#LNDS smut

[bronzealchemy]

asking them to try it raw

with: zayne, caleb, sylus, rafayel, xavier

content: implied smut, mdni, talks of contraception and avoiding pregnancy, also very suggestive

[littleapplle]

bad dog!

mating season's part two. not necessary but read it for more context. nsfw. 4.1k w.

cw.: hybrid!caleb, fem!reader, masturbation (m), dry humping, caleb is pathetic and anxious asf, a lot of spit, handjob, cunnilingus (sigh...), p in v, big d caleb, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (sorryy..), caleb is PATHETIC (again), biting and lwk marking kink, doggy style, mating press, squirting.

note: ah!! its finally out! to everyone who liked and asked for a part two of mating season, im sorry! i took so long to start and finish this. i hope i can keep up with the expectations and that this is just as enjoyable as part one.

“bad dog!”

Is what caleb's got most used to hearing in the past few days.

“caleb, do you know where my white bra is- hey, what are you hiding in there? bad dog!”

“caleb! stop going through the dirty laundry basket! bad dog!”

“caleb, why are there holes in my black panties? oh my god did you chew them again?- ugh! bad dog!”

the first few times, he'd whine in guilt and shame, give you his best puppy eyes and maybe, just maybe, get away with it. but now? you're afraid he's getting bolder, that your punishments – denying him his weekly spoon of peanut butter and his blueberry bites – aren't being enough to keep him on his tracks. 

and what's the solution for a puppy with bad manners? a trainer, of course! you've searched everywhere online for a hybrid trainer close to your apartment and nothing was worth wasting time on. most of them were men, which you knew wouldn't end well.

puppy!caleb is friendly, a sweetheart around you. he lies on his back and whines for belly rubs and when you scratch a particular spot on his side, his leg twitches a little. your sweet pup is lovely but you know him well enough to know it's better to avoid interactions with other men.

it's not personal! he isn't scared of them or anything. he just doesn't like them around you:( so why would you bring a stranger to your shared apartment to not only try and order him around but also infect the air, which usually smells like you, with their yucky scent? that's a nono!! caleb is a good pup but his teeth are still huge and sharp!!!

with no other options left, you return to scolding caleb almost daily for his misbehavior.  sure, you’re letting him get away with it sometimes and maybe you're too soft on him but you're trying!

his behavior worsens with time. it's been a little more than a  week since the incident you'd rather not mention. caleb barks when you get home, showing his teeth to the world once his nose sniffs a different scent in your clothes. caleb growls and both of you play tug of war with your clothes every morning. caleb hides stuff around the apartment and you're running out of undies.

he's clingy. you love him but he's constantly clinging to you, sniffing every inch of your skin when he thinks you're not looking. When you sit down on the couch to work, laptop resting on top of your thighs, he lies down on the floor, waiting for you to invite him to sit beside you and take a nap while you write reports, and when you don't? his sharp teeth nip at the ticklish skin of your foot. bad dog!

to his dismay, you still have a job and need to go out by the morning and spend the whole day out. the baby teethers you bought for him aren’t helping to keep his teeth and mind busy anymore and caleb is starting to destroy the shit out of your apartment. you’ve found bite marks everywhere this past week. your mascara? bitten. the corner of your bedside table? destroyed. the cute and pink silicone spatula in your kitchen? disintegrated.

ok, sure, it’s kind of your fault for not educating him properly but how could you? poor boy gets anxious when you’re not around and his gums are itchy! he’s innocent! 

so, to help with said problem, you bought him a friend! a fluffy, cute, white bunny plushie with the cutest light pink heart for a nose. but that alone was too tedious for your bored pup! to prevent him from absolutely destroying the plushie, you spray some of your perfume in its fluffy body. the cologne he whines and buries his face in your neck when you wear, the one that made you put a lock on the cabinet under your bathroom sink because he kept spraying it in the air when you weren’t home.

great idea! he loves it. a bit too much maybe, but it’s a win. 

“i’m leaving, caleb! leftovers are in the fridge. yes, i love you, yes, i have to go, no i can’t call in sick.”

you announce loudly from the front door before shutting it close, a tactic you quickly learned. you sneak to the front door quietly, tell him that you’re out and boom. door locked. sometimes you can hear him whine and paw at the knob and it breaks your heart but your boss will chop your head off if you arrive late one more time this month. you try to make your goodbye as painless as possible for him, like removing a bandaid with a single quick pull so he doesn’t have the time to process the sting.

the clock hits 11:00, it’s been an hour since you left. caleb is miserably sprawled on the couch, he tries to focus his eyes on the show playing on the tv but his purple orbs stare at the clock more times than he can count.

it’s 18:00 by the time he gets frustrated and decides he’ll take a nap in your bed. everything on the tv is too boring if you’re not there to watch it with him, he doesn’t want to eat if you’re not there to treat him with dessert- oh, he misses you dearly.

opening the door of your room, he sighs like a wife that has been waiting six months for her husband, who left to save their country, to answer her last letter, whining dramatically at the hopeful thought you’d magically come home earlier. the mattress sinks down with his weight, curling under your weighted blanket like a puppy.

and that’s when he sees it.

his new little friend, with a light orange bow tied around its neck, sitting beside his head on the pillows. you’ve definitely sprayed your perfume on it this morning, the scent is still too fresh, he notes. 

he yanks it closer quickly, big hand and fingers gripping the fabric with force as he buries it in his face. comfort immediately runs through his veins, filling his bored brain with a sense of calmness. his fluffy ears twitch, glueing to the sides of his head pitifully and there’s a barely visible tail wagging slowly under the thick blanket.

caleb takes a whiff, a second one, a third one, and his eyes start to water. this is inhumane! he cherishes your gift dearly but now the scent just makes him miss you even more. rubbing his face closer to the plushie’s tummy, his canine teeth sink on the fabric as gently as he can, trying not to damage the toy you gifted him with so much love.

his little puppy heart shatters. if you were by his side right now, you’d pet his ears, pinch his cheek just enough to make his canines visible and giggle at him and it’d make him feel better! 

his hips buckle against the mattress as he squirms around the bed sadly and a shiver runs up his spine, making the fur on his tail stand up. caleb has been so pent up since he pressed you to the floor and had his way around you, his cock is always sensitive, the scratches you give behind his ear make his lower stomach tighten with arousal and his pupils are always blown.

gross stuff is a nono in your bed but his hands paw at his hardening cock through his boxers anyway. It’s not in his hand he wants to come and the feeling of not having what he wants makes his chest heavy with frustration. With a hiss, his hand leaves his cock, like any touch burns and hurts him more than it helps. 

‘caleb- no. i need you to calm down before i give you the spoon. breathe.’ is what you tell him after lunch, when he gets to have some peanut butter. the situation is different, he feels like a bomb, ticking closer and closer to exploding but he obeys your voice in his head anyway, breathing nervously against the now covered in saliva bunny.

a long breath makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull as his hypersensitive nose catches a glimpse of the intoxicating sweet smell of your cologne. 

and what happens next is not processed by his pathetic brain. the poor plushie is dragged down the blanket and pressed right to his crotch, its fur sticky with precum that seeped through his boxers. this is what you wanted when you gifted him this thing, huh? a ragdoll for him to fuck when you’re away? well it’s not enough!

his hips rut against the bead filled body with messy thrusts and more whines escape his lips. He can’t come. Not in this, not in his hand, his knot will take too long to go down and he’ll be sensitive, too sensitive. it has to be you. he wants you.

caleb is not there to see the clock tick 18:40, his ears don't help him this time, his nose is buried in your pillow too deeply to catch your slightly sweaty scent in the air and tell that you’re home. 

from the front door, you arch a brow as you kick your shoes off and place them on the shoe hack. the apartment is quiet, too quiet. caleb is like a child, you’ve noticed, if everything is too silent, something is wrong. 

“caleb? where are you, boy? have you eaten anything yet?” you call out, no one answers.

the door of your bedroom is ajar. is he sleeping? cute. you walk carefully to its direction, tiptoeing in hope to not wake him up. and once you peek inside, your smile falters.

“caleb! gross!”

the shriek makes him snap out of his drunk, dumbed down mind and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. his ears, once hidden on both sides of his head, stand on top of it, tense. “you-” he cries and sits up.

you don’t give time to finish his sentence, a frown blooming in your face as you cross your arms close to your chest by the door. 

“seriously caleb?! in my bed? i just changed the sheets this morning, for fuck’s sake-” and listen, he wants to apologize, feel guilty and pout but he can’t. he can hear your breath hitching, he loves when you come home with sweat clinging to your skin, fuck, you smell so good. he wants a taste. this time, he’ll get it.

this time, he begs. he crawls to the edge of your bed, tail wagging behind him mindlessly and the words that leave his mouth are pathetic.

“please- r’lly need your help! feels so hot- please i- i really need you! been waiting for so long, ah, please- i’m a good boy, kept my teeth to myself, promise. oh fuck.” your ears can barely catch up to everything he’s saying, his words are dragged, desperate, needy.

you really want to keep up with the ‘i’m mad at you’ act but you break. his whines go right to your core, arousal pooling on your underwear disgustingly fast. pinching your nose, you sigh, walking to his direction and sitting on the bed.

with the space between you two getting smaller, his tail wags faster, his pupils blown wide, shaky. your hand makes contact with his sweaty cheek and he is quick to lean in, shutting his eyes close and basking into your touch. “what’s wrong, pupp-” — “hot.” you can hear the distress in his voice. “it’s okay, i’m here now, aren’t i?” at the reassurance, you receive a lick in your hand as acknowledgement.

scooting closer, you cradle his face with both hands. there’s a bit of sweat clinging to his bangs , making them stick to his forehead, a bit of saliva is smeared on his lips and his brows are furrowed. “oh, my poor pup.” you coo in pity before pressing a kiss to his wet lips. he whines, kissing— well, licking your lips stupid—, you groan at the mess but doesn’t fight against it, you’ve been mean enough already.

while his clammy hands grip your shirt for a sense of grounding, yours scratch his chest in affection, tracing down to the happy trail that trailed up to his bellybutton. you’d love to take your time with him, let your mind settle, but knowing caleb, he’ll grow frustrated and bark weakly as a way to protest. so, in order to keep him quiet, your wandering hand pulls down his wet underwear, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

your eyes almost pop out their sockets once you peek down. he is big, much bigger than whatever the average is. his tip is an angry shade of red, beads of precum leaking down the shaft. the cool air makes it twitch. 

slowly, awkwardly, your hand wraps itself around it, working up and down. that makes him snap, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back with a loud whine. “‘s that good, pup?” he doesn’t answer, how could he? not when your thumb presses on his tip in a way it makes his thighs shake and his ears twitch with pleasure and he’s trying so hard not to come. 

your other hand leaves his face, going south to cup his balls gently. his jaw tightens. gross. you think with a smile but leans in anyway, kissing his adam’s apple as it bobs with his nervous gulps.

the stimulation is too much for him, making his brain go fuzzy. your lips now working on his shoulder blade, your hand gripping his length tightly, your other hand massaging his balls- “stop! argh- please, ‘m gonna cum! can’t cum. needa be inside you, please.” caleb squeals, both hands holding down your arms with force as his hips buckle in your hands.

so you do, you let go, just staring at him with big eyes as his chest goes up and down quickly and his face flushes with heat. once he settles from his high, caleb’s hands grip the hem of your shirt, taking it off quickly and messing your hair. “ow! caleb-” — “no.”

caleb has always been stronger than you, you lose against him when roughhousing, you give up on trying to save your clothes from his teeth because once something is in his grasp, you’re not getting it back. in a second, you’re under him, face shoved into one of your pillows while your ass, covered in the pretty, black skirt you left to work with is up in the air.

he doesn’t take the skirt off, too irritated to care about something so trivial. he takes a second to sniff your crotch, covered by a cute pair of wet lilac panties, before yanking the fabric down to your bent knees. you squeal against your pillow at the roughness and the quick, hot sniffs on your lips.

last week caleb discovered he loves the way you taste, he’d love to eat you out the whole night, starting now, but he just can’t take this long right now. his warm tongue laps at your arousal, lips wrapping themselves in your folds and sucking gently.

“c-caleb! fuck! good- good boy, keep going, baby.” muffled whines escape your lips and at the praise, caleb’s tail wags faster, tongue working around your clit, teasing it. he sees the way your knees fight to keep your ass up and not buckle weakly, that’s his sign to keep going. 

his free hands grip your ass, spreading it for more easy access. he trails kisses from your clit and up to your slit, continuing going up till he gets to your asshole, placing an open mouthed kiss to the hole. it twitches, your body shivering at the unexpected contact. you hit the pillow you’re currently biting in protest. “gross, caleb!”

it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow louder and your thighs, dripping with sweat, shake violently as he sucks on your clit harshly. “fu-ck! yes! good boy, caleb- mghhh- jus’ like, ah, that!” you moan, creaming on his mouth tiredly.

you curse his stamina, because once you think you’ll finally be able to catch your breath and rest, caleb’s already rutting against your wet folds and slapping his dick on your sensitive bundle of nerves. energetic mutt, you curse. he is not giving you a break.

“caleb.” you warn, trying to make your voice as steady as possible. “gimme a break and then we can conti- aaH! oh my god- fucking mutt!” you scream, cursing him for the pain between your legs as he buries himself inside you in a single thrust. his tip kissing your cervix and walls tightening around his length painfully. 

“s-sorry! o-oh fuck. fuck, y’er so tight- mgh-” 

and ohhhh fuck, he waited so long for this. you look so pretty from this angle, hair tangled and messy, face buried in a pillow, back and thighs sweaty while your knees can barely hold up your weight. he gulps down, trying not to piston his hips inside you just yet. 

he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable before snapping his hips against your ass, the sound of skin against skin disgustingly lewd. his torso bends down to bury his face in your nape, breathing deeply in your hair once he does. “mine. oh- ahh- yes, mineminemine!” caleb whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you clench down around him, making his thrusts messier. 

as a response to pleasure, his fluffy ears twitch and drop to the back of his head once again. his tail doesn’t stop wagging ever, swishing behind him happily. the warmth in his stomach grows at the sound of your moans and screams, your curses only making him hornier.

you’re a meanie, you don’t let him chew on your shirts and get a whiff of your bras, you nag at him and hide the small container with blueberries that’s usually in the fridge when he does something wrong. and usually, he’d whine, eyes getting watery at the thought of you being mad at him, but now? he doesn’t even care! you look so pretty, you feel so good. his ears barely get a glimpse of you cursing all his next generations.

a shiver runs down your spine once he licks the back of your neck, sniffing it contently as his cock abuses your insides. you hate him, you fucking hate this mutt, he is disgusting and he does not obey and his cock drags along your walls so fucking nicely. his mushroom tip pokes your cervix roughly, making you stupidly drool in your sheets while your things dig on the bedding. 

“y’smell so good- y’er so tight- feel so- ngh- good! mine, right? don’t like other men around you! noooongh”  – “w-wait! caleb! aah!” something in his mind upsetted him because the way he thrusts into your cunt is inhumane, caleb’s bigger frame presses you down on the mattress, the hair of his happy trail tickling your lower back as his skin slaps on yours. 

you’re a mess, pussy drooling pathetically and stretched to her limit around him, juices spilling down your thighs and the mattress everytime he fucks his cock inside you. and when you’re sure you’re getting used to him, of fucking course caleb has to start talking again. “need to mark you, everyone need’ta know y’er mine, just mine. that’s my cock you’re clenching around. needa bite you, yeah.” 

and he keeps up with his words, his loving, ticklish licks to the back of your neck turning into a sharp pain. you scream, squirming under him and one of your hands tries to slap whatever bit of his skin you can reach but it’s worthless. once caleb sets his mind into something, you’re definitely not the one that’s able to stop him with physical force. with a hand tightly around your waist and the other keeping your neck in place, his canine teeth sink down on your nape, biting down just enough to make the skin irritated and leave a scar for a few weeks.

and when you feel like you’re getting closer, his hips stop, his cock slips out of you and a strangled whine leaves your wet lips as he manhandles you, flipping you on your back. “you!-” annoying! you’re so annoying! bad dog!, you want to shout. “s-sorry. need to see your face.” he hisses as his eyes wander down at your breasts. “you’re so pretty, ahhh, so pretty. have i ever told you that?- fuck, mine and so pretty- oh-” 

he doesn’t waste any time, his hands help your legs up his shoulders and he slips inside you again. his sunset colored eyes stare at his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out of you and he finally notices the creamy ring around the base of his length and smeared on your lips. it’s pinkish, he notes, probably from being too rough and not stretching you properly. he’ll say sorry later.

“you’re so-” he pants tiredly, “so pretty.” a sweaty hand gropes the fat of your tit, squeezing it under his large palm. “want t’a breed you- need to- fuck! need to get your tits swollen with milk-” caleb leans in once again, this time bending your body like a stick, pressing your legs closer to your chest in the process. his nose takes a whiff of the valley of your boobs before wrapping his lips around your free boob, playing with the other one with his hand. 

your voice fails you once again. it’s not like you have the strength to judge him harshly again anyway. his tongue swipes at your hard nipple, sucking it like he has a point to prove. “and you would mghhh! would look so pretty and round and ah! everyone would know y’er mine, oh god-” 

with a last kiss, as if sealing a promise, he lets go of your nipple with mercy and stands up again, kissing your knee as an apology for bending you like your bones are made of jello. and then it hits him. “o-oh! s’rry forgot you like this.” the hand squeezing your tit snakes down between you two, adding some much needed stimulation to your clit.

you jump, legs thrashing against his shoulders and back at the pleasure. you clench around him once more and this time, it’s his turn to squeal in pleasure. “o-oh fuck. ‘m cumming, g’nna breed you, yeah? fill you up, mhm? yeah? fuck! cummin’!” caleb whines before throwing his head back, his sweaty hair barely moving an inch away from his forehead while doing so, and his once steady thrusts turn languid, messy. 

his cock twitches around you, spilling white, watery ropes in your pussy. bicolor orbs roll to the back of his skull as he feels his knot grow swollen at the base of his cock. even after coming, he keeps pistoning his hips in you, tiredly, but it’s the thought that counts.

at the weird, swollen and hot thing trying to fuck its way inside you, you mewl, eyes going wild open as caleb tries stretching you just a little more. 

“caleb-? what the aha! fuck?” — “sorry!” he cries but keeps going anyway, his fingers working faster around your clit to make up for the pain. “jus’ a little more? ple- ase? it feels good, doesn’t it?” back to being stupid and pathetic apparently, because the way he stares at you with puppy dog eyes and begs is disgusting. 

his other hand leaves your thigh to press down on your tummy and it becomes too much. your walls convulse around him and you cry, clit throbbing under his touch pathetically. the hand putting pressure on your bladder makes your eyes roll, your hands grip the sheets to the point of turning white.

“caleb! ah! oh my god- fuck- aha, cumming, i’m gonna cum! pl-please keep going!” 

and you don’t have to ask him twice. he thrusts his cock in you a last time, his knot slipping in easier than he thought it would, thanks to your drooling cunt and his cum and that does it for you. your body goes static, hips bucking against his and back arching against the bed. his fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking uncontrollably and your juices spray on his thighs and lower stomach.

“oh-”  — “don- not a word!” you manage to cry out.

“so… how long till it goes down?” you murmur tiredly against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his big frame as he lies on top of you. your legs feel sore, aching from being spread for so long, thanks to his cock still buried in you.

“an hour and a half, probably” caleb shrugs. 

your eyes snap open. “an hour?!” — “and a half.” he barks with a chuckle.

“i hate you! you’re heavy, y’know?! argh, bad dog!” he only manages to laugh at your rage and lick your cheek, covering it in saliva.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[syluspeach]

Walking in on you playing with yourself

Pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Caleb x reader

Synopsis: You’ve been neglected and you try taking matters into your own hands but you should have known better. +18(mdni)

Or

The guys walk in on you playing with yourself

Sylus

On your hands and knees, the position allowed Sylus the perfect view of your puffy cunt taking in the large, ruby-colored dildo. Your poor little hole stretched pathetically, whines muffled by the black comforter.

“S’not enough. Need your fat cock in me.”

You cried to the open air, wishing he was inside you, giving you what you so badly wanted.

He had been so busy lately, leaving while you were still asleep and returning once you were already tucked under the sheets. You craved him mentally and physically, bottom lip wobbling at your loneliness. You were trying to make up for his absence with the stupid phallic-shaped toy.

Hand working the length into you, hips pushing back against the head. You were desperate, wishing it was the large man watching you instead. It was foolish of you to think the plastic toy would fill you the way Sylus did.

It lacked the delicious stretch the base of his cock offered, the knot there always plugging you up with his seed.

Your hand started moving faster, fucking the toy into you in a manner that was anything but pleasurable. It didn’t reach the itch inside of you.

Sylus could hear your pathetic sob. You wanted to cum so bad but having grown used to the feeling of Sylus rearranging your guts, the head of his cock bulging under the skin of your abdomen couldn’t be replicated.

“Please, need it so bad. Wanna cum on daddy’s cock. Need him so bad. Can’t…can’t do it without him…need…need it so-”

He couldn’t take it.

Sliding his cool palm up your sweaty back, you cried in surprise, throwing the stupid toy to the side and clinging to him. Neither one of you said a word. How could you as you stuck to him like a deprived little parasite, lips parting to welcome his tongue into your mouth.

You rubbed yourself against him, the fabric of his button-up rough against your puffy nipples. You bounced in his hold. Words came out of you but you couldn’t string a coherent sentence.

“Shh, relax, sweetie. It’s alright now.” He placed you back on the bed, tugging you by your ankles to the edge, messy cunt pressing against his clothed bulge. You wasted no time to begin rocking against him. “Daddy’s home.”

Rafayel

Rafayel made sure to stand at an angle that kept him out from the mirror in front of you.

Though the mirror was foggy and streaked with condensation from the warm water trickling from the bathtub faucet, he could make up your pretty face in the glass.

Your lovely lips were parted. Breathy, high-pitched sounds fall from them. Head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, you held yourself under the running water, legs spread to allow the stream to come in contact with your pulsating clit.

When it didn’t provide the sensation you were looking for, a frown took over your cute face, lips pouting and eyebrows coming close together.

“Not enough…”

You complained, moving to turn the crystal knob higher up, the water falling out at a faster rate. Spreading your puffy folds, you angled your hips differently, hoping it would give you what you were looking for.

“This…not enough-oh, fucking hell-this is…this is pointless. Not gonna work…”

Rafayel smirked at your groans of frustration.

You had grown into a much too glutinous little thing. You would never be able to cum without his fingers, tongue, or cock ever again. He made sure of that.

Catching your attention with the click of his shoes against the porcelain floor, you glared at him, pouting so prettily. He fell onto his knees on the outside of the tub. Brushing your sweaty hair off of your face, he pressed tender kisses against the corner of your mouth, not giving you what you wanted just yet.

“Easy, guppy. You’re too tense.” Allowing the water to run over his elegant digits, he brought them over to your clenching hole, tracing a finger up your slit. “Daddy’s got you.”

Zayne

When you received a surprised call from Zayne, inviting you to his office, you hurriedly got ready. He’d been so caught up with work that your sex life was non-existent. You had brought it up to him, joking that you were going to show up at the hospital one of these days and have him take you on his desk. Thinking those were his intentions, you made sure to wear the pretty light blue lace lingerie you bought specifically for him.

By the time you were in the elevator, heading up to his office, your panties were wet, sticking to your folds.

Your frustration reached its breaking point when he brushed past you just as you stepped into his office.

“I’ll be right back, there’s a family member with a question.”

Your words died on your tongue and your smile fell.

Damn it all. You’d take care of your needs by yourself.

Knowing the only person allowed in his office other than himself was you, you roughly removed your clothes, leaving them on the floor.

You settled into his leather chair and stuffed your hand into your panties without a second thought. Collecting the slick from your empty hole, you spread it up to your clit.

Every set of footsteps had you freezing in fear that some unknown would waltz in with no regard to Zayne’s rule of no entering without permission but as they faded, you’d go back to sliding your fingers into yourself.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. All you knew was that you were slowly giving up hope of cumming. Zayne had spoiled you too much. Your fingers were unable to reach the depths he could, lacking the expertise his career offered him.

“Useless.” You wailed with desperation, fingers squishing the fat of your tit, having pulled the padded cup down to expose the swift flesh. “Can’t do it…can’t get there without you, sir…”

A large hand angling your head up brought you out of your thoughts. Meeting those familiar green eyes calmed your stuttering heart. His thumb pulled your bottom lip free from where it was caught in between your teeth.

“There there, darling one. I’ve left you alone for far too long, haven’t I?”

You responded with a pathetic “uh-huh,” hand clutching at his white coat. He smiled at the lost look in your eye before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Lifting you off his chair, he laid you down on his desk, the glass cold against your heated skin.

“Daddy will take care of you.”

Xavier

Staying asleep had been difficult the last few nights. Your constant tossing and turning didn’t seem to bother the blond sleeping beside you.

Xavier had been tired the past few weeks. He slept more than usual, his baby blues hidden behind his fluttering eyelids. The second his head would meet his cool pillow, he was out like a light.

You tried to be understating. He needed to rest but there was no one else who could lull you to sleep on the nights you couldn’t shut your brain off.

You weren’t superstitious, but you blamed the full moon for your lack of sleep.

You huffed and puffed, roughly turning from one side to another as you failed to find a comfortable position.

Xavier on the other hand looked like sleeping beauty, chest rising and falling as he dreamt about whatever bounced around in that lovely head of his.

Shoving the sheets off of you, plopped yourself onto your back, turning to look at Xavier.

If he was awake, he would have made sure to tire you out enough, orgasms soothing you into dreamland.

Rather roughly, you shoved your hand past the waistband of your underwear, fingers meeting your dry folds. Surely you’d be able to work yourself up enough to have just enough slick for your fingers to feel pleasurable.

You poked and prodded your hole, whining at the lack of pleasure. The little circles you rubbed around your clit we’re pointless. You couldn’t find the necessary rhythm.

You were sleepy and frustrated, angry tears threatening to fall past your waterline.

‘Need bunny so bad…don’t wanna wake him though…needs sleep’

Getting wet enough was never an issue with Xavier. Whether with spit or his cum, he’d play with you until your slick spilled out of your weepy cunt.

The harsh circles you rubbed against your bundle of nerves were becoming painful. Sensing your irritation, Xavier’s eyes fluttered open. It took a few seconds for his sight to clear up, and your soft figure bathed in moonlight appeared. Your face was pinched with attention, the imaginary gears loud enough for him to hear as a movement in your panties caught his eyes.

“Need it…please…” You whispered to yourself, trying not to wake him.

“Silly girl.” He said and you gasped, hand stilling. Ruffling the sheets, he moved closer to you, his fingers coming up to his mouth where he swirled his pink tongue around the length of them, the spit causing them to shimmer in the moonlight. Though sleepy, he tucked himself against your warm figure, fingers sliding under the cotton material. “If you needed daddy’s fingers, you should’ve said so earlier.”

Caleb

Caleb could have sworn he had died and entered heaven as he returned home after a few weeks in Skyhaven. His pretty dove had gone far too long without his touch, leading to you making a hasty purchase at the nearby sex store, an adorable lilac-colored dildo was suctioned cup to one of the bedroom walls and you pathetically took it in your sloppy cunt.

Tears slid down your heated cheeks, dripping off of your jaw and onto the plush carpet you placed under you to keep your knees from stinging against the hard floor. You were completely nude, your tits catching Caleb’s attention as they bounced.

Your wide eyes looked up at him, his colonel outfit making him appear larger than usual. You kept pushing back against the toy as one hand reached for him.

“Can’t cum!” You cried. “Need you to help me, please!”

No “welcome home” or “I’m so happy you’re back!” He’d need to reprimand you for that later. Teach you a lesson for forgetting your manners. For now, he’d let you have your fun.

His combat boots thumped against the ground as he made his way over to you, the leather of his uniform creasing as he got down to your level.

You nuzzled your face against his glove-clad palm, accepting the warmth he offered.

“Missed you so much. Been needing you for so long.”

His free hand trailed down your arched back, reaching your ass, giving one of the globes a harsh squeeze before landing a loud spank against the fat.

You preened.

Forgetting about the toy slotted inside you, you moved away, throwing yourself into his embrace. As always, he caught you, taking the impact as he fell back, your naked figure straddling his clothed form.

Your hips moved on their own, pressing your messy cunt against the bulge that formed under his pants.

“S’not the same. Need daddy inside me…toy’s not enough to make me cum…”

Smoothing his hands up your sides, settling them under your tits to where his thumbs could tease your nipples, he smiled as you bucked against him.

“S’alright, daddy’s here now.”

All rights belong to @syluspeach

I wrote this just to have each love interest call themselves daddy☺️ not edited.

[jinwoosungs]

05/12/25; 11:10pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ skipping foreplay with them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: just some unedited, short and sweet thirst posts made in response to how the movie sinners made me feel 🙂‍↕️ michael b. jordan, the man that you are ♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

you were on top of him, hands lightly gripping at his shoulder as you rocked your hips against his engorged cock. his once garnet eyes were eclipsed by a darkness that seems to swallow you whole-

making your aching walls clench around his cock, taking his very breath away.

you continue bracing yourself on his shoulder, riding him with your thighs clenched over his hips. the sensation of his cockhead sliding in and out of your heat had you tossing your head back in response.

“damn kitten, you weren’t kidding when you told me to skip the foreplay.” sylus speaks to you through gritted teeth, earning a breathy giggle from you as you proceeded to bounce up and down his cock.

“told you i was already wet and ready for you.”

a dangerous glint was seen in the onychinus’s leaders eyes, and your hips began stuttering in response when he manages to flip you against the bed. with you now laying on your back, sylus tosses both of your legs over his shoulders before impaling you over and over again with his cock. almost going feral over you and relishing in how you made him feel, he keeps you in a mating press with the sole purpose of rendering you unable to walk for at least a week.

you had managed to convince zayne to simply settle back in bed, with him sitting in an upright position before you joined him. the startling hue of his irises had already been hidden by darkness due to how dilated they were upon seeing you.

the doctor watches your every move, and his eyes go wide upon seeing you settling yourself over his lap. your naked back was pressed firmly against his bare chest, with his breathing hitching when you manage to take off his boxers. his firm cock was revealed to you, causing zayne’s breathing to turn labored when you slowly began to descend your aching cunt down on him.

he lets out a low grunt of your name, feeling your already slick heat taking every inch of his cock deep inside of you. with your back arched against him, you swivel your hips up and down his shaft, your hands reaching from behind to thread your fingers into his hair.

