wetness shining on his chin. He glares at the man above him, his eyes alight before pressing a rough kiss to your clit. 

"I’m your god. Do not speak to him while I'm touching you.” Rafayel’s mouth is back on your cunt, sucking, biting, and he reaches a hand up to rip the remaining fabric of your dress, squeezing your breast. "You're mine, You’re mine too. You were mine first, don’t forget that again." 

Rafayel feels the way you tense around his tongue and Sylus’s fingers and frowns, sucking harder, faster. You are a symphony in their ears, a drug in their veins, and gods, Rafayel has never felt so high.

 "Say it. Say my name,” he whines, drooling against your folds, "you're mine. All mine."

You can barely breathe.

"Say it."

"Yours, Rafayel," you cry out, your entire body shaking, "I'm yours."

"Again," he’s pleading, a growl, and you can feel it inside you, the vibration and the desperation. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss your clit—missing, placing wet, opened-mouth kisses against your thighs and cunt a few times instead.  "Say it again."

"Yours, always, always," you can feel the tears running down your cheeks, a sob wrenching from your throat as the pressure grows, "yours, Rafayel, I'm yours—"

You’re babbling, so, so fucked out you don’t even recognize the familiar letters Rafayel presses into your clit with every swirl of his tongue—R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L—spelling his name as if in reminder. In possession. In worship.

The two of you are practically overstimulating yourselves, and Sylus can see the moment your eyes roll back, your lips parting with a moan, and moves his fingers to curl against your g-spot at the same time Rafayel goes back to licking up into your cunt. The god growls at the interruption and nips Sylus’s fingers almost on instinct, causing Sylus to hiss as you jerk in his hold. 

Immediately, Sylus is reaching down, yanking on Rafayel’s hair, forcing his head out from beneath you. “Ah-ah, no biting.”

But, gods, does Rafayel fight it. Whining, Rafayel reluctantly slips his tongue out from your cunt, dazed and addicted, eyes half-lidded as he attempts to find his way back to you, finally forced back onto his heels. 

"The fuck do you think you're doing? Sylus, I swear to the seas I’ll set everything on fire and let it all burn," Rafayel snarls, his body shaking with desire.

Sylus laughs. "Is that how a good boy asks?"

Neither of you misses the full shiver that races down Rafayel’s spine at the pet name. Sylus forces Rafayel’s head to the side with his grip on his hair and the god snaps out of it, smiling with the promise of blood as your cum drips from his canines. 

"I have killed for less."

"I’ll make it worth the effort, puppy. I promise."

Sylus's eyes burn into him, a silent dare. A challenge. Rafayel's gaze shifts back and forth between Sylus and you, his teeth grinding together as his cock strains against his pants. There are only two choices left, and he knows it.

“Will both of you stop fighting and please—” you scream at their stupidity, “Please just fuck me!”

Their hands are on you in an instant.

Sylus drags Rafayel up by the hair, pushing the man back as he stumbles backward onto the couch, you falling on top of him as Sylus bends you over the leather arm. Immediately, you feel the hot press of Sylus against your ass, his body caging you between them as his arms rest on the back of the couch and right beside Rafayel’s head. 

“Make him come, and I’ll fuck you,” Sylus whispers into your ear, guiding your back into a deeper arch until your breasts graze the cold leather. 

He doesn’t even finish talking before you’re pawing at Rafayel’s pants. 

You don’t need the extra motivation, not really, not when you’re already salivating at the sight of Rafayel’s pretty length, heavy and leaking as it snaps up to his abdomen as soon as you shove down his boxers.

Overly eager, you thumb at his slit, collecting the copious amounts of sticky pre-cum dripping onto his stomach as you drag your hand up and down, watching anger fade from Rafayel’s expression entirely as he writhes against the couch. 

You’ve barely even touched him and he’s falling apart. The sheen of sweat makes his muscles stick to the leather as he bucks up into your touch, babbling pleas as he watches you lean down to kiss the tip. "Poor baby. You’re this hard from just watching?"

"Please," Rafayel begs, gasping as your hand squeezes against the base of his pretty cock. "Wanna fuck you. Wanna be inside you. Please."

You hesitate, almost looking over your shoulder at Sylus for permission when you’re lifted up into the air with a yelp. Sylus only needs one arm to hoist you over the arm of the couch, dropping you onto Rafayel’s lap as the both of you moan at the mere contact of skin on skin. 

It should be embarrassing, the fact that you’re so wet that at the first few attempts, Rafayel’s cock merely slides between your thighs, grinding into your clit before trying again, Sylus cooing sweet nothings to the both of you as he purposely slows you down.

One of his large hands begins grinding you onto Rafayel’s length, letting you take him inch by inch, the other moving to stop the man beneath you from squirming, pinning him down. 

"Mhm fuck, Raf, feels so good." Relishing the stretch you finally, finally, get. Greedily sinking faster as you chase the addictive feeling, down until your ass hits his pelvis with a lewd squelch.

"Ah," Rafayel tries to meet you halfway, tries to thrust up into you but can’t so much as move with Sylus’s hand and Evol holding him down yet again. “Sylus, please, let me. Need it, need it so bad.”

The sound of Rafayel moaning Sylus’s name really shouldn’t be that hot, and yet you feel your pussy flutter, Rafayel’s cock twitching violently in you as he groans from the sudden pressure, throbbing in time to your heartbeat. Rolling your hips, you chase the friction of his pelvis against your clit, grinding back and forth as your breathing reduces to small cries of their names. 

"You can do better than that," Sylus scoffs, hand squeezing your hip, pressing down onto your lower abdomen before dragging you all the way off Rafayel’s length and slamming you back down. Again. And again.

Both of you lose your minds a little at that. Your moan is muffled as you collapse down onto Rafayel’s chest, panting, drooling at the pace Sylus is setting for you, still moving your hips as you try to distract yourself by placing messy, opened-mouth kisses up Rafayel’s heaving chest. Biting his nipple just to watch him arch into your mouth with a sob. Wanting, needing more. 

Sylus rocks you forward just a bit more and you scream, the fat head of Rafayel’s cock now ramming into your g-spot, raw and sensitive.

"Please, fuck," Rafayel gasps out, shaking at the change in angle. His jaw hangs deliriously open as he looks down, greedy eyes locked on the way your cunt was swallowing him whole. “Don’t stop, m’close. Please, ah—shit, don’t squeeze me like that— don’t stop.”

Sylus’s low laugh makes your cunt throb, gushing around Rafayel’s cock as the sticky, creamy strands begin to pool where your thighs meet. Still guiding you up and down, Sylus moves to finger at your clit, smiling as the both of you tense up immediately, smacking up once, twice, onto your oversensitive nub. 

“Very well then, make him cum. Poor thing deserves it, right?” Sylus whispers into your ear, spreading two fingers across the glossy mess between your bodies, watching your combined slick drip down his wrist. You watch him withdraw his glistening fingers with a smug, feral grin, immediately leaning down to press the digits into Rafayel’s open mouth. 

Every sound is unrestrained now, Rafayel’s eyes rolling back at the taste of you coating Sylus’s fingers, sucking diligently as his pace speeds up into brutal, frantic thrusts. Rafayel’s hips freely jerk up as he plants his feet into the couch, new leverage letting him ram himself deeper, barely pulling out before rolling his hips back into yours. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, fuuuck."

"Cum, puppy, I know you're close."

You swallow your cries just long enough to lick across Rafayel’s blushing red ear and whisper, "Be a good boy and cum for us, Raf. Come inside me, please?”

It hits him so hard it hurts.

Rafayel cries as he cums, loud, sweet moans garbled against Sylus’s fingers, drooling around him nearly as much as his cock is drooling in you, the sheer heat of his release filling you to the brim as it squirts down your thighs and up his abs in thick rivulets. But he’s still grinding up into you as he cums, fucking his release deeper, arching his muscled back into a gorgeous curve on the soaked leather, and you feel your own orgasm quickly approaching.

"Rafayel, Sylus, wait please, too much, I’m gonna—"

"You can take it, kitten.” Sylus cuts you off, retracting his fingers from Rafayel’s mouth before tapping them against his cheek, smearing the wetness of his digits down his jaw.

Rafayel gets the message, still thrusting, hands squeezing your breasts, waist, down to your ass, spreading your thighs until they shake, all as Sylus keeps moving your hips. The two of them working together as your body shudders, orgasm hitting you without any other warning. 

Sylus hums sweet praises as your head floats in and out of reality, still deliciously stretched around Rafayel’s still-hard cock. The couch dips as Sylus settles in behind you, the heat of his bare skin caressing your back as his hands massage comforting little circles into yours and Rafayel’s hips. 

“Good job, baby.”

Both of you shudder at the praise. 

Sylus’s voice acts as little more than an aphrodisiac, all low and rough with a teasing chuckle, and the way you feel Rafayel twitch inside you makes you think he feels similarly. 

“Hey,” Rafayel’s already embarrassingly close to coming again, your every movement tightening and rocking against his length. He pushes himself up onto his elbows with a whine, nuzzling into your touch with each slow, deep thrust. “You’re taking too long. Hurry up, a deal is a deal, so hurry up already and fuck her.”  

You can’t see it, but the sight of you and Rafayel still subtly grinding against each other, panting and breathless, makes a dark flush spread across Sylus’s cheeks, his own body betraying him as he smiles. One thick arm anchors you to his chest as the other pulls Rafayel up. “So needy, aren’t you?”

You don’t know who he’s talking to— you don’t particularly care. 

Not so long as both of them were inside you within the next five seconds. 

“Shh,” Sylus kisses you quiet, silencing the whines you didn’t even realize you were letting out, "Don't worry, kitten. We're gonna take real good care of you, aren't we, Rafayel?"

Rafayel only nods, eyes half-lidded and teary as he looks down to where you and him are joined. He's still buried to the hilt, throbbing against your walls, and you both moan at the overstimulation from every movement, hissing at the cool air as Sylus slides his hands down to pull you apart, fingers pressing against his cock inside you.

"Just relax, alright? Deep breaths. This'll feel really good soon."

Slow. Torturously slow. Sylus retreats his fingers and replaces them with his weeping tip. And then he’s pushing in alongside Rafayel’s cock— careful, deep grinds of his hips that have you and Rafayel moaning, every heartbeat pulsing against your walls in violent thumps. 

"Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"Breathe, Raf."

"I'll burn you alive."

Sylus laughs at Rafayel's pained whine, and he takes that moment to tighten his arm around your waist, forcing you steady before thrusting in one brutal push. The sheer size of them, the combined pressure, and the very fact that you can feel them both rocking and throbbing against each other is enough to have you losing your mind. 

Dropping his head to kiss your shoulders, Sylus almost looks apologetic as he turns your head to the side, messily licking into your lips as he says, “M’sorry, just a bit more. Just a bit- hah fuck- a bit deeper—” 

Oh fuck, he’s not even in all the way yet.

Rafayel is moaning nonstop now, his hands finding yours and squeezing, the two of you trembling. You're a drooling, overstimulated mess between them, but all you can do is nod, a garbled, “S’okay, keep- keep going.”

That's the last warning you get before Sylus pushes deeper, until you can feel him in your throat, pound after heavy pound that shakes the entire damn couch. Holy fuck, it might break. 

They’re caging you in on either side, rhythmless, bouncing you like little more than a toy, pressing closer as the pressure grows against your walls and around your hips, reminding you of just how small you are to them in every conceivable way and how far they’re willing to go for you. How willing of worship they are. How desperate they are to prove it. 

You can feel everything, so full you can barely breathe, can barely think. Shaky fingers claw down anything you can find, digging into hard planes of muscle, and Rafayel makes a sound against your mouth like it hurts. But he isn't holding back either, the grip on your thighs bruising as he fucks into you, every thrust a sharp shock of pleasure as he and Sylus rock against one another.

The room is filled with the lewd squelch of their cock fucking into your wet cunt, taking turns in deep, uneven tempos, and the heavy, ragged sounds of your breathing.

Sylus suddenly moans, loud and unrestrained against your shoulder, and you look back to see Rafayel’s hand squeezing the pale column of his neck, the slow lick of flames leaving bright red marks against his skin in the shape of Rafayel’s palm. The pain only seems to set Sylus off further, a harsh thrust into your ass forcing you forward and deeper against Rafayel as well, nearly delirious as you’re stuck between their silent competition yet again.

Rafayel’s mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when you already begin clenching, practically milking them back in, pace stuttering as his swollen tip takes turns colliding with Sylus’s own and your cervix. Half-delirious, his palm comes up, pressing right where he could feel both of their cocks making a mess of you inside. 

“Ah! W-what-”

“Mhm, you deserve a reward don’t you cutie?” He’s panting against your mouth while Sylus bites the filthiest of words into the crook of your neck. The lovebites they’ve swathed across your skin will take days, if not weeks to disappear, but you’re far too gone to pay them any mind. “Take it, take our cum then. Right here.”

Rafayel’s palm digs into your lower stomach, hard.

His thrusts are short and frantic now, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as you tighten impossibly around him. The pressure builds until you can't breathe, your body shaking and toes curling as you scream out little ah’s of their names.

"Wanna-" Rafayel can barely finish his sentence, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix. "Wanna fill you up, make sure you never forget. Never forget us again.”

Sylus on the other hand almost looks pained at the idea, and the sudden rush of possessiveness makes his thrusts harsher, rougher, and the sound of his hips colliding with yours fills the room.

“Yes yes yes- hah- want you to cum inside.” Arching between them, grappling pathetically for more. More. “Both of you inside, want it.”

"Careful." Sylus growls, forcing himself to breathe. To think. 

Rafayel only grins, a wicked edge to his fucked-out smile. “It’d be our mark. All ours. Our love, all full of us, our cum. You'd look so good like that, our sweet darling.”

You cry, burying your face in Rafayel's neck, his hair, the smell of him, of Sylus. "Wanna- want—ahh—want it, Sylus, please- want to feel it, want to be both of yours.”

“Don’t.” Sylus can't help but hiss, his cock swell violently inside of you, the telltale heat pooling in his stomach of a dragon marking his territory. He’s so close it’s embarrassing. 

Instead, his mouth finds your throat, sucking more bruises into the side Rafayel hasn’t completely marred. "Do you really want this? Think about it, kitten."

Rafayel laughs, squeezing your face in his hand as a low trill sounds from the back of his throat. “You believe—mhm, fuck—she can think right now?”

Sylus chooses to ignore him. Gently taking your face from Rafayel, he covers your eyes, whispering into your ear, "One more time, kitten. Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

There's no response, but the sudden, painful press of Sylus's bite makes you gasp, the sharp sting a pleasant contrast to the sweet ache spreading throughout your body. A hand pulls against your waist, another flicking cruelly across your nipple, pain and pleasure bleeding into one as you nearly collapse, two sets of hands immediately steading you instead. Rafayel moves to the unoccupied side of your neck, matching Sylus’s marks, the vulgar sounds of their tongues and sucking of teeth between moans fills your ears, just above the slap of their rough thrusts. 

Twin marks, the jaws of a Lemurian and the canines of a dragon, glowing a dull blue and red, claiming your body and soul in a way that their bonds sing. 

Sylus immediately retracts, kissing away the few escaped droplets of blood in apology while Rafayel lets them run, licking up your collarbone as the blood smears across your heartbeat, frantic under his tongue. 

Rafayel's tongue soothes the pain as he kisses the mark, hissing a soft, “ours,” into your neck.

The possessive edge in his voice sends a shockwave through your body, and you can't help but shudder, walls spasming around him and Sylus as the pleasure nearly blinds you, every sense heightened by Sylus’s palm still covering your eyes. 

Without sight, every touch, every shift of their bodies against yours, in yours, is overwhelming. And you’re crying out into the darkness as they tease and drag you up, forcing you closer and closer— 

Fuck, you’re squirting everywhere. Each thrust now punctuated by wet slaps as your hands claw and slip against the drenched muscles of Rafayel’s abs and Sylus’s chest, unable to anchor yourself as you continue to cum. Shaking with it. 