“f-fuck…! this is- honey, i don’t think i can last a minute inside of you.”

a rush of airy laughter comes out of you, with your movements growing more desperate as you sloppily continue stroking his cock with your center. “that’s the whole point, zaynie. i want you to make a mess out of me~”

zayne’s response was immediate, with both hands felt gripping at your hips as he met your thrusts with his own. his hips kept slamming back into you (hitting that spongy spot over and over again as you slowly lost your mind)-

“OH MY GOD, ZAYNE!”

your abdomen tightens in response to the onslaught of pleasure zayne had given you, unable to hold on for another second as you let out a shuddering breath.

with your release taking over your body, you let out a loud mewl of his name, spilling your juices all over his cock as he hid his head on your shoulder, pounding with a desperation inside of you as the bed shook with his every movement before allowing the last thread of his self constraint to snap-

pumping every last bit of his seed within you, ensuring that you had his fill.

xavier presses your body against the wall of your apartment, teeth harshly nipping at your ear as his hand trails down to the curve of your ass.

“you told me that you were wet enough for me… now, let’s see how true those words are, starlight.”

wearing only the flimsy material of your panties, you were left whimpering when xavier presses his naked chest against your back, his erection brushing against the gusset of your undergarment. “hn, it does feel damp, however-“

xavier trails off, shoving aside your panties before slotting his cock between your legs. the sudden sensation of his hard and velvety cock sliding between your legs nearly makes you fall over in response.

with you bracing yourself against the wall, xavier strokes the underside of his cock with your cunt, the squelching sounds of your walls echoing throughout the room as xavier leans forward to gently bite down against the shell of your ear.

“you’re going to have to be much wetter than this, starlight. i want you dripping with need for me before i can give you this cock.”

xavier kept stroking his cock against your heat, making you ache with such potency that you were left begging for him by the end of it all.

and only when you made a mess of the floor with your honeyed arousal did xavier finally impale you with his cock, setting a brutally fast pace that had you seeing stars.

rafayel swore that he lives to hear your melodic moans and witness your face twisted in pleasure. such a sinfully beautiful sight was enough to keep him motivated. and it was during intimate moments like these that rafayel regrets not getting his sketchbook to help with immortalizing it.

you were in his studio, looking directly into a full length mirror while bouncing up and down his cock. both of your clothes were tossed carelessly off to the side, and the lemurian could bask in your natural beauty.

his cock was practically straining with need for you, with the mushroom tip of his cock still an angry shade of red, leaking bits of precum each time you came down on him. your pants and desperate moans of his name causes a new surge of lust to course through his very veins.

resting his chin atop your shoulder, rafayel playfully pinches your nipples, earning a loud keen from you as your movements became even sloppier. he chuckles in response to how sensitive your body had become, pressing a kiss against your damp cheek before helping you move.

“such a pretty princess you are.” rafayel coos at you before gripping at your hips while proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock. “you’ve been such a good girl for me, how about i help take you to heaven?”

and with you begging oh so sweetly for him, who was he to refuse you?

caleb had you pressed against the bed while laying on your side, your legs spread as you were utterly naked. with heat felt coursing through your veins, you tremble upon feeling caleb trail kisses down your ankles and towards your knees.

“damn, i’ll never get over seeing you in this position babygirl.”

his taut body was ready for you, his cock stroked to full hardness as he presses the tip of it against your swollen cunt. you grip at the sheets, with tiny droplets of tears streaming down your face. “please caleb, i need you so bad. just give it to me.”

your words causes his eyes to darken considerably, with the colonel now gripping at your ankles to pull you closer to him. he teases the outer lips of your pussy for a brief moment before completely sheathing himself inside of you.

broken cries of his name echoed throughout the room as caleb pistons his cock at a rapid pace, the sounds of your walls squelching in response to his lovemaking had your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. with how good your lover was making you feel, you were certain that your desperate mewls and moans of his name could be heard throughout the apartment-

it was just a shame that you lost the ability to care, not when caleb was fucking you so good and treating you so well.

end notes: you readers have no idea how hot and bothered sinners left me feeling 🫦

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[chanelrolls]

THE MOTH HOUSE | Zayne Li, Caleb Xia 🔞

synopsis. growing up with them was fun, until they turned into fully grown men.

pairing. zayne & caleb x reader

tags. afab!fem reader, slight dead dove, implied pseudocest, dubcon, minor age gap, mutual pining, cheesy romance, slowburn, tension, childhood trio, kissing at 16, eventual smut (but they are adults), oral (m!receiving), sandwich, 3some, nipple play, fingering, 18+

a/n. this is very plot-based so prepare a snack while at it! i didn't do enough proofreading so might be messy and typo-filled lol. but if you're into tension-focused fics, this one is so for you

wc. 13.2k

picture ©️. HOBI

when you were nine years old, you weren’t supposed to follow them that far into the woods.

zayne had told you to wait near the fence, but you never listened when he said stuff like that. and caleb? he didn’t even look back. he just shouted something about a butterfly and took off like his sneakers had wings, crashing through branches and disappearing into the trees.

so of course you went after them, because you were nine and bored. and maybe a little afraid they’d forget you existed if you didn’t keep up.

when you finally found them, caleb was crouched in front of this sad little shed that looked like it’d collapse if you sneezed too hard. the door was hanging off like a crooked jaw, and one window was so cloudy it looked like it had cataracts.

but inside?

there were moths. everywhere!

“woah,” caleb breathed, sticking his head through the door. “this is... this is epic!”

zayne rolled his eyes. “it’s dirty.”

“no, it’s mysterious,” caleb corrected, already halfway inside. “you gotta think bigger, man.”

you hung by the door, nose wrinkled and arms crossed. “are they gonna fly into my face?”

“only if you scream,”

zayne muttered something under his breath about bacteria and tetanus but followed you both in anyway, stepping carefully like the floor might give out beneath him. which it might’ve.

but for some reason, that little shed was perfect.

you spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning it with a broom caleb stole from the neighbor’s garage (without asking), and zayne found some flattened cardboard boxes to sit on. you claimed the back corner near the broken window and said it was your ‘study area’ even though you didn’t bring any books. caleb said it was for “planning missions.” while zayne said you all needed vaccinations.

caleb wanted to call it “fort destiny,” but you shot that down immediately, “too dramatic!”

“you’re dramatic,” he shot back.

zayne voted for “the shed.”

“boring,” caleb and you agreed in unison.

so it became the moth house. no one really agreed on it. it just stuck.

you went there every day that summer. you brought juice boxes and mismatched pillows, old comic books, and one time, caleb even dragged in a radio that only played static and one fuzzy country station. it was too hot most days, and everything smelled like dust and pine needles. but you didn’t care.

you were nine. and this was your kingdom.

sometimes caleb would fall asleep snoring on the crate while zayne read something about how moths get confused by moonlight. other times, you’d all lie flat on your backs and try to find shapes in the broken ceiling. caleb saw a dragon. zayne said that was ridiculous. then you said you saw a chicken.

zayne tried to pretend like he wasn’t smiling, but you caught it.

and once, just once, you scraped your hand on a nail when you tripped, and your lip started wobbling even though you swore you weren’t going to cry. caleb freaked out and offered you a chewed-up piece of gum, but zayne just quietly pulled out the tiny first aid kit he always carried like a mini grandpa.

he didn’t say anything while he cleaned it. but his hands were careful, and he gave you the only sticker from the band-aid box that wasn’t ugly.

later, when the sun started dipping low and the moths began fluttering again, soft and sleepy, you all sat in a row by the doorway.

“we’ll still hang out when we’re grown-ups, right?” you asked.

“depends,” zayne said.

“on what?”

“if you stop eating glue.”

caleb cackled so hard he almost fell off the step. you shoved zayne's shoulder and he actually laughed, a little. just a tiny puff of air through his nose.

but you all knew the answer was yes.

on a sunday, you were not expecting to get married that afternoon.

you didn’t even ask for this. you were just sitting cross-legged in the grass, braiding little clovers into a ring, when caleb plopped down beside you and said, all breathless, “i’m gonna be your groom.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“for the wedding,” he added, puffing out his chest like a proud pigeon. “we’re getting married under the swing set. it’s the law.”

“whose law?”

“mine,” caleb grinned handsomely, showing off a juice-stained gap in his teeth. “i found the tie first, and i already practiced saying 'i do' in the mirror like… ten times.”

zayne, who had been sitting nearby flipping through some dinosaur book, looked up over the top of it. “that’s not how it works,” he muttered, adjusting the rim of his round glasses.

caleb narrowed his eyes. “you weren’t even playing.”

“i am now,” zayne said calmly, standing up and brushing grass off his shorts. “and i’m pretty sure she deserves to choose her groom, not be told by a boy who still eats crayons.”

“that was first grade!” caleb snapped, standing up to glare into zayne at eye-level.

you looked between them, amused. “i didn’t say i was marrying anyone.”

caleb ignored you. “i bring snacks to share. that’s groom material.”

“i helped her with her math homework,” zayne said, folding his arms. “long division. actual suffering.”

“i built her a fort last week—”

“that collapsed on her.”

“but it was cool before that!”

“you didn’t even factor wind speed.”

“it was made of couch cushions, zayne!”

you sighed and pressed the clover ring to your forehead like a very tired queen. “okay, okay. we can just, maybe, pretend there’s two grooms?”

both boys fell silent.

“...that’s not how weddings work,” zayne flatly remarked.

“sounds like she’s choosing both of us,” caleb smirked.

“no. she’s not.”

“yes, she is.”

"whoever wins at tag gets to be the groom!" you exclaimed with a clover ring pinched between your fingers like a sacred treasure.

caleb didn’t even wait for a countdown. he yelped, “yes!” and tore across the grass, limbs flailing, sneakers barely clinging to his feet.

“no cheating, okay!” you called after him, kind of amused, and kind of exasperated.

he didn’t answer. he just kept running like a man with a mission and a full juice box in his system.

you turned to zayne, but he wasn’t even moving. instead, he had already sat back down on the grass beside you, legs crossed while pulling something small from the pocket of his hoodie.

you blinked at him. “...aren’t you gonna run?”

he looked up, shrugged. “i don’t wanna.”

“but, what about the wedding?”

“i’m already the groom,”

your mouth opened, then shut. “how do you figure?”

he held something out to you. a dandelion.

"here. this is a flower," he said, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious. "you need flowers for weddings."

you stared at him, a little speechless.

meanwhile...

caleb, halfway across the yard and pumping his arms like he was in the olympics, tripped dramatically over a rock. he landed with a shout and skidded in the grass, dirt all over his knees and elbows.

he groaned, sat up, looked around only to realize that zayne wasn’t running behind him. at all.

"...hey!" caleb barked like a dog, furious

and betrayed, "why aren’t you tagging me?!"

zayne didn’t look up. just dusted a bit of grass off your shoulder like the gentleman he totally believed he was. caleb stomped back, dirt-smudged and puffing. “this isn’t fair!”

zayne blinked at him. “you lost.”

“i wasn’t racing myself!”

“you kinda were.”

you tried not to giggle.

"i hate both of you," caleb muttered, sulking as he sat down beside you and crossed his arms.

you held up the clover ring between them, solemn. "do you still wanna get married or not?"

they both looked at each other. then at you.

"...can we take turns being the groom?" caleb mumbled.

zayne narrowed his eyes. "i'm not sharing."

you sighed. because ugh, being nine was already this exhausting.

when you turned twelve, it started with thunder, low and slow like a grumble from the sky’s stomach. your lights flickered once, then again, before surrendering completely. the living room sighed into darkness.

you were halfway through brushing your hair when the first knock came.

it turns out to be caleb, soaked through the sleeves, and holding a duffel bag in one hand with a half-squished bag of marshmallows in the other. “power’s out! mom said i could crash here. also i brought snacks. kinda.”

five minutes later, a second knock came. you could already predict that it would be zayne. and he shows up not wet at all. he had an umbrella, a change of clothes, and a battery-operated reading lamp tucked under his arm. “your house has the safest structural foundation. i did the math.”

and just like that, the bed in your room was claimed. caleb flung himself across the cushions like a starfish. “dibs! this whole bed is mine cus i got here first.”

“you’re dripping on the upholstery,” zayne muttered, already rearranging the floor cushions with the precision of a mini architect. “besides, i brought a lamp. and logic.”

“i brought vibes,” caleb snapped back.

the bed was definitely too small. it was meant for one, maybe two if they didn’t mind getting elbowed in the ribs. but three?ridiculous.

“my foot is literally on the floor,” caleb let out a groan, flopping dramatically onto his back, arm flung over his face like some kind of old-timey opera star. “i’m gonna get frostbite and die.”

“your foot is not on the floor,” zayne argued, already facing the wall, blanket pulled over his ear. “and scientifically speaking, that’s not even how frostbite works indoors.”

“okay, mr. dictionary. then explain why i’m freezing to death right now.”

“maybe because you won’t stop moving like a hyperactive penguin,” you sided with zayne, wedged miserably between the two of them, blanket riding up your legs, one sock missing. “also, who kicks in their sleep?!”

“not me,” caleb said.

“definitely you,” zayne and you answered at the same time. “you’re a danger to national sleep.”

caleb turned his face into the pillow to muffle a laugh. “you sound like a sleep robot.”

“you sound like a vacuum,” zayne mumbled, deadpan. “loud, and constantly in the way.”

you snorted, and caleb immediately elbowed you lightly. “hey, don’t take his side!”

“i’m not taking sides,” you shoved him back. “i’m just agreeing with facts.”

caleb gasped. “betrayed. in my own home. wait, this isn’t even my home. betrayal squared.”

zayne let out a tiny breath, maybe a laugh, and shifted. “if you two are done performing shakespeare, maybe we can actually sleep.”

“fine,” caleb muttered. “but if i fall off the bed and die in the night, i hope my ghost haunts you both.”

you reached out blindly and tugged the edge of the blanket over him again. “you won’t.”

“you promise?”

“yeah.”

it was quiet for a bit. just the sound of sheets rustling, of breathing starting to slow. then, caleb’s voice, soft and already sleepy: “…you’re not cold, right?”

zayne didn’t answer immediately. then, barely above a whisper: “not if you stop hogging the covers.”

you smiled into the dark. it took a while, but eventually, you all settled, limbs tangled, breathing steady, three messy little universes orbiting one too-small bed.

and even though someone would probably fall off in the middle of the night, for now… it was enough. your tiny, chaotic world, all tucked in under the same old quilt.

during the day of caleb's football game, you were there.

the sun was hot in that way that made your scalp itch. metal bleachers burned the backs of your thighs, and the little paper fan in your hand was doing next to nothing. still, you sat there, legs swinging, a half-eaten orange popsicle clutched in your palm with your eyes trained on the field.

caleb stood out immediately.

maybe it was the way his jersey stuck to him, number 12 plastered to his back in grass-stained white. or the way his hair, damp from warm-ups, curled slightly at the ends. his socks were mismatched again. always one red stripe, one blue. his coach gave up on him weeks ago.

but when he ran?

you forgot about everything else.

the way his body moved, loose and fast and sharp with energy, it made your heart do this weird thud thing in your chest. and then he grinned across the field, squinting into the bleachers like he was looking for someone.

you waved, stupidly. almost jumping off the bleachers with your bagpack bouncing behind your back.

then, he saw.

caleb’s smile widened. “found her,” he mouthed, before jogging back into formation.

you bit into your popsicle.

“so.” a voice beside you sounded, seemingly sounding like it belonged to somebody you know too well, his tone was flat and unimpressed.

you turned, nearly dropping your popsicle out of surprise.

zayne stood beside the bleachers, one strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder, a stack of thick books tucked against his chest. his button-down shirt was too neat for a saturday, and there was a pencil behind his ear like he forgot it was even there.

his hair, black and just slightly too long, was falling into his eyes again. he didn't fix it this time, like he was more worried about something in particular.

“...zayne?”

he looked straight at you, not unkind, just... unreadable. he always looked like he was solving a problem in his head. “i thought,” he glanced down, then quietly, “you were coming to the science fair.”

your stomach dropped a little. “i- i wanted to. but caleb’s game... he, um, he said he’d be really upset if i missed this one, and—”

“i see.” he shifted, averting his gaze to the game at the bottom. “it’s not a big deal.”

you winced. “zayne, i'm sorry...”

he didn’t answer. instead, he climbed up the bleachers, sat beside you, with the books stacked neatly on his lap. his shoulder barely brushed yours.

you sat in silence for a moment, before the roar of the crowd reverbated throughout the vicinity. the whistle blew, caleb’s voice rang across the field, laughing, cheering.

“he’s good,”

you nodded, quietly. “yeah.”

“i built a robot that follows voice commands back at the science fair,” he said a second later, eyes still on the game. “it waved when i told it to.”

your head whipped to look at him, and he didn’t meet your gaze. but his lips quirked, just barely. “you’re the only one it listened to, though.”

you tried to keep your eyes on the game. you really did.

but zayne was talking, and while he talked, he had this way of pulling you in like you were inside the blueprint of his brain. he pointed at his sketchbook now, flipping past careful diagrams and scribbled notes

“and then here,” he murmured, “i rigged the infrared sensor to- wait, no, see this?” you leaned closer, feeling how his shoulder was warm against yours. “that’s where it malfunctioned,” he added, tapping the corner of the paper with the side of his finger. “but i fixed it. i rerouted the code.”

you smiled. “you’re really smart, you know that?”

he looked at you then. really looked.

your breath caught, not because it was romantic, not exactly. but because zayne, your zayne, looked like someone who’d outgrown his baby face without telling you. his lashes were darker than you remembered.

“i’m just trying stuff,” he pursed his lips together, blinking slowly, “doesn’t mean it’s good.”

you shook your head. “it is!”

on the field, you weren't aware that caleb had scored again. the crowd burst into cheers while you didn’t. you didn’t even look.

caleb’s head turned toward the bleachers, expecting your face, expecting your grin, your thumbs-up, the kind of cheer he only cared about when it came from you. but instead... you were hunched beside zayne, whispering and smiling. like he wasn’t even there.

his stomach twisted.

he jogged back, tossing the ball between his hands with a bit more force now. his eyes didn’t leave the two of you.

caleb narrowed his eyes when he catches you giggling at something zayne said, leaning in closer to hear him better through the cheers.

and then he hurled the ball too far, too high, directly toward the bleachers.

right at zayne.

it landed with a loud thunk against the metal rail, bouncing down and nearly smacking zayne in the knee. “oops!” caleb called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “sorry!”

you both turned, startled. you looked down at the field, at caleb. and he was grinning too wide that it reached his eyes.

“guess i missed,” he added, voice bright and sharp like a joke with teeth.

sixteen was strange. not in a dramatic, movie-kind-of-way, but strange in the small, quiet shifts. like how caleb didn’t always wait at your locker anymore,

or how zayne stopped answering texts right away because he was “studying,”

even though you knew it probably meant he was tired or stressed. or avoiding something he couldn’t name.

you were still a trio, sure. but the threads were looser now. like someone had tugged too hard at one corner, and no one knew how to weave it back.

zayne had books under his arm constantly, a pencil always behind his ear. he talked about scholarships and internships and universities you hadn’t even heard of yet.

sometimes he forgot to look up when you waved. though sometimes he didn’t forget, he just pretended to.

caleb had his team. he walked different now, with a swagger he never used to have, like he’d grown into himself a little too fast. he laughed louder in hallways you weren’t standing in. sometimes you’d pass him and he’d smell like sweat and cologne and someone else’s perfume.

and you... you were trying not to be too obvious. not to sit too close. not to ask too much. because at sixteen, people started assuming things. and you didn’t want to mess anything up.

not with zayne, who still offered his umbrella when it rained. not with caleb, who still flicked your forehead when you zoned out too long.

you were careful now, too careful.

because you still saw them as your brothers. just caleb and zayne. nothing more. nothing less.

but sometimes, in the way they looked at you in hallways and crowds, you started to wonder if they still saw you the same way.

the rain had been falling since last period, but you didn’t realize how hard until you were already halfway to the gate with no umbrella and nowhere to run. now you were tucked under a narrow shed behind the gym, cold water dripping from your elbows, while your uniform clung to places you didn’t want it to.

you wrapped your arms around yourself. not from the chill, really. but from how aware you were of how your soaked shirt left nothing to the imagination. your skirt wasn’t doing much better even. if someone saw you right now…

“you shouldn’t be standing out like that.”

you jumped at the voice, breath catching in your throat.

zayne stood just a few steps away. he didn’t look like he’d run through the rain. he looked perfectly composed, and his umbrella hovered neatly above him, barely a drop on his shoulders. he wore his uniform right, as always.

he looked at you, and his gaze slipped downward to your chest, your skirt, your trembling thighs... then it snapped back up like he hadn’t meant to. but you saw it, and he knew you saw it.

you tried not to shift under his stare. “i didn’t plan to... get stuck.”

“obviously.”

he hesitated, then stepped under the shed, offering the umbrella out to you. his fingers brushed yours when you took it, lingering a bit too long. “i’ll walk you home.”

“it's alright, you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he said it too fast, and when you looked at him, you couldn't quite decipher the expression he wore on his face, but you could see how his ears grew pink.

the umbrella barely covered both of you, so he stood close, closer than before. shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. every time he adjusted the angle to cover more of you, his fingers brushed yours.

your shirt was soaked through and completely transparent that you didn’t even need a mirror to know. zayne definitely didn’t mention it, but he wasn’t breathing the same way either. a little too shallow. his jaw clenched every time you moved, like he was trying not to look again.

and maybe that made it worse. that he was trying.

when a breeze blew and your skirt shifted, his hand shot out to catch the umbrella. that’s what it looked like. but it brushed your lower back on the way. and then he didn’t move it right away.

“sorry,” he muttered, voice lower.

you didn’t answer.

your house appeared too soon. zayne stepped up onto the porch with you, water dripping off the umbrella. he still didn’t say anything about the way your shirt clung to your chest, or how your thighs were practically visible through the skirt.

he just glanced once more, and then looked away, harder this time. “are you okay?” he asked. it came out rougher than he probably meant it to.

“yeah. thanks for walking with me.”

his jaw shifted again. “mhm, of course.”

you waited, expecting him to turn back down the path. but he didn’t, not right away.

so you offered softly, “do you wanna come in?”

his eyes lifted to yours. “i probably shouldn’t,”

the rain hadn’t let up.

zayne sat alone on the couch, damp blazer folded neatly beside him, with his hair still a little wet and curling at the ends. the television was on, but low. he wasn’t watching it, instead he was listening to the faint shuffle of your footsteps upstairs, the creak of your door, the sound of drawers opening and closing.

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. it wasn’t cold, but he felt restless. like his body didn’t quite know where to place itself in your house anymore.

and when you came downstairs again, changed into a loose shirt that hung too soft on your frame, shorts that showed just a little too much skin, he almost forgot to breathe again.

“are you feeling alright now?” you asked, drying your hair with a towel, casual like nothing had changed.

zayne cleared his throat, “what? mm. yes, i’m fine.”

you flopped beside him, your thigh brushing his before tossing the towel on the armrest. “it’s boring,” you said, settling back, curling one leg beneath you. “let’s just talk or something.”

talk.

zayne didn’t trust his voice for a second.

he turned to look at you, and that was a mistake, because you looked so relaxed. too relaxed. and your shirt had slid a little off one shoulder, exposing skin he absolutely should not be looking at.

his gaze dropped, snapped back up, then his adam's apple bobbed up to down. “sure,” he managed, voice strained.

you smiled. and that made it worse. “why’re you so stiff?”

“i’m not stiff.”

“you’re literally sitting like you’re being held hostage.”

“i’m—” he laughed, short and tense. “i’m just trying to be respectful.”

you tilted your head. “respectful?”

he cleared his throat again and looked away. “nevermind.”

you pulled your knees up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them as you watched zayne pretend to be interested in the tv. the air was still damp from the rain. he was sitting a cushion away, but it felt like a mile, or an inch. you couldn’t tell.

“you’re acting weird, zayne.”

zayne didn’t answer at first. his jaw clenched a little, eyes flicking to the tv and then, briefly, to your legs curled up beside him. “it's important to be cautious.”

“cautious?”

he nodded, still not looking at you.

you shifted slightly. “since when did that start being a thing between us?”

he finally turned, and you wished he hadn’t, because his eyes were so focused that it made your stomach twist in some unfamiliar way. “since now.”

you wet your lips, heart thudding. “what… what does that mean?”

he leaned back just a little, exhaling like he was debating with himself. then he reached out, slow, fingers brushing lightly over your cheek. “when we were kids,” he murmured, “i could touch you like this.”

his fingers drifted down to your shoulder, and your skin prickled under the contact. you hated how aware you suddenly were of everything. how close he was, how warm his hand felt on your skin.

“or here,” he voice dropped to a whisper, letting his hand pause on your arm.

his gaze dropped to your thighs, and you could almost combust from the amount of tension he's giving you. his fingers gently grazed your knee, then up to where your shorts ended. “and even here.”

your breath hitched. you didn’t mean for it to, but it did. his hand lingered a second too long, while you couldn’t look away from him.

then he pulled away, sharply. as if he had already decided for the moment to snap. “but now that i’m a teenager,” he paused. “it’s different.”

your chest rose and fell a little faster than it should’ve. “…different doesn’t always mean bad,” you suggested, voice quieter than before. you didn't know if that was an offer hidden in innocence, you hadn't meant it that way. but if zayne would accept it, you wouldn't complain either.

—

caleb [6:12pm]: practice just ended. you free? swing by. door’s open.

you stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, thumb hovering above the screen. the message was just casual, as if he hadn’t just been giving you space for the last few weeks. as if the three of you hadn’t started orbiting different stars lately.

you typed back. it's been a while, after all.

you [6:14pm]: yeah. omw.

the dorm building was already shadowed by the time you arrived. it was quieter now. dinner hour, probably. the air still smelled faintly of liniment and detergent, like it always did when you passed by the practice wing. you made your way up the stairs, familiar enough to not get lost but still unsure why your heart was beating faster with every step.

you didn’t knock. you only pushed the door gently, peeking in. “caleb?”

no answer.

you stepped in anyway, and paused. because the view was rather... something. he had his back to you, shirtless.

his shoulders were broad, not the lanky mess they used to be in middle school. they were much more... defined now. his back glistened with leftover sweat, and there were jagged, smudged bruises, patches of violet and red, splayed across his shoulder blades like careless brushstrokes.

he was digging through his gym bag, towel slung around his neck, muttering something under his breath about his socks.

you froze.

and maybe you should’ve said something, or made a sound, but your voice caught somewhere in your chest. not out of shock, not even embarrassment. it was just… you didn’t expect him to look like that.

not looking like your childhood best friend.

then he turned, eyes locking with yours. and for a split second, both of you just stared at each other. “damn, you’re fast.”

“you’re shirtless!”

“yeah?” he tossed the towel onto the bed like it meant nothing. “i live here.”

you stepped in, closing the door behind you. “you’re also… bruised.”

“yeah,” he muttered, shrugging one shoulder with a wince. “scrimmage got rough. elbows, knees, pride. everything took a hit.”

he grinned like it was fine, like it didn’t hurt at all. but still, you stepped closer in an attempt to check them out. “does it still sting?”

he tilted his head, staring down at you. only then you got to realize the height difference both of you had, he was practically towering over you already. “you gonna kiss it better?”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re insufferable as always.”

“but you came,” he shot back, half-sitting on the bed. “so maybe i’m still charming enough.”

sigh.

"do you have any ointment?" you asked softly, eyes scanning the mottled bruises on his back. caleb paused, then nodded toward the drawer by his bed.

you then moved to get it. the dorm room felt smaller now, more tender. maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t put a shirt on, or maybe it was the fact that neither of you had really spoken like this in weeks.

you returned and sat behind him so you could have better access to his back. “you sure 'bout this?” you asked, uncapping the ointment. “it might sting.”

he finally glanced back, eyes lidded, a breath of a smirk on his lips. “only if you’re rough.”

you snorted and dipped your fingers into the ointment. “what a baby.”

“only for you.”

you hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden flirting. he had always been like this ever since you were nine, and yet you couldn't help but recall what zayne had told you the other day. about how now that you're teenagers, the things that you used to normalize back in childhood feel different. then, you touched the first bruise, right below his shoulder blade. he hissed lightly in response.

“sorry,” you murmured.

he only shook his head. “nah, keep going.”

so you did. slow, gentle, spreading the cool gel across angry purples and dusky reds. your fingertips followed the slope of his back, avoiding the worse scrapes. it was quiet for a moment, until you spoke. “zayne said you bailed on cooking last night.”

caleb exhaled through his nose. “i didn’t bail. practice ran long and coach kept us past curfew.”

“you could’ve at least texted.”

“what, and ruin your alone time with him?”

you glanced at him. “...you sound bitter.”

“do i?” he didn’t say anything else. you kept your hand still against his back, watching his posture. the muscles under your fingers had tensed slightly. “you two talk a lot lately,” he added after a pause.

“we’re just catching up.”

“right.”

you moved to the next bruise. this one was higher, closer to his spine. he inhaled a little when your fingers touched the spot, and for a moment, you didn’t say anything either.

then you asked, “why don't you hang out like before anymore?”

“...we do.”

“doesn't seem like it.”

you didn’t mean to freeze.

but caleb turning around to face you with a half-grin, all mischief, kind of knocked the air out of you. the cut that he showed wasn’t deep, just a thin angry line over his chest, but he acted like it was life-threatening.

“hey,” he gestured, cocking his head. “wanna earn your nurse badge today?”