They barely notice, the sudden vice of your cunt sucking them inside as they fuck into you in shallow, desperate little grinds. Anything to get deeper and deeper still, one kissing you as you feel their tongue lick up into you and the other playing with your clit, all three of you quickly losing your minds.

It’s impossibly messy, desperate. Neither of them has any control left, both cumming inside you as you continue to convulse around them, Sylus's hips stuttering as you feel the full, hot press of his release. Rafayel isn't far behind, whining and twitching, filling you up as their combined release gushes around your thighs, staining the leather couch below with dripping pools of it.

The feeling of being so full is enough to prolong your orgasm to the point of pain, and you scream their names as best you can when you can’t feel your tongue anymore, body convulsing.

You're still dizzy when Rafayel finally pulls away, a soft whimper escaping his lips at the feeling.

“So good, so pretty for us cutie, our sweet darling, you did so well." Rafayel’s babbling to himself with a lopsided smile, guiding Sylus’s hand to your navel. "Look, look. She's so full."

Sylus pulls back, heaving, his eyes immediately falling to where Rafayel's hand rests. He can feel it, can feel both of their releases seeping out, but Rafayel is right, your lower stomach is swollen. Not quite enough to show, but definitely enough to make them both moan, and the sound draws your attention back down to earth.

“Again.”

It's the first demand you’ve given in a while, and it’s not what Sylus expected, not with the way you barely seem lucid, but there's a bright flush to your cheeks and an excited glint in your eyes, and it's so fucking hot he can barely breathe. 

What Sylus also didn’t expect was for you to immediately lift yourself off his dick, busy watching your combined spend trickle down your thighs before both you and Rafayel knock Sylus onto his back, looking equal parts feral and furious as the two of you work together to pin him down. 

“You really didn’t think I’d let you get away with everything you pulled in the beginning, did you?” 

You nod, biting into Sylus’s neck as you whisper in faux anger. “This is entirely your fault.”

Sylus could barely manage to hide his smile. 

Who knows if any of you will make it out of this alive. The only lasting truth you know now is that they’ve irreversibly claimed you. That you’ve claimed them. 

Your dragon and your god.

This is all for @jayhyunglover who sparked this obsession while I was stuck in NYC's airport-- what a way to start 2025. Regardless, a month later this was born, so thank you, darling for feeding my delusions. This one's for you~

[whosashan]

Silent Treatmeant

How I think the LaDS men would react to being given the silent treatment by you!

Xavier

Xavier is a patient man—truly, he is. He’s long grown accustomed to your peculiar ways, your little oddities. At times, he struggles to make sense of your antics, yet somehow, that only makes you all the more endearing to him.

The two of you sat across from each other on the couch in your apartment, the dim glow of the television flickering across your faces. The faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air from a candle burning on the coffee table, mixing with the remnants of popcorn and the intoxicating scent of your lover. A movie played—a familiar pastime for the both of you whenever time allowed with your busy schedules. You stole a glance at him, watching the way he sipped on the drink you had made earlier, fingers loosely curled around the mug, his gaze fixed on the screen. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the ceramic told you he was completely absorbed.

It was only when he finally noticed your unwavering stare that he turned to meet your gaze. And for a brief moment, he could have sworn that if looks could kill, he’d already be dead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Concern laced his voice, reflected in the blue of his eyes. Ironically, the sight of his worry only seemed to frustrate you further.

Since the moment he arrived, he had barely paid you any attention, too caught up in the film to acknowledge you properly. It was frustrating—how could he? He should be paying attention to you, not some cliché movie about time travel. The urge to turn it off crossed your mind, but you decided not to do that. You didn’t want him to notice how irritated you were.

Instead of answering, you merely turned your gaze back to the screen, feigning indifference. Even then, you could feel his eyes lingering on you, his confusion palpable.

The couch dipped slightly as he shifted closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. The space between you shrank, yet you remained still, stubborn in your silence.

"Baby..." His voice was soft, coaxing, and it took every ounce of restraint not to let your resolve crumble right then and there. His touch, his tone—it all made your heart ache in the most infuriating way. But pride held you firm, so you continued to ignore him.

And then, without warning, you felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, breathing you in as if he could commit your scent to memory. A shiver ran through you, your body tensing for a split second before surrendering to his warmth. He placed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw.

"Talk to me." His voice had taken on a firmer edge now, more insistent, though still laced with quiet desperation.

When silence was his only answer, he did something unexpected. A sharp sting bloomed against your neck. He had bitten you.

"Xavier!" you gasped, jolting in surprise.

"So you do hear me," he murmured, exhaling softly, almost as if in relief.

You turned to face him at last, pouting. He was smiling—just barely—but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his expression. He had won. He always did, you could never truly say no to him.

"Will you finally tell me what's on your mind, princess?" The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach, quickening your heartbeat.

A beat of silence passed before you relented, arms crossing in defiance. "You're not paying any attention to me. You’ve been glued to that movie this whole time—what's so fascinating about it, anyway?"

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek before pulling you into his embrace, his arms winding securely around you.

"Then I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you," he murmured. "Starting now."

Zayne

"Darling."

Zayne’s voice drifted through the quiet apartment, low and slightly hoarse—a telltale sign that he hadn’t been awake for long. It was a rare morning where neither of you had to rush off to work, a quiet reprieve from the usual chaos.

And yet, you remained silent.

Utter disbelief rooted you in place. The audacity. The betrayal. The pastries you had been looking forward to all night, the ones you had carefully chosen to enjoy with your morning coffee, were gone—devoured by none other than your sweet-toothed lover.

Under normal circumstances, it might have been a minor grievance, something to brush off with a sigh and a shake of your head. But after the past few days of relentless stress at work, this was simply the final straw.

You wouldn’t take it out on him, of course. He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault.

So instead, you ignored him. Well, at least until you calmed your nerves down.

Rather than making coffee, you opted for tea, hoping it might ease your irritation. You moved through the kitchen quietly, the warm mug cradled in your hands, its steam curling up toward your face.

And then—familiar hands.

Zayne’s arms wrapped around your waist, his touch effortlessly grounding, the press of his lips against the top of your head unbearably tender. He always had a way of melting through your defenses before you even realized it was happening.

His voice, smooth and deliberate, broke the silence. "Is something troubling you?" He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

Still, you said nothing.

He shifted slightly, gently turning you to face him. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep, and his eyes, half-lidded and heavy with lingering drowsiness, studied you with quiet curiosity. And for a moment, you faltered. He looked devastatingly good like this—soft and unguarded in the early morning light.

But then, the memory of your missing pastries resurfaced.

"Did I do something to upset you?" His tone remained even, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven beneath his usual stoicism. He reached for your free hand, the one not cradling your tea, and brought it to his cheek. His lips brushed over your wrist, something he has done countless times before, his touch effortlessly affectionate, yet it made your heart flutter, gaze softening.

You sighed. This man was going to be the death of you.

"You ate my pastries." Your voice was flat, your brows pulling together in a small frown.

A beat of silence. Then, understanding dawned in his expression.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen as he met your gaze, unshaken as ever. "I sincerely apologize, love. Allow me to make it up to you—come out with me, and I’ll buy you as many pastries as your heart desires."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Are you attempting to bribe me, Dr. Zayne?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to amusement you would get from him this early in the morning.

"Is it working?"

*Is it?*

Rafayel

It was the third time this month that Rafayel had summoned you to his studio under the guise of an "emergency."

And, just like the last two times, there was no real emergency—just another one of his elaborate attempts to steal your attention.

Normally, his antics would have made you smile, maybe even laugh. You’d always found his dramatic nature endearing, his endless need for your presence almost charming. But work had been relentless lately, stretching you thin. The days blurred together in a mess of exhaustion, your mind too preoccupied with tasks and responsibilities to indulge him as easily as before.

The first time, you found it amusing. The second, you let it slide. After all, how could you deny your lover a bit of attention? But now, standing in the middle of his paint-streaked studio, his so-called "emergency" nothing more than an empty excuse, you could feel frustration simmering beneath your skin.

"Y/N!" Rafayel’s voice carried through the room, laced with exaggerated despair as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could step out the door.

You paused but said nothing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his expression shifting into something almost comically wounded. "Are you actually mad at me?" He blinked at you, as if the very idea was beyond comprehension. It was clear he hadn't considered that disrupting your work might genuinely frustrate you.

You turned to face him, your expression firm. The moment his gaze met yours, he pouted—a soft, almost theatrical downturn of his lips that tugged at your heart despite your irritation.

Damn him.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away and attempting to leave again, but Rafayel wasn’t having it. His hold on your wrist remained firm, his grip gentle but insistent.

"Wait—I'm sorry!" His voice pitched slightly in alarm, his usual playful demeanor faltering as he scrambled to fix the situation. "I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just…" He hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly. "I just wanted to see you."

There was something so utterly boyish about the way he said it—so completely unguarded. You could hear the pout in his voice even without looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, some of your frustration ebbing away.

"Rafayel…" you murmured, your voice softer now. Turning back to him, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his paint-smudged fingers ghosting over your own.

"I'm not mad that you want to spend time with me," you reassured him gently. "But you can’t keep making up emergencies when you know I’m working. It’s not fair, love."

His brows knit together, guilt flickering across his features.

You huffed out a small laugh. "I’ll take a day off soon, and when I do, I’ll be all yours. No interruptions, I promise."

The transformation was instant. His entire face lit up, joy replacing every trace of guilt as he all but tackled you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

"You swear it?" His voice was muffled against your shoulder.

"I swear."

Rafayel pulled back just enough to grin at you, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his gaze. "Good. Because I already have about ten different date ideas, and I expect full participation."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Of course you do."

And just like that, your frustration melted away.

Sylus

You sat in Sylus' kitchen, at the grand kitchen island, indulging in whatever you felt like having at that moment, though the food did little to ease the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Mephisto had been following you again.

The mechanical crow had a way of appearing when you least expected it, its glowing eyes tracking your every move like an ever-present specter. It unsettled you, always lingering just at the edge of your vision, a silent observer in the shadows. You even found him in your apartament once, still wondering how he got there.

You had spoken to Sylus about it more times than you could count, but the man seemed utterly unbothered, amused even, by your grievances.

“Are you planning to ignore me all day, sweet girl?” His deep, velvety voice broke through the silence, laced with the usual undertones of amusement. “I’ve already told you—Mephisto has simply taken an extreme liking to you.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, and instead busied yourself with your meal. When that wasn’t enough of a distraction, you reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the screen in an attempt to block out his presence.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, assessing, waiting. The subtle heat of his presence grew nearer, the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and expensive leather—curling around you.

Then, effortlessly, he plucked the phone from your hands.

Your head snapped up, a scowl already settling on your face as you turned to glare at him. He, of course, remained entirely unruffled. A slow smirk curled his lips, and before you could snatch your device back, he tucked it into his pocket.

“You’ll get it back once you decide to talk to me.” He settled onto the stool beside you, elbow resting against the marble, his posture entirely relaxed as he watched your reaction with open amusement.

You huffed, turning away without a word. If he thought this was going to be enough to pull a response from you, he was sorely mistaken.

But you had underestimated Sylus.

The moment you stepped away, you felt his hand catch your waist, firm yet effortless, and in one fluid motion, he pulled you back against him. Your breath hitched as you collided with his chest, the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the scent of him dizzying.

He sighed against your ear, low and indulgent. “You’re being difficult.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“I do not wish to be followed and monitored by your mechanical crow. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.”

Sylus hummed, his fingers still resting against your waist as he turned you to face him. His expression remained unreadable, though there was something in his dark gaze—something knowing, something teasing.

“I know you are,” he said smoothly. “Alright, I’ll tell him to tone it down.”

Your brows furrowed, your skepticism evident, but you knew this was the best concession you would get from him.

“You’re terrible,” you muttered, though there was no real venom behind it.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you fully, pulling you against him in a slow, deliberate embrace.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Caleb

The apartment was warm, bathed in the soft glow of dimmed lights, the scent of home-cooked food still lingering in the air. Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes, a quiet backdrop to the clinking of dishes as Caleb moved around the kitchen, tidying up after dinner.

You sat at the dinner table, absently poking at the meal he had made you, though your appetite had long faded. Something gnawed at you, a strange ache settling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Caleb, of course, noticed immediately.

"You’re looking at that food like it personally offended you," he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "What’s wrong, pipsqueak?"

You didn’t answer.

Your frown deepened as you idly pushed your fork against the plate, the silence between you stretching just a little too long.

The sound of running water cut off. Moments later, he was at your side, kneeling beside your chair, bringing himself to your eye level. His presence was steady, familiar—the scent of his cologne mixed with something undeniably Caleb.

Then—poke.

His finger prodded your cheek, once, twice, thrice, in an attempt to get a reaction out of you. Anything. He hated seeing you like this, all quiet and brooding.

"Guess you’re not that talkative now, huh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes—warm and intent—searched your face for answers. The boyish grin he wore, the same one that had always made your heart falter just a little, did nothing to ease your mood.

You sighed, your gaze drifting—away from him, away from his teasing expression—to his neck. Bare.

The necklace. His necklace. Your necklace. The one you had given him, the one he always wore.

It wasn’t there.

He caught the flicker of emotion that crossed your face, and just like that, he understood. Of course, he did. He had known you for too long, had memorized every little shift in your expression, every mannerism that gave you away.

“I took it off while I was at work,” he admitted, watching you carefully. “Left it in my uniform and forgot to bring it with me.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

"But it’s safe," he reassured, reaching up to tousle your hair with a careless grin. “I’ll make sure to bring it next time, okay? Don’t pout on me now.”

You winced. “Caleb! I just washed my hair!”

And just like that, the tension was gone, washed away as you swatted at him in protest. His grin widened as he swiftly dodged your hands, the shift in your mood exactly what he had been aiming for.

The next thing you knew, you were chasing him through the apartment, the air filled with your laughter as he weaved through the furniture, just out of reach.

"Alright, alright, truce!" He lifted his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of actually stopping.

For now, the necklace was forgotten. For now, there was only this—the warmth, the laughter, the easy way he pulled you back in, just like he always did.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Just read your telling the LADS Men you're pregnant hcs and AAAA I loved it so muchhh. the boys r so silly. SOOO May I request LADS men when reader goes into labour when they're away? Sorry I just love chaos 🤭

The Baby is Coming!

Giving your lads man a call when you're going into labor while he's not with you. A/N: Hey nonnie I bet you thought I forgot about this request huh? I didn't sorry I took so long to finish it. Love you 🩵

Zayne

Calling Zaynes' office

Zayne: Dr. Zayne speaking Tara: It’s coming Zayne: What’s coming?

Fumbling noises from you snatching the phone from Tara

MC: Your big headed child Zayne my water just broke

Loud clattering noises on Zaynes' end

Zayne: I’m on my way home now MC: Tara is bringing me to the hospital just stay there Zayne: Right right … I'll report to labor and delivery MC: *groans in pain* Zayne: How bad is the pain MC: I’ll punch you in the nuts so you can experience it firsthand Zayne: I’ll let that one slide because I know it’s the contractions talking

Rafayel

MC: The twins are coming Rafayel: WHAT!? MC: YEA! Rafayel: They’re 3 weeks early MC: No shit sherlock *groans in pain* Rafayel: Tell them I said stop hurting mommy MC: Mommy is gonna curb stomp daddy if he isn’t here within the next 5 minutes Rafayel: Don’t worry your savior is on the way MC: You’re not funny hurry up Rafayel: Can’t you just cross your legs? MC: Nvm I’ll drive myself Rafayel: Okay okay I’m sorry I’m just freaking out MC: I have not one but two crotch goblins trying to rip me in half I need you to lock in or so help me God I will fry you up and serve you with a side of fries and extra tartar sauce you hear me? Rafayel: Yes ma’am

Xavier

Xavier: I have everything ready to read to your tummy tonight MC: You’ll be reading to our son instead Xavier: What do you mean? MC: My water broke while I was at Philos Xavier: Why are you there? MC: I was picking out the flowers I want in my hospital room *groans in pain* Xavier: I’m coming don't worry MC: You coming is what caused all of this but it's fine Jeremiah is driving me to the hospital now Xavier: ……does he drive better than me? MC: Xav please don’t piss me off right now……. Xavier: Right heading there now MC: Make sure you bring the baby bag Xavier: I have it ... unlike Jeremiah MC: NOT NOW!

Sylus

Sylus: I'm getting a distress call from Mephisto what's wrong? MC: The baby is coming Sylus: Is this another case of Braxton Hicks? MC: No its a case of amniotic fluid all over the damn kitchen floor Sylus: I'm on my way don’t move MC: *groaning in pain* I can barely do anything right now Sylus: Remember the breathing techniques MC: This is all your fault Sylus: I know Princess you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want MC: I’m gonna break it Sylus: Good luck with that MC: What did you just say? Sylus: I said I’m sure of that

Caleb

MC: Hey dumbass your big headed child is trying to tear me in two Caleb: Aww are they kicking too hard? MC: Caleb….. Caleb: Don’t tell me MC: Yes my water broke Caleb: Okay don’t worry I’m on my way stay on the phone with me MC: Gideon is already driving me to the hospital meet us there Caleb: ….. MC: You there? Caleb: Is he driving safe? MC: CALEB! Caleb: Right on my way! Uh real quick did you grab the baby bag? MC: Yes Caleb: Do you remember the breathing techniques? MC: Yes Caleb: Did you- MC: STOP WITH THE TWENTY ONE QUESTIONS BEFORE I HANG UP Caleb: Alright I'm done but just so you know you can scream at me all you want I don't mind MC: *Hangs up*

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

random turn ons ♡ - lads headcanons

prompt: just some things i think would get the boys in the mood that aren't inherently naughty ;) rating: n-fw, 18+, minors dni cw: slight smut, implied fem!reader, some physical descriptions given (mostly vague, but please feel free to imagine mc however you like, regardless of what i've written!) ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier: -Lounge wear! -Because it means he can probably convince you to take a nap with him, but also because no one else has the privilege of seeing you wearing that -He likes literally every type of lounge wear, but he is partial to tight fitting shorts and lace camisoles -His hands will wander while you’re watching TV, fingers brushing against the skin on your stomach and your thighs -You: “What are you doing, Xav?” Xavier: “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just think you feel so soft.” -He’ll make sure to plant plenty of kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, hiking up your shirt to kiss there, too -Also unabashedly into watching you eat anything that could be taken sexually -Ice cream? Forget about it. Popsicles? He’s gonna cream his jeans -He just really loves watching your lips close around certain things -“Maybe you can show me how you do that later?”

Zayne: -Sundresses -There’s just something about the way the summer air billows through the fabric, framing your body, each particularly strong gust showing him the tiniest peak of your ass -If the straps fall off of your shoulder, so help him now he might just have to make a quick detour with you somewhere private -Also loves when you try on his glasses, even though he’s far too pragmatic to admit it -You: “Do I look smart enough, Dr. Zayne?” Zayne, trying to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks: “Smart? Yes, of course. Let’s go with that.” -Will fully make out with you when you’re wearing his glasses, pulling you onto his lap in his office to help him relieve some of the pressure building up from seeing you in them -When you realize this, you make sure to steal them more often, feigning innocent the entire time so that he doesn’t catch on to your schemes

Rafayel: -You know those cliche videos of women getting out of the pool in slow motion? Yeah, that’s what Raf sees every time you go swimming or get out of the shower -Your wet hair slicked back, water droplets clinging to you skin, the glow of the light reflecting shimmery sunshine -Eyes would do that cartoony ‘awooga’ if they could -Pulling you against him, he says, “You got me all wet, guess we’ll have to take off these clothes, huh?” -Also super into your hands -As an artist, he appreciates the nuances of the human body, and you are his forever his muse -He’ll play with your fingers, turning your palm over in his hand, kissing each individual digit -Usually leads to your hands moving to touch him elsewhere, his dramatic ass claiming all breathy that he’s being touched by the hands of a goddess

Sylus: -Putting your hair up The first time you do this is during a sparring session with him in his boxing ring -You: “Hold up, my hair is in the way.” Sylus: “You’re giving your opponent too much time to plan their next move, kitten.” -You bend over to secure the hair tie in place, and when you flip your head back up Sylus.exe has stopped functioning -He rips the velcro on his boxing glove free with his teeth and corners you in the ring -“Distracting your prey is a good move, too,” he’ll murmur in between kisses -Yeah he’s definitely using that hair tie to pull your hair in bed later -Also loves watching you do your makeup -Will stand in the doorway in the bathroom, one leg crossed over the other to hide how absolutely turned on he is watching the way your mouth slightly hangs open when you put on mascara -You know by now to start getting ready early so you and Sylus have enough time for a quickie before you leave

Caleb: -Cute marks on your face -He absolutely gushes over dimples, birthmarks, freckles, or beauty marks -Likes to poke each place they mark your skin and if you get annoyed with him when he does this, he will only laugh and then kiss each one -The easiest way to get Caleb absolutely feral for you is to wear his tshirts or hoodies -You devise the plan when he is in the shower, taking his favorite shirt and spraying his cologne on it, before pulling it over your naked body -When Caleb enters the room, towel already hanging dangerously low on his hips, he stops in his tracks when he sees you -“My favorite shirt and my favorite girl. Do you want to take it off now or should I ruin both of you tonight?” -Definitely going to take you from behind while you’re wearing it, both of your smells mingling on his skin and driving him crazy

[rafayelxsylusho]

How would the lads men react the first time they see you wearing a babydoll.

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT and more SMUT

Caleb/Xavier/Sylus/Zayne/Rafayel

CALEB 🪐

Caleb's eyes widened as they raked over your form, taking in the sheer black lace of the babydoll that clung to your curves. The dark fabric contrasted starkly with your skin, and the low neckline exposed the tantalizing swell of your breasts. Below, a tiny black thong disappeared between your thighs, drawing the eye down to your long, shapely legs.

For a moment, Caleb felt his breath catch in his throat. Desire, hot and intense, surged through his veins like liquid fire. He drank in the sight of you, his gaze burning a path down your body, lingering on the tempting expanse of skin and the way the flimsy lace hugged your most intimate places.

"Looks like I got home just in time for dinner" he breathed, his voice rougher than intended, "and it looks mouthwatering"

Caleb's heart raced as he closed the remaining distance between you, his eyes locked into yours. The air between you crackling with a tension that set your nerves alight. He could see the pulse fluttering at the base of your throat, could hear the hitch in your breath as he drew closer.

Caleb's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the delicate straps of your babydoll. The flimsy black lace slid down your shoulders with a whisper of fabric against skin. He felt the weight of the lace cups ease, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you, now bared before him in the dim light of the room. The urge to touch, to feel, surged through his veins, setting his heart pounding against his ribs.

He watched your nipples pebble and tighten under his intense gaze. The sight sent a jolt of desire straight to his core, stoking the flames of his arousal. He could feel himself growing hard, his cock straining against the confines of his pants as he drank in every little reaction on your skin.

Kneeling before you, Caleb gripped and slowly slid the babydoll down your body. He took his time, savoring the way the lace skimmed over your curves, revealing more and more of your skin to his greedy eyes. The fabric slipped lower and lower until finally, it fell away completely.

Caleb gripped your hips, his fingers splaying over the dip of your waist. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. He took his time, worshipping every inch of exposed skin with lips, tongue and teeth.

"Turn around for me, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Let me see all of you."

As you spun slowly, Caleb's gaze followed the line of your body, committing every detail to memory. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your pert ass, the way it jutted out invitingly. His fingers itched to touch, to squeeze, to feel the soft flesh yield beneath his palms.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice strained with desire. "You're gorgeous" He could feel his cock throbbing, hard and aching in his pants as he drank in the sight of you. The way your body moved, the play of muscle and sinew beneath smooth skin, it was enough to make a grown man weep.

His hands slid around to your front, skimming over the soft skin of your belly, the gentle swell of your breasts. He cupped the weight of them in his palms, feeling the heat of you, the way your nipples pebbled against his touch.

Caleb turned you back around to face him, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours. Without breaking his gaze, he hooked his fingers into the straps of your thong, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your hips. The lace dug into your flesh slightly as he tugged the garment down, inch by torturous inch the lace skimming over your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Now, you stood completely naked before Caleb, every inch of your skin bared to his ravenous gaze. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, could sense the desire radiating off him in waves.

"Caleb," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea. A plea for his touch, for his kiss, for everything he could give you.

Caleb hooked your leg over his shoulder, his large hand gripping the back of your thigh. His eyes, dark and intense, remained locked onto your most intimate place, taking in every detail of your glistening folds. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his head swim with desire.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice a low, reverent rumble. "Look at you, already so wet for me." His thumb brushed teasingly over your slit, feeling the slick heat of you. He could feel you shudder against him, hear the sharp intake of breath that caught in your throat.

Slowly, torturously, he parted your lower lips with his fingers, revealing the pretty pink of your inner walls. His cock throbbed almost painfully at the sight, a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip as he took in your beauty. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs, to taste you, to feel you come undone against his mouth.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Tell me how badly you need my mouth on this pretty little pussy." His fingers circled your clit, applying the lightest pressure, not enough to give you the relief you craved.

"Please Caleb," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. "Please, I need your mouth on me"

Without hesitation, he leaned in, breathing in your intoxicating scent before dragging his tongue through your folds.

"Fuck, you taste divine," he growled against your skin, his voice vibrating through your core. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring the addictive flavor of your arousal.

He focused his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You cried out, your head falling back as jolts of pleasure raced through your body. Caleb groaned against your skin, the vibrations only adding to your rapidly building pleasure.

Two fingers slid inside you, pumping in and out of your soaked channel. They curled to hit that special spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. You were lost in the sensation, drowning in the feeling of Caleb's mouth and fingers working in tandem to drive you towards oblivion.

"Oh god, Caleb!" You keened, your inner muscles starting to flutter around his invading fingers. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna come!"

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice a low, seductive growl against your dripping sex. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you come all over my tongue."

He curled his fingers just right, rubbing that special spot inside as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. He could feel your body tightening, your muscles pulling taut as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

With a hoarse cry of his name, you came, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as your juices gushed out, coating his hand and chin. Caleb groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop of your release like a man starved.

Caleb stood up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he gathered you close. "You're exquisite," he murmured against your lips. "But I'm still a bit hungry, I'm so glad I got home in time for a delicious meal"

XAVIER 🌟🌟

Xavier's eyes widen as they rake over your exposed curves, lingering on the tantalizing swell of your cleavage peeking out from the lacy yellow fabric. A faint blush rises to his pale cheeks, and he swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the hunger simmering beneath the surface of his gaze.

"Well now, don't you look...enticing," Xavier murmurs, voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving your body as they drink in every inch of exposed skin and a teasing glimpse of what lies beneath. The air between you feels charged with tension and anticipation.

Do you like it Xavier? you ask, " I bought it just for you"

Xavier's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His calloused hands come up to rest on your hips, thumbs brushing along the lacy edges of your babydoll. He pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard length of his arousal press against your stomach.

"I love it," he growls, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His lips find your pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I love that you're standing here, looking like a fucking wet dream come to life."

One hand drifts lower, cupping the rounded globe of your ass through the thin lace of your panties. He squeezes roughly, fingers digging into the supple flesh. "It's going to look even better on my bedroom floor," he promises darkly, hot breath fanning over your ear.

Xavier hoists you effortlessly over his shoulder, one strong arm wrapped around your thighs. As he spins you around, your babydoll rides up, exposing the skimpy lace panties underneath. The cool air kisses your newly bared skin, pebbling it with goosebumps. Xavier's hand is on your ass, he squeezes and kneads the supple flesh, fingers dipping teasingly beneath the lace to brush against your most intimate area. Your heart pounds wildly, a thrill of anticipation and arousal rushing through you at his bold touch.

"Mmm, I can't wait to peel these cute little panties off and explore what's hiding underneath," Xavier rumbles, voice dripping with lust and promise. He carries you towards the bedroom, each step jostling you against his firm shoulder and muscular back. You squirm in his hold, your core clenching with need. Xavier just chuckles darkly, giving your rear a sharp smack. "Behave, you naughty thing. You're not going anywhere until I've had my fill of you."

Xavier tosses you onto the plush bed, your yellow babydoll riding up to fully expose your lace cheeky panties and the creamy skin of your thighs. You bounce slightly on the mattress, hair fanning out around your head, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with anticipation. Looming over you, Xavier takes a moment to drink in the sight, his eyes hungrily roaming your curves.

"What a pretty little picture you make," he murmurs, crawling onto the bed and hovering above you. His hands come down to either side of your head, fingers brushing through your hair almost tenderly before fisting in the dark strands. He drags his knee between your thighs, applying the slightest pressure, not quite touching your most intimate place but close enough to make you ache for it.

Xavier slowly peels the flimsy fabric of the babydoll up your body, revealing inch after tantalizing inch of smooth, sun-kissed skin. As the hem passes your collarbone, your hardened nipples come into view. A low, approving growl rumbles in Xavier's chest as he takes in the glorious sight of you splayed out beneath him, nearly bare and wanting.

Xavier's head dips lower, and he takes one aching nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak before suckling greedily. His other hand kneads and massages the soft weight of your breast, rolling and plucking at the nipple he's not attending to. Pleasure sparks through your nerves, making you arch into his touch and gasp out a breathy moan. Xavier just smirks against your skin, the vibrations sending tingles straight to your core. He's just getting started.

Xavier's fingers dip teasingly beneath the lace of your underwear, brushing maddeningly close to your aching, hidden folds. Your hips twitch upwards, chasing his touch, desperate for more. A wicked grin spreads across Xavier's face as he watches your needy reaction, clearly enjoying the control he has over your desire.

"Someone's eager," he taunts softly, fingers still toying with the delicate lace that barely covers your most intimate area. "Don't worry, I'll give you what you want...eventually."

Xavier takes his time, slowly peeling your soaked, lace underwear down your thighs. The drenched fabric clings to your folds before he finally tugs it away, baring your glistening, needy sex to his hungry gaze.

"Look at this, so wet and ready for me," Xavier growls approvingly, tossing your panties aside carelessly. He parts your thighs wider with his knees, settling between them. His calloused fingers trail up and down your slick slit teasingly, not quite touching where you need it most.

Xavier removes your babydoll, tossing it to the floor and leaving you bare and exposed beneath him. He settles between your spread thighs again, the heat of his breath ghosting over your dripping sex. Without warning, he leans in and drags the flat of his tongue along your slit, savoring your essence with a low moan. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to eat you out with deep, long strokes of his tongue, lapping at your folds and delving into your entrance. He takes his time exploring every inch of your pussy, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, but never quite touching it directly.

The teasing is exquisite torture, building your pleasure steadily as he brings you closer to the edge with his skilled mouth and tongue. Soft, filthy sounds of enjoyment rumble in Xavier's chest as he feasts on you, spurring on his enthusiastic devouring of your aching sex. Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you try to pull him closer, silently urging him to give you what you need, all the while, he deftly avoids your throbbing, aching clit, knowing that the slightest touch there would send you careening over the edge into ecstasy.

"Please..." you gasped out, voice ragged with need. "Xavier, please..."

Just as you teetered on the brink of exploding, your body wound tight and ready to shatter, Xavier flipped you over abruptly. He pushed your upper body down against the mattress and lifted your hips up, forcing your knees under you and leaving you presented in a needy, exposed position - hands gripping the sheets, back arched, ass high, and face pressed into the bed.

"Ah, ah, ah...not yet," Xavier tutted, giving your rear a sharp smack that echoed through the room. "You don't get to cum until I say so." His fingers slid through your dripping folds, coating them in your arousal before he brought them to your lips.