“you’re ridiculous,” your fingers hovered over the ointment tube, heart pounding like you were diffusing a bomb instead of treating a scrape.

“you’re taking forever,” he teased.

“maybe i should just leave it to get infected.”

“i dare you.”

you rolled your eyes and finally pressed the cream to his skin. his chest was warm under your touch, taut with muscle but still faintly bruised. he didn’t flinch, neither did he look away.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

until you did.

he was staring. not in a teasing way now, but in that way that made your whole brain short-circuit. he looked at you like he could see something you weren’t even sure you were showing.

then, without warning, he caught your wrist in his hand.

“you’re already sixteen, right pipsqueak?” he suddenly asks, voice dropping to an octave. “it’s impossible you don’t got a crush yet.”

you blinked up at him. he was close, close enough that you could count the lashes of his eyes, close enough to smell the faint citrus of his body wash. he smirked, just a little. “do you?”

your heart was doing that annoying thing again, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to make a break for it. his hand was still lightly around your wrist, and your mouth felt dry.

“i-i don’t like anyone,” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out too fast and defensive.

caleb’s brows rose, stretching his grin. “ohhh?” he leaned in slightly, tilting his head like he was trying to read something written on your face. “you sure about that?”

you scowled, heat crawling up your neck. “yes.”

“positive?”

“yes.”

he couldn't keep a straight face anymore as he gave out a knowing laugh and leaned back, finally releasing your wrist. “alright, alright. calm down, pips. i believe you.”

you rolled your eyes, pressing the ointment lid back on like it personally offended you.

but then caleb stood up with a stretch, ruffling his already-messy hair. “anyway,” he said, tone suddenly lighter, like that weird moment didn’t just happen. “how ‘bout we crash zayne’s place tonight? for dinner or something.”

“really?”

“like old times.” he glanced at you, shrugging a shoulder. “we haven’t done that in a while, right? bet he’s still hoarding those weird triangle sandwiches he thinks are gourmet.”

you let out a small laugh despite the aftertaste of your nerves. “you just want free food.”

“damn right i do,” he grinned. “but also… maybe i kinda miss the trio. just a little.”

you nodded slowly. “yeah. me too.”

caleb grabbed his hoodie from the desk chair and tossed it over his shoulder. “cool. c’mon then. let’s go bother the genius.”

—

the table was already set when you arrived, neatly arranged dishes with zayne’s unmistakable touch. curry rice, roasted vegetables, those weird triangle sandwiches caleb joked about, and even your favorite juice poured into mismatched cups.

zayne was wearing his usual cardigan and pajama pants, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy from cooking, but still frustratingly put-together. “you’re late,” he said with a straight face as you walked in, but there was a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

caleb strolled in behind you, tossing his bag on the floor. “yeah, yeah, blame basketball. you should be glad we even showed up, chef.”

zayne scoffed, already sitting down. “if i knew you were coming, i would’ve made extra protein powder stew.”

you snorted. “gross.”

“don’t give him ideas,” caleb replied as he plopped down across from zayne, stealing a piece of bread. “so, did you cook all this just to show off or something?”

zayne didn’t look at him. “i cooked because she always liked this combo,” said he, eyes flicking to you instead.

that made you blink, and caleb paused mid-chew.

“…right,” caleb muttered, clearing his throat. “well, i bet she liked my game-winning shot yesterday too. y’know, if she even saw it.”

zayne raised an eyebrow. “you mean the one you landed after ignoring your coach’s strategy and almost spraining your ankle?”

“oh, so you were watching?” caleb grinned, teeth showing. “that’s cute.”

you sat down slowly between them, feeling the air shift. what was supposed to be friendly banter had the undertone of something else now. there were too many sideway glances, too many moments when they were both speaking to each other, but their attention kept bouncing to you.

zayne passed you a plate. “are you okay? you look flushed.”

you nodded quickly. “just hungry.”

caleb leaned on his elbow. “you always get red when you're caught in the middle. c’mon, say it, who’s the better cook?”

you choked on your juice.

zayne didn’t smile. “don’t pressure her.”

“oh?” caleb leaned back, stretching, the hem of his shirt lifting just slightly. “scared of the answer?”

zayne finally looked at him with squinted eyes. “not really. but some of us don’t need validation every second.”

you reached for the rice, trying to drown yourself in the meal. both of them had grown taller, deeper voices with sharper gazes. and suddenly, this wasn’t just dinner anymore.

you missed when things were simple.

"you know, if we’re rating effort," caleb added, "mine would’ve been a five-star takeout. but nooo, zayne had to go full iron chef."

“that’s because i actually care if our internal organs make it past tonight.”

“please,” caleb rolled his eyes, “you burned toast until you were twelve.”

“i was experimenting,”

you took a bite of the stir-fry, trying not to laugh. “it’s good. really.”

that was all it took. "she said my dish was good," zayne turned with the faintest smirk.

“your dish?” caleb leaned forward on the table. “who do you think helped slice those vegetables? oh, right, me. with these very hands,” he held up his fingers like they were divine.

“you almost sliced your thumb.”

“but i didn’t.”

zayne sighed. “if we’re going there, who carried your groceries when your arms were sore from practice?”

caleb scoffed, “who ran across campus with your laptop when you forgot it before a big test?”

“who fixed your wi-fi?”

“who held your hair back when you puked in eighth grade?”

"who helped you rehearse that weird

speech for student council in ninth?"

they were both leaning closer across the table now, eyes locked together as their egos continuously inflated by the second. you watched like a spectator at the world’s dumbest showdown, until their focus now shifted onto you, now throwing the ball at your court.

“who’s the better listener?”

“who’s more supportive?”

“who makes you laugh more?”

“who’s more dependable?”

and then...

“who’s the better kisser?”

the silence was instant.

zayne blinked.

caleb's eyes widened.

your fork clattered onto the plate.

“…i haven’t kissed either of you,” you blurted, eyes darting between them.

so, caleb leaned back, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. while zayne stared at his glass of water like it held the secrets of the universe.

for a moment, you couldn't speak. you could only keep your eyes glued on the empty plate before you, as if counting the leftover crumbs grazed along the surface. you tightened your grip around your spoon, biting your lower lip. your heart's thudding again, cause you have always pushed that thought away.

what thought? even now, you still did.

the thought of recognizing that there might be something beyond the threads of your sibling relationship. even though they were really just your childhood bestfriends, you were used to seeing them as your brothers. and now... the thought of kissing them was brought to the table.

you gulped, trying to shift your gaze anywhere, but instead landing on caleb, who's been staring at you for quite some time already. when your eyes met, he instantly glances down.

"how old are you now, [name]?" suddenly, you heard zayne speak from the other side. you look up at him, locking eyes with his emerald ones.

it took you a while to answer, trying to process the odd question. you could also feel caleb's eyes on you too, as if anticipating as well. "sixteen," you finally say, but you sounded so serious you didn't like it. "you attend my birthday every day, i mean, every year. how could you not know?"

your attempt at making the situation lighthearted was futile, as both boys remained expressionless. zayne spoke again, "you're turning seventeen next month."

you and caleb watched him in curiosity, trying to figure out the intent behind his words. he continued, "your age seems appropriate enough for... kissing. so, who's the best kisser, you say?" zayne finally averts his gaze away from you to focus on caleb.

caleb eyes him back, his two fingers resting on his philtrum. you noticed his ears turning red, as both men stared at each other in contemplative silence, as if they were telepathically sending messages.

and you were just there, clueless. you stand up, the chair making a loud sound against the floor. "i'll go- wash the dishes."

zayne barely flinched at the sound of the chair scraping, but his voice came quick, like it had been waiting. “leave it. i’ll do it later.”

you blinked, halfway turned toward the sink. “but—”

“sit down, girl.” caleb interrupted, softer than usual. he was still leaning back, hand now dangling over the edge of his chair, knuckles tapping lightly against the wood. his eyes flicked to yours and held them there. “it’s not like we’re gonna bite.”

you stared between them, and your fingers twitched against your thigh, but you sat back down, carefully. as if lowering yourself into a dream you weren’t sure you wanted to have.

“sorry,” you said, mostly to break the tension. “that was weird.”

“no,” zayne replied, sharp but low. “it’s not weird. it’s…” he trailed off, sighing through his nose, then leaning his arms onto the table. “you were the one who always said things would change. remember?”

caleb scoffed. “she was also the one who said she’d never date either of us ‘cause we were like… family.”

you looked at him, startled by the precision of the memory. his lips quirked, but there was no real smile behind it.

“you were eleven,” zayne muttered, almost to himself. “and we were idiots.”

“still are,” caleb added, shrugging.

zayne looked at him. caleb looked back.

again, that quiet stare-off. and again, your pulse picked up.

your throat felt dry. “you guys…” your voice faltered. “you’re not actually expecting me to answer that question, right? about the kiss?”

silence.

then, zayne leaned in slightly, “you don’t have to answer.” his eyes flicked to your lips. “but if you ever wonder… it’s not something we’d ever take lightly.”

caleb sat forward now too, “not a joke, pipsqueak. not this one.”

you looked down at your lap, hands clenched. “...i do wonder.” you weren’t even sure why you said it. maybe it was the silence. maybe it was the way they were both looking at you like you were something they couldn’t quite hold yet. maybe it was the way your heart had been thudding in your ears for minutes now, demanding some kind of release.

“you wonder,” caleb echoed, and his voice dropped. “about me? or him?”

"caleb." zayne warned.

"what?"

“…i don’t know,” you muttered. “both of you, i guess.”

the air fractured again. and this time, it stayed silent long enough that you had to look up. caleb’s brows were raised, lips parted like he hadn’t expected honesty. zayne’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, but his ears were pink.

caleb's voice cut through the stillness like a blade. “you can get your answer right now.”

your breath hitched. you looked at him, eyes wide, heart ricocheting off your ribs. "that's not- i didn't mean-"

“you sure?” caleb interrupted, a hint of seriousness blending in with his usual mischief. "because if you really wanna know, i'm not gonna pretend i haven’t thought about it too.”

you couldn’t look away. caleb was still there, waiting, giving you an out, but not backing down either.

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his voice dropped even lower. “you’re sixteen, pipsqueak. you feel things. and we’re not kids anymore. maybe it’s okay to stop pretending we are.”

zayne’s footsteps were quiet but firm as he stood up to gather the plates, standing right behind your chair. “or maybe,” he said slowly, “we’re not going to pressure her into anything just because we’re feeling bold tonight.”

“i’m not pressuring,” caleb replied. “i’m offering. there’s a difference.”

these weren't the same boys that you chased frogs with back in your childhood summer.

the words left your lips before you could even think them through. "then... i'll take that offer right now." you couldn't take it back now. you couldn't even back out of it.

"you sure about that?" caleb's voice was a little hushed, as if he didn’t want to push too hard. you could feel zayne's presence radiating behind you too.

"yeah," you whispered, your voice trembling ever so slightly, but there was a sense of resolution in it. "i think i am."

the room grew even quieter, only the sound of your own breath and the slight shift of the chairs beneath you breaking the stillness.

caleb didn’t speak at first. he simply stared at you, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. but you didn’t. he let out a low breath, a small smile playing on his lips. “alright then, pipsqueak. you know what you're getting into?” he pulls the legs of your chair closer.

before either of them could say anything else, you broke the moment by standing up abruptly, hands brushing your clothes nervously. "well, i—"

"hey, no running away." caleb’s voice was playful, but there was something darker beneath it, a promise you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

zayne’s hand landed gently on your shoulder, guiding you back into your seat. his touch was reassuring but left a warmth that lingered, a contrast to the uncertainty that was swirling inside you. “don’t act like you’re going anywhere. you started this.”

right, yeah, you did start this somehow. you also would be lying if you said you weren't curious of how far would this go if you explored just a little further.

you glanced at caleb, but his eyes weren't on you. instead, they were on zayne. he was giving him a look that you couldn't decipher, but you could tell it was one that held an intent beneath.

slowly, you turn your head to look up at zayne still standing behind your chair. he looks down at you, but he doesn't speak. and then, you feel fingers grazing your jawline. and you're pretty sure it's not zayne's.

the grip on your jawline gets more forceful, and before you could look at the one who it belonged to, you feel a pair of lips press on yours. a yelp got stuck in your throat, and your hands instinctively find their way onto caleb's shoulders.

was he a good kisser? you couldn't tell. you didn't have experience anyway. caleb was only pressing his lips deeper, sometimes using his tongue, you weren't sure if it's right, but you were sure about the effect it had on you.

and caleb? he had his eyes shut tight, breathing desperately like he'd been waiting for this to happen. cupping your face tenderly because you've been the only girl in his mind, the only girl his body had been aching to have.

he pulled away, not because he's had enough, but because he was afraid that he might touch you somewhere else if he kept on going. his eyes flickered to your body, before going back into your eyes. for a second, you saw something raw pass through his façade, something vulnerable.

before you could even make it out, another pair of lips were already on yours again. from zayne's position, he bent over to give you a pick, pulling away to check on your expression, and when he saw the way you stared into his eyes, he dives in again.

caleb watched, his eyes followed the way your lips tried to keep up with zayne's pace. then, he interrupts, "you're enjoying it a bit too much." which pulled you and zayne both out of the trance.

your lips parted as you slowly leaned back, breath shallow, heartbeat loud in your ears. it was like time stalled. there was no ceiling fan, no ticking clock, no leftover dinner scent. just the phantom of both their lips against yours.

you didn’t know what you expected. fireworks? a spark? maybe clarity?

instead, it was a storm. a tangled rush of confusion and heat, of everything that shouldn’t be real suddenly becoming too real.

"so...?" zayne spoke, “was that enough for a verdict?”

you swallowed. “i…”

you didn’t know what to say.

because how could you weigh something like that? how could you explain the butterflies and the guilt, the thrill and the ache? how could you admit that for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were still just childhood friends anymore?

and ever since that night, something cracked between the three of you.

you didn’t talk about the kiss. no one did.

but you felt it in the way caleb stopped sending random memes to your inbox, in the way zayne no longer waited for you by your classroom door after school. the group chats fell quiet. the little traditions, the teasing, the banter, the familiarity. it all faded into something strained and tiptoed around.

at first, you told yourself it was just a phase. that maybe everyone was busy, that things would snap back eventually. but the silence dragged on.

one night, you opened your messages to see two unread texts. one from caleb. one from zayne. both were apology messages from the kiss that happened between the three of you. you read them both in the dim glow of your bedroom, but you didn’t reply. not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how.

you started to notice it in the small things first. the way caleb would be walking down the hall with his teammates and suddenly glance the other way when he saw you approaching. the way zayne, who used to brush his shoulder against yours in crowded corridors just for the excuse to say something dumb under his breath, now passed by like you were a stranger in a crowd.

they didn’t talk to you. they didn’t even look at you.

at first, you tried not to let it bother you. maybe they were just giving you space. maybe they were waiting for you to say something first. but then the days stretched on. and the silence felt less like patience and more like avoidance.

and it stung. more than you wanted to admit. because they were the ones who crossed the line. they were the ones who leaned in first, who kissed you, who said things with their eyes they couldn’t take back. so why were you the one left behind?

you were twenty-one now.

a different kind of grown-up, one with a job to keep, bills to pay, and a life that had settled into its own rhythm. it wasn’t the one you imagined back when you were sixteen, wide-eyed and fumbling through emotions too big for your chest. but it was stable and manageable.

still, in quiet moments, in the pause between your third sip of coffee and your laptop screen flickering awake, they crossed your mind.

caleb and zayne.

they’d both gone abroad. scholarships, dreams, ambitions you always knew were bigger than the small town you all came from.you weren’t surprised. they were always meant for more.

sometimes, you’d get a text. zayne asking if your mom’s garden was still alive, or caleb forwarding a photo of an old arcade machine you all used to fight over.

but it was always brief and distant. like you were all just family friends now, tethered only by history.

you had tried to date other people, and though some were sweet, others were exciting, none of them ever made you feel the way you did at seventeen, sitting between two boys who once made you believe the world could burn just from how close they stood to you.

no one ever matched the heat of caleb’s teasing gaze or the weight of zayne’s quiet stares.

no one ever made your heart stutter the way it did when they asked who’s the better kisser? as if the question wasn’t going to ruin you all.

and maybe that’s why you were still alone now. not because you couldn’t love, but because you knew what it felt like to be loved too much, too young, and all at once.

you wondered if they ever thought about it too. about you. about what the three of you were before the silence set in.

you were slicing carrots when your mother told you, half-casually, like it was nothing,

"zayne and caleb are flying home tomorrow. their families are throwing a welcome party."

you blinked, the knife pausing mid-air.

"they're… coming back?"

"mm-hm," she said, too focused on kneading dough to notice the way your breath hitched. "i already told them you'd cook something for the welcome table. they’re expecting your lasagna. and maybe that buttered chicken too. you know, your usual."

your usual. the one you used to cook for them.

you didn’t argue. instead, you found yourself in the kitchen the next day, apron on, ingredients lined up like a ritual. your hands moved on instinct, muscle memory from years of doing this for them. back when dinners were chaotic and filled with dumb jokes, competitive card games, and stolen glances over the rim of your glass.

you stirred the sauce and kept your focus low, trying not to think about it. trying not to count how long it had been since you saw their faces in person. how long since zayne last ruffled your hair like he used to, or caleb leaned over too close, grinning like he knew what you were thinking.

then the front door creaked open.

and you listened to the way laughter spilled in, the way the families greeted in unison to welcome them back. and you hear caleb's laughter, which made you stop on your tracks. it was much more manly now.

from the kitchen, you stayed half-hidden behind the archway. wooden spoon in hand, apron dusted with flour and sauce. you were supposed to be checking the oven, maybe chopping the rest of the bell peppers, but instead you stood frozen in place, eyes locked on the scene unfolding in the living room.

caleb was laughing, his voice louder than the rest, ruffling zayne’s little brother’s hair like he never left, then turning to dab up with one of the uncles who slapped his back in greeting. his presence was loud and unmistakably him. maybe it was the colonel uniform hugging his frame, the silver necklace glinting against his chest, the way he carried himself with that trained, effortless authority. god, he looked good.

your gaze shifted.

zayne was across the room, kneeling beside your grandmother’s seat, speaking with her in that quiet, earnest tone that made people naturally lean closer. his white coat was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up just slightly, and even from where you stood, you could tell that he’d grown into his face. sharper jaw, broader shoulders. handsome in a way that made your heart fumble a little too hard in your chest.

and then, his eyes lifted, before finding you.

you quickly looked away, busying yourself with the spoon in your hand, stirring nothing in a pot that didn’t even need it.

because you couldn’t trust your face to not show how you were suddenly burning.

after a few more minutes of pretending not to notice them and pretending even harder not to feel anything, you set down the final dish. a hearty beef stew still steaming from the pot. wiping your hands on your apron, you called out, “alright, last dish is ready!”

the room erupted in cheers, your aunts already passing out utensils and your cousins hollering your name like you were some celebrity chef. you smiled sheepishly, bowing a little as people complimented the spread. you took your usual seat beside your mom, grateful for the buffer of familiar comfort. but just as you picked up your fork, your mom stood to help grandma to the buffet.

before you could blink, caleb slid into the now-empty seat beside you.

and then zayne, wordless and quiet as ever, took the one on the other side.

you froze, eyes locked on your plate, heart thudding at the proximity of two very specific colognes, both achingly familiar.

for a moment, none of you said anything.

so, just for politeness, and maybe survival, you cleared your throat and forced a small smile. “…hey, you two.” you didn’t dare look at them directly, not yet.

but you heard the shift in caleb’s posture, the way his voice dipped low in that teasing lilt. “hey, pipsqueak.”

and zayne, ever so composed, “it’s been a while.”

yeah. it really, really has.

your fork paused mid-air when one of your aunts leaned forward, glass of wine in hand, “so, caleb. zayne. any girlfriends yet?”

you could’ve sworn the air thinned.

caleb chuckled, low and smooth, leaning back with one arm draped lazily over his chair. “nah. no one’s been able to handle me long-term.” he winked, and the table erupted in laughter. you could feel your shoulders stiffen.

zayne, gave a polite smile and shook his head. “i’ve been too focused on med school to even think about dating.”

“come on,” another aunt chimed in. “not even one? you boys are too good-looking to still be single.”

you didn’t mean to look, but your eyes flicked between them. caleb's smirk was still present, but his gaze, barely, shifted toward you. zayne remained calm, though you caught the way his thumb tapped anxiously against his water glass.

they didn’t answer further. and yet somehow, the silence that followed was louder than the laughter before it.

you were halfway through slicing a piece of roast when caleb, ever the instigator, tilted his head in your direction with a sly grin. “actually,” he said, voice loud enough to slice through the other conversations, “has anyone asked her if she’s got a boyfriend yet?”

you froze, your fork hovering awkwardly in the air. all eyes turned toward you, some playful, some genuinely curious. you forced a smile, trying not to glance at your mom’s reaction or the sparkle of amusement in caleb’s eyes.

“what?” you tried to play dumb, a breathy laugh escaping you. “no one asked.”

“then let me be the first,” he said, folding his arms as he leaned in with mock sincerity. “so? got anyone these days, pipsqueak?”

your throat went dry. you didn’t want to look, but you felt zayne’s gaze like a weight. when you finally dared to glance his way, his brows were relaxed, but he was a bit too focused on you, in an expectant way.

“no,” you answered softly, clearing your throat. “no one serious.”

caleb raised an eyebrow. “so there was someone not serious, huh?”

“guys—” you laughed awkwardly, ducking your head. “can we not?”

you slipped away from the noise the moment no one was looking, carrying the weight of too many glances and questions that clung to you like static. your mom had insisted on washing the dishes herself, brushing you off with a soft smile and a quick, “go rest, you’ve done enough.” so you did.

you took the stairs slowly, the sounds of laughter and familiar music growing fainter with each step. it should’ve felt comforting. but instead, it left a strange hollow space in your chest.

when you reached your room, you didn’t even bother turning on the light. you closed the door gently, then leaned your back against it for a second, just breathing.

then, with a quiet sigh, you crossed the room and sat at the edge of your bed. you stared down at your hands, still smelling faintly of garlic and oil. you tried to focus on that instead of the dinner table. instead of the way both zayne and caleb had looked at you.

your phone buzzed beside you.

you cracked one eye open and reached for it lazily, expecting a family group chat meme or your mom asking if you wanted dessert. instead, it was from caleb.

“come outside.”

you stared at the text for a moment, your thumb hovering. no punctuatio and no context? classic caleb. it made your heart twist in a way you hated still felt familiar.

you sat up, hesitated. but curiosity got the better of you.

you padded down the hallway quietly, slipping past the laughter and the glow of the living room lights. then, you stepped out the front door.

there they were. caleb was in his uniform jacket, arms crossed, looking off into the distance until he noticed you. zayne had his hands in his coat pockets, gaze already fixed on you as if he'd been waiting longer than caleb had texted.

you raised a brow. “what’s this?”

caleb gave a crooked grin. “we’re going to the moth house.”

zayne nodded. “thought we’d check if it’s still alive. it's not so far from here, isn't it?”

the words made something warm stir in your chest. that old place where you'd all sneak off to and swear eternal friendship over moth-eaten pillows and muddy sneakers. a piece of your childhood that still breathed somewhere in the outskirts of this town.

you blinked, then smiled. “seriously?”

“come on,” caleb said, already walking ahead. “you’re not gonna chicken out, are you?”

you rolled your eyes, but your feet moved before you could stop them. “you’re both still idiots,” you mumbled, but you were already smiling too wide.

you ended up running.

it started with caleb nudging you with his shoulder and saying, “last one is a rotten egg,” before sprinting down the familiar dirt path. zayne let out a breath of disbelief—“seriously?”—but took off right after. and you, despite your protests, despite your boots not being made for this, ran too.

just like you used to.

your laughter echoed through the night, tangled with the sound of crunching leaves and pounding footsteps, breathless and utterly alive.

the moth house sat tucked behind the trees, barely visible until you were almost in front of it. a small, forgotten wooden thing, its paint chipped and its roof a little more caved in than you remembered. but the moment you saw it, your breath caught.

it hadn’t changed.

caleb reached it first, pushing the creaky door open. zayne followed, and you arrived last, panting, eyes wide, something nostalgic and aching blooming in your chest.

“still standing,” caleb muttered, stepping inside.

“barely,” zayne added.

it was pitch black inside. the smell of damp wood and dust clung to the air. and then, in true zayne fashion, had been bringing a lamp all along. warm yellow light spilled across the floor and the walls.

you let out a soft gasp. there they were.

the remnants of your old world.

your pink barbie doll, hair tangled and limbs askew, sat against the wall. beside her was one of caleb’s beat-up toy cars, the wheels long gone but the lightning bolt sticker still scratched onto the side. and scattered near the corner, a few torn pages from zayne’s dinosaur encyclopedia, edges curled with time.

“this is insane,” you whispered, stepping further in. “i thought all of this would be gone.”

“guess we left more than we thought,” zayne said quietly.

caleb crouched down near his old toy car, brushing dust off it with the edge of his sleeve. “feels like we were just here last summer, huh?”

you leaned against the wooden wall, the lamp's dim glow casting soft shadows across their faces as they talked. caleb was squatting again, fiddling with his old toy car like it still mattered. zayne had his arms crossed, leaning on the opposite wall, the corners of his mouth occasionally twitching up in amusement at something caleb said.

they weren’t arguing. they weren’t bickering as always like before. they were just… talking.

you watched them like you were outside a glass window, nose pressed to the surface. both of them had become striking in their own way.

you felt your chest tighten. your gaze dropped to the floor, your heart started to pace without permission. because no matter how much older you were now, no matter how long it had been… your mind drifted. to that night. to that stupid kiss.

you hadn’t thought about it in years. or maybe you had, just not out loud. not where it could reach the surface. but here, in the moth house, surrounded by remnants of childhood and all the things you used to be, the memory pulsed.

was it supposed to be forgotten?

just one of those reckless, messy things you all agreed to pretend didn’t happen?

because you never talked about it after.

never got the answer to the question they’d both pushed into the air. and yet here you all were. again. so why did it still feel unfinished?

"i have the answer already." your voice cut through the soft crackle of the old lamp, quiet but clear enough to make them stop mid-conversation. caleb froze, halfway through repositioning the toy car on the floor, while zayne’s head turned slowly, brows knitting with confusion.

“what?” caleb asked, blinking up at you.

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how loud your heartbeat was. then, you looked down, and then back up, steadying yourself. “the... ‘who’s the better kisser’ thing,” you clarified, and your voice, though small, left no room for misunderstanding.

and just like that, stillness came.

zayne’s expression didn’t change at first, he just stood straighter. then you noticed the subtle shift in his eyes, locked onto you like he was trying to pick apart your thoughts, decode every layer behind your words.

caleb didn’t even try to hide his reaction. he blinked once, twice, before sitting back on his heels and leaning forward slightly, as if you’d just challenged him to a match. his smirk didn’t appear, but the intensity behind his stare said enough.

they were both looking at you now. hard.

not with confusion anymore.

no. this was something heavier. like possession. like the past had suddenly started breathing again, crawling back to life.

neither of them said a word yet. but you could tell that they wanted to know, and they weren’t planning on letting it go. not this time.

"so..." caleb finally said. "who is it?"

and zayne’s gaze didn’t waver.

"you're both good kissers!" the words left your lips before you could take them back. a soft, honest confession. you didn’t even say it to provoke. you just... told the truth.

silence followed.

caleb blinked at you, wide-eyed for a second. and then, he huffed out a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. a short, breathy laugh slipped from him, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “silly girl.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep himself from grinning too much.

zayne didn’t laugh. he just looked down, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. you watched his lashes lower, his brows pinch, his lips pressed tight like he was trying to suppress something. either a sigh, a thought, or the quiet bruising of his own pride.

no one spoke for a while.

it was almost funny. you’d answered the question they left behind all those years ago. and yet, here they were... grown, taller, stronger, and still just as thrown off by you.

caleb scoffed, shaking his head. “nah, i’m gonna have to disagree with that.”

you looked up at him, blinking. “what—?”

he crossed his arms, gaze narrowed but playful. “you just said that to keep the peace. i call it. no way we were equally good..”

zayne, who’d remained quiet until now, finally lifted his eyes again. boldness, maybe. “he might have a point,” zayne said. “we were teenagers then, and inexperienced. it wasn’t exactly a fair measure.”

you turned to him, startled.

he glanced at caleb, then back at you. “for a real answer, there should be a reevaluation.” he said it plainly, but the weight behind it made your stomach twist.

caleb raised his brows, looking half-impressed and half-annoyed. “oh? you serious, doc?”

“just being thorough,”

your throat went dry. you suddenly weren’t sure if coming to the moth house was such a good idea after all.

you tilted your head slightly, “so… are you saying you have experience now?”

zayne’s lips tugged upward, just a little. “no,” he admitted, stepping forward, slow and sure. “not exactly.” his eyes didn’t leave yours. you could hear caleb shift behind zayne, but he didn’t say a word. he was just watching, waiting.

zayne stopped just a breath away, “do you want to try it again?”

your heart thudded. too fast. too loud. this was real. this was now. and caleb… caleb still hadn’t moved. but you could feel the heat of his stare burning right through you.

before you could even open your mouth to respond, before you could decide what you wanted, zayne muttered a soft curse under his breath. something like “fuck it,” barely audible. then, in one motion, he removed his glasses, carelessly tucking them into his coat pocket, and closed the distance.

his hands were warm when they cupped your cheeks, surprisingly gentle for how impulsive the gesture was. and then, he kissed you.

it was rushed, but deliberate. like he wanted to make sure you felt it, all of it. your fingers twitched at your sides as your eyes fluttered shut, your thoughts melting into the warmth of it.

zayne only pulled away when he had to, just enough to study your expression, forehead still resting against yours. “are you still unsure?”