"Taste yourself," he commanded, pushing his soaked digits into your mouth. "Taste how much you want it."

As you suck your essence from Xavier's fingers, swirling your tongue around the digits and savoring your own intimate flavor, he takes the opportunity to line himself up with your entrance. With a smooth, powerful thrust of his hips, he sinks into you, stretching you wide around his thick, hard length. A guttural groan tears from his throat at the exquisite feeling of your tight, wet heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Xavier grunts, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he hilts himself fully inside you. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sizeable intrusion, before he starts to move. His thrusts are deep and powerful, each one striking that perfect spot inside you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts of pleasure fill the room as Xavier takes you hard and fast from behind. His hands come around to your breasts, kneading the soft mounds roughly.

Xavier fists a hand in your hair, gripping it tightly as he yanks your torso up and back. This new angle allows him to drive into you even harder and deeper, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sudden change in position has him burying himself to the hilt with every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of intense pleasure through your core.

The combination of the deep, relentless thrusts striking your cervix and the intense stimulation on your clit has your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice as you scream your release, gushing around his pistoning length. Xavier just groans in satisfaction, fucking you through your climax 

With a final, brutal thrust and a hoarse shout of your name, Xavier buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock throbs and pulses as he finds his release, hot ropes of his seed painting your fluttering walls. He grinds against your cervix, making sure every last drop takes root deep within your fertile womb.

"Fuck!" Xavier roars, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he holds you in place, pinning you on his still-twitching cock. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut in bliss as the intense pleasure of his climax crashes through him.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, he slumps forward, blanketing your smaller form with his muscular body. He peppers your shoulder and neck with soft kisses, basking in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

"That was...incredible," Xavier murmurs, nuzzling under your jaw. "I can't get enough of you, I'll never get enough of you." His hands roam your curves, caressing and possessive, as if he's trying to memorize every dip and swell.

"Mine," he whispers, voice rough with sated lust and adoration. "You're mine. Forever and always."

SYLUS 🐦‍⬛

You blush, but that doesn't stop you from trying on clothes. You hold up a red babydoll with black lace trim, sliding it over your curves. The short, silky fabric clings to your breasts, highlighting their shape and fullness. You turn to the side, admiring how the babydoll nips in at your waist before flaring out over your hips and ass. The black lace of the stockings contrasts with the bright red of the lingerie.

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his crimson eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger.

"Well, well, well...don't you look good enough to eat," he purrs, voice low and rough with desire. "Red is definitely your color, kitten. It sets off your skin beautifully." His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes stay on the swell of your breasts, barely contained by the flimsy fabric.

He takes a sip of his whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down his throat. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Absolutely exquisite." His gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts, the way the babydoll clings to your hardening nipples.

You startled at the sound of Sylus' voice, whirling around to face him with wide eyes. The red babydoll fluttered around your thighs as you turned, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink at being caught trying on lingerie. "Sylus! You're home early..." You stammer, unconsciously tugging at the hem of the short garment. "I didn't expect you until later tonight."

Your heart races as you take in his tall, imposing figure leaning casually against the doorframe. The dim lighting of the bedroom casts shadows across his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones, making him look even more mysteriously handsome and a touch dangerous. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable in the skimpy lingerie. Yet there's an undeniable thrill that shoots through you at being caught off guard like this.

Sylus's lips curve into a wicked smirk as he pushes off from the doorframe, taking a step into the bedroom. His crimson eyes drink in every detail of your appearance, from the way the red babydoll clings to your curves to the black lace stockings hugging your long legs. He can see the surprise and slight embarrassment flashing across your face, but there's something else there too - a spark of excitement, of anticipation.

"I must say, this is quite welcoming." Sylus sets his glass down on the dresser, never taking his intense gaze off you. He starts to unbutton his suit jacket slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving your face. "I had no idea you were such a fan of...lingerie shopping."

With each button he undoes, Sylus takes another step closer to where you stand frozen by the bed. The air between you feels charged with a sudden, electric tension. Sylus can see the way your breathing has quickened, the rise and fall of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of the babydoll. He knows you are feeling it too - this pull, this undeniable attraction that always seems to crackle to life whenever you are in each other's proximity.

Sylus takes another step closer, now mere inches away from where you stand frozen. He reaches out a large, elegant hand to trail his fingertips along the silky fabric of the babydoll where it drapes over your shoulder. The light touch sends goosebumps erupting across your skin and you have to fight the urge to shiver.

"You look absolutely stunning, kitten," Sylus murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "The silk is exquisite...but it's nothing compared to the exquisite creature wearing it." His crimson eyes flick up to meet your gaze, a wicked gleam in their depths. "I must say, I'm quite...intrigued by your choice of attire. Were you expecting someone tonight? Planning a little rendezvous perhaps?"

Sylus's tone is playful, almost teasing, but there's an undercurrent of something darker, more possessive beneath the words. His hand slides down the silk, skimming over the swell of your breast, before coming to rest on your hip. He grips your hip possessively, his long fingers sinking into the soft flesh.

"Or perhaps..." Sylus leans in closer, until his lips are a hair's breadth from your ear. His breath is hot against your skin as he whispers, "You dressed up for me, kitten? Hoped to give me a little...welcome home present?"

He nips lightly at your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation zinging through you. Sylus chuckles darkly at your sharp intake of breath, clearly relishing the effect he's having on you. "Tell me, did you miss me? Did you think of me while you were trying on these...provocative little garments?"

His other hand comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his heated gaze. Sylus's eyes are dark with desire, his expression one of pure, masculine hunger. "Because I certainly thought of you, kitten. Constantly. I've been...craving you."

You gasps as Sylus's hand boldly reaches down between your legs, his fingers finding the tiny patch of silk covering your most intimate area. You can feel the heat of his touch even through the flimsy fabric, and it makes you ache with a sudden, intense longing. Your body betrays your arousal as Sylus's fingers brush against your clothed slit, the silk dampening with your excitement.

You can feel the hard, muscular length of him pressed against you, the evidence of his own desire impossible to ignore. It makes you feel powerful and wanted, to know that you can affect him this way. At the same time, it's terrifying, because you know the depths of Sylus's hunger and the way he can consume you utterly.

Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts more firmly against Sylus's chest as his fingers continue their maddening caress between your legs. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips twitching involuntarily towards his touch. "I...I didn't know when you'd be home," you manage to get out, "I just...I wanted to..."

Your tongue darts out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and you look up at Sylus from beneath lowered lashes. "I wanted to look pretty for you," you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to...want me."

You let out a soft gasp as Sylus's fingers suddenly fist in you hair, gripping the silky strands and tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. Your pulse leaps beneath his touch, racing wildly as he leans in to rasp hotly against your sensitive skin.

"Kitten, I want you all the damn time," Sylus growls, his voice a low, feral rumble that sends molten heat straight to your core. "With this flimsy scrap of silk or without it, you drive me absolutely mad with desire."

His other hand slides around to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globe and pulling you harder against the thick, rigid length of his cock. You can feel every inch of him, even through the clothing, and it makes you ache with hunger.

Without warning, he spins you around and pushes you down onto the bed, Sylus crawls over you settling himself between your splayed thighs. He looms above you one hand still fisted in your hair, the other deftly unbuttoning his shirt. The crisp fabric parts to reveal the hard planes of his chest, the muscles rippling beneath his skin.

His crimson eyes blaze with hunger as he drinks in the sight of you splayed out beneath him, the red silk of your babydoll riding up to expose the creamy flesh of your thighs. The swell of your breasts rises and falls with each shallow breath, the hardened peaks of your nipples straining against the thin material.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus rasps, his voice rough with desire, "you have no idea what you do to me. No idea how bad I want to tear off this scrap of silk and bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

Sylus's hand slides from your hair to wrap around your throat, his long fingers curling possessively around the slender column. At the same time, his other hand tugs harshly at the crotch of your panties, the delicate fabric rending with a sharp sound.

"Such a naughty kitten," he murmurs, his voice a low, wicked rumble. "Getting this wet, this desperate...all for me."

He tears the ruined garment away, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Sylus licks his lips, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Spread your legs wider, kitten," he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. "Let me see all of you. I want to watch you come apart on my cock."

His hand tightens around your throat as the other slides between your thighs, his fingers delving into your slick heat. He strokes you slowly, maddeningly, his thumb circling your clit in a tortuous rhythm.

You let out a startled gasp as Sylus suddenly yanks the red babydoll up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. The cool air of the bedroom kisses your newly bared skin, making your nipples tighten into stiff peaks. You lie there, naked except for the black lace stockings, feeling vulnerable and exposed...and incredibly aroused.

"I want to fuck you just like this - with nothing but these sinful stockings clinging to your gorgeous legs." His gaze drags slowly down your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. "I want to see them wrapped around my waist as I drive into you again and again."

He settles himself between your thighs, the thick ridge of his clothed erection nestling against your slick folds. You can feel the heat of him, the hard, pulsing length that makes you ache to be filled.

Sylus leans down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling roughly as his hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast. His other hand slides down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globe as he rocks his hips against you.

"Fuck, I love seeing you like this," Sylus rasps against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "Spread out and waiting for my cock, desperate to be filled." He nips at your collarbone, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, kitten. I'm going to make you scream until the neighbors know my name."

You watch with bated breath as Sylus's deft fingers make quick work of his belt, the leather strap slipping free with a soft hiss. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he unbuttons his pants, the sound of each button popping open seeming to echo in the charged silence of the bedroom.

As the last button gives way, Sylus pushes his pants down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, his thick cock springing free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal.

Sylus smirks at your reaction, his eyes glinting with a wicked, knowing light. "You like what you see, kitten?" he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "You like seeing what you do to me?"

He wraps a hand around his thick cock, stroking it slowly as he looms above you. The sight of him touching himself makes your core throb with need, a fresh flood of arousal dripping down your thighs.

He notches the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, the heat of him searing your slick folds. Your hips lift, trying to draw him inside, to feel that thick length splitting you open. But Sylus holds back, teasing you with the promise of his cock, denying you the satisfaction of being filled.

You reach down, spreading your legs wider to expose your glistening, swollen pussy to his hungry gaze. The sight of your dripping folds, the way your hips twitch with anticipation, is almost too much for Sylus to bear. With a low, feral growl, he grips your thighs and pushes forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick flesh and sinking into your tight heat.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus groans, his eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your silken walls gripping him like a vice. "You are so fucking tight....so perfect"

He pushes forward slowly, inch by hard inch, until he's buried to the hilt inside you. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, you can feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you, completing you in a way you never felt before.

Sylus starts to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming back in, setting a hard, deep rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he fucks you, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed and making the headboard slam against the wall.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," You encourage him breathlessly, meeting each of Sylus's powerful thrusts with the eager lift of your hips.

Sylus grabs your thighs, his strong hands wrapping around them just above your knees. With a powerful flex of his muscles, he pushes your legs down, forcing your knees to your chest.

You throw your head back, a sharp cry escaping your lips as Sylus pounds into you mercilessly. You can feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock dragging along your sensitive walls, stoking the flames of your desire to a fever pitch. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, anchoring yourself against the relentless assault on your senses.

"Oh God, Sylus!" You wail, your voice breaking with the force of your pleasure. "Don't stop...please don't stop! I'm so close...so fucking close!"

Sylus leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the tender bud as he drives into you with renewed fervor. The dual stimulation of his cock pounding her G-spot and his mouth on your breast sends you hurtling towards your peak at breakneck speed.

When Sylus feels your pussy clench and flutter around his cock as you come undone, he wraps your legs tightly around his waist.

"Yes, just like that," Sylus growls in satisfaction, his hips never faltering as he continues to pound into your quivering core. "Milk my cock, kitten. Work those tight little muscles and drain my fucking balls"

Sylus keeps thrusting steadily, watching your face intently as you come down from your intense high. The sight of your flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, and kiss-swollen lips sends a surge of male pride and desire through him. He loves seeing you like this - lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy, wearing nothing but those black stockings that he finds so incredibly erotic.

He reaches down, running a finger along the lacy top of your stocking. The contrast of the delicate fabric against his rough, calloused skin is intensely arousing. Sylus hooks a finger under the lace and tugs lightly, watching it snap back against your soft thigh.

With a few more powerful, deep thrusts, Sylus finally lets go. You feels his cock throb and pulse inside you, growing even harder before he hilts himself fully inside you and starts to come.

"Fuck, kitten, fuck!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls as he starts to erupt inside you.

Sylus collapses on top of you, his hips still twitching and jerking as the last spurts of his release dribble into you. He captures your lips in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You stay locked together, panting and trembling in the aftermath of your intense coupling.

Sylus grins wickedly down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and renewed lust. He leans in close, his lips brushing against you ear as he speaks in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"Guess we have to try more of those baby doll outfits on you, kitten," Sylus purrs, his hand sliding up your thigh to squeeze the soft flesh. "See which ones make you look the most fuckable"

ZAYNE🥼

Zayne paused at the doorway, hazel eyes widening slightly as he heard the soft, rhythmic noises emanating from within the bedroom. His gaze flicked downwards, taking in the sight of your silhouette, your body language unmistakable.

He stood there for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Zayne leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and clearing his throat softly.

"Seems like someone's been having some pleasant dreams without me," Zayne remarked, voice low and teasing as he let his eyes roam appreciatively over you.

Zayne's smirk widened into a more genuine smile as he pushed off from the doorframe, taking a few quiet steps closer to the bed. The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated your body, your white baby doll clinging to your curves in a way that made Zayne's pulse quicken. He could see the outlines of your hardened nipples pressing against the thin see through fabric, and he felt a familiar stirrings in his own body.

"Such a pretty little sight you make," Zayne murmured, voice dripping with approval and a hint of desire. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to trail his fingers lightly along your thigh, feeling the smooth skin beneath the thin lace. "Though I must say, seeing you like this, all flushed and needy... it's enough to make a man want to throw caution to the wind and take what he wants."

Zayne's hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the hem of the baby doll. He leaned in closer, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Tell me, my heart... what sort of dreams were you having that left you in such a state? Or perhaps..." His lips curved into a wicked grin. "You were hoping your dear husband would come home and help make those dreams a reality?

"I thought you would be home earlier" you said, your face blushed with embarrassment "I wanted to surprise you"

"Is that so?" he murmured, voice low and husky. His hand slid fully under the hem of the baby doll, fingers splaying possessively over the warm, soft skin of your inner thigh. "You wanted to surprise me, hmm? Well, it seems like you've certainly succeeded, my dear."

"I must say, coming home to such a tempting sight... it's the best surprise a man could ask for," he said, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "And I intend to thoroughly appreciate this surprise, and you, all night long."

Zayne's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed intensely at you, his hand still possessively gripping your inner thigh. He leaned in closer, voice lowering to a deep, husky whisper.

"How many times? How many times did you bring yourself to that blissful edge, all while thinking of your loving husband?" Zayne's thumb brushed teasingly over your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "Tell me, did you touch yourself once? Twice? More?"

His hand slid higher up your thigh, fingertips grazing the damp lace covering your most intimate area. Zayne's breath grew heavier, the bulge in his tailored slacks becoming more evident as his arousal rose.

"I want to know every sordid detail. I want you to confess just how desperately you craved my touch, my presence. How many times did you make yourself cum, imagining it was me buried deep inside you, claiming you so thoroughly?"

"I couldn't, I needed more" You said, face so red you thought it would catch fire.

"Couldn't, hmm?" Zayne murmured, voice a low, approving rumble. "You needed more than your own touch to find true release? Needed your husband's skilled hands and hard cock to fill and satisfy you completely?"

He leaned in closer, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?"  Zayne's hand slid fully under the damp lace covering your sex. He could feel the scorching heat emanating from your core, the fabric soaked through with your arousal.

A deep, approving growl rumbled from Zayne's chest as he settled himself between your thighs, pushing them further apart to make room for his broad shoulders. He could smell your intoxicating aroma, the musky scent of your desire permeating the thin, drenched lace.