“n-no,” you barely managed to whisper, your voice caught between your breath and whatever was thundering in your chest.

but that was all zayne needed before he kissed you again. this time, deeper. his hands slipped back to cradle the base of your head as if he didn’t want you pulling away. there was a quiet intensity in the way he moved, like he was making up for lost time, or maybe staking a claim.

you didn’t even notice your hand gripping the front of his coat until your knuckles tightened. everything else blurred out, the creaking of the old moth house, the muffled breath you both shared, even caleb’s presence—

until caleb shifted slightly.

you felt it, a presence behind you.

before you could even react, a pair of lips brushed your shoulder. and a slow burn followed the touch, trailing through the fabric of your shirt like it wasn't even there.

your breath hitched. “caleb…” you whispered, unsure if it was a question or a warning.

“pipsqueak,” he said lowly, voice husky and calm, as if this had always been part of the plan. “we're so sorry.”

as you turned to face caleb, his hand on your hip tightened slightly, pulling you ever so gently but insistently closer. you could feel the heat of his body, the firmness of his chest pressing against your back while he leaned in. you shuddered.

zayne, not to be outdone or left behind, leaned in to capture your lips once more in a searing kiss. one hand slid up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head to grant him better access as his mouth moved over yours with a hunger that stole your breath away.

you found yourself sandwiched between them, the solid wall of caleb's chest at your back and the lean, muscular frame of zayne pressed against your front. you could feel every inch of their bodies, the hard planes and soft curves melding together in a way that set their nerves alight with sensation.

zayne's hand fisted in your hair as he kissed you with a desperate, almost punishing intensity. he tore his mouth away, panting harshly against your lips. "this is dangerous," he rasped, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. "i might end up doing something else if we keep this up." his eyes searched yours.

and behind you, caleb pressed closer, the hard ridge of his arousal grinding against the curve of your ass through the fabric of his pants. "mm, should we stop?" he murmured, but his actions belied his words as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips and teeth and tongue busy mapping the sensitive skin there. 

you were already losing yourself, drowning in the feeling of your two childhood friends. and god help you because you don't ever want to be found.

caleb paused, his hand stilling on the soft curve of your shoulder as he looked to you with a mix of desire and hesitation in his eyes. "is it okay if we touch you more?" he asked, almost pleading like an eager puppy seeking permission.

"where?" you breathed, the single word a question and an invitation all at once.

"here," caleb murmured, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your stiffening nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

at the same moment, zayne's hands slid down from your hips, hesitating for a heartbeat before cupping the rounded globes of your ass. he squeezed gently, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pulled you back against him, grinding his hard length against the cleft of your rear.

"and here," zayne whispered.

your moans filled the moth house as memories of simpler times flashed through your mind. you remembered chasing after zayne and caleb in the sunlit yard, their laughter echoing while playing tag, innocent and carefree as ever. how naive the three of you had been, unaware of the seeds of desire that had already been planted, the embers of attraction smoldering beneath the surface of your childhood bond. little had you known that years later, those innocent games would evolve into this - the feeling of caleb's fingers boldly cupping your clothed sex, the heat of his touch searing you even through the fabric of your panties.

"oh!" you gasped, your hips bucking instinctively into his hand. it seems as though the past and present blurred, the ghosts of your youth intertwining with the raw, carnal hunger of the moment.

zayne's hands kneaded the globes of your ass, his grip tightening when he felt you respond to caleb's touch. "fuck," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, from not simply taking you right then and there. "you have no idea how long we've wanted this, wanted you."

"zayne..." you whispered. for someone who'd been protective of you, who'd been the most conservative than any other man, he acted like the opposite of what you've deemed him as in your entire childhood.

and behind you, the boy who had your back the most, the boy who jumped into any risky scheme with you, had his fingers rubbing and circling your clothed slit with a newfound confidence, a pent-up urgency that spoke volumes about the years of longing he had harbored for you.

then, the haze of lust momentarily lifted by the sound of caleb's grunt of discomfort. "it hurts." you turned to look at him, concern etching in your flushed face. for a second, you let go of zayne's shoulders and followed caleb's line of sight. to his... prominent bulge straining against the front of his pants.

instantly, you averted your eyes. "okay, maybe- maybe this wasn't a good idea after all—"

"mine too." zayne spoke up, just right behind your ear. "it's a natural reaction, especially when we're this close to you—"

"of course, i know that, idiot!" you whisper-screamed, backing off a bit to give yourself some personal space for a few moments. you gulped, "do we know what we're getting into? ...what if our families find out about this?"

"we aren't telling them, are we?" caleb said, already working on undoing the buttons of his top.

"yes, but," you paused, trying to gather your thoughts, because the words for what they were haven't formed yet. only now you've realized the severity of what you were up to, the hypocrisy of everything that have led you to this. you looked up, only to see both guys giving you curious gazes, with half-lidded eyes. "i've... always seen the two of you- as my brothers."

"bro...thers?"

"do you still see us that way?" zayne's voice made you stare at them. he stood with his glasses now forgotten in his pocket, dark hair tousled from the boldness had taken over him earlier. the white coat was long gone, he probably already took it off while you made out, and all that remained was the black shirt beneath, sleeves messily rolled up to his forearms, revealing veins and tendons you’d never once paid attention to when you were kids. the dip of his collarbone peeked out just above the neckline, and his chest rose and fell with a tension he didn’t bother hiding.

and caleb with the top buttons of his shirt undone, his collar skewed, sleeves rolled, forearms lean and marked with a few cuts and scratches. the light caught on the curve of his throat, the slight sheen on his skin, and the faint scar on his wrist from the time he tried to teach you how to climb the mango tree. his hair was a little messy too, a little too perfect in its imperfection, like he had run his fingers through it on the way here.

you didn't know when or how it happened. only that that was all it took for the three of you to get lost further.

you glanced down at your hand full of white liquid, some were also dripping down your chin you could feel. it's an uncomfortable position to be kneeling against the dirty ground for half an hour already, but that was irrelevant compared to the amount of cum that was spilled into your chest, into your face, and into your mouth.

you chased your breath, staring up at zayne and caleb in pure bliss. they sat next to each other on a wooden ledge, both chasing theirs too. zayne had his head rolled back that you could see the way his adam's apple occassionally bobbed, while caleb have had kept his eyes on you the whole time you sucked him and jacked the other guy off.

caleb wipes the bead of cum off the corner of your mouth with his finger. "are you tired?"

you shake your head. "no, i wanna keep..." you bring the finger in your mouth, licking it with your tongue.

in response, caleb slightly widens his eyes at your sudden action, but he enjoys it. he always enjoyed when you did something he wouldn't expect. he pulls his finger out of your mouth, and you whine, but he slides it down your chin, gliding it across your clothed chest, and down your stomach. until he leaned down to touch your pussy.

you squeaked, "caleb?"

"you like being touched like this?" he teased your clit.

then, you felt another finger pinch your nipple through the fabric. "i reckon she likes this more." you turn to look at zayne, who's staring hard into your eyes. he had his glasses back on. he always did around you ever since you've mentioned about how it looked good on him. so while your mouth got stuffed in his cock earlier, with his fingers on your head, his other hand made an effort to put the glasses back on with a "look at me."

you squirmed at both men's work, eyes fluttering shut to back. they watched you curiously, until caleb's finger shot itself inside. deep inside. "pipsqueak," he gives you that look again. that look he does when he's being vulnerable. "you're so fucking tight."

zayne shot caleb a glance, intrigued. but he was silent.

caleb licks his lower lip, "can i... can we,"

zayne looks at you.

"can we check how tight it is?"

"what do you mean?" you asked, trying to speak coherently even through a moan. "y-you already are....?"

caleb pulls away, leaning back. zayne does the same. they didn't say anything, they didn't answer your question, so you were just there, clueless. still kneeling. then, your eyes shifted to their throbbing, erected dicks. like both were waiting for you, were waiting to be inside you.

now you know what they meant.

but you couldn't believe it.

back then, in this same moth house, you used to count the moths up the ceiling, laying on each other's shoulders as innocent kids. now, the same men were asking you to get on them. with the same eyes that smiled at you across the field, running and giggling.

[mwphisto]

LaDs pairings and my personal headcanons on their dynamics

Warning, this post contains: threesomes, polyamorous relationships, male x male x female dynamics, mentions of dom/sub play and dynamics.

A/N: just a silly little post about the various love and deepspace pairings and what I headcanon their throuple / threesome dynamic to be like :3 also this looks way better on mobile than desktop so forgive me for my aesthetic needs lmfaoooo

Xavier x Rafayel x Reader (StarFish)

Cutest name among the pairings first of all

Possibly controversial but I think Rafayel mainly tops in this dynamic… here me out

Xavier is a freak in the sheets but compared to Rafayel? He’s very mellow. He’s so focused on you and your needs that he can drown out some of Rafayel’s antics when getting down to it.

It’s not until Xavier snaps that Rafayel is the center of attention. You and Xavier team up to put the brat of your trio in his rightful place.

Not saying Rafayel loves it… but he loves it.

Xavier x Zayne x Reader (StarSnow)

The silent but deadly duo (lmfao)

I think these two are fighting for dominance while also being civil about it? Taking turns if you will.

In this trio, you are definitely the sub with your two doms. Very little room for switching imo

It’s very rare that you get a chance to top either of them, the two of them always being two steps ahead and getting you railed until you can’t see straight.

Xavier x Sylus x Reader (StarCrow)

Prepare to never feel your legs again.

You are once again the sub in this pairing, but with some free reigns thanks to Sylus

You and Sylus like to team up on Xavier, making the prince of Philos see the stars in which he came from by the time the two of you are done with him

Xavier and Sylus have…wrestled… much to your amusement but Sylus typically always comes out on top. Mostly thanks to his evol and size. Not that Xavier is complaining… he secretly enjoys it.

Xavier x Caleb x Reader (StarApple)

They bicker all the time, they’re always fighting for your attention.

They’re both headstrong, needing to be in control and both equally as obsessed with your pleasure.

Someway, somehow, Caleb manages to get Xavier to give up — his evol held he man down — and you had a time riding him until he was a sobbing mess

Caleb would let the roles reverse willingly after seeing how much fun Xavier got to have being under you.

Rafayel x Zayne x Reader (SnowFish)

We’re looking at two bratty subs with their tamer

You and Rafayel are menaces when together, in and out of the bedroom. Poor Zayne (he fucking loves it)

A common position is you riding Rafayel within an inch of his life while Zayne holds you by your hair and helps himself to your… back door.

Roles have also been reversed, with Rafayel getting fucked senseless while trying not to slobber all over your pussy — and failing miserably in the process.

Rafayel x Sylus x Reader (CrowFish)

Sylus gets off watching you and Rafayel play.

He often partakes in the activities, don’t get me wrong, but he has a thing for watching you and Rafayel get each other off. The struggle of two switches trying not to fall into submissive tendencies… and failing. Cute.

Though, it’s not always the case, when Sylus is involved, Rafayel gets feral. You’re not leaving that bed with working legs… or any feeling in your lower half for that matter. It’s your turn to get fucked within an inch of your life and be pampered on for the coming days.

More than one bed has been replaced…

Rafayel x Caleb x Reader (AppleFish)

Kings of yearning…and stalking… and trying to act like they didn’t plot everything ever.

They initially hate each other, then they realize how likeminded they are and it’s game over for you.

They are torturing you low-key, expect to be tied up, edged until you're sobbing, and then overstimulated until you're begging them to stop. And, spoiler, they won't stop.

Evil ass dynamic for real, they feed off of each other's dramatics

Zayne x Sylus x Reader (SnowCrow)

Oh bitch. Maybe I'm biased (I am) but this combo is elite.

You've got three brat tamers who can all be brats. A group of switches if you will. Couple broken beds with Sylus and Raf? You're looking at multiple broken beds, couches, tables, chairs, fucking destroyed bathrooms, ruined carpets, you get the idea.

You are ruined every time, even if you're on top. You've gotta call out of work the next day, Zayne goes to work limping, Sylus is overly smug about the whole thing

You can plot against each other and still end up fucked stupid

Zayne x Caleb x Reader (SnowApple)

Zayne is putting y'all in your rightful places. Caleb thinks he has a shot at dominating Zayne and is sorely mistaken by the end of it. You really did try to warn him too, now he can't even walk.

Linkon's best surgeon has a time putting Linkon's best hunter and the Farspace Fleet's colonel in their places. Fucking them both to damn tears is is specialty.

We're looking at one dominant with two switches who lean towards bratty subs whether they want to or not

Punishments go crazy with this throuple

Sylus x Caleb x Reader (CrowApple)

You've never known Caleb to be shy until Sylus gets involved. Caleb couldn't stand him, Sylus found it utterly amusing. You? You just enjoyed the show.

Sylus forced Caleb to watch as he fucked you stupid, tears streaming down your face while he's balls deep and kissing you senseless. In the end, Caleb came untouched and realized that being a brat against Sylus would result in real punishment.

Even with his gravity evol, Caleb can't win against Bossman. And either way, you get to have the time of your life with both of your lovers trying - and failing - to work it out.

Either way, you'll be getting wrecked daily... multiple times.

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”

[berrryparfait]

take my cock, milady ! ˖𓂃 .⚜ ݁˖

♥︎ ︎ featuring: servant! caleb, sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier x countess! fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: you are the beloved countess of a prosperous noble family, cherished for your innocence and grace. but no one is perfect, for in a secluded room at tonight’s social ball, something rather ungraceful is unfolding…

❝ but—we're not allowed! it's improper—! ❞

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, regency au, piv, fingering, creampie, indecent / semi-public exposure, dubcon, classist / sexist sentiments, forbidden attraction

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: wildest dreams (from bridgerton s1)

✧ a/n: inspired by the lewd royal manhwas they don't allow on the naver webtoon app (and bridgerton, ofc) <3

It’s social season again.

You…dislike it. The wide, blinding smiles with little behind them, the stuffy ball gowns with far too many frills, the uncanny conversations about the weather you’re forced to endure… It’s all so tiring.

Here you are, in your poufy designer skirts, growing more anxious by the second. Your pink lace corset is squeezing the life out of your lungs. It wouldn’t be the most admirable display of manners, but you could really use some time alone right now.

You enter one of the empty study rooms down the busy hallway, suffocated and overwhelmed all at once. But what you don’t expect is your freshly-hired servant to follow you in…

“Are you quite alright, Milady?” You startle, surprised to hear another voice in the room with you. Male. Oh no. “Yes, yes, I’m just fine. Thank you, Caleb.” You politely request some peace and quiet, waving him away with delicate, gloved fingers. Let’s just say, it would be less than ideal if someone were to catch you alone in here with a man. A playful grin plays at his lips, and you freeze. How have you not noticed his ravishing good looks all this time? “It seems to me that you’re in need of a little release. A beautiful maiden like you must be…frustrated.” You pretend to misunderstand him, though you know perfectly well what he means. He’s right—being cooped up in the manor all day has left you dry, in every sense of the word. Heat pools in your core, though you try your best to ignore it. After all, it isn’t proper for a noblewoman to be consulting her servant on intimate matters like these.

His breath warms your cheek as he steps infinitely closer, and the throbbing between your legs intensifies. “Let me handle you, Milady…” he whispers, soft and alluring. Your body leans into his, even as your mind screams at you to shove him straight to the heavens.. His hands are on your hips, bunching up the fabric of your skirt— “This is improper— We can’t—” But instead of pulling away, you let yourself succumb to his ministrations, lost in the wonderful feeling of his searing touch on your skin. He’s planting wet kisses on your neck now, gently pushing you up against the wall as you sigh and wonder if anyone outside can hear you. “You’re wet for me, Princess,” he muses as he reaches a skilled hand between your legs, his thumb brushing against your nub of nerves. A small squeal leaves your lips. “Shh shh shh, they’ll hear us…” He pushes your skirt all the way up to your waist before freeing his large, erect cock, angling it so that the tip rests just between your folds. Your mouth hangs open as he pushes his length all the way into your sex—the first long, delicious glide of his dick along your walls like releasing a breath of relief. You fail to suppress a tortured moan, and he chuckles against the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are slow at first, unhurried. But then his grip on your waist tightens and your pussy clenches in response, the blinding pleasure overwhelming you. Distantly, you remember this man is your servant—a man without status or recognition—yet here he is, fucking you into oblivion at a ball with your back against a priceless, likely stained painting. He groans into your ear and your whimpers come out louder, prompting him to press a hand to your mouth and muffle your cries. “You’re going to go back out there…and act like nothing happened… You hear me?” he grits out between pants, holding your thigh up to pound into your cunt with unforgiving force. You come undone. Hot, sticky cum fills you to the brim while you shake and spasm like a hummingbird, the most euphoric sensation washing over you.

By the time he’s pulled out and gathered his composure, you’ve only just smoothed down your unruly mess of hair, your legs still trembling as you attempt to straighten your skirt. “Alert me whenever you’re in need of a little fun, Milady. I’ll make sure you never forget how it feels to be wanted again.” He winks at you, and your heart stills. His cum is still dripping down your legs when you return to the ballroom.

“Well, you look awfully pale, Milady.” You bristle at the deep, husky voice, unaware someone had followed you in. “Relax. It’s only me. I came in to check on you,” he pauses, examining the sleeves of his uniform. “Am I right to say that you’re a little…wound up right now?” He says it with concern, though a teasing lilt punctuates his words. “Sylus, we can’t be seen here together.” You say, panic rising in your throat. What will people think? What will your family say? Rumors spread like wildfire in high society—it won’t be long before your reputation is irreversibly tarnished. He merely snickers at your urgency, low and ominous. The smirk on his face is telling, though you don’t want to know what it is he’s trying to tell you. He steps closer to you, towering over your ribboned head with an un-servant-like ease.

Sparks ignite in your belly, a strange, filthy feeling that leaves you wanting more. His gloved hand brushes the side of your face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I happen to know all the ways to satisfy a lady…” Your eyes flutter as he loosens your corset, every inch of your body responding to his touch. “The pleasure I’m capable of providing… Aren’t you tempted, Kitten?” And even though you know it's wrong, and you know it’s unbecoming, and that you’ll probably regret this the second it’s over, you breathe, “Yes…” He hums in response, trailing soft licks and kisses down the side of your neck as he wrenches your corset apart. Your plump breasts spill out, and his pupils dilate, his gaze fixated on your bare chest like an animal watching its prey. Hickeys bloom across your shoulder as his fingers twist your nipples, eliciting squeaks of surprise from you that only fuel his desire. “I’m going to bend you over, and you’re going to stay quiet. You hear me?” he orders, and you nod pathetically. As much as you hate the thought of submitting to your servant right now, the growing arousal between your legs is too much to bear.

You get on all fours on the carpeted ground, hoping to god no one walks in. The door doesn’t have a lock—it’s entirely possible for someone to stumble upon you like this. Impatient, he rolls your skirt up to expose your rear, and you shudder as he pulls your knickers down to your knees. “Wait— What if someone walks in—” But your protests are silenced by his rock-hard cock sliding into your pussy, the feeling of his girth stretching you from the inside sending waves of suffocating pleasure to your head. It’s obscene, the squelching noises echoing through the room as he plunges into you so fast and hard you see stars on the ceiling. With every thrust, his balls slap against your clit, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. “Sylus— Slow down— I’m going to—” You moan into your elbow as he slams into you from behind, grunting and swearing under his breath as his cock swells.

Warm cum bursts from his engorged tip, the thick, viscous fluid leaking out of your pussy like syrup funneled from a tree. You collapse onto the floor, utterly spent. You were wrong—you don’t regret this one bit. “You’re free to take my cock whenever you’d like, Milady. After all, I do live to serve you.” The sardonic grin on his face nearly has you coming apart all over again.

“Is something the matter, Milady?” You recognize that voice. It’s your new servant, Zayne—the younger one. He isn’t supposed to be in here. “You looked a little pale earlier, so I took it upon myself to accompany you.” Your heart warms at his display of concern, though it does little to ease your distress over the situation. A woman must not be in the company of a man unchaperoned. “Can we speak outside?” The worry in your voice is clear. He walks up to you in an attempt to console you, his stride cautious. Right off the bat, you’d identified Zayne as “bright”. He’s hardworking, earnest, and never meddles in other people’s business. Today must be an exception. “Allow me to offer my help, Milady. I believe I know just the way to soothe a lady’s nerves. It’s…textbook.” Your stomach drops. He’s going to defile me—right here in this room! The indecency of it repulses you, yet you don’t head for the door. Your feet are rooted to the ground, completely helpless as his icy gaze travels the length of your body.

Gently, he guides you down onto the wide couch, settling you on his lap with a care that makes your breath hitch. “You’re my servant, Zayne—” But your efforts are futile. He’s dragging his hand along your thigh, his touch scorching hot as your skirt hikes up with it. You’ve never felt such powerful sensations before. It’s intoxicating. He reaches under your knickers and, with his thumb, begins to draw small circles on your most sensitive spot. You whimper in response, slickening almost instantaneously. How embarrassing..! “Does this feel good, Your Grace?” Your eyes respond for you, half-lidded and needy. It isn’t long before you’re grinding on his leg, chasing that sweet friction you now desperately need. Is he doing this on purpose? Drawing it out for your benefit?

He doesn’t torment you for long. Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, he pulls his pants down to his ankles and his twitching, hard cock springs free. You gape at the size of it, wondering if it’ll even fit. But that wicked, aching need in your core only grows stronger with every second that passes; the idea of him barely fitting sounds… To put it plainly, you're willing to do many unladylike things in this room right now. And though every last brain cell is telling you to get up and leave while you still can, you slide onto his cock anyway. It tingles so wonderfully where you’re connected in his lap—you give in to your body’s desires and bounce on it. “Faster, please—” he groans as you fuck yourselves silly on the couch, keeping your pace as best as you can and crying out each time his tip hits your sweet spot. People might hear us… you think anxiously, yet somehow your pleasure only heightens, the mental image if you and your servant fucking like rabbits in a room that doesn’t belong to you so thoroughly demented.

His dick throbs inside you, and your walls flutter. You both struggle to muffle your cries as he pumps his thick seed into your cunt, every part of your shaking so violently you nearly fall off his lap. “I sincerely hope that was…effective, Milady. Judging by your body’s response, I’d say you’ll be satisfied for a while. But when that satisfaction eventually fades…” His dick is still snug in your pussy, and you feel your walls tightening again. “Eventually” may come sooner than he thinks.

“Tough crowd, Milady?” You gasp and spin around. What? “You look like you’re about to faint.” Your new servant, Rafayel, stands by the closed door, a curious expression on his face. “I-I’m fine. Could I have some privacy, please?” you stammer, flustered. It isn’t acceptable for a lady to be hiding away at a social event like this, let alone with a male servant. So many things could go wrong. “Why? Don’t you think it’d be in your best interest to let off some steam?” He smirks at you, coy and sensual. There’s a hidden edge to him you’ve never noticed before—it’s making your knees weak. He tosses his gloves onto the floor and approaches you, slowly. Darkly. He looks like he’s about to give you orders.

“Face the wall. You’ll do as I say, won’t you?” He’s lust-drunk, hazy and hungry at the mere sight of you. The command—along with the aching throb between your legs— offends you, and you spit, “I am a noblewoman, excuse you—” “You’re a woman. And we both know you’re wet for me…” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. Your body involuntarily arches against his, and he chuckles sadistically. Silently, you start to pray. You don’t know exactly what it is you’re praying for, but it involves his hands all over you and your mouth on his— Your sinful thoughts shock you, yet you’ve never longed for anything as miserably as you do this. Fresh arousal dribbles down your inner thigh as he corners you against the wall. At a loss, you glare at him defiantly. “You’re a nobody—”

You’re spun around and pressed up against the wall in an instant, the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. A started whimper leaves your lips as he nips at your earlobe, sharp and angry. “You’re gonna regret all that mouthing off, Princess,” he snarls, and your toes curl in anticipation. In one sudden movement, his pants are on the ground, and your skirt is pushed up to expose your ass. He shoves your undergarments to the side and thrusts his length into your sopping cunt, a firm hand restraining yours to the wall. The pleasure is euphoric, foreign—each jerk of his hips sending you into a mindless daze. His breath warms your cheek as he groans, and in the heat of the moment, he seizes your mouth, hot and hurried. “I think I’m going to—” But you choke on your words as a strained moan erupts from your throat, his dick hitting the ceiling of the sticky space inside you. What would the other nobles think if they saw you like this; all whiny and pathetic while taking your servant’s cock?

With one final thrust, ropes of cum drench the walls of your pussy, and the feeling of coming undone around his cock is indescribable. He grunts as he pushes his seed deep into your heat, his grip on your waist never loosening. Though you loathe to admit it, you needed that. You cling to his strong arms as you descend from your high. His voice is possessive, sinister when he says, “You’re mine. I don’t care who stands in my way. You’ll always be mine.”

“I couldn’t help but follow you in, Milady.” Xavier? What on earth is he doing in here? “It’s come to my attention that you haven’t been feeling your best tonight.” He’s naturally reserved and a bit on the no-nonsense side—you know that much. Surely he’s only here with good intentions. “No worries, Xavier. Just needed a little breather, that’s all.” His icy blue eyes lock on yours, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks…unconvinced. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, averting his gaze. Like what? There’s no one else in this room. Could he be…in heat right now? You frown at him, wary, and make your way to the door.

A hand reaches out to grab you by the elbow, effectively stopping you in your tracks. “What—” He pulls you into his embrace, his breaths short and laboured. “You’re not leaving this room, Milady. I need to have you here.” He unties the ribbons holding your corset together, his fingers fumbling with urgency. You’re too stunned to move, yet you don’t yell at him or push him away. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach, an ache begging to be soothed. Your perky breasts are freed in an instant, swaying in his face before he latches onto your nipple and begins to suck at it like a man starved. The wet, sloppy licks of his tongue cloud your brain, and your pussy clenches. “Xavier, wait—” you protest, but he’s sucking on your other nipple right now, and your words die in your mouth. He’s clearly skilled, but you still can’t wrap your head around it. This servant of yours—a quiet, modest boy—is driving you to tears by suckling on your tits.

“Do you want my cock?” he asks, suddenly arrogant and crude. You nod obediently and let him pull you down onto the floor, shivering as he frees his hardened length and pushes your legs apart. You’re so wet it’s embarrassing, but it only seems to encourage him. He removes your knickers and presses his tip to your folds, the friction making your hips roll upwards. “Be patient,” he orders, and you nod once more. Slowly—torturously so—he inserts himself into your tight heat, making sure you feel every inch of his cock rubbing against your walls. You moan his name and flush hot, unused to the feeling of being this naked, this vulnerable in front of a man. He’s pounding into you seconds later, unable to hold back himself. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. His control is slipping, and you’re paying the price for it. You feel so full, so dirty with his cock between your legs, like you’re committing an unforgivable sin that will bar you from heaven forever. But you don’t care—this is heaven to you. This is pure, inexorable bliss.

His movements stutter, and he blows his load deep into your cunt as you fail to muffle your screams. Your pussy spasms hard, your juices leaking onto the carpet in an obscene puddle. Can’t—stop—shaking— He helps you up, his hold around your waist steady. “I apologize, Milady. I-I couldn’t resist.” You stare at the cum gliding down your calf and consider making him your personal servant.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a year after the breakup, one fight still haunts them both. when sylus shows up again, it all comes rushing back—every kiss, every scream, every regret. they miss each other. they need each other. and this time, they’re not letting go.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: ex boyfriend sylus, canon divergence, slight angst if you squint, dw there's comfort, brief mentions of zayne, reader is VERY briefly implied to be a student, plot with porn, emotional make up sex, like crying during the deed, slightly toxic but they're in love, they're healing ok, sylus is a simp, reader is down bad, this is soft and filthy at the same time

★ 𝐰𝐜: 10.5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: this came to me in a prophetic vision and i needed to write it. i LOVEEE the idea of ex boyfriend sylus. like mmmm give me more…. anyways im not very good nor comfortable with writing smut but i had to do it so here it is. i hope i executed it well LMAO. was originally gonna be porn with plot but i got too locked in… enjoy!

Nothing about the breakup was amicable.

It wasn’t one of those slow fades, where two people quietly drift in different directions until they’re just gone. No, it was one fight—loud, sharp, nasty and just downright cruel. The kind that leaves a ringing in your ears and words you wish you could take back. One moment, and everything you were just blew apart. 

You didn’t walk away. 

No, you crashed—hard. Spun out of each other’s lives like planets knocked off course.

You always fought like that—both of you stubborn, neither one willing to back down. It wasn’t anything new. You’re not even sure what exactly made you lose it that time.

Maybe it was the way he embarrassed you in front of everyone. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Or maybe you were just finally done. Done with the constant tension, the little digs, all the crap you kept letting slide. Just sick and tired of his shit.

You don’t even remember what you said, just playfully whining to your friend beside you.

“You get used to her overreacting. She just needs attention.”

And then everyone laughed. Maybe at you, maybe just at the joke—who even knows anymore. He always had a way of getting people to laugh like that, soaking up attention with that slick charisma he wore like his dumb expensive cologne. And this time? That charm of his came at the cost of your dignity. Your pride.

You bit your tongue and swallowed everything you wanted to scream. Unlike him, you weren’t going to make a scene—not in front of all your friends. No, you kept your mouth shut, had a few more drinks, sat in silence the whole Uber ride home, and waited.

He followed you inside like nothing was wrong, started taking off his coat like he always did, settling in like it was just any other night. But you stopped him. Told him to hang on a second. Then you walked straight to your room, grabbed every single thing he owned—every sock, every hoodie, every stupid little trinket—and dumped it all at his feet.

And that’s when it started. You brought up what he said, how he embarrassed you, how he made you feel like a goddamn joke in front of everyone. And of course—of course—he didn’t take you seriously. Laughed it off, like he always did. Like your anger, your hurt, was some kind of performance he’d already seen too many times.

Like your overreacting was just a grab for attention.

That’s when you snapped. You weren’t just arguing about that night anymore—you were tearing into everything. Every moment you’d swallowed your pride, every time you felt small, every time he talked over you or dismissed you like you didn’t matter.

You started throwing his stuff at him, screaming like your chest was on fire, like you could rip his voice out of the air just to make it stop. Told him to get the fuck out, that you never wanted to see his stupid fucking face again. It was bad, the kind of fight that had cops on the doorstep. That was the only thing that finally got him to leave. The only reason that ugly night finally stopped.