"Fuck, you're absolutely dripping, my love," Zayne groaned, voice muffled against your sex. "Soaked through these pretty little panties, all for me. Such a needy, wanton thing..."

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue over your clothed slit, tasting the essence of your arousal through the flimsy barrier. He could feel the way your hips bucked involuntarily, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the sudden contact.

Zayne smirked against your skin, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he began to eat you out with fervor. He licked and suckled at you through the drenched lace, focusing his attentions on your sensitive clit and entrance. The thin fabric provided a delicious friction, the wetness seeping through as he pleasured you with single-minded intensity.

"Mmm, you taste divine, my heart," Zayne purred, pausing briefly to speak before diving back in. "I could feast on this sweet cunt for hours... knowing I'm the reason it's so fucking wet and ready."

He could sense your growing desperation in the way you fisted your hands in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you held him firmly against your soaked panties. The fabric, once a delicate white, was now a translucent, dripping mess, clinging to every curve and contour of your folds.

"Cum for me" Zayne commanded against your sex, his voice a low, authoritative growl that vibrated through your core. "I want to feel you explode all over my tongue, want to taste your release flooding these drenched panties."

Zayne's hands slid up to grip your ass, kneading the firm globes as he grounded his face harder against you, tongue lashing over your clothed clit with ruthless precision. He could feel your thighs beginning to quake, your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap.

As Zayne's teeth grazed your sensitive clit through the drenched lace your body went rigid, back arching off the bed as a sharp, keening cry tore from your throat. The fabric of your panties grew instantly saturated as your release gushed forth, the thin lace no match for the force of your orgasm.

He could feel your essence flooding his mouth, the taste of your arousal exploding over his tongue. Zayne groaned in appreciation, tongue still lashing and suckling at your sensitive flesh even as you rode out the aftershocks of your intense climax.

As you came down from the euphoric high of your intense climax, you blinked away the haze of pleasure, your vision slowly coming back into focus. It was then that you noticed Zayne sitting back on his haunches, hazel eyes dark with lust and desire as he gazed up at you.

With deliberate slowness, Zayne began to unzip his fly, the sound of the zipper lowering seeming to echo in the charged atmosphere of the bedroom. Your heart racing as you watched, tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips.

As his zipper reached the bottom, Zayne's hand dipped inside his boxers to fish out his impressive erection. It sprang free, thick and hard, the swollen head already glistening with beads of pre-cum. The sight of it made your mouth water and your core clench with renewed desire.

Zayne's voice was a low, seductive purr as he spoke, "You look like you want something, pretty girl... and I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to fill you so full, fuck you so deep and hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Zayne's eyes flashed with a primal hunger as he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, pushing your upper body down to press your cheek against the pillow. Your ass was now presented to him, the drenched panties riding up between your cheeks, the thin fabric cutting into your sensitive flesh.

"Keep your ass up, just like that," Zayne commanded, voice a low, authoritative growl. His large hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers sinking into the soft skin as he positioned himself behind you.

Zayne's hand slid up your spine, fingers splaying across the smooth skin of your back, holding you in place. "I'm going to fuck you now," he said, voice a low, ominous rumble.

Moving your panties to the side and with one brutal thrust, Zayne buried himself to the hilt inside your dripping core. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite, vise-like tightness that engulfed him. He paused for just a moment, savoring the feeling of your silken walls fluttering around his aching cock before he began to move.

He gripped the delicate straps of the baby doll, the thin fabric stretching taut over your shoulders as he used them for leverage to pull you back onto his pistoning cock. The lacy hem of the garment fluttered with each powerful snap of his hips, the short skirt riding up to expose more of your toned ass and dripping sex.

"Such a pretty little picture you make, bent over and stuffed full of my dick, wearing nothing but this skimpy lingerie," Zayne praised, voice a low, approving rumble.

"Tell me, is this what you were craving when you had your fingers buried in this tight little pussy?" Zayne growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. "Did you imagine it was my thick cock stretching you open like this?"

To spur you on, he brought his palm down hard on the supple flesh of your ass, the sharp slap echoing through the room. At the same time, he pinched your swollen clit roughly between his fingers, rolling the sensitive nub and sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me," Zayne urged, his own release building rapidly, balls tightening as he felt you start to clench. "I want to feel you".

You let out a sharp, keening cry as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it.

With with a groan, Zayne yanked his throbbing cock out of your spasming sex just as his own peak hit.

"Fuck, yes! Take it, baby!" Zayne roared, fisting his dick as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed erupted from the swollen tip. He aimed the pulsing head at the taut fabric of your panties, painting the pristine white lace with streaks of his pearly essence.

Jet after jet of cum splattered across the flimsy material, the sheer amount of it quickly saturating the thin fabric. The creamy liquid seeped through, dripping down onto your ass cheeks and thighs as Zayne marked his territory, claiming you in the most primal way imaginable.

"You look so fucking hot with my cum soaking through these pretty panties."

He slid his fingers through the mess he'd made, scooping up some of the cooling seed and pushing it into your fluttering entrance. "I love you," he said softly, voice filled with deep satisfaction and adoration.

RAFAYEL🐡

Rafayel pauses mid-stroke, paintbrush hovering over the canvas as he senses your presence. His ears twitch slightly and a faint blush colors his cheeks as he catches the scent of the perfume wafting from your direction. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to compose himself before turning to face you.

His gaze drifts over your form, taking in the purple baby doll that clings to your curves. His eyes linger for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away, clearing his throat.

"I'm in the middle of something important here. This painting won't complete itself, you know."

He sets the paintbrush down with a soft clink against the palette and crosses his arms over his chest, subtly trying to hide the growing tightness in his pants. The scent of your perfume is intoxicating, making it hard for Rafayel to concentrate on anything else.

He rises from his stool, paint-splattered jeans hugging his slender frame as he takes a step closer to you. His sharp purple-pink eyes roam appreciatively over your curves, taking in every detail of the purple babydoll that hugs your figure like a second skin. The way the fabric clings to your breasts, hinting at the soft mounds beneath. How it nips in at the waist before flaring out over your hips and thighs. He licks his lips unconsciously, a flicker of hunger in his gaze.

He reaches out and runs a finger along the strap of the baby doll, tracing it from your shoulder down to where it meets the swell of your breast. Rafayel's touch lingers, thumb brushing against the side of your soft mound. His breathing grows a bit heavier as he fights the urge to pull the fabric aside and expose more of your skin to his greedy eyes.

"Do you like it Rafayel?"

He takes another step closer, now standing mere inches from your body, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your skin. His hand reaches out, fingers skimming along the hem of the purple baby doll, teasing the sensitive flesh of your thigh.

"Like it? Cutie, I more than like it... I'm absolutely crazy about it," Rafayel murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. His fingers inch higher, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the smooth skin of your inner thigh. Rafayel's breathing grows heavier, pupils dilating as he fights the overwhelming urge to push you up against the wall and have his way with you right then and there.

"I've never seen anything so... mouthwatering in my life," he breathes, leaning in to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. Rafayel inhales deeply, the intoxicating scent of your perfume making his head spin and his cock throb almost painfully against his zipper.

"Fuck, you smell incredible... it's driving me insane," Rafayel groans, nipping at your pulse point. His hands grip your hips possessively, pulling your body flush against his own. He grinds his hips forward, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection.

"You're testing my restraint, Miss Bodyguard," Rafayel teases breathlessly, even as he struggles against the overwhelming urge to just take what he wants.

Rafayel's fingers slip higher and higher up your thigh, brushing against your bare pussy on the crotchless panties, he suddenly loses all semblance of control. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he realizes the delicious secret hidden beneath the baby doll. His eyes flash with unchecked lust and desperation.

"Oh, you fucking tease..." Rafayel growls, eyes flashing with unbridled desire. In an instant, he loses the last threads of his control. Gripping your thighs tightly, he hoists you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he pins you against the studio wall. The paintbrushes rattle in their holders from the impact.

Panting harshly, Rafayel attacks your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, sucking dark marks into your skin as he grinds his aching cock against your exposed, dripping sex. 

"Fuck, cutie, you're so wet... is this all for me?" Rafayel rasps, fingers delving between your folds to tease your clit. He circles the sensitive nub mercilessly, feeling it swell and pulse beneath his touch. His other hand grips the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side to bare more of your throat to his greedy mouth.

Rafayel shudders as he feels your fingers brush against his stomach, traveling lower to hook into the waistband of his jeans. The zipper rasps loudly as you slowly drag it down, inch by inch. Rafayel's chest heaves with each labored breath, his heart hammering wildly in anticipation.

As soon as the last of the buttons come undone and the zipper is fully lowered, Rafayel wastes no time shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, slender legs. The clothes pool around his ankles, leaving his throbbing erection spring free. It juts out proudly, the thick shaft flushed a deep, angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum.

He bucks his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock catching on your slick folds and slipping through them teasingly. The contact makes Rafayel hiss through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the soft globes of your ass.

Rafayel's eyes rake over the crotchless panties, taking in how they frame your glistening sex perfectly. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he considers his options, a dark gleam in his eyes. His fingers dance along the edge of the fabric, teasing your sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, as tempting as it is to leave these cute little panties on while I fuck you senseless, I think I'd rather see them ripped to shreds," Rafayel purrs, voice low and husky with desire. 

" But I think we will leave them on, for now...."Without warning, he grips the flimsy fabric tightly and tugs your hips forward, lining the swollen head of his cock up with your entrance.

Rafayel growls, eyes locked with yours as he starts to push forward. The thin fabric stretches taut around his thick length as he sinks into your tight, slick heat inch by excruciating inch.

"Fuuuck, you feel incredible..." Rafayel moans, head falling back as he hilts himself fully inside you. The sensation of your walls clenching and fluttering around him is almost too much to bear. He has to take a moment to collect himself before he starts to move.

Slowly, Rafayel begins to withdraw until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back in with a grunt of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He sets a hard, fast pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the studio as he takes you with wild abandon.

The flimsy panties stretch and strain around his pistoning cock, the fabric growing damp and clinging to his skin. Rafayel reaches down and rips away one of the straps, letting it dangle freely as he continues his relentless assault on your pussy.

"Take it, fucking take it!" Rafayel snarls, fingers sinking into the meat of your ass as he yanks your hips forward to meet his thrusts. The thin fabric of the panties bunches and twists around his shaft, the sensation driving him wild with lust.

He leans in and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth as he plunders your mouth. Rafayel's other hand reaches up to grope and squeeze the supple flesh of your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Breaking the kiss, Rafayel buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he loses himself in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. The perfume mingles with the musky aroma of sex, overwhelming his senses and spurring on his increasingly erratic movements.

Rafayel's breath hitches as he reaches up to drag the thin straps of the baby doll down your shoulders. The purple fabric pools around your waist, baring the creamy expanse of your chest to his greedy gaze. Unable to resist, Rafayel leans down and draws one of your stiff peaks into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Mmmph..." Rafayel groans around the tender flesh, suckling greedily as he continues to pound into your dripping core. The dual sensations of his hot mouth on your nipple and the relentless pace of his hips driving into you has you seeing stars.

All the while, Rafayel's hips never cease their relentless rhythm, the flimsy remains of your panties rubbing deliciously against his shaft with each roll and grind of his pelvis. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, pushing you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Rafayel snarls, voice strained with exertion and desire. Without warning, he spins you around and tosses you onto the plush armchair in the corner of his studio. The sudden movement makes the paintbrushes and palettes on his easel clatter to the floor.

Before you can react, Rafayel is on top of you, wedging himself between your splayed thighs. He hooks your knees over his elbows and pulls your hips forward, impaling you on his thick cock in one swift, brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes..." Rafayel groans, eyes fluttering shut as your scorching heat engulfs him again. He starts to move, hips rolling and snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. The new position allows him to drive even deeper, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix with each powerful surge.

The sensation of the rough, tattered lace rubbing against his shaft as he fucks into your sopping wet cunt is exquisite, pushing him closer to the brink of climax.

As Rafayel's fingers find your throbbing clit, he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. The added stimulation proves too much for you to withstand, and with a sharp cry, your body goes rigid as a powerful orgasm crashes over you.

Rafayel roars, feeling your velvety walls clamp down around him like a vice. The sight of you lost in the throes of ecstasy, your tits bouncing enticingly with each powerful thrust, combined with the obscene sensation of the tattered panties rubbing against his shaft is enough to be Rafayel's undoing. With a last, brutal surge of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside your quivering pussy.

Rafayel screams, eyes rolling back in bliss as thick ropes of his seed paint your clenching walls. His cock pulses and throbs, pumping what feels like an endless stream of cum deep into your hungry cunt.

He collapses on top of you, hips still twitching and jerking as the last weak spurts of his climax dribbles out. He peppers sloppy kisses across your neck and collarbone, panting harshly against your sweat-slicked skin.

"Now let's get these pesky clothes out of the way," Rafayel says, he sits up and practically tears the flimsy baby doll off of your body, casting it carelessly to the side. The ruined panties follow shortly after, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze.

"Let's take this to the bedroom cutie, I'm not done with you yet".

[marscantread7]

Rafayel would do this😭😭😭

Me sending nudes: like what you see? ;)

Artist who's only fucking me for reference material: yeahhh 🥵🥵 would be even hotter if you moved closer to the light source and moved your head to a 3/4 view in the pic

[whosashan]

I've got my eyes on you

In which - How did you and the LaDS men start dating? Reader is not mc - except in Caleb's section.

Xavier

The moment you laid eyes on Xavier, you knew you had to have him. How could you not? That strikingly handsome face, those curious blue eyes, and an effortlessly captivating presence—it was impossible to resist.

The first time you approached him was at a grocery store. Your heart pounded against your ribs, threatening to break free from your chest, but you forced yourself to remain composed. Summoning your courage, you struck up a conversation.

He didn’t seem particularly interested, responding with brief, lackluster answers.

‘It’s fine, he’ll warm up to me,’ you assured yourself, determination flickering in your gaze. You had never pursued a man before, but this time was different. There was something about him—something magnetic—that refused to let you walk away.

Somehow, you managed to secure his phone number, and you wasted no time texting him, attempting to revive the conversation from earlier.

With persistence, you chipped away at his guarded demeanor, gradually uncovering bits and pieces of who he was. One particularly useful detail you learned? He lived close by. Another? His cooking skills were, to put it lightly, atrocious.

‘Perfect,’ you mused, making a beeline for your kitchen. It was time to put those cooking classes to good use.

Weeks turned into months, and an unspoken routine formed between the two of you—you would cook, and he would eat. As cliché as it was, the old saying held true: the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. Your bond deepened, not in a whirlwind of passion, but in slow, comfortable moments. And you didn’t mind one bit.

Late-night arcade outings, spontaneous hangouts, and occasional movie nights became the norm. And every time he fell asleep beside you, his face soft, his messy hair falling over his slightly flushed cheeks, your heart stuttered in your chest.

But with familiarity came a new problem: you had started to care, truly care, and with that realization, your once-unshakable confidence wavered. Flirting had been easy before, playful and teasing, but now? Now, every word felt heavier, every glance more meaningful. And the worst part? You were sure he didn’t even notice.

The final straw came when you noticed a certain colleague of his getting too close for your liking. That was it. You couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Hey, Xayxay, can you meet up? I want to talk to you about something,” you texted, before promptly throwing your phone onto your bed as if that would somehow lessen the weight of your nerves.

You waited. And waited.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, a sudden knock at your door.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to open it. And there he was—Xavier, slightly breathless, eyes laced with concern, like he had practically run to get here.

“Did something happen?” he asked, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since made themselves at home in your space. And you loved that.

You sighed, wringing your hands together.

“Look, I don’t want to put this off any longer…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Xavier, I like you. More than a friend.”

You braced yourself for rejection. But instead, you were met with his puzzled stare.

“…Aren’t we dating?”

“…What?”

“…What?”