Then came the texts—him cycling through the five stages of grief in your messages. 

‘Sweetie, you know me better than this. What happened to us, to you?’

‘Can we just sit down? I’ll listen, really. I’ll hear you.”

‘Don’t throw away everything we’ve built in one moment of anger.’

You had to silence his calls, his texts. Your phone had practically turned into a vibrator with the way he was spamming it.

But you never found it in yourself to block his number.

Once, you walked out of class and there he was, waiting outside like he’d been watching for you. He tried to talk to you, and you had to practically sprint to get away. After that, you started taking different routes to your classes, finding back ways around buildings, just to avoid him. It felt like you couldn’t even breathe without him showing up.

He sent gifts to your doorstep; monetary, thoughtless gestures like expensive jewelry, new designer clothes, extravagant bouquets. But on nights you spent cramming for exams or buried in the library, you’d come home to meals from your favorite restaurants or baskets filled with all the snacks you loved.

There was never a note, but you didn’t need one. You always knew who it was from.

But it didn’t take long for it all to stop. The texts, the gifts, the way you’d catch glimpses of him standing around places you used to go. You thought you’d be relieved, but now… it’s different. Sometimes, you almost miss it—the reminder that he was still there, still trying. It felt like you still mattered to him, even if it was twisted.

Despite all the fights, he was good. Good to you, and just good in that rare, complicated way some people are. His heart was made of gold and steel—soft in places, unbreakable in others. He just didn’t always know how to use it.

But you know you mattered to him. You felt it, even when everything else was falling apart.

Right person, wrong time, you guess.

Because despite your 3 year relationship coming to an abrupt, sudden and earth shattering halt—life goes on.

Though, it took a while.

At first, his constant pleas for forgiveness built a wall between you and any real chance at healing. And then there was the regret—that heavy, gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’d made a huge mistake. That maybe you’d let go of the best thing you ever had. Lost something you weren’t sure you’d ever find again.

It didn’t help that you shared the same circle of friends. He was everywhere—smiling in group photos, lit up in stories, slipping into your feed like a ghost that refused to rest. You’d catch a glimpse, tap the tag, and spiral into his page like it was muscle memory. You told yourself it was harmless curiosity, that you just wanted to know if he was okay now that the begging had gone quiet.

But deep down, you were searching for something else.

Hoping he hadn’t moved on.

Eventually, you found a rhythm. Learned when to look away from social media, which friends to sidestep in conversation. You slipped into a beat that no longer used him as an instrument. 

And slowly, quietly, you began to write a new song.

Without Sylus.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Zayne’s apartment, your head resting in your hands as you watched him work. His eyes were locked on his laptop, fingers moving with careful precision, while his glasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. Every few minutes, he’d pause just long enough to push them back up, never once looking away for long.

You’d been seeing each other for a few months now. It had been a year, finally a full year, since everything fell apart.  

“Better to get back out there,” you told yourself.

You met Zayne through one of your new friends. He had asked for your number, and you gave it to him without thinking too hard—if you did, you’d start to feel the guilt you were trying to desperately ignore. He’s a doctor, living the kind of life that sounded like ambition carved into marble—precise and immovable. He had plans, timelines, a path so clearly mapped out it felt like there wasn’t room for detours.

He’s sweet. Gentle in ways you didn’t realize you needed. 

He doesn’t set off fireworks in your chest, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe peace was always the thing you were chasing.

But, sometimes, being with him felt like standing in a waiting room of his life. Like you were something brief, something meant for now but not later. A warm presence to come home to, but never quite a part of the long term picture. 

Because of that, you weren’t exactly together—but you weren’t not together, either. It was strange, undefined, but it worked. You didn’t know if you were ready for something more serious yet, a new commitment after what came before.

And Zayne was so different from him.

Zayne was calm where he had been wild. Predictable where he had been chaotic. Steady where he had burned.

But sometimes you missed the fire.

The way he could make you feel like the center of the universe with just a look, the way everything with him was urgent, desperate, alive. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been electric.

With Zayne, it sometimes felt like you were too much for him. Like he didn’t really know what to do with all of you. But with him, it was the opposite—he couldn’t get enough.

Zayne was still a good guy. That should’ve been enough.

Even if you already knew what it felt like to be wanted completely. Wanted like a storm.

"Do you want to grab food?" you asked, tapping gently on the back of his laptop. You knew better than to interrupt his flow, but you hadn’t come over just to sit and watch him work.

He hummed in response, barely acknowledging you.

You sighed. "So you wouldn’t care if I blew up your apartment?"

Another hum.

To be fair, he had promised dinner earlier. He just needed to finish his work—and then he just needed a bit more time… And then a little more after that.

That was three hours ago.

This time, you reach for the top of his laptop screen, and his eyes flick up to you—blinking slowly, like he’s just now registering the reality outside of his research paper.

Zayne frowns, the disapproval clear on his face. You mirror him with a frown of your own, arms crossing over your chest.

"It’s getting late," you say, your tone edging on impatient. "Let me know what you want, and I’ll go pick it up."

“No, it’s alright.” He finally shuts his laptop with a quiet click, then takes off his glasses and sets them gently on the table beside him. His eyes meet yours—tired, a little guilty.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” he says, voice softer now, like he means it.

You shrug in response, but inside, your thoughts begin to stir.

They did this sometimes—whenever Zayne did something even slightly wrong.

He would never do that.

He would never make you wait more than an hour—and that was only if something came up. He always respected your time, always made sure you knew you were a priority. 

He was always there when he said he would be—in every single sense.

The guilt rises again, thick and suffocating in your chest. Guilt for what you did, guilt for even thinking about him when Zayne is right here. The way Zayne’s hesitation, his lack of urgency, makes everything feel distant.

‘If he would never do that, why don’t you go back to him?’ Though sarcastic, the thought cuts through you bitterly. You scoff, but the question lingers.

“Where do you want to go?” Zayne asks, his voice pulling you out of the fight with your own subconscious. You blink, disoriented for a moment, before his words sink in.

“Anywhere you’d like,” he continues, “As an apology for making you wait so long.”

You don’t know why you say it, and you're not even sure if you want to go there, but the words leave your lips anyway. You tell him you want to go to this place across town.

Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the history of that place, the weight of the memories tied to it, the way it feels like a part of him still lingers there. And you don’t want to taint him with that—don’t want to drag him into this aggressive, aching space inside you.

But it’s like everything in you aches to go there, anyway.

To feel a fragment of him again, even if it’s through something so small, so insignificant. Just to be near a place that once held the kind of warmth you crave now. To feel a piece of what it was, even if you know you’ll never truly get it back.

To just miss him for a second.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to drag Zayne along. He’s clueless, unaware of the heaviness of this strange little hole in the wall restaurant. Doesn’t know why you stay silent the entire ride, eyes fixed on the world outside, every single tree passing by like a painful reminder.

You can feel the hole in your chest, the space he used to fill, and it’s all you can do not to let it consume you.

When you arrived, even the bricks outside were enough to make your heart lurch. For a second—an honest, long second—you forgot who you were with.

You turned, expecting to see silver hair, eyes like cut rubies, that familiar warmth of a presence that used to pull the air from your lungs.

But instead, you were met with something gentler. A forest, not a flame.

Zayne took your hand, his brows drawn with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You forced a smile—too quick, too practiced—and nodded.

“Yeah.”

But even as the word left your mouth, you could feel the lie settle in the air between you.

The inside was just as cruel. Small and warm, familiar in a way that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed. The feeling was a tie between a warm hug and suffocating.

Maybe you were a masochist for letting yourself come here—for asking to be brought back to a place that held a feeling you’d buried so deep it shouldn’t have surfaced this easily.

It was just a small place you found by accident one lazy evening. But once you fell in love with it, he made it tradition.

Every weekend, like clockwork, he’d take you on a date. And more often than not, you’d ask to come here.

Eventually, the owners knew you by name. Knew your usuals, your laughter, your habits—the shape of your love, even.

And standing there now, with Zayne beside you, the warmth and familiarity turned sharp.

You realized what you’d done.

Who you were with.

And for a moment, regret bloomed in your throat like a bruise.

Were you that ex? The one who dragged new boys through old memories like ghosts on a leash?

No.

Zayne wasn’t your boyfriend. So it didn’t count. It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

You found a table in the corner, far from that quiet little booth tucked near the stage—the one that had soaked in your fights, your laughter, your deepest conversations.

The one that still held all of that messy, complicated love.

Far from the exposed brick wall where you’d once scrawled your initials with the red lipstick you always carried.

His favorite shade.

You still have it in your purse. You never took it out.

Why didn’t you take it out?

The band was bustling, the loud jazz music crashing against your thoughts like waves. You knew Zayne would hate it here—too loud and too cramped for him.

The faint frown tugging at his face confirmed everything you already knew.

You had to order at the bar, and you silently hoped—begged—that he’d take the hint, take the lead.

You just wanted to stay in your seat, stay still; let the noise swallow you whole while you slipped quietly back in time.

Just for a little while.

And he did. Zayne stood with a sigh and made his way to the bar, already checking his watch like he couldn’t wait to leave.

You stayed seated.

Let your eyes wander around the room, soaking in the soft haze of memory like it was smoke in your lungs.

You imagined another version of this moment—one where you weren’t sitting there with someone you knew well, but still felt like a stranger; who held your hand too gently, smiled too politely.

One where the seat across from you was filled with someone who looked at you like you hung the stars, the sun and the moon alike. Who never looked at his watch because time was never wasted with you.

From where you were sitting, you knew the only thing you’d be able to see through the crowds of people at tables was the band and that stupid, beautiful booth.

You couldn’t look at it.

You wouldn’t look at it.

You looked.

Oh.

Oh.

You met his eyes, and the world forgot how to spin.

The air stilled. The conversations and music seemed to pause, a single note stretched out across eternity.

Everything—everyone—stood frozen in place.

Time held its breath.

And for one impossible second, it was just the two of you again.

What was he doing here?

Was the universe playing some cruel trick, drawing you both back to this place like gravity? Why your booth?

Why now?

His eyes scanned your face like he wasn’t sure you were real—like you’d stepped out of a dream.

Then came that smile.

The soft one; the one he used to give you in the quiet, perfect moments when the world was small, just the two of you.

There was no venom in it. No pain. No trace of the wreckage you left in each other.

Just something tender.

As if none of it had happened.

As if you were still okay.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

It was instinct, not decision—like your face moved before your mind could catch up. Like your chest cracked open just wide enough to let the light in.

It felt like winter turning to spring, when everything thaws out and comes alive again. when the frost softens and color creeps quietly back into everything.

Your heart bloomed, slow and trembling—like a flower daring to open again.

He lifts his hand in a wave, mouthing “Hello.” 

“Hi, Sylus.” You mouth back

Your lips felt strange shaping his name. Like they weren’t used to the syllables anymore—like they’d forgotten the rhythm of it, the way it used to sit so easily on your tongue. It felt foreign now, like a word in a language you once knew by heart but hadn’t spoken in years.

Everything started moving again when your drink was sat in front of you. You looked up, and Zayne’s face was tired, pained even.

"Thank you," you murmured, fingers idly twisting the straw. He stayed quiet, as he always did, his gaze fixed on the band, listening to the music, indifferent to you.

You glanced over at the booth again, just to make sure.

And he was gone.

Your heart froze up again, going back to winter. The flower that had started to bloom died in an instant.

Did you just imagine him? He was there in a second, gone the next. 

Was coming to this place such a bad idea that you started hallucinating your ex boyfriend?

Suddenly, the once familiar comfort of this place turned on you, becoming suffocating and unbearable. Heat crawled up the back of your neck, a flush of panic exploding beneath your skin. Every hair on your body stood on end, as if now bracing for something that wasn’t there.

Your chest tightened, breath shallow, the music too loud, the walls too close.

What the hell just happened?

You pushed your food around the plate, appetite long gone, and caught glimpses of Zayne doing the same.

The high had worn off—whatever rush or adrenaline that had carried you through the moment had collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but a deep, aching hollowness in your chest.

All you wanted was to crawl into bed and fall apart. To let the tears come in the dark, mourning the vision your mind had conjured up like some sick joke.

To sit with the guilt of missing him. Of returning to this place. Of dragging Zayne into the wreckage of your past.

He didn’t know a thing—not really. You never told him. Never told anyone, if you were being honest.

It wasn’t something you ever felt the need to say out loud. You kept it locked away, tucked in a corner of your soul like something sacred and shameful all at once.

But now, sitting here, watching Zayne shrink into his chair, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d tainted him, too. Dragged him into a history he had no business being part of.

Was it you? Or was it this damn bar? Maybe both were cursed. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom, muttering something about needing a moment, but really you just needed to slam your head gently against a stall door and splash cold water over your face. Anything to snap yourself out of whatever spiral this was.

You stood in front of the mirror, blinking hard, like maybe the reflection would shift. That maybe you’d look solid again—real, awake and breathing. But as you smoothed your hair, you really looked. For the first time in what felt like ages.

The circles beneath your eyes were deeper than you remembered, carved in like bruises you forgot to cover. The spark behind those same eyes had vanished, a dull, empty quiet staring back. The color in your cheeks had faded, drained from your skin like it had somewhere better to be.

Where had it gone?

With him.

Your life went with him.

You walked back out to find Zayne at the bar, settling the tab. His expression was unreadable, but it didn’t take much to tell—there wasn’t a smile left in him tonight. His eyes were low, his mouth set in a line.

This was going to be a long ride home.

And it was. Long. Silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t just quiet, but loud in all the wrong ways. The kind that pressed against your ears and made your throat tight. The air in the car felt thick, like you couldn’t swallow a breath. 

Would it have killed him to turn on the radio? Like, just a song? Was he that mad at you for dragging him somewhere out of his comfort zone?

The answer was yes.

“Listen,” Zayne said as the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment. “Can we talk for a second?”

You knew what was coming.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You replied, turning toward him with a hollowness in your voice. There wasn’t any way this night could get worse.

He let out a breath, one of those slow exhales people do when they’re trying not to make something worse than it already is. His hands fell to his lap, unsure, then found the wheel again.

“You’re great,” he started, eyes fixed somewhere ahead, like looking at you would make it harder. “You’re really sweet. Kind. But I think…” A pause. A swallow.  “I think we’re headed in different directions, two very different people.”

That damn bar.

“Yeah.” You repeat again, hand reaching for the door, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You’re great though.”

I heard you the first time, you want to say.

Instead you just nod, climbing out of the car and heading inside. 

When you see his car pulling away through the glass of the lobby doors, something inside you gives out. The tears come hot and fast, spilling before you even reach the elevator. You don’t care who sees.

The couple down the hall pauses mid conversation, shifting awkwardly as they juggle grocery bags and avoid your eyes. The old woman waiting by the elevator doesn’t look away—after a second, she rifles through her purse and presses a butterscotch candy into your palm.

You thank her as you both take the elevator up. She doesn’t say a word, just gives you that soft, knowing look only age can shape. The kind that says heartbreak is universal, and survivable.

You’re still crying when you reach your door, fumbling with the keys through blurred vision. The tears come in waves now—messy, relentless—and you’re not even sure what they’re for anymore. It’s like a year’s worth of grief, pressed down and packed tight, finally burst free all at once.

It wasn’t really about Zayne. You’d known for a while you didn’t belong in the future he was building, and he wasn’t ever really yours to begin with. But tonight? Of all nights?

Really, karma? You think, bitterly. Was this supposed to be funny?

When you finally get inside, something feels off. You pause, your hand still on the doorknob. It was light out when you left—had you accidentally turned a light on? You don’t remember doing that. The glow from the kitchen spills out like an omen.

You shut the door slowly, silently, and that’s when you hear it—a shuffle.

Your body locks up. Heart in your throat, you reach for the pepper spray on your keys, hand trembling.

Of course. Of course. Out of all the godforsaken nights for your apartment to get broken into—it had to be tonight. Because why wouldn’t it be. 

What luck!

You catch a quick movement—and without thinking, you lunge, instinct taking over. A desperate swing in self defense. But just as fast, you’re caught. Arms wrap around you, pinning you back against the body of whoever’s in your home.

This is it, you think, panic thundering in your chest. This is how I go. What a night to die.

But then—

“Easy, kitten.”

The world stops. Your entire body goes rigid.

That voice.

That goddamn voice.

A voice you haven’t heard in thirteen months and twenty eight days. Not that you were counting. You tried to stop counting—god, you did—but the days clung to you like dust in sunlight. Every hour ticked by like a relentless grandfather clock, towering in the corner of your mind, never breaking and never missing a chime.

Always ringing.

Always reminding you.

And there it was again. Smooth as velvet, soft like the worn fur of a childhood bear. It wrapped around you with the grasp of memory, gentle and impossible to forget. Like your favorite song buried deep in your mind, untouched for years, and yet the moment it plays—you remember every note, every breath, every rise and fall. 

You don’t know if you want to turn around. There’s a part of you that’s afraid he won’t actually be there, that if you look, you’ll just be staring at an empty room or some figment your mind cooked up to fill the silence—because maybe you’re imagining him again. After the night you’ve had, it wouldn’t be too far off. 

Maybe you’re just tired, emotional, and your brain is pulling memories of your ex out of storage. And honestly, with the way things have gone, that would be exactly your kind of luck.

You’re yanked out of your spiral when he turns you around, slow and careful. And there it is—his face. That same stupidly beautiful, maddeningly familiar face. The one that made you laugh, made you cry. 

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

You don’t know whether to swing at him for breaking into your apartment or hold onto him so tight you melt into his bones—crawl into his skin, make a home in his ribs. Never leave his side again.

He searches your face, stares at you like he’s just as unsure of your existence as you are his. 

You take a step back, putting some space between you, letting your eyes scan him like they might find something new. But he’s the same. Same worn coat, same styled hair he swore looked better like that, same silver “S” hanging from his neck. But his eyes—they match yours, tired and drained. Like everything of the past year sits on his chest, just like it does on yours. And suddenly, he doesn’t look so untouchable anymore. He looks just as haunted.

It’s on you, if you’re being honest. Sure, he said some things that cut deep, and yeah, you were exhausted—mentally and emotionally by that point. But you’re the one who tossed three years away like they didn’t matter. Like they were disposable. One angry moment, one impulsive decision, and it was all over. You didn’t stop to think about what it would do to him—or to you. And when the dust settled, you were too damn proud to go back, to say you messed up, to admit that walking away wasn’t really what you wanted. You both lost something special, because pride got in the way. Because despite all the arguments, he was your person. And you were his.

“I made coffee,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“At this time of night?” you reply, eyebrows lifting but not really questioning it. 

You can’t find it in you to ask how he got in, or even why he’s here. The words don’t form, caught somewhere between exhaustion and surrender. Tonight has taken too much out of you—emotionally, mentally, physically. You’re too drained to be angry, too hollow to press for answers. And maybe, deep down, you don’t really want to know. Maybe pretending is easier.

Pretending you came home from a hard night, and he was here, waiting for you like he used to. Like nothing ever fell apart between you. Like the months without him hadn’t happened, like the space between you two had never formed in the first place.

You know it's ridiculous. 

Definitely unhealthy. 

But in this moment, you don't care. You're tired—so, so tired—and the comfort of familiarity, even a fractured one, feels like the only thing keeping you upright. Because maybe you're a little crazy. Or maybe you’re just lonely. Maybe you’ve spent so long missing him in silence that your heart doesn’t know how to stop.

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite get there. And that’s when it hits you—since seeing him today, not once has he worn that usual smug grin he always carried so effortlessly. No teasing, no playful glint in his eye. Just this look, like you’re something out of a dream. Like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and he doesn’t fully believe it. Like you’re some kind of miracle, and he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really standing there.

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where two mugs sit on the counter. You stop when you notice them—your matching mugs, the ones you picked out during that trip, the ones shaped like a cat and a crow. You remember how you practically screamed when you saw them, all excited like a kid in a candy store. Of course, he bought them for you, because that was just who he was. 

He’d do anything for you.

You don’t know why you’ve kept them, not after everything. But there are certain things, small things, that you can’t bring yourself to let go of. These mugs are one of them. They hold too many memories—too many nights spent tangled in blankets during movie marathons, too many late night conversations at the kitchen table over cups of coffee just like this.

And the moment you take that first sip, you realize—he still knows exactly how you like it.

Sylus leans against the counter, watching you. Analyzing. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You mumble over the rim of your mug. He raises an eyebrow in surprise before standing up straight, rolling his shoulders back as if he's gathering the confidence to speak his mind. It’s strange to see Sylus like this—like he has to work up the courage to say something, something you’ve never seen him do before.

"Who was the guy you were with tonight?" He takes a drink. 

You scoff. "Sylus, be for real."

"Is he your boyfriend?" He sets his mug down a bit too forcefully.

"You really broke into my apartment over a guy?"

"I asked you a question first, sweetie."

"Fine." You roll your eyes, setting your mug down and crossing your arms. "No, he's not my boyfriend. Well, kind of. But whatever he was, he’s not anymore." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head at the irony. "Actually, he ended it outside."

"Is that why you were crying?" Sylus’s expression hardens, and you regret your choice of words for Zayne’s safety.

Sighing, you shrug, not really sure how to answer that. “No, I think that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.”

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

He was never great at comforting people, but Sylus was one of the most caring and empathetic people you’d ever known. He just wasn’t always good at showing it.

"I don’t know." You avoid his gaze, fingers tracing the rim of your mug. "I went to the bar tonight because I wanted to feel something. Feel a part of you again. And I don't think I realized just how much I missed you."

You surprised yourself with how easily the truth spilled out, after all this time. But that was always the way with him—honesty never felt like work. It came naturally, like breathing. You used to hate that about him, about what he brought out in you. Because maybe if you'd kept more to yourself, held your tongue a little tighter, you wouldn’t have fought so much. Maybe silence would’ve saved you both some hurt.

"Seeing you again brought everything back, and it was just a lot all at once. Then I got dumped after all of that. Kind of felt shitty."

You were ready for him to bite back, make a remark that would start a fight. Say something about how all of this was your fault anyways. Ignite the flame. 

Honestly, you kind of wanted him to. Wanted to feel some sort of sick piece of your previous life together.

But he didn’t. Just pressed his lips into a line while he paused to think. 

“I’m sorry.”

The apology felt foreign, strange even, coming from him. He was never one to admit he was wrong, and for a moment, you wondered if this was one of the rare times you’d ever hear him say he was sorry.

“For... what?" Confusion flickered across your face. It was painfully clear for once he wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

"I'm sorry things ended that way."

You weren't sure if he was talking about the night or the entire relationship, but as you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, you whispered, "I'm sorry that it ended at all."

Sylus finally smiled—really smiled—the kind of grin that cracked through the solemn silence like sunlight after a storm. Like he’d been holding his breath this entire time, just waiting for you to say those words.

You lifted your hand, stopping him before the moment could get ahead of you. “The fight we had was stupid. And breaking up? That was impulsive. Irrational.” Your voice wavered. “And maybe... maybe you were right. Maybe I do just overreact.”

“No.” he said, already making his way to where you sat, each step careful, like approaching a wild thing.

“No?” you echo, blinking up at him.

“No,” he says again. “You were hurting. And I didn’t see it. That’s on me too.”

He kneels beside your chair, resting his hands on your knees like he used to when he had something serious to say. His eyes search yours, looking for anything and everything.

“I should’ve asked you what was wrong instead of trying to fix you like you were some project. I didn’t know how to handle you—us sometimes. But I never stopped—” His voice catches for a quick second. 

Sylus swallows hard, eyes glancing to the floor. “I never stopped thinking about you. Missing you. Hoping you were okay.”

You stare at him, heart tight in your chest. You want to say something but your throat burns with unshed tears, eyes stinging and cheeks hot.

He lifts his hand, hesitant, brushing his fingers just barely against yours. “I don’t want to keep pretending like losing you didn’t tear something out of me.”

You don’t even realize your hand is moving until it’s already holding his. It fits the same way it always did—like nothing had changed, and everything had.

“Then don’t,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to each of your fingers, then lingers at the inside of your wrist like he’s afraid to let go. 

“Come back to me, sweetie. Please.”

You lower yourself to the floor beside him, knees brushing the cold tile as you refuse to let him bear the weight of this alone. He didn’t belong down there—not without you. If blame was to be shared, so was the burden. You had always been equals, and you’d meet him where he was, just like always.

Gently, you take his face in your hands, cradling it like something fragile. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks as you tilt his head from side to side, memorizing the features you never truly forgot.

He’s Sylus. He’s home. He’s your heart and soul.

“I never really left,” you whisper.

Sylus leans in, slowly and carefully—just enough for his nose to brush again yours, a quiet question hanging in the air between you. Not demanding, just hoping and waiting.

You close the space with a kiss, gentle and unsure at first, like trying on a memory. But the moment your lips meet, it all comes rushing back—how seamlessly you fit. Like you were made with the shape of him in mind.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, tentative at first, then grounding. The kiss deepens just a little, and it’s not desperate. It’s not about lust. It’s about grief and forgiveness, about missing someone so deeply that your soul aches and yearns to touch theirs again.

Yeah, that doesn’t last long.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But suddenly your hands are tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer like the space between you is unbearable. Like air doesn’t matter if he isn’t in it.

His lips crash back into yours with more urgency this time—less hesitation, more ache. It’s not soft anymore. It’s desperate. Months of wanting, of regret, of missing, all boiling to the surface and spilling out through every touch, every kiss, every small gasp between breaths.

Sylus groans against your lips, his hands everywhere at once—your hips, your back, your jaw—as though he can’t decide what to touch first, only that he has to. Your fingers slide under his shirt, palms skimming fever warm skin, and he shudders like the contact burns. He decides on one hand sliding up your back, the other buried in your hair as if to anchor himself there. You let him. You want him to. You want to feel all of it—everything you’ve been pushing down since the moment he got dragged out of that door a year ago.

When he pulls you into his lap, it’s not gentle. It’s a need—as if not having you near him physically hurts. 

At least, it hurts you.

Your thighs cradle his like instinct, and your bodies slot together like they never really stopped belonging to each other. Like you’re two atoms destined to combine.

The kiss deepens, grows messier—teeth and tongue clashing. Breath shared like oxygen. You’re not even kissing anymore, not really. You’re devouring, rediscovering. Worshipping with your mouths. He breaks only to gasp, to mutter your name like hes singing a psalm, saying a prayer, like he’s drowning in the taste of you.

“You didn’t waste any time,” you pant, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

He grins against your mouth, finally giving you that signature, smug smirk he wears so damn well. “I’ve had thirteen months and twenty eight days to starve, kitten.”

Your laugh is breathless, and it breaks against him as your hips roll forward just once. He chokes on a gasp and grips you harder, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat, dragging teeth and tongue and heat as he goes.

Clothes shift. Shirts inch upward, skin revealed in patches, in hurried grazes of fingers that tremble with the weight of too much time passed. You could cry from the way he touches you—like he’s both reverent and ravenous. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again if he blinks.

Sylus.

Sylus.

Sylus.

“I missed you,” he says, and the words hit you like a lightning strike—hot and electric. It’s enough to draw a sound from your throat, a soft whimper at how deeply you feel it, in your heart and your core. Like music played in a key only your body recognizes, a melody you’ve been yearning to hear.

Because he wanted you all this time as badly as you wanted him.

No, he needed you. And hearing it now, in that voice, in this moment, feels like being set free.

Set free from all of that guilt and pain that’s been haunting you like a vice.

You cup his face again, thumbs sweeping over skin you used to call home. The skin you’ll call home once again. “Then take me back,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “Right here. However you need.”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t remember standing—you don’t think you did. All you know is the feel of Sylus’ arms wrapped around you; he carries you down the hallway like muscle memory, navigating your space with the ease of someone who never truly left. And in that moment, all you can think is, ‘please don’t leave again.’

He’s on you again before you can exhale—lips crashing to yours like he’s been waiting to breathe, to feel, since the moment you left. Since that moment the cops had to practically drag him out of your front door.

It’s desperate, disheveled, the kind of hunger that comes from months of lonely nights and phantom memories traced on cold sheets. Nights where you buried your face in the pillow that still held the faint shape of where he used to sleep, moaning into the echo of him, aching and wet for the hands that weren’t there.

And now, they were.

You backpedal until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he follows you down with a gentleness that betrays the way his hands feel when they touch your skin. You fall together, mouths never parting, tangled limbs pressed into the mattress that hasn’t known this kind of weight in far too long.

Your shirt peels away, slow and careful. As if he’s trying to savor every second, like this will never happen again. 

It will—it has to. You may die if you have to go through separation again.

He stares at you like he’s seen heaven and hell and finally made it back to the beginning. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice ragged. He’s barely holding himself together, a fierceness in his eyes that makes you think he may eat you alive.

You hope he does.

You reach up, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him back down to you with need. “Then stop looking,” you mutter against his lips. “Start remembering.”

Clothes come off in stuttered gasps—half laughed, half moaned—as if each layer is a wall you’re tearing down together. Skin meets skin, the kind of touch that makes you feel tethered again. Anchored to something. 

Someone.

Sylus’ mouth traces a path along your collarbone, down the hollow of your throat, over the curve of your ribs. He bites, he sucks, leaving behind a pattern of bruises and blooming marks—claiming you in color. Like jewelry only he could give you, like tattoos etched in heat that say, without words, mine. You arch into him, a whimper escaping you, and he groans in response—low and guttural.

He sinks between your thighs like a man starved returning to his favorite meal, settling into the place he’s always called home. A low, satisfied sigh escapes him—as if the world’s weight has finally lifted now that he’s right where he belongs. His hands grip your hips like an anchor, grounding himself in your heat, in you. 

He trails open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, nipping at the tender flesh as a warning when you push towards his face.

When he finally buries himself in the place you’ve ached for most, it’s not gentle—it’s ravenous. He devours you like he’s been starving, like every second apart built up into this fevered need to taste and claim. His tongue moves with purpose—etching your name in cursive, apologies, confessing I love you in strokes and swirls only your body can understand.

You’re flushed, burning from the inside out, your skin damp and glowing like firelight. It’s heaven, you’re sure of it—though the way Sylus tears into you with sinful devotion, he might just be a demon sent to drag pleasure out of you until you forget your own name.

But don’t worry, he’ll spell it back out for you. Again, and again, and again.

Your moans pour from your lips, unrestrained and embarrassingly loud, the room echoing with every gasp and whimper. But you’re desperate, and past caring. It’s been too long. You missed this—missed him—the way Sylus touches you like he was made to, the way he knows your body better than you ever could. Missed the way he always, always finds his way back to you.

You haven’t felt this good in ages.

It doesn’t take long—your body coils tight, then shatters, release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision whites out, ears ringing with the force of it. You try to push him away, trembling hands lost in his hair, but he just smirks against your skin like the devil he is.

“One more?” he murmurs, low and wicked. It’s shaped like a question, but you both know it isn’t. It’s a promise. A command. A sentence you’re more than willing to serve.

His arms tighten around your thighs as he drags you back to him, wearing your legs like a crown, worshipping you like a man possessed. His mouth doesn’t stop—it never stops—and you break apart again, undone and helpless beneath the weight of his hunger.

You cry out his name, babbling through the overstimulation, letting the walls shake with the sound of it. Let the neighbors hear. Let the world know. You’re his—you’ve always been. And now, with his mouth rewriting every nerve in your body, you know you’ll never be anything else.

When he finally pulls back, your body is trembling, skin electric. It’s like the universe was reborn beneath your skin—like some celestial detonation bloomed inside you and scattered your bones into stardust. Every nerve feels like it’s glowing, every inch of you humming with aftershocks, like you’ve been rewritten molecule by molecule in his name.

You’re not sure if you're floating or falling, only that Sylus is your anchor in a sky full of stars he put there.

He moves back up your body slowly, this time trailing kisses along your skin like he’s putting you back together with his mouth. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you gently—like you’re something fragile and precious.

In his eyes, you are.

There’s nothing rushed now. The hunger’s still there, sure—it burns under the surface like wildfire—but it’s laced with something softer, sadder. Like you’re making up for lost time. For all the nights you didn’t have this. All the apologies neither of you knew how to give until now.

Your chest is still rising and falling, breath uneven from the waves that just crashed over you, when he finally presses against you—trembling with restraint. His hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward his. He searches your eyes, desperately looking for anything that says no, anything that tells him to stop. There’s fear in his gaze, quiet and vulnerable—terrified this might be too good to be real.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

Instead, you nod, certain, and push your hips toward his like an answer he’s been begging for. Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead.

And when he finally sinks into you—not just physically but emotionally—it’s not about sex. It’s about return. 

Reunion. 

The sacred act of becoming known again, flesh and heart and harmony folding back into one another.

You cling to him like you might fall apart otherwise. He holds you like he’s scared you already have.

Your head tips back with a moan, mouth parted as pleasure ripples through you. He presses a kiss just beneath your ear tenderly, like he’s trying to keep you from floating too far away. “Stay with me, sweetie.”

As if you could be anywhere else.

His movements are slow—painfully slow—the kind of rhythm that feels like he’s savoring every second, every inch of you. He’s chasing something deeper than pleasure—he’s trying to feel all of you, to touch the parts of you he lost when you walked away. But even then, it’s not enough. God, it’s never enough.

You meet him halfway, hips rising to meet his, your body pleading before your voice even does.

“Sylus, please,” you whimper, voice cracking.

One of his hands slides down, gripping your hip harder, pulling you to him. “Tell me what you need,” he rasps, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it, sweetie. I’ll give you everything.”

And you know he would. You could ask for a kiss, a kingdom, his last breath—he’d give it without hesitation. He’d peel the stars from the sky just to light your way home. He’d carve out his heart, wrap it in gold leaf, and place it on a priceless platter if it meant seeing you smile.

Sylus made you greedy—gave you a gold thumb. He spoiled you without hesitation, fed your hunger. And he reveled in it. Got off on the way you used him, adored how you took and took, because giving to you was the only thing that ever felt right.

Your fingers thread through his hair like you’re spinning silk, tugging at the silver strands. You press open mouthed kisses along his jaw, his cheek—anything you can reach while writhing beneath the weight of him. “Quit going so slow,” you whisper, breath hitching with every drag of his hips, “you’re gonna kill me.”

You knew exactly what you were signing up for the moment he chuckled against your lips—low, dark, dangerous. He shifted you easily, legs hooked tight around his waist. Then, with a teasing snap of his hips, he drove forward, and the sharp gasp that tore from your throat was instant, involuntary.

You barely had time to say his name before his arms locked around your body—thrusting into you with a punishing rhythm, fast and merciless. It felt like he was trying to brand you from the inside out, like he was trying to replace every cell in your body with the shape of him.

If this was how you died, gasping his name, your body split open with pleasure and your heart cracked wide, then so be it. There was no holier death than this—than being completely, utterly taken by the man you loved.

His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting go. And you clawed your nails down his back until you were sure you’d drawn blood—your bodies leaving marks like they were writing poems on each other’s skin.

It wouldn’t be the first time you two had broken a bed—and at this rate, it wouldn’t be the last. Not that he cared. He’d buy you a hundred more without blinking. Hell, he’d buy you a house just to ruin every room in it. He’ll put a baby in you right now to turn that house into a home, just to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Sylus groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And you? You could only hold on, begging for more through breathless moans, because you knew—no one would ever fuck you like he did.

With every thrust, he drove you deeper into the mattress, your fingers twisting in his hair. You could feel the tears streaking your cheeks, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming rush of it all—of him, of pleasure. It was too much and not enough all at once. You’d never felt so full. So wanted. So his.

Your mascara was probably a mess, your lips swollen from kissing and your heart aching from the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

“Sylus,” you gasped, barely able to breathe through it. “Oh, fuck—”

You were close, clinging to him like your body knew this was it. That after all the nights apart, all the words left unsaid, this was where you were meant to be.

His pace faltered for just a moment, a soft hiss through his teeth as you tightened around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and shaky. You felt him everywhere—his hands, his heart, his love.

You shattered around him, sobbing as your climax overtook you, nearly screaming. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was months of longing, of everything you’d buried now clawing its way to the surface.

All you could think about was him.

His name, carved into your mind like scripture.

His eyes, the way they always burned through you, even when he tried to hide it.

That damned smirk—infuriating and addictive.

The scent of his cologne clinging to your sheets, haunting you even after he left.

His old jacket, the one you swore you hated but wore every chance you got.

The booth in the back corner of the bar where he first kissed you like he meant it.

Everything about him hit you at once—your body, your mind, your heart. Like coming home after wandering lost for far too long.

He followed suit, pulling you so close you half expected to disappear into him entirely. Like your skin was made for his and your bones had always bent to make room for him; as if you were his lifeline—and if that were true, he’d never sign a DNR. He’d beg the universe to keep you beating.

He clung to you like salvation, chanting your name between breathless gasps like a mantra. You were his altar, his ritual, his divine obsession.

His hips finally stilled, buried so deep inside you it felt like you’d been stitched together. His breath was shaky, chest rising and falling against yours, sweat slick skin pressing close as your hearts raced in unison.

And then he kissed you—the kind of kiss meant to seal a vow. It was quiet, sweet, full of all the things he didn’t know how to say.

I love you. I’m sorry. I’m yours.

So you say it—for the first time in thirteen months and twenty eight days.

“I love you.”

It slips out as a whisper, your voice rough, frayed at the edges. But there’s no hesitation in it. No fear. It’s the most certain thing you’ve ever said in your life.

Sylus freezes, eyes locked on yours, like those three words shattered and rebuilt him in real time. And then he exhales, relieved.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your jaw. “Say it again,” he murmurs, almost afraid it was a fluke. A dream he’d blink and lose.

You smile, “I love you.” And this time it’s louder. Stronger.

“I love you too.”

He says it like a vow, a promise, then begins to pepper kisses across your face—each one a quiet apology for every day he went without touching you. Each one a reminder: I’m here. I’m back. I never stopped loving you.

You start to drift, the weight of the night settling into your bones, your body warm and sore and sated. Sleep tugs at you gently. But then Sylus nips playfully at your cheek, and his voice, low and teasing, curls against your ear. “Not yet, sweetie. Let me get you cleaned up.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “No, I’ll shower in the morning.”

But you don’t stop him when he pulls away, don’t open your eyes as he disappears briefly and returns with a warm cloth, gentle as ever. He moves with care, cleaning both of you in the quiet hush of the room.

When he’s done, you reach out, fingers circling his wrist like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t. “Don’t go,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “Stay here.”

Sylus leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, that soft smile tugging at his lips—the one he only ever wore for you. “Where else would I go,” he whispers, “if not here with you?”

He climbs back into bed and pulls you into his arms like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His fingers slide into your hair, cradling the back of your head, guiding you to rest against his chest. You breathe him in, his scent, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart under your ear—home, in every way that matters.

Sleep comes easy like that, safe in his arms, as if nothing could ever take him away again.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, and your stomach dropped. For a second, it felt like none of it had happened. Like you'd imagined it all in some sleep deprived dream.

You thought you were going to have to call a therapist for psychosis.

But then you noticed the dent in the pillow beside you. The sheets were still messy, warm where he’d been. And then you heard it—the faint sound of something clinking in the kitchen.

He hadn’t left.

You lay back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, heart slowly steadying. He was still here. After everything, he was still here.

It was strange how easy it felt, slipping back into something that used to be second nature. The routine. The comfort. The quiet knowing that someone else was there. It didn’t feel forced or awkward. 

It just was.

And maybe that said something. Maybe that was enough proof that this wasn’t a mistake. That loving each other had never been the problem. That the space between then and now hadn’t broken anything that couldn’t be fixed.

After one night, it was like everything was finding its place again.

You crawl out of bed and grab the shirt he left on the floor—It smells like him, that familiar mix of expensive cologne and soap that always lingered on your skin long after he was gone. 

The apartment smells like coffee and something frying. You can already guess what it is. He never cooked with precision—just intention. Eggs were his go to, even if they were usually either barely set or borderline burnt. But he tried. He always did.

You pad quietly down the hallway and stop in the kitchen doorway. He doesn’t notice you right away—he’s too focused, standing at the stove with his back to you. Shirtless, muscles shifting with every little movement. He’s wearing those pajama pants. His pajama pants. The ones you stole and swore you’d thrown out during some emotional cleanse, only to find them months later shoved behind your laundry basket. You never brought yourself to toss them again.

They hang low on his hips now, like they never left.

You lean against the doorframe, just watching him for a second. Listening to the sound of him cook, the birds chirping with the morning sun outside, and the peaceful quiet that this life brought you. 

It was home again.

“Like what you see?” Sylus says without turning around. You’re not sure how long he’s known you were standing there, but then again, he always knew. Could feel you without looking—like you were some extension of him, stitched into the same thread.

You walk up behind him and slip your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to the warm skin between his shoulder blades. “Maybe.”

He chuckles low in his chest, then reaches forward to turn off the stove. In one fluid motion, he spins in your hold, facing you. That smug grin is already there, the one you used to pretend annoyed you. His eyes sweep over you, stopping at the oversized shirt you’re swimming in.

You glance over at the table. The same old mugs. A bowl of fruit. Two plates—simple, a little uneven, but made with care.

“You didn’t have a lot to work with, kitten,” he adds, brushing a piece of hair from your face, “Someone hasn’t been buying groceries.”

You kiss his jaw, lazy and slow, still waking up. “Doesn’t matter. You showed up. That’s enough.”

“Then sit.”

You snort, let him guide you to the table, and as you sit, you watch him pour your coffee the way you like it—still remembering. Still yours.

You two sit in silence—soft, easy. The fruit’s a little mushy, the eggs slightly too done, but not enough to matter. Sylus sits across from you, half smiling, half watching.

‘This is it’, you think. ‘This is the life.’

You think, for a moment, that maybe you should ask him how he’s been. Catch up like normal people. Trade stories from the months apart—what he’s done, what he’s seen, what you missed between the snapshots friends posted with him barely in the frame.

But only one question makes it past the swirl in your chest.

“Sylus,” you say, folding your arms and leaning over the table, eyes narrowing. He mirrors you, brow lifting in challenge. “Yes?”

“How the hell did you get into my apartment?”

He laughs—loud and unbothered. He juts his chin toward the counter where, sure enough, a single key lies.

“I still have that,” he says, far too smug.

You gasp, lurching forward to swat his shoulder. “Why didn’t you give that back?”

“You never asked for it, sweetie.” He shrugs, leaning in like he’s telling a secret. “Besides… I figured it might come in handy one day.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Mm,” he hums, biting into a slice of melon. “And yet, here I am. Still your favorite bad decision.”

You scoff, sipping your coffee to cover your laugh. And maybe he is. Maybe he always has been.

But as you sit there with him, sunlight pouring in and the scent of overcooked eggs lingering in the air, it will never feel like a mistake at all.

[ramonathinks]

HIGHEST BIDDER.

summary: tired of your virginity, you decide to auction it off — but you weren’t thinking it would be leader of the notorious group, onychinus who offers the most money of $10,000,000.

cw// 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo. wc: 5.3k

tagging: @lvminy @kissxcore @sunasbon @preciousamethyst (hope it’s okay to tag you guys 🥹🫶🏾) @satorubi

You could only assume it was Luke or Kieran who had told Sylus where you were and perhaps what you were up to. Or maybe it was that damn crow, who insisted you stayed inside. But really, it didn’t matter who said anything because Sylus was grabbing you before a single hand flew up. 

“10 million.” His voice was sharp — a hint of anger, annoyance and frustration on him, it oozed off his body and with the dazzling ruby eyes of him staring everyone down… they got the hint that he was throwing around. He was pissed. Too pissed to hear what anyone else had to say. Power rolled off of him in waves everyday but it was obvious that this day, and this girl and this place was provoking him. 

The auctioneer's lips trembled in his presence. “T-ten million going at once.” He awkwardly scanned the room, not a cough of a mumble was heard. “Going twice.” Breads of sweat gathered around his forehead and he swallowed. “Sold!” He exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly in Slyus’ direction, guiding the both of you towards a secluded area.

He scoffed and tightened his grip on your body, it took him little to no effort to hand over his card and in a few seconds the transaction was completed; a portion for them and the bigger sum of the money going to you. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you briefly. 

You couldn’t help but feel like the stupidest person ever and perhaps at this moment… you were. Being stuck inside and with nowhere to go most days because of the claims of dangers awaiting you, it was tiring. Plus, you had urges, like anyone else – womanly and carnal urges, desires and fantasies. You couldn’t help yourself when Luke mentioned it in passing and Kieran slapped him on the head telling him to shut up about it; it was simply interesting and something Linkon City would’ve never allowed. 

You hated the silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” Walking out of the pale building and to the dark cold outside, moving close to his motorcycle. Looking around you think about how the tenebrific ambience that’s casted over this place, it really wasn’t the same as where you grew up, time moves differently here, almost. 

“You went into the N109 Zone alone, potentially putting yourself in danger and you want to know if I’m mad at you?” He speaks with a hard tone, his touch scorching hot against your arm, his touch addicting. “Of all the times to be reckless…” He does a heavy sigh, followed by pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He’s handing you a helmet and putting his own, sitting down and waiting for your arms to wrap around his waist before he drives off. The wind rushes through you swiftly and no matter how many times you’re on his motorcycle, you can’t help but to feel fear course through every fiber of your body. 

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with him and it moved especially fast being on his motorcycle, he drove dangerously and it always led to you clinging more closer to him than you realized. 

Upon making it back, you jumped off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet, shaking your hair to make sure it looked halfway decent. 

Stepping back inside of the Headquarters of Onychinus, Luke popped his head around the corner and you mustered up the angriest glare that you could make him cower away. You could hear him and Kieran chattering about something. “No use in being mad at them, you brought this on to yourself.” Sylus told you, ushering you into his room.

You just sighed, sitting with your legs crossed on a singular chair that was near a small table in the room. The air felt more tense and uncomfortable than the other times you were here and you couldn’t help but to think of how for once you wished that Mephisto was here so that you wouldn’t be alone with him, not with this temper he clearly had. “Listen Sylus, it was a stupid thing and I know that—”

Lightening wasn’t as quick as him when he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. Nothing with him was ever warm and inviting, always hard and even a bit mean but luckily not forceful. His tongue licked at your lips and you complied with no hesitation. His tongue felt hot against your own, it sent flames up your body and you could feel everything in the pit of your stomach and to your throat. When he pulled away, he looked at you and from the way he smirked… you knew you looked out of it. Your eyes alone felt heavy and your knees were wobbling, too weak to stand. With your eyes on his, you watched the dazzling red become harder to look away from. 

The voices came strong and with a clear message: “fuck him… fulfill your desires…” they spoke to you and you both loved and hated the throbbing sensation that followed. You wanted to remind yourself that he was an enemy… it was too hard to do when he looked like he did and with a voice as deep and rich, it was almost unbearable. Yes, he was an enemy but you couldn’t lie to yourself; you knew the real reason you went to the auction was to make him jealous. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you react the way it does but it burns inside of you and to your very core. 

When the light from his eye dimmed and with rapid blinks you were back and felt more stable. “Your little mind always tells me more than your lips do. If you wanted me… I would’ve given you all of me with no hesitation.” It sounded like a promise and it swayed you, you leaned into his arms. “I can try to be gentle.” He whispered close to you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sylus,” His name trembles out of your lips. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt too vulnerable in his presence but the truth slipped from your lips so fast as if you were forced to.

He looked as if something took over him, desire deep in his ruby eyes and you couldn’t look away from him, too turned on. “Take your clothes off.” His husky voice said above you. He didn’t move, just watched you shuffle your clothes off until you were in nothing but your panties; when you moved to take those off, it was then that he stopped you. “I’ll handle the rest.” He assured you before he laid you down — your head on his soft black pillows and your body rigid. 

You don’t know where the knife came from until it’s rubbing up your calf and moving its way up to your underwear, the cool metal piercing your skin just barely. Your breathing labored and measured, trying not to show your fear but it was failing you. “Stay still, I would hate to nick your pretty skin.” The knife tickled your thighs when he finally snipped open the front that held your secret possession.

He groaned at the sight, audible and bit his lips to contain himself more. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. There was a smile so deep on his lips as he spread your lips open for him to see. “You ever touched down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes. “Show me.”

“H-huh?” You stuttered out. “I can’t just…” 

“Just show me what you normally do… when you’re all alone… in your room…under the covers.” He says it slowly, letting you absorb every word he says.

You’re bare and can feel just how comfortable his comforter set was. Your cunt wet and inviting but his eyes stay on yours, which makes it harder for you to breathe. “I just kinda just do…” Clumsily you spread your lips and simply slid your fingers around yourself, barely focusing on your clit but already overwhelmed. “But I can’t make myself cum, ‘m too sensitive.” His eyes transfixed on your fingers and pussy as you work yourself, your face contorting between pleasure and something else before you stop, heavily breathing. 

“Oh? No wonder you’re so unsatisfied, you don’t know your own body. Good thing I’m here to help.” He’s closer, sitting at the end of the bed yet so close to you. He spreads your legs and you can see a glimpse of excitement dancing in his eyes. He inspects you – stroking up your legs and inching his way up and down your thighs, ignoring how with every touch your breath hitches and your toes curl. “I haven’t even touched you that much and you’re already a mess.” He spreads you; opens you up and closes your folds again completely immersed in the gushy noises that follows.

“This,” Sylus says, spreading your sticky lips apart and his breathing getting heavier. “This is your pretty little clit.” He taps the bud with the rough pads of his fingers. “She sits right here behind these lips.” His fingers are lighting a fire and trailing it around your body. “Open these up again… and this,” you gasp, his fingers sitting right in the spot you never touch. “This twitching little hole? That’s where I’m going to fill you up.” He chuckles humorously, circling the hole and gathering the leaking wetness there, your hips rising on their own accord before he pulls away. 

“Now, your turn.” 

“But I—” You’re close to tears, wetness gathered at your lash line daring to fall. “I can’t, I don’t think I can do it like you.” You hated how needy you sounded and how clingy you were being. 

“I hardly did anything. Just simple touches, to show you where everything was. Pleasure points that you should follow. Did you want more? Did you like how I touched you, little one?” You couldn’t help but to gasp at the nickname, it filled your body with more wetness and he watched it leak down to his sheets. 

Your insides continue to flutter at the name and your face feels hot. “This is what you paid for right? Might as well get your fill from it.” You try to sound bold and intimidating but his demeanor just softens at your attempt. 

“As you wish.” He bends down and cups your cheek before placing a delicate kiss on your lips and you can’t help but to squeal a bit at the warmth that his lips bring you. His fingers brush your face before he moves his mouth down to your neck, licking a stripe before sucking on your skin. You can feel his lips curling into a smile at every noise you make. “I could do this all day… but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure you’ll make even better noises when I touch here.” Cupping the palm of his hand and gently slapping it against your core, your back arches and a whiny moan slips out. 

“See? So much better.” You hate the smug look on his face, his red eyes radiant in the dim room staring you down makes you self conscious and ready to hide yourself from him. “I’m going to put my fingers right here,” His breath tickling your core. “Then my tongue, okay?”

You just nod…unable to speak, he watches your face and holds his fingers up to your lips.“Put 'em in your mouth for me, get' em all wet…” Your tongue slides between them, saliva spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Good girl,” he patted your head, ruffling your hair and you couldn’t help the feeling that took over you. Your mind was everywhere yet nowhere, just him… that was all your mind could think of and be consumed with. The praise had your body on a different kind of high.

He uses those same cool wet fingers to open you wider. Slowly dipping inside of you, circling your center and easing inside, making you tighten up. “Don’t clench, just relax. It’ll only hurt more if you do that.” You take a few deep breaths, allowing your chest to fill up and expand before a release. He spreads your lips and he just looks. There’s a hum on his lips before he kisses your clit; full tongue running across the sensitive area. Your back lifts and arches off the bed but putting his hand on your lower stomach – he forces you to take it. There’s a look in his eyes that’s daring you to disobey him and it makes your tummy flutter. 

He puts his full tongue against your clit and you try not to move but your body trembles. His fingers draw circles around your thighs, inching closer to your slit. It makes you realize that he was simply distracting you to alleviate the slight pain from when his fingers actually slipped inside. When they did, you gasped aloud. “Syl–us… please.” Your legs threatened to close but you forced yourself to keep them open and it took a lot out of you.

“Good girl.” He muttered, obviously appreciating your efforts. “So tight…” He tries to move his finger but you only flinch and groan, which makes him use two fingers from his opposite hand to rub lazy circles against your clit. That alongside your breathing helps your body relax and brings a lot of ease to you, opening yourself up. He slowly strokes your insides, taking his time to drag it forward and back, slipping it out before bringing it back inside. You can’t help but notice how eyes flicker from your lower half to your face occasionally but you don’t say anything. “Deep breath.” He tells you before he slips another finger in beside the other. 

You whine when he moves them both inside of you, your body rocking against his fingers with a circular motion of your hips. He opens them up before closing them again, you grip the sheets. He felt so deep inside of you with just his fingers… the real thing would be different – longer and thicker – you didn’t know if you were ready. “You’re overthinking aren't you? Just focus on how you’re feeling right now.” His eyes are on yours, his fingers curling inside of you so deliciously that you forget to breathe. When he takes them out, you feel incredibly empty, your hole clenching for more. You're huffing and shaking when you look his way again, he’s opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of you; playing with the slick that was there before he sucks them off. He slips them back inside, sliding them on your inner walls and pressing upwards – the pads of his fingers rubbing circles inside of your soft insides; which makes you squeeze his fingers tight. Rubbing your clit again to soothe you, he slowly curves them as he slips them out – you gasp at the feeling.

He grips your hips and forces you to slide down, his breath knocking the wind out of you when you feel it right by your slit. Your fingers tightly gripping the duvet in anticipation, awaiting his tongue. You gasp when his tongue circles over the hole, nudging there just a bit before he licks up a wet trail; moving back to your clit. He plants a small kiss on the pink throbbing bud, then another before he takes it in his mouth and sucks. His tongue moving around in shapes you can’t make out until you feel the hard S he craves in with his mouth, his head rocking against your legs. When the Y comes, he’s peeling back the hood of your clit and flicking the initial inside rapidly. He slides his face down before he finishes, he pulls your sticky lips apart and dives inside. The tip of his tongue sliding back and forth achingly and painfully slow, his head shaking to the sides when he licks upwards, curving his tongue to hit a particular spongy spot that makes your thighs shake. Your fingers now dig through his silvery hair, pulling when he does a harsh lick against your core. “Taste so good…” He mumbles, rolling your clit between his tongue.

The obscene noises that you hear comes from his mouth feasting on you – slurping, sucking and even the noises of his own groans. Groans that were akin to a dying man giving his last prayer, his groans were drowning out the sounds of your own moans. “I can’t take it–” Slushing sloppy noises are what drowns out your moans and pleads. “Sylus please…” You can feel your own wetness under your bottom and embarrassment floods through you, and at the right time his nose bumps into your clit and you grind into it more with a huff; nothing but useless babbling coming out of your mouth. Another lick causes your toes to curl and your body to twist and coil when a leaking orgasm passes through you; which doesn’t stop him from sucking everything that you have to offer. 

 His hair now disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it — his face sopping wet from your juices and you can’t help but look away from him, he sits completely upwards. “Look at me.” Your eyes back on his, biting your lip before you looked down at the bulge in his pants – it looked so big and your mouth ran dry. It was an accident and unconscious thing but you licked your lips while staring and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “You look really interested in pleasing me.” His brow is arched and his voice low. “This is going to be fun.” He said more to himself than you, standing and unzipping his pants. 

You were still completely naked yet he was clothed – almost fully – just his cock sitting out of his pants standing hard and proud against his stomach. This sight before you made you remember who was in power and just how much power you lacked. But wordlessly, you got on your knees. “You want it? Want my cock? ‘Can see how you’re panting for it.” He was truly condescending and knew how to put you in your place, but the way he made you cum made you see nothing but starlight and you wanted to please him.“Come and take what you want sweetie, take what you need.” You stared – 7 and a half inches of a tanned cock and two firm balls blocked your view of everything else – the tip leaking with white sticky precum dripping down. You trace your tongue up the sides, licking up anything you can to get the taste of him before you kiss the head; then you open your mouth around him and let your teeth run against the sides before you suck him in.

“Watch your teeth, kitten.” His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes, his shoulders growing relaxed, you take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand and give it a few gentle strokes. “And be careful around the— thehead.” He says when your tongue runs a circle around the tip and one wet suck. His face relaxes for a second and you can’t help but to look him over. You knew he was good looking but right now with pleasure all over him, he looks a thousand times better. 

The heaviness in your mouth felt so foreign but you welcomed it, the masculine salty taste that followed when you bobbled your head back and the way your cheeks puffed out because of him; it felt good. Your saliva dripped on the floor beneath you, your technique sloppy but when Sylus gripped the back of your head, you felt like you were on cloud nine. He gently guided you, pulling you forward and back – letting your mouth take him as deep as you can, before he pulled you back off. He inches himself inside, you suck and swallow around him, hearing him groan above you sent your body into a frenzy. You choke a bit but he keeps a steady pace to train your mouth again, muffled moans erupt from you when he moves your head again, hitting a deeper spot almost reaching the back of your throat. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed and a whine slipped through your lips, his praise making your thighs clench together. When he finally pulled you off, strings of spit broke off from your mouth and his dick. “I’m going to come inside of you.” He tells you, but you can barely register what he’s saying too far gone on your high of being used. You’re smiling a dopey grin and he squeezes the sides of your face to make you look at him, your glossy eyes in a permanent daze. “That was only the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Your voice is trembling and hoarse as you speak. You wanted to feel him cum inside of your throat but maybe you were being too greedy, your body swayed. He lifted you up from the floor, your knees burning. You lay there, your eyes droopy as you wait for him, all you hear is movement and a zipper before he returns to you. 

“You belong to me, got it?” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Your body is mine to please, to fuck with… to do whatever I want with. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.” His voice is hard and mean again, his jaw tense as he stares in your eyes.

“I knowww.” A whimper mixed with a whine comes from your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs. Your body trembles and you sniffle, it makes him cradle your hand in his hands.

“You’re shaking, are you that scared?” He asks you gently, as if you’re a flower who needs tending to. Your eyes wide but say nothing. He laced your fingers together, his hands covering the both of yours in an iron grip. “It’s okay kitten, I won’t hurt you.”

You yelp upon feeling a cool sensation hit your lower half, him rubbing it more inside. He’s hovering over you, his beautiful face watching over yours as he slides his cock over your pussy, not daring to push it inside. He just moves his hips well enough that you’re gasping every time, his tip bumps your clit and you bite your lip, your nails ready to pierce his back. You lean into his touch and he kisses your jaw, trailing them down and gently nibbling at your collarbone, sucking on the skin. “Relax,” He says, playing with your wet folds, he starts to play with your clit again and you shiver. “I’ll be gentle.” Did Sylus truly know the meaning of the word? You’re wailing when he slides just the head in, barely. Easing a small bit of his tip in and fucking you just a tiny bit. 

Then you feel him nudging more inside of you – his head thick and the squelching noises of him moving in make you tense up, but he whispers in your hair to calm you down and then you’re sucking him in. Your voice is gurgly when more of him slides in, a new found warmth inside of you. “Still so tight…” A strained groan fell from his lips, you reached from him with tears in your eyes. Sylus didn’t move, he rubbed your hair but stayed there then he did a tiny jerk of his hips, the stretch makes you sob, but you know that he’s only barely inside of you and that there was more to come. He tells you to take a deep breath and you listen, not wanting to be in any more pain; he slips more of it inside, a thumb on your clit. He presses his thumb and does small circles around it – strangled sounds come out of your lips – he still hasn't moved. 