So, it turned out you had nothing to worry about after all.

Zayne

On your way home, you stepped into a charming little pastry shop near the hospital. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You could already picture yourself sinking your teeth into a rich, decadent cake.

As you stood in line, your gaze landed on a man whose face was so strikingly handsome it felt almost unfair. There was an air of quiet composure about him, an effortless grace that made it nearly impossible to look away. You found yourself studying him, mind racing with ways to strike up a conversation. How often did you come across someone this captivating?

"Excuse me, sir." Your voice took on a honeyed sweetness that made you cringe internally, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You seem like quite the pastry connoisseur. I don’t come here often, so I’d love a recommendation." A harmless lie.

He turned his gaze toward you, expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he seemed to consider your question carefully before responding.

"If you’re looking for something light, the macarons are an excellent choice. If you prefer something more substantial, the caramel cheesecake is exquisite." His tone was smooth, assured—like a man who always knew the right answer.

At least he had good taste.

"Ahh, thank you! I’ll definitely try both," you said, flashing him a bright smile. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you added, "If you’re not busy, maybe we could enjoy them together here?"

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small nod, he answered, "I do have a break from work right now. Alright."

You nearly leapt with joy, but just as you were about to celebrate internally—

"Ahh, Y/N! My favorite customer! What can I get for you today?" the cashier called out cheerfully.

You froze. Busted.

Despite the momentary embarrassment, the interaction led to an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t get to see Zayne often due to his demanding career as a doctor, but he always found time to text back, even indulging your occasional rants. Sometimes, he even called. The slow progression of your relationship was something you treasured, a delicate dance of growing affection.

Time passed, and though you longed to ask Zayne out, you hesitated. He almost seemed too good to be true. Would he ever truly be interested in you?

Then, there were the little things—how his gaze lingered a second too long, how his hand seemed to hover over yours before pulling away, how, despite his overwhelming schedule, he always carved out time for you. Were those hints? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft ping of a notification. Your heart jumped as you picked up your phone. A message from Zayne.

"Are you free tonight?"

Such a simple text, yet it sent heat rushing through your body.

"For sure! What do you want to do?" you replied, fingers trembling slightly as you awaited his response.

"I’d love to take you out."

Your breath hitched. Take you out. As in… a date?

You stared at the message, searching for any alternate meaning, but there was none.

"I would love that, Zayne," you finally typed, hands shaking.

"Lovely. I’ll pick you up at 7."

You practically sprinted to your room to get ready.

The evening was nothing short of perfect. He took you to a refined restaurant, surprising you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers—proof that he had been listening all along. The air between you was charged with something different, something new yet thrilling.

After dinner, the two of you strolled beneath a sky blanketed with stars, the crisp night air adding an almost cinematic touch to the moment.

"You’re shivering," he observed, his voice as calm and measured as ever. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric—and of him—enveloping you.

"Thank you…" you murmured, smiling softly but avoiding his gaze, afraid he’d see just how deeply he affected you.

"Y/N." He came to a halt, prompting you to stop as well. His tone was composed, yet there was an unfamiliar weight behind it.

"I would love to take you out more… What I mean is, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" His face remained impassive, but you swore you caught the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"I would love nothing more, Zayne."

Rafayel

Being an art enthusiast, you often found yourself wandering through exhibitions, losing yourself in the beauty of each piece. Tonight, however, felt different. This was Rafayel’s exhibition—a name that had long held a certain power over you. His art possessed an almost hypnotic quality, evoking emotions so profound that you struggled to put them into words.

As you moved through the gallery, your gaze inevitably found him. Rafayel stood amidst a small group of admirers, answering their questions with an effortless confidence. His voice was smooth, steady, rich with an underlying intensity that made it impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his voice that captivated you. He was a masterpiece himself—dressed in a crisp white blouse, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes carrying a quiet depth. There was something about the way he carried himself, as if knowing the effect he had on people.

You didn't want to appear as just another admirer swooning over the artist. Your fascination went beyond that—you were genuinely intrigued by his mind, his process. So, when the crowd around him began to disperse, leaving him momentarily alone, you took a steadying breath and approached him. He stood before one of his paintings, his gaze heavy with contemplation.

"You truly know how to capture a moment," you mused, your voice steady but tinged with admiration. "This piece in particular—it feels almost melancholic, like someone longing for something just out of reach."

Rafayel’s eyes flicked toward you, scanning your face, weighing your words. For a brief moment, you feared he might dismiss you with the same aloofness he granted others, but instead, his lips curved into something almost thoughtful. And just like that, an unspoken understanding passed between you, giving way to a conversation that carried on far longer than you had expected.

That first meeting was the spark. You found yourself returning to his exhibitions more often, drawn not just to his art but to him. It became a quiet routine—the two of you engaging in deep discussions, learning the intricacies of each other's thoughts and mannerisms. At first, Rafayel maintained his usual air of arrogance, teasing and enigmatic, but with time, you glimpsed something more—something raw and unguarded beneath the facade.

It wasn’t long before your admiration deepened into something more. You had fallen for him, hopelessly so. And you liked to think, in stolen moments of lingering glances and fleeting touches, that perhaps he felt the same.

One evening, you found yourself in his studio, sitting on the floor as he worked, the only sounds being the occasional stroke of his brush against canvas. The atmosphere was comforting, intimate in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“And you’re talkative, as always.” A soft smile played on your lips as you stood and walked toward him.

“Rafayel, can I ask you something?” The hesitation in your voice made him pause. He turned to face you, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Why so serious?” he asked, studying you intently.

You scoffed lightly. “Never mind, then.”

He let out a small sigh. "You’ve already started. Might as well finish."

You hesitated for a beat before finally speaking. “Do you… have someone you like? More than a friend, I mean.”

For a fleeting second, something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle before answering, “There is someone. She’s insufferably stubborn, a little reckless, and quite possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” His gaze softened, a rare warmth creeping into his tone. “And yet, she’s also the most endearing.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “You need to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If you weren’t so oblivious, you’d figure it out.”

A teasing smile spread across your lips. “Wait—are you talking about me?” You nudged him playfully.

He said nothing, his focus returning to his painting.

Oh.

“YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME?” you blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a small crush,” he scoffed, though the faint pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

A laugh bubbled out of you, pure and unrestrained. “Aww, Rafayel! I like you too.”

His expression flickered with surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his words, his actions spoke differently—pulling you into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Perhaps, just this once, he didn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Sylus

Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and craving the crisp night air. The city was bathed in the gentle glow of streetlights, the sky an endless expanse of inky black adorned with shimmering stars. Their quiet brilliance was captivating, an ethereal distraction that kept your gaze skyward as you wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure in your path until you collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” you started, but your words caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

The man before you was striking. Towering in stature, his silver hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, tousled in a way that made it appear effortlessly elegant. But it was his eyes that truly seized your breath—deep crimson, piercing and intense, as if they could unravel every secret hidden within you. His features were sharp, sculpted to perfection, and his presence exuded an air of undeniable dominance.

He regarded you with a smirk, his amusement evident.

“Worry not, sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your senses. The smoothness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine, deepening the warmth blooming in your cheeks. His gaze flickered over your face, noting your reaction, and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

Only then did you realize what else you had stumbled upon. A few feet away, a man knelt on the pavement, head bowed, his entire posture trembling before the silver-haired stranger. The sight sent unease prickling up your spine.

What exactly had you just walked into?

The silver-haired man followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “Ah,” he mused, as if debating what to say. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be wandering alone at this hour. The night is filled with monsters, after all.”

The way he said it, with that knowing glint in his crimson eyes, sent a fresh wave of unease through you. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But instead of pressing for answers, something in you decided it was best not to ask.

“I was just out for some air. I should…probably head home now.” You forced a steady voice, willing your body not to betray the apprehension creeping into your bones. Every instinct in you screamed to run, yet your legs remained locked in place, unwilling to reveal your fear.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your breath hitched. “You seem more dangerous than whatever else is lurking out here.”

A rich chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “A fair observation.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. “But that decision, my dear, is entirely yours.”

Despite every warning sign flashing in your mind, you hesitated. There was something about him—his presence was undeniably commanding, yet oddly reassuring. And then, there was the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though you couldn't place why.

Eventually, you gave a small nod, curiosity overpowering reason.

And so began your entanglement with Sylus. The enigmatic man came and went like a shadow, slipping in and out of your life at his whim. Some nights, he would appear unexpectedly, gifting you your favorite sweets or leaving a new dress draped across your doorstep with no explanation. Tickets to your favorite concerts would mysteriously find their way into your mailbox, the sender unstated but obvious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. He was impossible to understand, yet he made you feel desired—seen in a way no one else ever had.

But after monthsof his unpredictable vanishing acts, your patience wore thin. So when he strolled into your apartment one evening, pouring himself a glass of the wine you had bought earlier, you finally snapped.

“You’re confusing me,” you blurted, frustration lacing your tone. “What am I to you, Sylus?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He raised the glass to his lips but paused, considering your words. Slowly, he set the drink down and approached you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. When he reached out to cup your cheek, you instinctively pushed his hand away, resolve burning in your gaze.

He sighed. Vulnerability did not come easily to him; that much was clear. But you were different. You had made him a little softer, a little weaker in ways he didn’t quite understand.

“I can’t keep living in uncertainty,” you continued, voice steadier now. “Either tell me what you want, or leave me alone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke, his voice low, certain.

“I want you.”

The simplicity of the statement sent your heart racing. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, nor for his words to carry such weight.

Your face grew hot. “You’re an idiot.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as you sighed, resting your head against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled of something rich and warm, a scent you couldn’t quite place but already found comforting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus merely hummed in amusement, his arms wrapping around you with the quiet possessiveness of a man who had no intention of letting go.

Caleb

After your reunion with Caleb, an unfamiliar feeling took root in your chest—no, not unfamiliar. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial. But now, it was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how much of a man he had become.

His kind yet brooding eyes, that boyish grin, the intoxicating scent that lingered on his clothes—had he always smelled this good? Broad shoulders, strong arms, hands that had always handled you with ease, lifting you effortlessly whenever. The thought alone sent heat creeping up your cheeks, and the man sitting across from you clearly took notice.

“What’s got you all blushy-blushy, pipsqueak?” he teased, pinching your cheek with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

You scoffed, turning your face away. “Don’t touch my face, Caleb! I have makeup on.”

Lately, you’d found yourself caring more about your appearance around him. It was absurd. He’d seen you at your absolute worst—bedhead, tears, even the aftermath of too much liquor. Yet now, every glance he sent your way made you feel… shy? What was happening to you?

He only chuckled in response, leaning back against his chair.

The two of you had met up at a café to play Kitty Cards, an old favorite. He always let you win, though he never admitted it. You pretended not to notice, but every time you did, it made you smile—just a little.

“Alright, come on. The movie’s gonna start soon.” He stood, extending his hand toward you. Without hesitation, you took it, savoring the warmth of his rough palm against yours.

The movie of choice was a horror film—Caleb’s idea, of course. You had agreed, partly to humor him and partly because any excuse to spend more time with him was welcome.

Inside the theater, you sat beside him, the glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The flickering light made his eyes glimmer, and for a moment, you were caught staring. You quickly looked away, but not before he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You’re acting weird.” His gaze lingered on you, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I—uh—I’m on my period,” you blurted, grasping for an excuse. “That’s all. I just feel a little unwell.”

His expression softened instantly. “You should’ve told me. Do you want to go home? I’ll cook you some soup, and we can watch something there instead.”

There he was again—always caring, always thinking of you. It made your heart race, and you hated how easily he could do that to you.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

As the film progressed, it proved to be far scarier than you’d anticipated. Without realizing it, you had latched onto Caleb’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction but didn’t pull away.

Then came the jump scare.

Out of reflex, you turned toward him, seeking comfort. But at the same moment, he turned toward you.

Peck.

Your lips brushed against his.

Your breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Just stared.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelped, whipping your head away in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine, pipsqueak.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “It was an accident.”

You didn’t know why, but his words stung a little.

“…Yeah.”

By the time you returned home, your shoulders were weighed down with something heavy, something unspoken. It gnawed at you, clawed at your chest.

Caleb, as if sensing your turmoil, placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him. “Alright, that’s enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to the floor before gathering the courage to meet his eyes.

“Caleb… would it be selfish of me if I said I want to kiss you again?”

Silence. A single, tense moment stretched between you, thick enough to drown in. Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hands cupped your face, disregarding your earlier complaint about ruining your makeup, and with a quiet exhale, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, tender—yet it held the weight of something long overdue. In that moment, you knew he was no longer only your best friend.

[rafayelxsylusho]

How the lads men eat your 🐱.

Zayne/Sylus/Caleb/Xavier/Rafayel

TW:SMUT

Xavier🌟

Xavier would eat your pussy in the missionary position, with you lying on your back and him positioned between your spread legs, head propped up slightly on pillows so you're not completely flat but can still see him between your spread thighs. This way, he can watch your expressions, your mouth falling open in soft gasps and moans, your cheeks flushing pink as he pleases you.

He'd take his time, starting with slow, teasing licks along your slit before focusing on your clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. His large hands would grip your thighs, pushing them further apart as he dives in, burying his face in your cunt and feasting on you like a starving man at a banquet. He'd alternate between long, slow licks and quick, hard sucks on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back to start all over again, determined to make you cum on his tongue.

Throughout it all, his deep blue eyes would be locked with yours, watching your every reaction as he takes you apart with his mouth.

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Sylus would eat your pussy from behind, your hips tilted up and your lower half bared to him. He'd press your upper body flat against the bed, one large hand splaying between your shoulder blades to hold you down while the other grips your ass tightly, kneading and parting your cheeks.

He'd start by trailing teasing kisses along the back of your thigh, slowly working his way up until he reaches the crease where your leg meets your ass. His breath would be hot against your skin as he inhales your scent, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Then, without warning, he'd bury his face between your legs, his tongue delving directly into your dripping folds.

He'd eat your pussy with a hunger bordering on feral, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices as he licks and suckles your most intimate places. His tongue would plunge deep, fucking into your entrance, before dragging slowly upward to circle and flick against your clit. He'd alternate between long, broad strokes and targeted flicks, each movement sending jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

His fingers would dig into the flesh of your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, grinding your cunt against his face as he devours you. He'd be relentless, determined to make you fall apart on his tongue, to feel you gush and quiver against his lips. He'd only stop when he's wrung every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body, leaving you boneless and spent. Throughout it all, he'd hold you in place, claiming you, possessing you utterly.

RAFAYEL 🐡

Rafayel would eat your pussy in a position that lets him get creative and playful, his artistic nature shining through. He might have you sit on the edge of a table or dresser, your legs spread wide and your feet resting on the edge.

As you sit there, he'd look at you with a mischievous grin, dark purple-pink eyes roaming hungrily over your exposed flesh. His hands would grip your thighs, thumbs rubbing teasing circles on your skin as he leans in. He'd start by just breathing in your scent, eyes fluttering shut in bliss before he's even begun.

Then, without warning, he'd bury his face between your legs, his lips and tongue immediately finding your clit and suckling greedily. His technique would be enthusiastic and passionate, almost messy in its intensity. He'd alternate between flat-tongued strokes and rapid flicks, occasionally dipping down to thrust his tongue deep into your entrance before returning to lavish attention on your aching clit.

His nose would nudge your clit as he licks, the sensation foreign yet incredibly pleasurable. Occasionally he'd pull back to blow cool air across your dripping folds before diving back in, his chin and cheeks slick with your juices. Throughout it all, he'd make appreciative noises, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation.

He'd be playful too, occasionally pulling away to admire his work, seeing how wet and swollen and desperate you look before diving back in to continue his feast. His goal would be to bring you to a messy, shaking, shouting climax, reveling in the knowledge that he did that to you.

ZAYNE 🥼

Zayne would have you straddle his face. He'd be reclined against a mound of pillows, head tilted back, hazel eyes dark with desire as he looks up at you. His large hands would grip your hips firmly but gently, guiding your movements as you position yourself over his face.

He'd start by simply inhaling deeply, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. Then, without warning, he'd lean forward and drag the flat of his tongue along your dripping slit in one long, slow lick. He'd take his time, savoring your taste, before focusing his attention on your clit. His tongue would circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasingly at first, then with increasing pressure and speed.

Zayne would use his lips too, suckling your clit as his tongue flicked and circled. Occasionally he'd dip down to thrust his tongue deep into your entrance, fucking you with it, before returning to your clit. His hands would squeeze your hips, encouraging you to grind down against his face.

He'd be relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, determined to make you come undone. He'd feel your body start to tremble and tense, your grip tightening on his hair. That's when he'd double his efforts, tongue and lips and even the occasional gentle nip pushing you over the edge.

As you come, he'd hold you in place, refusing to let you pull away, forcing you to ride out the waves of your climax on his face. He'd lap at you through it, gradually gentling his touch as you come down. Finally, he'd release you from his grip, a smug smile on his face as he gazes up at your blissed-out expression.

CALEB 🪐

Caleb would eat pussy in a 69 position he'd be on his back urging your thighs to straddle his face, your dripping sex hovering just above his eager mouth.

His hands would grip your ass tightly, fingers sinking into the flesh as he pulls you down, the first intimate contact of your slick folds with his lips and tongue. He'd groan into your pussy, the sound muffled but still audible, sending delicious vibrations through your core. His nose would press against your clit as he inhales your scent, a shudder running through his long body.

He'd start by licking broad, slow strokes along your slit, from your entrance up to your clit, his long tongue delving between your folds to taste your essence. His technique would be sensual and almost lazy at first, savoring every inch of your most intimate area. Occasionally he'd dip the tip of his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you shallowly, teasingly.

His hands would knead and squeeze your ass, occasionally pulling you harder against his face, grinding your pussy against his mouth as he suckles and licks.

He'd set a steady rhythm, thrusting his hips up to meet your bobbing head as he pleasures you. He'd be lost in the dual sensations of your hot mouth around his cock and his own mouth buried in your dripping sex. The combined stimulation would be intense for you both, the pleasure building rapidly.

He'd occasionally bury himself deep in your throat as he grinds his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent and moaning deeply, the vibrations adding to your growing ecstasy.

When he feels you are close, he would start sucking your clit hard as he thrusts his tongue deep into your spasming channel. His fingers would dig into the flesh of your ass, pulling you impossibly hard against his mouth, grinding your gushing pussy against his face as he devours you.

At the same time, he'd bury himself balls-deep in your throat, his thick cock pulsing and throbbing as he hits the back of your throat. With a guttural, muffled moan that you feel vibrating through every cell of your being, he'd explode, his hot seed shooting down your throat in thick, creamy ropes.

He'd continue sucking and licking as he climaxes, his hips jerking erratically as spurt after spurt of his release fills your mouth and throat. His grip on your ass would be almost painful as he holds you in place, not letting you pull away as he rides out the intense waves of his orgasm.

Finally, with a last shudder and a sigh, he'd relax his grip, his softening cock slipping from your lips as he gently eases you off him. But he'd keep your hips nestled against his face, his tongue lazing slow and lazy strokes along your slit, cleaning up every last drop of your release as you both float down from the incredible high of your shared climax.

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men - "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

dialogue only, slight crack, 1 gendered term used ("ma'am" by Sylus)

content warning: swearing, implied vore (Rafayel), suggestive themes (Sylus)

Xavier ✨

"Xavier, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"..."

"...Why are you hesitating"

"Oh, sorry, I'm not. I was just thinking what kind of worm you'd be and what you'd need to be kept happy and safe. I'd need to build you some kind of enclosure... But if you were a worm, how would I know which things you like and which you don't? Worms can't talk. I guess I'd have to learn how to speak worm and watch you really closely."

"I'm sure if anyone could make me a happy worm, it'd be you."

"I'm glad you think so. Still, worms are so small and fragile... Please, don't turn into a worm. I don't think my heart could take worrying so much about you."

"Don't worry, I won't! It's just an internet meme."

"Good. Then it's settled. Neither of us will ever turn into worms. If we have to become animals, let's be cats or birds. Together. So we can talk and be equals."

Zayne ❄️

"Zayne, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"...Sigh."

"Well? Would you, would youuu?"

"Yes. I would become a worm doctor and make sure you are the happiest, healthiest worm. Is that a satisfying answer?"

"Very!"

"Good. Any other hypothetical questions you'd like to ask?"

"Hmm... What kind of worm do you think I'd be?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with different worm species to answer that question in a scientifically accurate way. However, I can guarantee you, you would be a worm that is beloved by Zayne."

Rafayel 🪸

"Rafayel, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Uhm, duh?? You'd be the cutest little worm, I'd eat you and keep you safe in my stomach."

"...What"

"What"

"You could've stopped at 'yes' and calling me cute."

"Yeah? Well, what about you? What would you do if I turned into a handsome, talented worm?"

"I wouldn't eat you, that's for sure."

"I guess it'd be a shame to waste such a special worm for a meal. You could make me a little worm art studio and then sell my artworks. That way, I could take care of you, even if I was a worm."

"Do you think worms look tasty, Rafayel"

"Of course I don't! But I think you'd be a delicious-looking, tasty little worm."

"...I'm starting to regret asking."

"I literally did nothing wrong."

"You brought vore into this house!"

"Jesus spoke the truth and they hated him for it, too"

"Who the fuck is Jesus"

Sylus 🥀

"Sylus, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Heh. What a strange question. Where did that come from?"

"It's an internet meme."

"Well, of course, I would, sweetie. After all, who could resist an adorable worm like you? I'd find an architect and a gardener to design you the largest, most luxurious enclosure, so that you could have the most opportunity to thrive out of any worm in the universe. Every day, I'd tell you how much I love you. And I'd subdue the world, so they'd worship the ground you burrow in."

"...Sylus, I think we gotta have sex now."

"Oh? I didn't know a bit of worm talk could get you so riled up, sweetie."

"You know this isn't about the worm."

"Haha."

"Take off your clothes"

"Yes, ma'am~"

Caleb 🍎

"Caleb, would you—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"You were going to ask me if I would still love if you were a worm, right?"

"..."

"The answer is yes. Hundred times yes."

"...It'd be nice if you let me finish my question."

"Oh. Okay! Ask me again, I'll wait this time."

"Caleb, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Yes!"

"How did you know what I was going to ask anyway?"

"I heard you the other day discussing the meme with your friends. I figured you'd ask sooner or later."

"Hmph."

"Soooo... Would you love me if I was a worm?"

"You're already a worm and I love you just fine, don't I?"

[spokenforyou]

rafayel x fem reader

INTERTIDAL ZONE

synopsis: rafayel was meant to go to an art salon but he can’t resist you. notes: sorry it’s been so long guys! i never really focus on raf, so it was difficult to come up with something to write for him. i hope this is good enough for everyone. warnings: vulgarity, nsfw, unprotected, swearing, marks/hickeys, biting, f receiving, creampie wc: 1.9k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

“What if he asks why you didn’t answer the call?”

“I’m busy…” Rafayel whispers as he leans down to kiss your neck ever so gently. He had refused his friend’s call to come back to the art salon. But of course, Rafayel was more interested in you.

He has you fully on the bed, kissing your neck slowly as his hand slips your shirt up and massages your stomach. He kisses the crook of your neck softly before pressing his body against you.

Rafayel lifts his head and hovers his lips above yours. His breath tickles your face, but before you can say anything, he closes that gap. He kisses you softly, as if his lips were a feather that gently touches yours. His hand moves up to your breast and cups it softly.

He leans his body onto yours more as if he was trying to merge in with you. You moan against his lips, and he lets out the quietest whine. Your stomach flips and your heart quickens, a sucker for him.

As the kiss continues, he uses his tongue. He moves his body over yours so that he’s completely on top of you now. His kisses become more needy and his grip on your breast becomes more possessive.

You can feel him harden against you as he deepens the kiss and pushes his body against yours. He kisses you like a man thirsty for water before separating his lips from yours, panting hard as he looks at you.

“Raf… Are you okay?” You let out a breathy chuckle and you wipe your lip.

“I’m far from okay,” Rafayel whispers.

He pants and kisses down your neck, leaving bruises on his way. He lifts your shirt up as his kisses move lower and lower down your chest.

He leans lower and starts sucking on the flesh of your chest. He stops when he leaves dark marks and looks up at you, licking his lips.

Rafayel pushes himself off of you and starts taking his shirt off. He throws it on the floor and sits on the bed as he pulls you up onto his lap.

He kisses your shoulder, biting down on it before pulling your shirt off of you as well. His hands go to your back and unbuckle your bra as he kisses your neck.

Your eyes widen before they flutter shut, shock filling your body as he takes the initiative. How bold he’s being is having your body react in more ways than one.

“Raf…” You moan quietly, and he shivers under you.

He pushes your bra off of you and throws it across the room and his eyes dart downward to your bare chest.

“So pretty…” He kisses you again, but his kisses are more needy than before.

He pulls you closer, his hands wrapping around your waist, until your bodies are pressed together, and then he grinds his hips against yours.

“What, cutie?” He smirks before kissing your shoulder.

His hands remain around your waist as he grinds his hips against yours, with only thin fabric between you. But the friction of your bodies together as you rock against each other provides a tantalising feeling to both of you.

You lean down and suck on his neck, leaving faint marks. His whimpers fill your ears and he grips you tighter.

Rafayel’s body stiffens, feeling impatient to have you. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

He captures you in his gaze, the way a predator looks at its prey. He looks at you with lust in his eyes, all his rational thoughts and manners out the window.

“Tell me what you want.” He leans a little closer and whispers against your ear.

“You, Raf…” You practically let out a whine, feeling him poke against your heat through his pants.

The feeling was certainly mutual, and you both knew that.

“I’m all yours. Always.” He kisses you again and pushes you on the bed to get on top of you.

His hand travels down your body, over your stomach, to your legs. He quickly takes off your pants and panties, before taking his pants and boxers off as well.

Rafayel spreads your legs, and he takes in the sight of you. He bites his lip and starts dragging his fingers along the inside of your thigh slowly.

“You’re so perfect, I should paint you.” He looks you in the eye and smirks at you with that devilish look in his eyes.

Your body heats and you blush at his words. His eyes scan your body, taking in your beautiful form.

“God, what a goddess you are.” He lowers his head down to kiss the inside of your thighs, his hot breath fanning your sensitive skin.

Each kiss he leaves on your skin is soft and slow, almost teasing. He kisses all the way up and down your leg before he looks up at you again with half-lidded eyes.

He grabs your thighs, his fingers grazing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and he lifts your leg up, placing it on his shoulder.

“Raf, stop teasing…” You beg and watch him with fluttered eyes.

“Will do.” He smirks and presses his tongue against you, and the pleasure you felt was instant.

He was taking his time, wanting to fully taste you and feel you. He moves his head around, going deeper as if he was trying to make sure he could get every part of you.

He let out a guttural moan; the sound vibrating through you, before he looked up at you, his glittering eyes boring into yours.

Rafayel starts to lick and suck softly, increasing the pleasure you felt. He focuses on you, and you can see that he is enjoying himself.

His tongue is doing things to you that you’ve never felt before and it causes you to grab at the sheets and let out a moan yourself. Unable to control yourself, your body arches against him.

Rafayel smiles against you, knowing just how much he’s affecting you. He goes a little faster as he presses his tongue harder against you.

He continues to take in how needy you get by the way you’re breathing hard and how you’re biting on your lip like you’re holding your moans back.

He lifts your hip up with his hand and pushes his face deep in you, his nose brushing your sensitive bud as he continues to work you.

Your moans get louder and he pulls away before moving back on top of you. You groan and he laughs.

“Want you to cum on my cock, cutie.” He mutters and your eyes fly to his length; his eyes follow and his face reddens.

“Alright, enough looking…” Rafayel chuckles, and he strokes himself a few times before lowering himself and aligning with you.

His tip brushes your entrance, teasing you. But he’s eager just as much as you are. The way you’re looking at him, with your lips slightly parted and your eyes hazy from desire, just makes it harder to hold himself back.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust, and he leans down and kisses your forehead, his hand cupping the side of your face.

“Ready..? He whispers and you nod.

He looks at you one last time and gives you another kiss on the forehead before he slowly pushes himself into you.

His breath hitches and he fills you up slowly until he’s fully inside of you. He can’t help but let out a small moan and his hands grip your hips to steady himself.

“Oh, fuck…” You moan and squeeze your eyes shut as he moves.

He pauses a few times to let you get used to the feeling and to catch his breath as he tries to control himself, but the way you make him feel is like no other.

He takes one of your legs and lifts it up to his waist as he moves; the sensations sending waves of blissful pleasure through the both of you.

Through the sound of your soft moans, you can hear the sweet words he keeps muttering to you. He’s telling you how beautiful you are and repeating how good you feel.

He’s in heaven with you, he’s falling more in love with you every second.

“You can go faster Rafayel…” You whisper and it nearly sounds angelic in his ears.

He’s breathing hard on top of you, his thrusts getting faster and harder now, as he can’t hold back more.

He looks at you with so much affection, but also the need to just be closer to you, with no space between you. His grip on your hip tightens, and he presses himself deeper into you.

Rafayel’s eyes never leave yours as he mutters to you, “You’re everything to me. Everything. I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Raf…” Your moans get louder and he knows what that means. Your nails dig into his back and leave marks as they drag.

“Hold it in a while longer.” He lifts your other leg up and leans closer to you, getting as close as he can to you as he continues to move.

His hair is damp and sticking to his skin and the look on his face is one that shows just how overwhelmed physically and mentally he is by you.

“Just a little longer, pretty.”

Rafayel leans his head down and kisses you all over your face, his hand coming to brush the hair out of your face and he whispers “I love you” repeatedly like a mantra.

As time goes on, he struggles more and more. He loses himself in the moment. His movements become a little more desperate and sloppier as he looks deep into your eyes with a mix of love and desire.

“I can’t hold on any longer.” The words fly out of his mouth.

There’s a moment of silence as he suddenly pulls out of you and pulls you onto his lap, moving you as quickly as he can so that you’re straddling him.

He drops you down onto him and instantly continues his thrusts, your hands flying to his shoulders to balance.

“Together.” He whispers in your ear like a man starved.

He pulls you close, and you can feel his heart pounding through his skin as he captures you in a deep kiss.

He pulls away from the kiss when he can no longer keep it up, his laboured breathing and short pants telling you he was close.

“Together…” you repeat and you finally feel your orgasm hit, your walls squeezing him immediately.

As soon as you come undone, he feels it and that’s enough for him to let go. He pulls your body flush against him, wrapping his arms tight around you as he reaches his own climax and he moans softly into your shoulder.

He paints you like he would a canvas.

He’s breathing hard again, and he’s shaking, barely able to keep himself from collapsing onto the bed while he holds you as tight as physically.

“You’re so… Fuck.” Rafayel chuckles.

Even through the afterglow and the exhaustion of your high, he continues to hold you tight, and you can feel the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

He’s holding you as if he’s scared that you’re going to disappear and he kisses your skin softly, his lips and hands still shaking from sensations.

“Thank you, Raf…” You lean back and smile at him, a hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“For what?” He chuckles as he finally catches his breath.

“Coming back…” You kiss his swollen lips gently.

“Always… You know I-” He can’t even finish his sentence as the phone ringing interrupts him.

“Mmm, perfect timing.” Rafayel chuckles and answers.

“Raf, why did you leave, man?” The man practically yells over the phone.

“Had something come up, I was busy. Sorry…” His eyes lock with yours and he smirks, his body hardening once again.

You think to yourself “I knew I should’ve got up.” You can’t help but let out a groan and you already mentally prepare for yet another round.