You look at him, you put his face in your hands and look in his eyes, telling him just how ready you are for this. He’s working his cock in slowly, inch by inch but he looks like he's scared to overwhelm you. When his pelvis meets yours you gasp…your hips buckle when he completely bottoms out, a sigh dying on your lips and tears free falling… it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to but the pain still lingered. Your eyes rolling back and you squeal, your fingers holding tightly against him. “Oh…oh… Sylus.” Panting – your eyes probably filled with hearts — as you look at him, lovingly.  The stringing stretch subsides when he does a small thrust, not too deep but enough to make you feel good. He pulls back and pushes himself back inside, watching your expression as you take him. 

He’s being as gentle as he can, you notice. His hips thrusting soft, just nudging the soft spots inside of you. He pushes inside of you again, the first painless thrust and you both moan. Your belly tenses when he speeds up and the noises of wet skin slapping makes your body heat up. He’s rocking his hips against yours, circling his hips clockwise in a way that makes you shudder. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, he fucks you a bit harder than before. The sound of his balls slapping against you is all you can hear – his strokes getting deeper as he slows down, you look down and see the strings of wetness coating his cock as he stuffs you full of it again. “God, feels so good inside of you.” His mouth slightly agape.

 A small squirt of wetness spills out of you as he thrusts inside, some of it under your bodies and some of it splashing upwards as he digs deeper inside of you. You’re squirming and squirting, eyes crossing over when you hear him say: “Marking your territory, kitten?” It only makes you gush more, squeezing around him. You can feel his deep chuckles as it vibrates from his chest to yours – he’s always mocking you but right now you could care less —the way your body feels has you ready to bend to his whim. “This little kitten and these sharp claws…” he hisses when you press your nails deeper into his skin, you dig them down his back. The long drag of his cock felt amazing against your walls, a small sharp thrust inside has you both grunting.“Clenching around me so hard.” He kisses the top part of your head and you relish in how caring he’s been, you almost forgot how any of this started.

“What’s my name?” His voice thick with a bit of annoyance, it was clear that he didn’t forget how any of this started. You felt full, lifting your hips trying to meet his thrust, his cock hitting spongy parts inside of you that made you see nothing but bright colors.

“Sy-Sylus!” Your eyes rolling back in your skull and your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape as he’s inside of you, pure bliss in the form of the gentle thrusting of his body into yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” His teeth clenched and he’s squeezing your waist hard, staring at you… his ruby red eyes glowing in the dim room. His pace picking up faster, squelching plopping noises from the two of you grew louder.

“Youuuu. Sylus.” You admit, puffy pussy sucking him inside. “I belong to you.” He touches your stomach, gazing at it as he fucks himself inside of you. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” His hand on your throat. Grinding his pelvis against yours, your clit pulsing against him. He stops and slides out before he jerks back in, gripping your thighs.

“Sylus!” You’re breathing hard and feel him twitching inside of you when you say his name again.

“And you tried to give it away.” He slapped your cunt and you jolted, a small squirt coming out of you. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled and tears fall; you feel so good and you can’t believe you made the stupid decision in the first place when you could’ve asked him to do this… to make you feel this good. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling. He’s stretching you out, squeezing your ass in both of his hands to further spread your body open for his pleasure.

“Eyes on me. Keep looking at me. Look at me while I touch you. Look at me when I make you cum.” Your eyes still closed and he sighs. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”  He gives a sloppy wet thrust pumping his cock inside of you. 

That simple statement made your eyes snap open, “Sylus please…please don’t stop!”  There’s a tremor in your voice and the bed creaks at the same time; your wet walls swallowing him deeper inside. “Please fill me up. I need it.” You’re babbling and the curve of his cock hits a new spot inside of you, the tip grazing your cervix just slightly… just enough to make you feel good and to gasp around him. 

It felt like he was going to devour you.

And you craved it.

So you let him. 

It was one last thrust that was your undoing as you both cum, your back arched and your body feeling completely boneless, wetness slipping out of you as he pulled away. Your body shaking, he kisses you and pulls you close to his bare chest. As you’re drifting to sleep you hear him whisper in the sweetest voice, “I truly do adore you.” 

But maybe you dreamt it.

When you wake, your body is covered in sweat and a heavy arm has you caged in. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and you feel wetness there too, you shiver. You slide from behind the arm and attempt to stand. “Fuck.” You mutter, looking for your clothes or for any clothes. You mentally slap yourself upon remembering that Sylus cut your panties as you rummage through his closet. You pull out a folded plain dress and slip it on, making your way out of his bedroom. You close the door gently so that he can stay asleep and you walk towards the main hall.

“Sounds like Boss really taught you a lesson.” You heard snickering and with a slight limp to your walk, you moved over to slap Luke’s arm.

“Looks like it too.” Kieran said, making you hit him too. “It’s not like we didn’t hear it, you two were so loud that Mephisto left and I swear before he left that he tried to cover his ears. I would’ve done it too, if I thought it would drown off the ‘Sylus don’t stop’ you kept moanin.” Mimicking your voice made you kick him in the shin, which he yelped at. 

“Both of you just hush. I-I’m leaving.” You make your way for the door as they trail behind you.

“So this is you attempting to sneak off?” Luke snorts, you know he’s rolling his eyes behind the mask.

“Yeah right, boss really isn’t letting you leave now.” Kieran chuckles.

“They’re right, you know.” For a split second your body is lifted in the air and slammed against the front of a hard naked chest and for possibly the millionth time today, your body felt hot all over. “You really won’t be leaving my side now.”

But you already knew that.

[the-apple-of-my-eye0-0]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Don’t tell ‘em ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Warnings: Semi public sex, Office sex Jealous! Caleb, Degrading, Bondage, Evol use, Unprotected sex, Choking, Marking, uses of sir, dubcon.

Caleb has a gala he has to attend, and he brings you (his fiancée) as his plus one. Everything goes well until one of his subordinates tries to make a move on you.

(!!NOT PROOFREAD!!)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The past few weeks were unforgiving, with the both of you being swamped with work, barely leaving enough time to see each other, let alone go on a date. So of course you were extra excited for tonight’s gala.

You arrived home before Caleb and decided to take advantage of the little time you had before he arrived by getting yourself dolled up for him. Wearing a silky violet dress that hugged your frame perfectly.

You knew he adored that dress on you just a little more than the others, and would act like a fool whenever he saw you in it.

A while later, after completing your hair and makeup, Caleb walks through the front door. “Hey pipsqueek”, his voice rung through the apartment, sounding like music to your ears. Instantly you got to your feet and walked into your shared living space, melting into his outstretched arms.

“Hello, my love” you cheered softly, inhaling his scent. “How was your day?” You asked, looking up at his wide smile. “Much better now that you’re in my arms”. He leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss.

“You look stunning, baby”. His smile grows wider, admiring you like a prized possession. “Can’t wait to show everyone you’re mine tonight”, he leaned down a little more, until you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

“I wish we could skip the event, just stay home and show you how much I missed you”. His voice soft and sweet, as he kissed up your neck. “But we both know how that’ll end”, he says, disappointed.

The last time you and Caleb skipped an event for more… urgent matters, he was given a warning. And ever since then, you always forced him to attend, whether either of you liked it or not.

“I know, my love, but you better get ready, we can’t be late”, you reminded him as you made your way to your shared room. “I’ll be waiting in here”

You sat on the chair in the corner of the room, not wanting to crinkle the bedding, or Calebs colonel uniform. You were mindlessly scrolling through social media when Caleb walked in. A towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets running down his toned muscles.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to pounce on him, saying ‘fuck the gala’. But no, you had some self control, not much, but some at least. You subconsciously bit you lip at the sight of him, trying to mellow the unforgiving thoughts of the man in front of you. “Like what you see, hm?” He smirked, looking at your figure up and down, before walking toward you. “Why don’t you let me make you feel good before we go? Please?” The plea going straight through you, instantly making you wet.

“No babe, we can’t be late” It took every ounce of self control to reject him, betraying your true desires. “Please baby, I’ve waited so long for you, I need you.” He kneeled in front of you, kissing up your leg.

Your desire slowly rises inside you. But you knew you couldn’t miss the gala, you didn’t want him to get into trouble. No matter how good the offer sounded, the both of you had a few days off after this and could fuck all you want. You both just had to endure a few hours of meaningless conversations first.

“Please Caleb, we really need to go, I promise when we get back, okay?” You cup his cheek, raising his face and giving him a kiss. But god. The look in his eyes, begging you to give in almost won… almost.

…

The two of you step into the gala, a lavish hall filled with elegant decor and highly regarded people. Caleb lead you in with a possessive arm around your waist, guiding you to the general.

After a few moments of chit chat, introducing yourself to the general and his gorgeous wife, you and the wife excused yourselves to get a glass of champagne while Caleb and the general talked business.

At the drink table you made small talk with the wife, now known as ‘Elenor’, until another woman shows up and takes Elenor away, saying ‘it’s a pressing matter’. Now you’re left alone, with no one to talk to. So of course, you decide to take a seat, and drink your champagne, not want to disrupt your fiancé’s work-related discussion.

You sat watching your phone until an unfamiliar presence appeared beside you. It was a handsome man in uniform, he grabs the seat beside you and sits down. “Hello, my name is Chase, and you might be?” He motions toward you. “Oh, I’m Y/N” you reply, forcing a smile.

“Lovely to meet you Y/N, what’s a pretty lady like you doing here alone?” His eyes fixated on your figure. “I’m here with my fiancé actually, he’s just discussing business at the moment” you lift your hand to show off your engagement ring.

His brow shoots up slightly, and a subtle grin appears on his face. “Oh so you’re only engaged? Why don’t I show you what you could have before you’re stuck in a lousy marriage?” He sits back, proud of himself.

That was until you hear someone scoff behind the both of you. “Hello lieutenant, I see you’ve met my lovely wife-to-be” Caleb grabs your hand gently as he guides you to stand beside him, before wrapping his arm around your waist proudly.

“Oh colonel Caleb, this is your fiancée?” He look between the two of you, clearing his throat nervously. “It was nice to meet you Y/N, but I must go now” he doesn’t leave any time to waste before walking away.

“That prick, he’s lucky he still able to walk” you hear Caleb curse under his breath, a fire raging in his eyes. His gaze lands on you, not softening in the slightest. “I just remembered, I wanted to show you something,” a faux smile appears on his face.

To anyone else it looks as if he is calm and composed, but you know him too well to not see right through his mask. You admit, it was hot seeing him break like this.

“Where are we going love?” You feign curiosity. All you knew is that whatever was in store, you were nervous.

“That’s a surprise” his voice sounding nothing like his true emotions. He lead you through a hallway, greeting everyone with a smile as you both passed them.

The walk seemed like forever with the uncomfortable silence shared between the two of you. Until you were standing in front of a silver trimmed door.

You looked around and saw a few groups of people scattered around in boring conversations. Caleb opens the door and guides you in, still calm and collected. That was until you heard the sound of the door close behind him.

You look around the room, now registering it as his office, obvious by the photos of you and him framed on the desk and shelves.

He turns to look at you, a manic expression. “Now why don’t you start by telling me what the fuck you were doing with that asshole?” His tall frame looming over you. “Why he thought he had a chance with you? You’re mine Y/N, have you forgotten that, hm?”

He walks toward you, trapping you in between the desk and his body, each arm on either side of you. “I can’t even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you going to another guy, can I?” His face is only a few inches away from yours.

Your legs shake slightly. “Please, Caleb. It’s not what it looks like, he came t-“ Caleb doesn’t let you finish “you think I’m dumb Y/N? What if I didn’t come when I did? Maybe you might’ve actually went and took him up on his offer?”

“It’s been two weeks without sex and you can’t even think straight anymore. Why don’t I remind you who you belong to? Yeah, that’s exactly what you need.” He starts to think to himself while walking backwards. “Strip.” He demands

“But babe, we’re in your office?” You try to reason with him. “When I tell you to do something, you listen. Now strip before I punish you.” He crosses his arms.

“O-okay” you obey and start to slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The embarrassment creeping in. “Hurry the fuck up, or do I need to remind you how to undress too?” He scoffs. You continue to undress, faster this time. “Could you please lower your voice? There’s people outside.” You say softly, now fully undressed. The humiliation too overwhelming.

“Why? Scared everyone will find out how much of a filthy girl you are?” He mocks as he takes off his belt. Creating makeshift handcuffs with them. “C’mere, I know you love these. I know you better than that asshole ever will.” He states proudly. “And I know exactly what to say and do to make you a brainless slut, don’t I baby?” He says as he locks your hands in the belt.

You’re trembling at this point, willing to do anything just for his touch. “Yes, sir” you nod.

“Good girl” he grins. “Now get on the fucking desk.” He commands as he takes his had off. You obey, sitting on the large oak desk. The cold wood sending a shiver along your bare skin

He stands in front of you, looking down at you like you’re worthless. “Maybe this was your plan all along? Make me jealous so you can have you way with me? You’re already so wet.” He looks at your sloppy cunt, spreading your legs and sliding a finger through your folds. “How pathetic, I was hoping to worship this pretty pussy when we got home but you don’t deserve it after acting like a bitch in heat”

He kisses the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks that will stay for days, some low enough to see with your dress on. After he’s done admiring his art, he moves to your neglected cunt.

His face is close enough to feel his breath on it, resisting the temptation of diving into your cunt, all to teach you a lesson. “Please sir, I need to feel you” you whined, unable to take anymore teasing.

“No, if you want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one” he watches you menacingly. “Please-ah” a choked sob escapes your lips as he flicks his tongue against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck I’ve missed this pussy” he mutters, before giving in and eating you out like a starved man. You cover your mouth with the makeshift handcuffs, biting down on the expensive leather, unable to hold in your moans anymore.

His mechanical arm travels up your body with his fingers wrapping around your throat. “If you don’t want anyone to hear, you better keep quiet” he laughs mockingly.

The feeling of his tongue alone is enough to make you see stars. But with his limiting your air intake, it’s driving you crazy. Not long after, you feel the familiar pressure building up inside you.

“Close now, are we?” Caleb teases. “You’re not allowed to cum until I tell you to” and with that he continues eating you out like a man possessed by a lust ridden demon.

You squirm under him, unable to hold on any longer, legs shaking as tears well up in your eyes, “p-please Caleb,” the choked plea comes out a little louder than you’d like, but you didn’t care anymore, the only thing stopping you from the climax you needed was the man, buried face down between your legs.

“Aw, ‘s too much for you? You need to cum?” You nod frantically, still covering your mouth. “Too fucking bad, maybe this will teach you to stay by my side next time, instead of running to any worthless man that gives you an ounce of attention” his voice low and mocking.

He gets up and takes his hand away from your neck, ignoring your quiet sobs. “I’ve waited two weeks for you. I was going to worship you, going to fucking please you. But you’ve been a bad girl, so now I’ll just use you for my own pleasure.”

He stands up straight, unzipping his pants, exposing his hard cock, pulsing with need. “You see what you do to me Y/N? See what I have to put up with?” A groan erupting from him at the thought of finally being inside you.

You squirm with need on the desk, trying to inch closer to him. “Fuck, you’re so eager, hm?” You feel his evol holding you into place. “Slut”

Caleb pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, not giving you any time to think before he gives you exactly what you both want.

It takes him a second to move, the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him making him lean down and moan against your ear. “That’s it, show me how much you missed me, keep sucking my cock in” a breathless laugh escapes his lips.

He moves inside you, at an unrelenting speed, chasing his own climax. Your brain melting with each thrust against your sweet spot. You couldn’t control your moans, allowing yourself to let go. Your eyes rolling back at the pure pleasure he’s giving you.

“There she is, that’s my girl” his voice dripping with faux sweetness. He starts kissing you neck, littering your skin with purple marks. “I can feel you getting close again baby, cum for me” his voice slightly muffled against your skin.

It doesn’t take you long before you’re cumming around his cock, clenching around him with a loud, choked moan. He rides you through your high before cumming inside you.

“Ah- fuck, love when you milk my cock” he moans into your neck, before kissing your lips gently.

He pulls out and looks at the hidden camera on the top right corner of the room with a smirk. You were too busy trying to control your breathing to notice. “Cmon love, we better go back out there before everyone goes looking for us.” He releases you from his evol and the handcuffs.

You sit up, eyes glazed and hair slightly undone. Your fiancé didn’t look any better but either of you didn’t care aside from trying to flatten your hair half mindedly.

Caleb helps you get dressed and he zips his pants up, after untying his belt and putting in back on. He looks at the hickeys littered on your skin proudly.

‘Fuck, I can’t wait to watch this back next week’ he thinks to himself while leading you out of the office.

(A/N: this was way longer than I expected, hope you enjoyed my first fic!)

[lumieresdreams]

cw: explicit caleb brainrot that would turn domestic lmao

angry sex with caleb would be so hot, ngl. like after a heated argument about not spending enough time together, the both of you are already pent up with not only yearning, but hunger for one another so it's only right to end an argument with a heated make out session

then that make out session would devolve into clothes strewn about without a care in the world, both desperate to get to the point and end up a mess of limbs on the couch. biting, scratching, hair pulling, curses in between heated kisses, quiet 'i missed you's...

but then after that, both would be so soft. caleb would have you held in his arms and him in yours. he has himself laid on top of you, too lazy to clean up just yet. despite the chaotic mess you two made, he had two seconds to think to use his own colonel coat to cover the couch before proceeding so that's one less thing to worry about

you two would lay there peacefully in silence, maybe 30 minutes, before finally deciding to shower together. everything will be all fluffy and playful from here on out, the warm shower would have the both of you scrubbing each other's backs and washing each other's hair, towel drying one another and such

then once you're out of the shower and done getting each other wet again for the nth time in there, would come dinner. you'd mince ingredients (with much convincing on your part to even let caleb let you help in the first place) while caleb does most of the cooking. you'd update each of your work and life in general, what you've been up to and the plans you have for the near future over cooking and dinner, hopefully this time you'd both be able to keep that promise of keeping each other updated in the middle of it

but maybe, just maybe, the two of you enjoy doing it the way that it is. besides, angry sex is hot

[mc-syndrome]

Hello hello! I've never published any (lengthy) smut before and usually do academic writing so please have mercy on me ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ🍀

(Also I wrote this in my notes app so the format might be weird)

Anyway, I heard Addison Rae's "Diet Pepsi" the other day and was like mhm mhm big thoughts: MC x Caleb having their firsts in the backseat of his car.

And here we are! Might do a part two we'll see.

~5700 words

✿ NSFW, 18+ (but I'm not gonna check) ✿

LOSING ALL MY INNOCENCE IN THE BACK SEAT.

"Grandma! Me and Caleb are going out for a driving lesson!" your clear voice rang out through the house.

"Again?" Josephine's voice rang out from the next room "It's the third time this week."

"Yeah, you know... the hunter's academy considers it when taking applications, so I wanna get my license before the application period starts!"

"We'll be back in time for dinner!" Caleb chimes in from just beyond the doorway.

It's not a lie. But it's not completely true either. Yes, Caleb is teaching you how to drive. He's also teaching you other important skills an adult needs to know, in the back seat of his car.

While the route there changes from time to time because "You need to be able to drive everywhere, not just the easy roads, pipsqueak" the destination is always the same. A mostly desolate area with a parking lot overlooking the city. Very cliché but very effective.

And at this parking lot your second set of lessons start.

"Sooo, pips," Caleb drawls, eyes peering into yours, "care to review what I taught you last time?"

You were currently straddling him, skirt hiked up, with Caleb's large hands rubbing slow circles on the soft flesh of your thighs.

Nodding eagerly you let your fingers trace along the back of Caleb's neck, gently coaxing him closer to you. The involuntary jerk of his hips stirred you on, and you met them with a roll of your own as you softly bit his lower lip. 

Caleb moans softly into your mouth, fingers gripping your thighs harder now. "You always were a quick study, pipsqueak" he says, slightly out of breath already.

As he speaks you slip your tongue in, and he meets it eagerly. Cradling your face he grinds his hardening cock against your core, eliciting a gasp from you. It's too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

"That's it" he groans, the sound going straight to your throbbing clit. His fingers dip into the hem of your panties as he continues: "Think you're ready for an advanced lesson, princess?"

"I take it that I passed today's test?" you bat your lashes at him, one hand playing with his hair.

Caleb chuckled lightly, the sound music to your ears.

"With flying colors, pips. Maybe even good enough for a reward, hm?"

"Ohh, I do love a good reward" you purr, eyes sparkling.

"Well then," he unzips his jeans and the bulge hiding there has your mouth watering,  "I'll show you how to do it with your hands, yeah?" he says as he drags his boxers down, finally freeing his cock from its confines. It's weirdly pretty, thick and pink, precum beading at the tip. You can't help but stare at it.

Caleb's cheeks grow pink, »the color matches...« you think briefly, before he guides your hand and wraps it around his aching member, the thought immediately gone.

A sharp hiss escapes through his teeth, your touch instantly overstimulating.

"Now, you wrap your hand tighter and slowly drag your hand up and down like this" Caleb demonstrates, head tipping back.

"I-is this good, Caleb?" you ask, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fully focused on how the slick coated his twitching dick.

"Yeah, pips, you're a natural" he moans,  "Now, try focusing your movements to the upper half, let your thumb drag across the head, a little quicker, f-fuuck" Caleb drawls, trying not to lose his mind as your soft hands deftly work his shaft.

It's mesmerizing, having him fall apart so easily under your touch, abs tensing, the back of his hand covering the lower half of his face. You do want to see his face though, so you grab his wrist and pry it away.

Caleb's eyes meet yours, glazed over and hungry. He leans forward, catching your lips in a kiss as he bucks into your hand.

"You mind slowing down princess? You're too good, might cum already... And I didn't even give you your reward yet..."

With this he slips your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, "you're this wet from just kissing?"

You whine in response and then it's your turn to hiss as Caleb's thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow circles before dipping into your slick heat. The stimulation has you grinding down on his hand and your face almost makes Caleb lose it. Almost.

"You're so eager, pipsqueak... Don't stop stroking me... Can I put a finger in? Please?" Caleb's heavy lidded, puppy eyes are aimed straight at you and it makes you clench around nothing.

"Please put it in, n-need to feel you" ,you plead, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Something inside Caleb snaps and with a loud groan he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and his finger into your warm, sopping cunt. 

"Oh my god" you gasp as his finger grazes a spot that feels way too good, dizzyingly good. He hits that spot over and over, drawing out the sweetest moans from your mouth.

"Adding another finger, pips" he pants, hair matted with sweat. The added pressure has you seeing stars.

You always liked Caleb's hands, big and comforting, but you never knew they would feel this good as his thick fingers stretched your pussy. Way too good, actually. His fingers pumping in and out had you seeing stars, an unfamiliar pressure building in the pit of your stomach.

As you grind against his fingers, Caleb fucks himself into your fist. And when he feels you spasming and clenching around him as you tip over the edge, his name falling from your lips like a mantra, Caleb allows himself to do the same, and he spurts thick ropes of cum all over your hand.

His breath hitches as you lick tentatively at your hand, his taste spreading on your tongue. Caleb looks straight into your eyes as he mimics your movement, licking your juices off his fingers and he's pretty sure he's never tasted anything as divine.

"Am I that tasty?" you tease, leaning I'm towards him. Caleb nuzzles into your hand as you rest it against his cheek, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

"Open your mouth for me princess and I'll let you have a taste."

Immediately, obediently, you open your mouth in anticipation and Caleb shivers.

"Good girl... Now stick out your tongue" he continues.

You do as you're told and Caleb kisses you softly, deeply; the heady taste of your juices mixing on your tongue.

*********************************

The drive home is quiet but relaxed. Caleb always gets behind the wheel after your back seat lessons. Your brain is often tired after the double lessons, after all. He reasons that you're still not very experienced "When it comes to driving, y'know. And you gotta be focused behind the wheel" he adds with a wink and you roll your eyes at him.

You roll the windows down and let the breeze cool you both off. And as you enter your shared home Caleb loudly announces:

"I think next time might be our last lesson, she did really well today! Might take her for a looong ride to prepare for the actual driving test."

"Good for you, dear! I'm sure Caleb's been a great teacher!" she answers, nodding approvingly.

Grandma doesn't catch the teasing tone lacing Caleb's words. Thankfully.

"I sure have, grams" Caleb says and ruffles your hair playfully, "taught her all I know, now she just has to... apply... all her new knowledge during the real deal. And thank me properly, of course."

You swat his hand away in mock annoyance, muttering under your breath, and the blush spreading across your face as you protest doesn't seem suspicious at all.

[jitt4z]

inspired by this fic

helping hand

zayne x mc!reader

a/n: hey soooo this is my first time doing this and i didn’t proofread but enjoy? i hope!!! (i didn’t know how to end it so i rushed whoops)

blurb(?): your vibrator died and you went to charge it in your bathroom bc yk the chargers are short n shit, zayne comes over and he sees it :^))

warnings: mentions of food, mentions of toys, shower sex(?), zayne helps you masturbate, mc is a perv kinda sorta(?), zayne is too, he’s DOWN BAD(???), idk how to make these???, first time writing smut so maybe bad???

Zayne stared at himself in your bathroom mirror, turning his head to see the twinge of pink on his ears. He looks down at the sink, the running water barely drowning out faint breaths he took as he tried to compose himself.

Every time you would invite him over to cook, he would disappear to the bathroom for however long. This afternoon, you had been in the kitchen together and quite frankly, the entire time, he couldn’t stand being in there with you. When you noticed the pattern of his bathroom trips, you would assume it was because of the size of your kitchen— it being much smaller than the one in his home. You’d make jokes about it and he would reply calmly and downplay it, saying it’s no big deal, that if it fulfills the purpose of a kitchen then it’s good enough. You even tried apologizing for it once but he waved it off, denying it.

He did realize the kitchen was smaller but he felt indifferent. It wasn’t until he started cooking with you that he thought you should be thanking the kitchen like he did everytime he set foot in your apartment. He’d be grateful for how your bodies would graze as you had to squeeze past him to get from the fridge to the spice cabinet or how would catch a slight sight of your navel when you leant against the counter, standing on your tippy-toes to reach the cabinets or how you would have to bend down to the cabinets on the floor, your figure distracting him from the boiling water that was now overflowing on the stove.

He feels himself struggling to keep it together, leaning against the bathroom counter staring at himself in the mirror. He reached for the soap, trying to sell the illusion of him using the bathroom.

Then he sees it.

A pulsing purple light from an equally purple vibrator. His mind began to flurry with thoughts.

How did you use it? Where did you use it? When did you use it? You had to have used to earlier today, right? God, what did your moans sound like? If you charged it that means you needed more. Couldn’t he help you with that? If he could just get his hands on you—

Zayne splashed cold water on his face trying to ground himself. He knew he’s been gone for too long. Taking one of the paper towels in the bathroom, he wiped his face off and took careful steps back into the kitchen.

• • •

“Is your health okay?” he asks. You furrow your brow. You had a check up maybe a week ago and had clean bill of health. Zayne was your primary care provider so he would’ve known that. So, why was he asking again?

“Yeah, atleast it should be per my check up a few days ago, which you did.” You say, raising an eyebrow at the latter end of the sentence.

“I’m aware,” he replied, not even turning to look at you. The response was curt, but mixed with something else.

You squinted at him, despite his back facing you as he was busying himself with the dishes. you walk over to the sink, peeking over his shoulder. He had been spending far too long scrubbing one plate, as if his mind was elsewhere.

And it was elsewhere. You want to know where it was?

It was laid right next to you in your bed as you touched yourself. Or maybe in the shower, the water droplets rolling down your chest, the warm water hitting your nipples only adding to your mounting pleasure from the vibrations near your core. The sounds you would make then would be beautiful— airy, whiny, and desperate as you leaned against the shower wall, bracing yourself as you got closer. He pictured your parted mouth paired with your eyes screwed shut as you found the right spot. Your legs would twitch a bit, he bets.

No— he knows.

You couldn’t take it. Your free hand would wander around your body, starting with your breasts. How much better would it be if instead of the free hand touching yourself, it was tugging at his now damp hair as he knelt down in the shower, kissing and sucking your inner thigh, nudging the vibrator over so his tongue could run over that sensitive spot on your clit that made you squirm—

“Zayne, are you ready to eat?” He heard a familiar voice say.

Oh, right. Dinner. Of course.

Apparently, the table had been set already. Apparently, dinner was done, too. He watched you place the two plates of the freshly made food on the table. You sat down, waiting for him to get to join you. Once he did, the room was silent. No talking, just the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate. Something was wrong.

“So,” You start lowly. “How was work?”

He is still poking at his food, not even sparing you a glance. He takes a deep breath before his eyes jump to you.

“That’s how you’re going to start the conversation?” He asks, his way of rejecting the question, which you knew he would do. You knew you two were past the point of small talk— you just hated how quiet it was. But, he finally gave you something to bounce off of that wasn’t his oddly placed question about when your last checkup was.

“What’s wrong with asking you about your day?” You ask, your grip on your fork becoming slightly tighter. He wasn’t the most social person but with you he made conversation. He liked talking to you. So, this was odd— very odd. That paired with him randomly asking about your health, he was hiding something.

Zayne averts his gaze from you and blinks a few times before looking at you again.

“I would think that we could do better than water cooler talk.” He utters.

“I mean we can, it’s just— I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Weird?” He repeats.

You nod.

“Not, like bad. I…maybe it’s just the food. It could be making me feel sick. I need to have another checkup—“

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” You swear you can see the corner of his mouth upturn for just a moment.

“Yeah, maybe the food—“

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant, too.”

You gulp. No more glances are being taken. You two are now staring at each other head on from across the table. He found you out.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Zayne? You randomly talk about my health and you haven’t said anything this evening, either. Is something wrong…with me?”

You suddenly lean forward.

“You’re my doctor. You have to know everything, right?”

Zayne looks down and you swear you can hear him chuckle before he looks back up at you. To you he seemed annoyingly cool and collected, but underneath the surface he was slowly being set ablaze by your flustered demeanor.

“I can assure you your health is fine.”

You let out a breath.

“But, even as your doctor, it seems I don’t know everything.”

You blinked at him.

“Think of this as a follow up for our appointment then.” He pushes his plate away and folds his hands, still staring daggers at you.

“Zayne, what—“

“I saw your toy. Your…vibrator.” His gaze falters a bit at the end of his sentence. You scoff, shaking your head in bewilderment.