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

Yessss feed me the headcanonssssss

Can we get overprotective? Maybe like what they would do if your asshole ex shows up or something like that?

absolutely (gender neutral ex so you can picture as you see fit)! as a girly with a bad ex, i would've loved to have the boys there to defend me. hope anyone out there dealing with this can find some comfort here too <3

rating: sfw cw: bad ex, threats of violence ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier:

Man is jealous of himself, so you can only imagine how he is when he finally meets your infamous ex at a work mixer

Xavier shakes hands and greets everyone except your ex, who he won’t even look at

He is grabby with you for the rest of the night. Hand in yours, on your back, on your shoulder. He won’t let you out of his sight for even a second

You: “Xav, it’s okay. We broke up a long time ago and -”

Your ex makes the mistake of jumping into the conversation right then. “Could only get someone who’s already trapped with you at work all day, huh?”

Xavier looks calm, but you can see rage flashing in his eyes

He takes a step toward your ex and quietly and calmly says, “Anyone who lost such a prize must be an idiot, and I don’t fight unfair matches.”

Before your ex can say anything else, Xavier is already leading you out of the party, hand on the back of your neck so that everyone, including your ex, can see that you’re his

“Let’s go home so I can show you just how lucky I am to have you.”

Zayne:

You’re at a cafe before work, one of the rare times you and Zayne have matching shifts

While waiting for your coffee to be called, you hear the barista say a familiar name

You and Zayne both whip your heads to look at the pickup counter, and your heart sinks when you see your ex

Zayne knows some details about your ex since you grew up together, but it is enough that he instantly turns on his protective side

The barista calls your name and Zayne’s next, and Zayne squeezes your hand before getting up to get the drinks

Right as your ex is reaching for the drink, Zayne slides in front and picks up the drinks you ordered with ease, cutting your ex off

The coldest delivery of, “It’s polite to say sorry, but I’m really not.”

Your ex starts to get upset but Zayne has already turned his back with your drink

He calls over his shoulder, “The life of a surgeon is busy. If you wanted to go first you should’ve gotten a better job.”

Zayne hands you your coffee with an easy smile and a kiss, making sure your ex is watching the entire exchange

Rafayel:

You and Raf are touring a museum to see the spot where his newest painting will be installed later that month

When you hear a familiar voice at the end of the hall, you freeze

Rafayel: “What’s wrong, cutie?” You: “That voice sounded just like my ex. You know that ex.”

Rafayel merely nods, and then drapes an arm over your shoulder as you keep walking forward, pulling you as close to his body as he can

Rounding the corner, your ex spots you and sneers, “Surprised to see you finally got back out there.”

Rafayel turns to you and says, “Aw cutie, I didn’t know you used to do charity work.”

You don’t know whose jaw drops to the floor faster, you or your ex

Raf looks at your ex and then continues nonchalantly, “I’m putting up a new art piece this month. You should really check out the red paint, I think it’ll match your vibe.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek and then the two of you leave the museum, Raf never letting you out from under his arm

You: “You’re not really going to use that paint in the museum, right?” Raf, coldly: “No, but I might make a custom piece if that asshole ever thinks of talking to you again.”

Sylus:

When Sylus gets back to the base one night, he can’t find you in any of your usual spots

Rationally he knows that Mephisto would have told him if you were in any sort of danger, but emotionally Sylus can feel his heart rate starting to speed up

He finally finds you on the terrace, having a rather heated conversation on the phone

He knows you’re completely capable of fighting your own battles, but as soon as he hears that name - the one you told him about, who hurt you - all bets are off

Casually strides over to you and plucks the phone out of your hand with a, “Let me handle this, sweetie.”

His hand is tracing protective circles on your back when he says, “How did you get this number?” Your ex on the other line instantly gets defensive.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Nobody talks to me like that and gets away unscathed, but nobody talks to her like that and lives. If you value that pathetic little life of yours, I’d leave town for a while.”

He hangs up the phone and then blocks the number before handing it back to you

Sylus: “I don’t think your ex will be bothering you anytime soon.” You: “Yeah because you threatened them?” Sylus: “It was more of a promise, kitten.”

He spends the rest of the night being extra romantic. Stealing long kisses whenever you walk by, taking you to his vinyl room to slow dance, and making sure you know just how much you are worth loving 

Caleb:

You’ve been acting weird all night, even though Caleb took you to your favorite restaurant

Caleb: “You’ve barely touched your food. Are you feeling alright?” You: “Yeah everything is fine. I’m just tired.”

As if you could ever actually lie to Caleb, but he doesn’t press the issue further

On the way out of the restaurant, you pass by a table close to the door, where you’re greeted with a, “Is that Y/N?”

As soon as Caleb sees your ex, he is like a different person. He’s squaring his shoulders, his hand is protectively gripping yours, and his eyes are absolutely determined

Of course he knows all about your ex, being on the receiving end of all of the nights you spent crying over this horrible person, but meeting face to face is a different story

Caleb puts on a fake smile and then bends down by the table so as not to cause a scene

“If you even so much as look at her again, I promise it will be the last thing you do. Understand?”

When Caleb stands up, your ex sees just how much he towers over them, and they shrink back in their seat

He then makes a dramatic display of kissing you right in front of them before you leave the restaurant

“Want to go get ice cream to make up for all of that, or should we skip right to the dessert at home?”

[whosashan]

The little things

In which - little things the LaDS men do that show you just how much they treasure you.

Xavier

Xavier was an affectionate lover in ways that often went unnoticed by others. To the world, he seemed distant—aloof, even—avoiding large gatherings and keeping to himself. But to you, he was warmth itself, a presence that never failed to lift your spirits. He had an uncanny ability to summon a smile to your lips, savoring the sound of your laughter as if it were his favorite melody. With him, your heart always felt full.

Physical affection was his language. Whether it was the gentle press of his lips against your forehead first thing in the morning, the reassuring squeeze of your hand as he guided you through a crowded street, or the way he enveloped your chilled fingers in his own to chase away the cold—his love was always expressed through touch.

Helping you get ready had become one of his favorite rituals. The first time he offered to apply your blush, he had been hesitant, his brows knit in concentration, as if a single misplaced stroke would earn him a scolding. Now, it had become second nature—his careful hands brushing across your skin, his focus entirely on you, everything to be able to touch you in any way.

A rough day? He was there to knead the tension from your shoulders with steady, practiced hands. A moment of comfort? He would wrap you in his embrace before you even had to ask.

On this particular evening, you were away on a field trip with your colleagues—an event Xavier had only agreed to attend because of you.

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the encampment. You sat on a log, the warmth of the flames barely reaching you as exhaustion weighed heavily on your limbs. Organizing this trip had been a draining ordeal; you felt less like a leader and more like a weary caretaker herding unruly children—children who happened to be highly trained hunters.

The laughter and chatter around you blurred into background noise. When a coworker made a poorly timed, half-hearted joke at your expense, you merely furrowed your brows, too drained to muster a response. All you wanted was sleep.

Xavier, seated beside you, noticed immediately. His fingers pressed gently into your thigh—a small, grounding touch, yet one that brought an immediate sense of comfort. A silent promise. 'I’m here. If you need me, I’m right here.'

He took your hand in his, tracing slow circles over your knuckles, urging you to look at him. His gaze held a silent question—'Are you okay?'

You met his eyes, their soft concern melting into you like a balm. With a quiet smile, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze in return.

Yes, you were okay. Because you had him.

And in moments like this, you knew—you were truly lucky.

Zayne

Zayne was the embodiment of composure—level-headed, calm, and unfailingly rational. Yet, when it came to expressing his true thoughts, words often failed him. His concern for you, though deeply rooted in care, sometimes surfaced as stern remarks, particularly when you disregarded your doctor’s (his) orders.

But where words fell short, his actions spoke volumes.

You had long since grown accustomed to discovering fresh bouquets of your favorite flowers at your doorstep, their delicate petals carrying the unspoken warmth of his affection. At his apartment, a set of spare clothes always awaited you, neatly folded as if in quiet anticipation of your stay. He had even gone so far as to purchase travel-sized versions of your toiletries, a small yet endearing detail that never failed to make your heart flutter. His fridge was perpetually stocked with your preferred snacks and drinks, as though he had memorized each of your favorites without effort.

And then there were the little things—the unspoken gestures that revealed just how closely he paid attention. He had noticed, without you ever mentioning it, how much you loathed doing the dishes. So naturally, he had taken it upon himself, never allowing you near the sink, brushing off any protest with quiet insistence.

That was the man Zayne was—one who showed his love not through grand declarations, but through unwavering acts of service, ensuring you were always at ease in his presence.

Today, you had set out for a shopping trip, eager to refresh your wardrobe. Fortune was on your side—Zayne had the day off and had agreed to accompany you, an unexpected treat that left you brimming with excitement.

As expected, you never carried so much as a single bag. He handled them all effortlessly, his grip firm yet gentle as he held your hand in his free one—a small but steadfast reminder of his presence beside you.

The golden hues of the setting sun stretched across the pavement as the two of you made your way home, the air crisp with the promise of evening. The weight of the shopping bags didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, yet, midway through the walk, he suddenly came to a halt.

“Wait.” His voice was calm yet firm.

Before you could ask why, he crouched down, carefully setting the bags on the ground. Confused, you followed his gaze—only to realize your shoelaces had come undone.

A flush crept up your neck as your eyes widened slightly. He was tying them.

“Zayne! I could’ve done it myself,” you protested, voice tinged with sheepish embarrassment.

He remained unfazed, fingers moving deftly as he secured the knot with practiced ease.

“There’s no need to strain your back when I’m here,” he murmured, his tone as steady as ever, as though his actions were the most natural thing in the world.

When he stood, you gazed up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. Without hesitation, he returned it, his warmth evident in the soft curve of his mouth as he reached for your hand once more.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

A faint blush dusted both your faces—a delicate shade of pink, fleeting yet impossible to ignore.

And in that quiet moment, with the evening sun painting the sky in amber and rose, you felt it once again—the quiet, unwavering love that Zayne had always shown you, not with words, but with actions that spoke louder than any confession ever could.

Rafayel

Rafayel loved to tease you—whether through over-the-top dramatics or by shamelessly flirting at every opportunity.

“There she is—the one and only, the gorgeous, the radiant, the absolute love of my life!” he declared theatrically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were on the verge of swooning.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the side, but not before a telltale blush crept onto your cheeks.

Despite his endless antics, he always knew where to draw the line. No matter how much he delighted in seeing you flustered, he never overstepped your boundaries. His teasing was playful, never intrusive—an affectionate dance he had perfected just for you.

He was, at his core, an attentive lover. Whether you were ranting about work, venting about a frustrating friend, or simply rambling about whatever occupied your mind, he listened. Fully. Unwaveringly. And if you ever sought advice, he was more than ready to offer it.

He was also the best gossip partner you could ask for. If you didn’t like someone—even if he had never met them before—they were already erased from existence in his eyes.

His affection was woven into the little things. He often left behind handwritten notes, filled with charming doodles and sweet messages, knowing how much you adored thoughtful gestures. He had an uncanny ability to anticipate your wants before you even voiced them, surprising you with clothes, shoes, makeup—anything he thought would bring that spark of joy to your eyes.

And though he usually saw right through your mischievous schemes, he often indulged them anyway. Seeing you get all giddy over a well-executed prank or a perfectly timed joke was worth playing along.

Like now.

You turned to him, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Hey Raf, what do you think - Which days are the strongest?”

Rafayel narrowed his gaze, already sensing the incoming disaster. “…Enlighten me, cutie.”

“Saturday and Sunday,” you declared, barely holding back your grin. “The rest are week days.”

A loud snort escaped as you dissolved into laughter, as if you had just delivered the comedic masterpiece of the century.

He scoffed, shaking his head, but there was no hiding the soft smile tugging at his lips. You looked so carefree like this—unburdened, unfiltered, perfectly at ease.

And to him, there was nothing more beautiful than that.

Sylus

The big bad wolf was utterly, hopelessly smitten with you.

It was no secret that Sylus spoiled you beyond reason. If your gaze so much as lingered on something for a second too long, it would magically appear at your doorstep the very next day, wrapped in elegant packaging with a handwritten note attached. He wanted you to feel cherished, adored—to know that you deserved the absolute best.

But beyond lavish gifts and extravagant gestures, Sylus had made it his mission to memorize every detail about you.

Your birthday? Expect an unforgettable surprise, meticulously planned down to the last second. Your anniversary? He had booked a luxurious getaway months in advance—and had already arranged for your days off at work. Don't ask how. Allergies? Noted and accounted for. Every little habit, every unconscious quirk? He knew them all, and each one only deepened his fascination with you.

He never wanted you to worry about a single thing. Bills, rent, grocery shopping—it was all taken care of before the thought could even cross your mind. Somehow, your fridge was always stocked with your favorite foods, the shelves lined with your go-to snacks, as if by magic. In reality, it was just Sylus, ensuring you never had to lift a finger.

Even the smallest details didn’t escape his notice. You were running low on a product? He had already replaced it before you realized it was gone. You casually mentioned a preference? It was ingrained in his mind, woven seamlessly into his everyday actions.

He even tailored his appearance to your liking. He had long since noticed the way your eyes lingered on him whenever he wore tight-fitting shirts that accentuated his muscular frame—so naturally, he made sure to wear them more often. That cologne you once complimented? It was now the only one he ever used.

And then there were moments like this—where his attentiveness caught you completely off guard.

“Ugh, I’m running out of my favorite perfume,” you sighed, pouting as you finished getting ready. Sylus, lounging nearby, watched you with quiet amusement.

“Worry not, sweetie. It’s in the cabinet on the right.”

You blinked, confused, before pulling the door open—only to be met with an entire row of neatly arranged bottles of the exact perfume you had just lamented about.

Your jaw dropped. “Sylus!” You turned to him, eyes wide in disbelief. “You really shouldn’t spend so much money on me.” You pouted, though deep down, the sheer thoughtfulness of it all made your heart swell.

His deep, rich chuckle rumbled through the room as he pulled you into his arms, his embrace effortlessly warm and secure. “That’s quite insulting, darling,” he mused, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “I could buy you five houses, and my bank account wouldn’t even take a scratch.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but as he held you close, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, you couldn’t deny how deeply, undeniably loved you felt.

Caleb

For Caleb, spending time with you was the highlight of his day—especially now, knowing he could never take it for granted.

He seized every opportunity to be close to you, no matter how small.

"Oh, I just dropped by to say hi. I'm in Linkon for a business trip for a few days." he said casually, though the truth was, he had purposely cleared his schedule just to spend more time with you.

During his stay at your place, he would carefully plan ways to make your time together unforgettable. A cozy movie night, complete with blanket forts? Already arranged. Baking together? He lived for the excuse to smudge flour on your cheek just so he could wipe it away, stealing a touch in the process. Playing Kitty Cards? He would feign ignorance every time you sneakily took an extra card, pretending not to notice the mischievous glint in your eyes.

He knew you better than anyone—your habits, your favorite pastimes, the little things that made you light up. And he understood that sometimes, the best moments were the quiet ones—when you were simply absorbed in your own world, content in silence, with him just within reach. As long as he could see your face, that was enough.

"Caleb, that's cheating!" you whined, throwing your controller down as he effortlessly defeated you in yet another round of your video game.

"All's fair in love and war, pipsqueak," he mused, his deep chuckle sending warmth through the room.

You huffed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't want to play anymore."

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned in slightly. "That means you lost," he murmured, inching closer. "And you know what that means."

Your heart skipped a beat. "No, Caleb, don't you dare—!"

But before you could protest, his hands were already on you, mercilessly tickling your sides. Laughter erupted from your lips, filling the apartment with the kind of pure joy that made everything else fade away.

And in that moment, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[sayangrafayel]

MC: Rafayel, you are a badass!

Rafayel: Yeah, someday I’m gonna tell you about the time I stabbed a cop.

MC: Rafayel!?

Rafayel: WHAT? HE STABBED ME FIRST!!!

[daikonism]

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