“What? Zayne, you went through my stuff?”

“I have no need to go through your things,” He says, leaning forward. You prepared to get defensive on your behalf, opening your mouth but he beats you to the point.

“It was in your bathroom.”

You now feel a pit in your stomach starting to develop. Earlier in the day, you had everything done; your laundry was washed, your reports from work were submitted, and the apartment was clean, so of course reached into your bedside drawer to pass time on the rare uneventful day.

Featherlight touches from your available hand graced your body, earning tiny gasps from you. Your hand persisted on your vibrator and you probably went through all seven of the settings that had been advertised on the box. It was either too little or too much or too slow. Your angles never could quite reach that spot or scratch that itch, that you had.

You thought of something, anything to try to get you there. You pictured a firm grip on your waist that cradled your body, the low pants from the other person as they moved against you. Their movements were slow and deliberate, calculated as they eased you into it. Kisses peppered along your neck slowly going up to your jawline, then your cheek, and then landing on your lips. They pulled back and you saw those eyes, the ones that were a mix of sage and hazel. The ones that watched you earlier that week when you were in that icy doctor’s office with a certain attentiveness. Finally, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your peak. Your breathing hastened and your eyes screwed shut. You felt a moan bubbling up in your throat, a certain name on the tip of your tongue…

“Zayne…” You muttered, your back now arching at the sensations. It fell out of your mouth once, then twice, then you lost count.

Aaaand then your vibrator died.

You tried working yourself with your fingers but it just made you more annoyed. You got up with a huff, looking in your nightstand drawer for the charger. You were going to get yourself off on the one day you didn’t have work; it was customary. Well, you finally got the charger except it was very, very, short and all your outlets in your bedroom were very, very, far away from your dresser (atleast with a charger that size). You walk to your bathroom and put it to charge as the outlet was conveniently placed near the counter, for the typical hairdryer or flat iron.

Today, though? It would serve a different purpose for today.

And so you plugged in the vibrator, letting it charge and also letting it leave your mind, too.

How kind of Zayne to remind you left it there, right?

“Oh my god…Zayne, I forgot I left that out like that…” You begin, unable to even meet his gaze.

“It is a normal thing for people to…please themselves,” He paused in the midst of the sentence, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped, trying to deter any thoughts that were unprofessional. This was a health inquiry after all.

“During your appointment, though, you said everything was fine.”

“I did…”

“So, why do you need the vibrator?”

“What do you mean why? You know they’re not bad, right?”

“I’m aware. They’re typically used to help.”

His eyes bore into yours, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“So, I ask again; how’s your health? Do you need help with something?”

Oh, what a bastard.

It’s like your throat was in a vice as you heard him repeat the question he asked a while ago.

Slowly, he got up, approaching the bathroom. After he flicked on the light, he grabbed the bullet, examining it in the palm of his hand.

“You didn’t leave out any details, did you?”

God, what was he thinking? If you didn’t notice his smirk and the slight reddening of his ears, you’d think he was disappointed. He looked at you from the bathroom, resting against the doorframe.

You gulped.

Before you knew it, you had your legs spread before him as you sat in the dining table chair and he was on his knees, as if he were carefully examining you.

“Here? Is this good?” Zayne whispered in your ear as the vibrations at your core began to put a rise on your own pleasure. You only managed to nod, a sigh escaping your lips as you tossed your head to the side. Your eyes squeezed shut and he felt himself becoming aroused just at the sight. If only he knew that you touched yourself to the thought of him doing the things he’s doing to you right now. For now though, your moans became enough proof for him. It was so unfair. How did he get to reach those spots you desperately needed to be touched? The sensations along with his soft praises made your body begin to shiver and convulse, grabbing at his hair. The chair made abrupt noises from your body rocking against it.

“Yes…just like that….” He whispered, looking up at you in awe. He was salivating just at the sight, ready to reach his own release without even touching himself.

“Zayne…feels so…good…” You manage to get out, your eyes seeing the blurry figure of him through teary eyes before shutting again in pleasure. Then you felt something. The pressure that built in your body from earlier when you couldn’t reach your peak, from those nights before after work where you couldn’t get that “ah-ha” moment as you laid in your bed chasing orgasm after orgasm happened. Your legs clenched together around his hand as you let out a string of moans, reaching your climax.

Perhaps, maybe all you did need was a bit of help.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘ SQUIRTING FOR THE FIRST TIME ?!

． paring: Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel x bratty fem!reader

．summary: how they react when you squirt for the first time!

．warnings: nsfw/smut, creampie, tit fucking, cum-play, rough s*x, cow girl, mirror s*x, spanking, hair pulling, Caleb is a switch (sub to dom), pussy slapping, fingering, nipple sucking and biting.

．note : not proof read also the art is by : rororo_mg on X. Also dunno if this is ooc for them! Also zayne’s part is very long. ^_^

＠ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ；

Caleb always had that cocky little smirk when he looked at you, all charm and mischief, like he knew exactly what you were up to before you even opened your mouth. And right now, that smirk was stretched wide as he laid beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs while you rocked against his cock, taking him deeper with every bounce.

“God, babe,” he groaned, breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself up just enough to mouth at your tits, teasing one nipple between his lips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You rolled your hips a little harder just to hear him moan, just to feel the way his cock twitched inside you. “Yeah?” You panted, fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair, tugging just enough to make him look up at you. “I thought pilots were supposed to have more stamina than this.”

His eyes darkened at that, something shifting in the way he gripped you—less playful, more possessive. “Oh, you wanna play like that, pipsqueak?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, one that made your stomach clench with anticipation.

Before you could get another smart remark out, he bucked his hips up, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A gasp caught in your throat as your clit rubbed right up against his abs, the pressure sparking something electric inside you.

“Shit—” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Caleb smirked, hands sliding up your waist before one gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

You should’ve been annoyed—maybe even fought back a little—but the way he was fucking up into you, the way his cock stretched you just right, made it impossible to do anything but whimper. His abs were slick with sweat, flexing beneath you every time he moved, and that friction against your clit was too much.

“Baby—” your voice cracked, body tensing. “Fuck, I—”

Caleb groaned at the way your walls fluttered around him, at the way you trembled in his hold. “Gonna come for me?” He muttered, dragging his thumb over your clit, slow and deliberate. “Go on, pipsqueak, make a mess.”

The coil in your stomach snapped all at once, white-hot pleasure ripping through you as you came harder than you ever had before. Your entire body shook, legs squeezing tight around his waist as the pressure inside you exploded—soaking his cock, his abs, everything beneath you.

“Holy fuck.” His voice was thick with awe and something even deeper, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through it, prolonging every second of your high. “Did you just—”

You couldn’t even answer, gasping for air as aftershocks shuddered through you. Caleb swore under his breath, hands roaming up your back before he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion. His cock was still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he rolled his hips, slow and teasing, making you whimper. “Guess I’ll have to make you do it again, huh?”

Caleb let out a breathless laugh, brushing his fingers over the slick mess coating his abs. His smirk was cocky as ever, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, more ravenous.

“Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice husky as he rocked his hips forward again, making you gasp. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Your whole body was still trembling, oversensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your walls, still so deep, had heat pooling in your stomach all over again.

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to sound confident, but your voice was wrecked, breathy.

He just grinned, leaning in so close his lips brushed against your ear. “Oh? Thought you liked mouthing off.” His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and you whined at the way your clit dragged against his abs again. “What happened, babe? Already fucked dumb?”

You clenched around him, hands gripping his biceps, trying to push him away just to get a second to breathe. But Caleb wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His strength was effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, that teasing lilt still in his voice, but there was something serious underneath—something that made your pulse stutter.

“Y’know,” he mused, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, pressing just hard enough to make you squirm, “I think I like you better like this. All messy and fucked out.”

You glared at him, trying to get some control back. “I can still—”

He didn’t let you finish. One sharp thrust sent you keening, your back arching as his cock hit that spot deep inside you, sending sparks dancing up your spine.

“What was that, babe?” Caleb’s voice was thick with amusement, but his breathing was rough now, too, his control starting to slip. “Didn’t catch that.”

You couldn’t even answer, too lost in the way he was moving—deep and precise, grinding against your clit just enough to keep you on edge.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nipping at your jaw, “that’s what I thought.”

And then he really started fucking you.

The slow, teasing pace was gone. He set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged moans. His grip on your wrists tightened, keeping you pinned beneath him as he chased his own pleasure, his abs flexing against your clit with every thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can’t believe you were holding out on me, pipsqueak.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and Caleb cursed, his cock twitching inside you.

“Shit—‘m close,” he gritted out, voice strained. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Hm?”

The way he said it sent you spiraling, your orgasm slamming into you so hard your vision blurred. Your whole body clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out, barely aware of anything but the white-hot pleasure consuming you.

Caleb swore, hips stuttering, before he buried himself deep with a rough groan, spilling inside you, heat flooding your core. His grip on your wrists loosened, and he slumped forward, breathless, his forehead pressing against yours.

For a second, neither of you moved, just panting, your bodies still tangled together. Then, Caleb let out a breathless chuckle.

“Well, damn,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. “First time for everything, huh?”

＠ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ；

The soft hum of the med bay was comforting, a backdrop to the electrifying tension building between you and Zayne. He leaned against the counter, a playful grin spreading across his face as he watched you with those piercing eyes, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race.

“You know, I’m technically on duty,” he said, amusement lacing his voice as he crossed his arms.

You smirked, leaning back against the examination table. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your patients, Doctor?”

Zayne stepped closer, the playful edge in his demeanor sharpening. “Oh, trust me, I have my hands full with you.”

With a swift movement, he caught your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. The contact sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Just a little ache,” you replied, biting your lip as you glanced down at his firm body. “Right here.” You pressed your thighs together, the heat pooling in your core making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me see if I can help with that.” Zayne's hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing over your tits before he leaned in, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. The way his mouth moved against yours ignited something deep within you, and you responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair.

Zayne pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

With a determined glint in your eye, you gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want you to make me feel good, Doctor.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Well, I do love a challenge.”

In an instant, he had you pinned against the table, his hands exploring your body with expert precision. His mouth found its way to your tits, hot and wet as he sucked and teased, his hands trailing down your sides. Every flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Zayne,” you gasped, arching into him as pleasure coursed through you.

He pulled back, eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Zayne knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs apart, his breath hot against your core. “Let’s see just how responsive you are.”

His fingers slid between your folds, teasing your clit with gentle strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. You gasped, arching your back as he worked you closer to the edge.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So responsive, so eager.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. “Zayne, please,” you begged, unable to control the desperate need building inside you.

“Please what?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips rolling against his hand. “I want to come—please!”

With a wicked grin, he obliged, quickening the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. The pressure built rapidly, the heat spreading through you until it consumed every thought.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice low and sultry. “I want to see you fall apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you squirted all over him, soaking his fingers and the floor beneath you. You cried out, your body trembling as Zayne worked you through it, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and hunger.

“Damn,” he breathed, wiping his fingers on his shirt, clearly enjoying the mess you’d made. “You really know how to make a doctor’s day.”

You shot him a playful glare, breathless but eager for more. “Don’t think you’re done with me yet.”

Zayne chuckled, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In one swift motion, he pulled you upright, his hands gripping your hair as he pressed you back against the table, his gaze intense and commanding. “Now, let’s see just how far we can push your limits.”

Zayne's grip on your hair tightened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “You made quite the mess, babe. I hope you’re ready for round two.”

You felt a rush of excitement at his words, your body still buzzing from the intense release. “I can take it,” you replied, trying to sound confident even as your heart raced in anticipation.

“Good,” he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Because I’m just getting started.”

Zayne positioned himself between your legs, his hands roaming down your thighs as he leaned in to plant teasing kisses along your stomach. You squirmed beneath him, your skin alive with sensitivity, every touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“Let’s make sure those lovely tits get the attention they deserve,” he murmured, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.

You gasped, arching your back as waves of pleasure radiated from your chest. “Zayne, that feels so good,” you breathed, fingers digging into the table as you pushed against him, craving more.

He glanced up at you, eyes dark with desire. “I love hearing you say that,” he said, switching to your other nipple, giving it the same attention while his fingers trailed down your stomach to your slick folds.

With deft fingers, he teased your clit again, circling and pressing just right as he continued to suckle your breast. The combination of sensations had your head spinning, your body responding eagerly to his every touch.

“Z—Zayne, pleaseeee,” you whimpered, feeling the familiar tension building once more.

“Please what?” he taunted, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Just… don’t stop,” you managed to gasp, urgency creeping into your voice.

“Good answer,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he increased the pressure, fingers moving faster as he thrust two of them deep inside you. The sudden stretch made you moan loudly, your hips grinding against his hand instinctively.

“Look at you, baby,” he teased, his voice low and sultry. “So fucking desperate for my cock.”

“Zayne, I need you,” you breathed, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. “Please.”

“Alright, but first…” He pulled back slightly, positioning himself between your thighs again. “I want you to try something new.”

Before you could process what he meant, he guided your hands to your breasts, encouraging you to squeeze and play with them while he pumped his cock in front of you. The sight of him, so hard and ready, made your mouth water.

“Tit fuck me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding. “Show me how much you want it.”

You nodded eagerly, wrapping your hands around your tits and pressing them together, creating a perfect valley for his cock. The warmth of your body against him made Zayne groan, and you felt a thrill at the power you held over him, even as he watched you with a hungry gaze.

“Just like that, babe. Perfect,” he encouraged, guiding his cock between your tits, the sensation driving you wild.

You could hardly believe how good it felt, his cock sliding between your flesh as you pushed your chest together tighter, looking up at him through your lashes. “You like this, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his hands gripping your wrists as he pushed himself deeper between your tits. “You’re so good at this, baby.”

The heat in your core grew as you continued, each thrust of his cock making you wetter, slickness pooling between your legs. Zayne was losing himself in the pleasure, eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper, each movement sending waves of satisfaction through both of you.

“Damn, I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained, as he watched you with pure lust.

“Do it,” you urged, the thrill of it all pushing you closer to your own edge. “I want to feel you.”

With a deep groan, Zayne thrust forward one last time, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he spilled himself between your breasts, warm ropes of cum painting your skin.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, watching the sight of him losing control over you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Now, that’s a mess,” he chuckled, looking down at the sticky fluid covering your chest. “You’re lucky I like it messy.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence at the way he watched you. “I think I might have to return the favor, Doctor.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh really? And how do you plan on doing that?”

With a mischievous grin, you slid off the table, dropping to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Let me show you.”

He let out a low laugh, clearly impressed by your boldness. “I’m all yours, baby.”

Zayne leaned down, his fingers sliding into your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp. His smirk was wicked, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re still feeling bold, huh? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before you could fire back, he flipped you over, pressing your chest flat against the examination table. His large hands gripped your ass, spreading you open as he dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit until you squirmed beneath him.

“Look at you, so fucking wet,” he murmured, his free hand coming down hard on your ass. The sharp sting made you jolt, a needy whimper escaping you. “You act like a brat, but your body tells me exactly what you want.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you bit out, pushing back against him.

Zayne chuckled darkly. “Still mouthing off?” He didn’t wait for an answer—he thrust into you in one smooth motion, stretching you open as his cock filled you completely.

Your fingers clawed at the table as a strangled moan left your lips. “Fuck—Zayne!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you,” he groaned, setting a brutal pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the med bay, mixed with the filthy wet sounds of him fucking you deep.

His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock harder. The angle had him slamming against your g-spot with every thrust, sending pleasure surging through your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed firm, tight circles, making your legs shake. “I can feel you squeezing me—getting close, aren’t you?”

You were falling apart too fast, the heat coiling in your stomach, the relentless pace of his cock driving you straight to the edge. “Z-Zayne, I—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something dark and commanding. “Come for me. I want to feel you gush all over my cock.”

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, and just like that, the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. Your body locked up, back arching as you came hard, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as you squirted all over him.

“Fuck yes,” Zayne groaned, watching you soak him. “That’s my good girl.”

Your body trembled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled out just long enough to spread your slickness all over his cock, smearing your wetness against your folds before thrusting back into you with a deep, guttural moan.

The overstimulation had you whimpering, but the pleasure was addicting, your walls fluttering around him as he chased his own release.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasped, his thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up—”

With one last deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning as he spilled inside you, hot cum flooding your pussy. He rocked his hips a few more times, letting you feel every drop before slowly pulling out.

A filthy wet sound followed, his cum oozing from your used hole. Zayne hummed in approval, dragging his fingers through the mess before pushing some of it back inside you, his smirk downright sinful.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he murmured, watching as you twitched beneath him, body still sensitive. “You look so damn pretty like this, baby.”

You shuddered, still trying to catch your breath, but managed to shoot him a glare. “You’re a menace.”

Zayne only chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you into his lap, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

You sighed, leaning into him, exhaustion and satisfaction settling over you. “…Shut up.”

His grin widened. “Whatever you say, babe.”

＠ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ；

Xavier had you sprawled out beneath him, his toned body hovering over yours as his fingers ghosted over your skin, teasing, taunting, driving you insane. His sharp blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he trailed his hand between your thighs, brushing over your already swollen clit.

“Mm, look at you,” he mused, voice smooth, dripping with arrogance. “So desperate for me, and yet you were acting like a little brat just a few minutes ago.”

You huffed, shifting beneath him, trying to grind against his hand. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Xavier chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes darkened, something more dangerous lurking beneath. “Oh? Is that right?”

Before you could process it, his palm cracked against your thigh, then your ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah—Xavier!” you yelped, the sound melting into a moan as he smoothed his hand over the heated skin.

“Now, that’s better,” he murmured, fingers dipping back between your folds, slipping through the wetness there. “God, you’re soaked, babe. You really do like being put in your place, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but a sharp slap to your ass had you gasping.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice all silk and steel.

“…Maybe,” you muttered, face burning.

He tsked, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” Another sharp slap made you whimper. “But you’re my pain in the ass.”

You shivered at that, but before you could say anything else, Xavier finally gave in, pushing two fingers into your pussy, stretching you open. The pleasure was immediate, your back arching as he curled them just right, finding that spot that made you tremble.

“Xavier—”

“I know, baby,” he purred, working his fingers faster, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your breath hitched as the pleasure built fast, the coil in your stomach tightening with every stroke. “I-I need more—”

He smirked. “More?” He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your whine of protest as he leaned back, positioning himself between your legs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you properly then.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pushing inside, stretching you open with his cock. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he murmured, rolling his hips, making you whimper. “So damn tight, baby.”

His hands gripped your hips, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust hitting deep, rubbing against that spot that had you seeing stars. The pleasure was dizzying, your tits bouncing with every movement, heat building in your stomach at an alarming pace.

Xavier watched you, a smug smirk curling his lips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could barely think, barely breathe, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. “X-Xavier, I—”

“I want to see you lose control,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit, pushing you over the edge. “Come for me, babe.”

And just like that, the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your whole body shuddered as you came, the force of it so intense that you felt yourself squirt all over his abs.

A strangled moan left your lips, your mind hazy as you collapsed beneath him, body twitching from the aftershocks.

Xavier stilled for a moment, glancing down at the mess you’d made, before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, running a hand over his slick-covered abs before bringing it to his lips, licking it off with a satisfied hum. “That was fucking hot.”

Your face burned, embarrassment creeping in, but before you could protest, he thrust into you again, making you gasp.

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly. “We’re not done yet. I need to see you do that again.”

And with the way he was looking at you—hungry, insatiable—you knew you were in for a long night.

＠ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ；

Sylus sat with his back against the headboard, his toned arms resting lazily on the pillows, watching you with those piercing red eyes. His expression was unreadable—calm, controlled—but the way his fingers kneaded into your thighs told you everything. He was holding back. Letting you set the pace. But for how long?

You were straddling his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that had your whole body trembling. Your hands were planted on his chest, nails pressing into his skin as you struggled to move, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him.

“Look at you,” Sylus murmured, voice smooth, laced with amusement. “Acting all shy now.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “Didn’t seem so shy when you were teasing me earlier, baby.”

Your face burned, but you still mustered up a glare. “I wasn’t teasing,” you muttered, shifting slightly, gasping when the movement made his cock press even deeper.

His lips quirked, but his patience was wearing thin. “No? Then what do you call sitting in my lap, grinding against me, acting like you weren’t desperate to be fucked?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, refusing to answer.

Sylus hummed, his hands sliding up to your waist, his grip steady but firm. “That’s what I thought.” He guided you up, just enough for the tip of his cock to nearly slip out before dragging you back down onto him. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your nails raking over his chest as pleasure shot up your spine.

The stretch was too much, the sensation unbearable in the best way. You wanted to move, to fuck yourself on his cock properly, but your body was weak, trembling from how deep he reached inside you.

A whimper escaped your lips, and Sylus groaned at the sound, his composure slipping. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs burned, struggling to keep up with the pace you wanted, and he noticed. The second you faltered, Sylus’s control snapped.

“Can’t do it yourself, huh?” he mused, though his voice was rougher now, his patience long gone. “That’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, he gripped your ass, holding you still as he rolled his hips up into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. Then he did it again. And again.

The pace was brutal, his cock hitting spots that had you gripping onto him for dear life, pleasure mounting too fast to control. Your clit throbbed, the friction driving you higher, pushing you toward a peak that felt different—more intense, more overwhelming than anything you’d ever felt.

“S-Sylus—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your throat. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Then let go,” he rasped, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit, his thrusts never slowing. “Come for me.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you with a force that left you gasping, your whole body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you. A sharp cry tore from your lips as you felt it—felt yourself squirt, the rush of liquid soaking Sylus’s cock, dripping down onto his thighs.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his red eyes dark with something primal as he watched you tremble in his lap, completely wrecked.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You barely had the energy to respond, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks, but Sylus wasn’t finished. His hands flexed on your waist before he thrust up into you again, burying himself deep as his own release hit, warmth flooding your insides as he came.

Your body slumped against his, breathless, skin slick with sweat. Sylus ran a hand through your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his other hand lazily trailing over your thigh, brushing against the mess between your legs.

“Looks like I fucked you stupid,” he murmured, smug.

Your weak glare didn’t faze Sylus in the slightest. If anything, it made him smirk, that lazy, knowing expression that only made your stomach tighten all over again. His fingers traced over your thigh, slipping dangerously close to the mess between your legs, deliberately teasing.

“You made a mess, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t expect you to squirt like that.” His thumb brushed your swollen clit, making your body jolt against him.

Your breath hitched, still sensitive from your orgasm, but Sylus didn’t care. He spread his fingers, rubbing your pink and creamy slick over your inner thighs, then over his cock, still buried inside you, his release mixing with the wetness between your legs.

“Feel that?” His voice dropped lower, more deliberate. “You’re still drippin’ all over me.”

A whimper escaped your lips as he pressed down on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, your thighs trembling on either side of him.

“S-Sylus—”

“Hmm?” His free hand slid up your body, fingers curling around your tits, kneading the soft flesh. “Something wrong?”

You shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily against his touch. “Too much—”

He only chuckled, rolling a nipple between his fingers while keeping steady pressure on your clit. “Too much, huh?” He tilted his head, eyes burning into yours. “That’s funny, baby, ’cause your pussy is still clenching around me like you want more.”

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, torn between sensitivity and the sharp need still buzzing under your skin. He was pushing you past your limit, and he knew it.

Sylus shifted, pressing you down against his chest, trapping you against his heat. His lips brushed over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “Be good for me,” he murmured, a sharp contrast to the way his fingers slid between your folds, spreading your slick. “Let me have one more.”

You whimpered, body tensing, but when he thrust up into you—slow, deep, filling you all over again—the last of your resistance crumbled.

＠ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ；

Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, that intense pink and blue gaze igniting a fire inside you. He stepped closer, his smirk teasing as he caught the challenge in your expression. “Feeling mean today, huh?”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye. “What are you going to do about it?”

Without warning, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the bed. You felt your heart race as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“You know I love it when you act like this,” he said, a low growl in his voice as his fingers slid between your wet folds, teasing your pussy. “But let’s see how long you can keep up that attitude.”

His fingers worked expertly, stroking your clit and plunging deep into your slick heat. “You’re already soaked, baby. Can’t resist me, can you?”

You gasped, trying to maintain your defiance but quickly losing your resolve. “Shut up, Raf.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his smirk growing wider as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that spot inside you. Your breath hitched, and your back arched as pleasure coursed through you.

“Raf, please,” you whimpered, squirming against his touch, desperate for more.

He didn’t waste any time; with one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing and ready. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want it,” you begged, feeling the need building inside you. “Please!”

“Good girl,” he said, and in one powerful thrust, he filled you completely. You gasped at the stretch, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Look at you, so fuckin’ needy.”

He set a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, his body slamming into yours as he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. The pressure built inside you, the familiar tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

“Raf, I’m so close!” you cried, feeling your body ready to explode.

“Just a little more, baby. Let it happen,” he urged, his pace relentless, driving you closer to the edge.

With one final thrust, everything snapped. You felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash over you as you squirted for the first time, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. Your body trembled, and cries escaped your lips as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Rafayel grunted, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he watched you come undone. “That’s it! Just like that!” he growled, losing himself in the sensation.

“Raf!” you screamed, unable to contain the intense pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, I’m right there!” he grunted, thrusting deep as he chased his own release, filling you with his warmth as you both rode the wave together.

Breathless, he collapsed against you, the heat of your bodies mingling as you came down from the high. “You really know how to make things wild,” he panted, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

Rafayel's grin returned as he caught his breath, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Damn, babe, you really squirted everywhere,” he said, looking down at the mess you both made. “Guess I really know how to get you going.”

You laughed breathlessly, the tension from earlier still buzzing in your body. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he shot back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he playfully nudged you with his knee. “Ready for round two?”

With a quick movement, he turned you around, positioning you on all fours. “Time to show you how fun mirror sex can be,” he teased, guiding himself back inside you from behind.

“Just look at those tits bouncing,” he remarked, his voice light and teasing. “I could watch this all day.”

You felt the familiar mix of pleasure and irritation bubbling up, but the way he kept his tone silly made it hard to stay mad. “You’re ridiculous,” you replied, pushing back against him, wanting more of that delicious friction.

“Ridiculously good at this, right?” he quipped, thrusting harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the air. “Feel that, babe? You like it when I hit you like this?”

“God, yes!” you cried, loving the way his cock filled you up, the way he perfectly mirrored your movements, matching your pace with every thrust.

“Then let’s make a mess again,” he grinned, his tone dripping with playful confidence. With each thrust, he picked up speed, pushing you closer to that familiar edge.

“Raf, I’m close!” you gasped, your clit rubbing against the bed as he drove deeper.

“Let it go, babe,” he urged, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you both built toward that climax again. “I want to see you squirt again.”

With his words igniting something primal within you, you surrendered to the pleasure, feeling the tension build until it burst. You squirted again, moaning as pleasure washed over you, the sensation more intense this time as he continued to thrust, sending you spiraling into ecstasy.

“Fuck yes! That’s my girl!” he shouted, his own release following closely as he filled you up, both of you lost in the bliss of the moment.

As you both caught your breath, Rafayel leaned down, his playful demeanor returning, pulling you back against his chest. “You ready for round three? I think we can make an even bigger mess this time.”

You smiled, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel alive. “Bring it on, babe. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”

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[umamaki]

cw: lowk red flag caleb lol, virginity loss

Caleb is pissed when you get asked out for the first time. He had deliberately warned everyone in both of your social circles to stay away from you. Not without threats of violence or death, either. So yeah, he’s pissed as fuck when you tell him. Did he have to burn the whole world down merely to keep you all to himself? To protect you from perverts and creeps?

But, unfortunate and naive, you were so damn excited for this date. He couldn’t spoil your mood. Not when you asked him which dress to wear—both of them too short for his liking—and certainly not when you asked him to zip up the back for you.

There was just something about how you looked, all dolled up and cute to see someone who wasn’t him. He can already barely control himself around you; even the thought of another man having access to you like this makes him utterly sick. “It’s just not a good idea. All guys want the same thing.”

“You’re a guy aren’t you, Caleb? So what, are you telling me you’re like that too? Hmm?” He wants to wipe the playful smile off your face. You just think everything’s some fucking game.

“He’s gonna want to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Huh, pipsqueak?”

He thinks he went too far then, notes the way your eyes widen and lips slightly part. You shake your head, but he already knows. He knows everything about you. So when you ask if he can help you, give you some advice, he knows exactly how he will.

“So naive, let me just show you.” He smashes his lips against yours. The force would’ve sent you falling backwards had he not steadied you with his hand on the small of your back.

“This is how to kiss…” he mutters it into your mouth, not caring that your teeth are hitting each other.

“And this…” he lifts your skirt just enough so that he can pull your panties to the side and slide his fingers along your puffy folds. “This is how it feels to be fingered.”

“Ah—Caleb!” You squeal when he fully plunges his finger in deeper than your own fingers ever could. He adds another, and soon the room is filled with your moans and the lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy.

His lips are back on yours, and this time his tongue is shoved inside your mouth, claiming it. He goes faster when he feels your walls clench around him, and lets you grip his biceps while you come around his fingers and leave behind crescent shaped indents on his arms.

He nearly throws you on the bed, eager to yank off your underwear and free himself from his own boxers, wasting no time in aligning his tip to your still sensitive cunt.

“This is how to take it like a good fucking girl.” You try your best to relax, to be so good for him as he buries himself into you. He lets you get used to his size, going slow. Not moving until you practically beg him to, then there’s no going back. He’s brutally snapping his hips against yours and watching your tits bounce through your dress.

“Already gonna come on my cock? You really are inexperienced. Can’t even control yourself. Go on then. Fucking. Come.” With two last jerks of his hips, your climax washes over you and he tries so fucking hard to delay his own orgasm. He begins to pull out but your legs lock him in place. He cums on the spot—still inside you.

“Don’t care that I ruined your dress? How you gonna go on your date now, baby?”

“Hm. Guess I have to cancel,” you say, faux disappointment coating your words.

He pauses. “There was no date.”

“There was no date.” You confirm, wearing that same stupid grin from before. Luckily your schedule is free, because he has a hell of a punishment waiting for you after that.