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tteokdoroki · 3 days ago

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🍥 CONFESSIONS OF A PRETTY PUPPY GIRL ✩ caleb xia.

description ✩ it’s just caleb for gods’ sake, is what you tell yourself, he’s your boyfriend! he’s seen you naked before! it’s no big deal. so… what are you so afraid of? what’s so scary about asking him to call you puppy? 9.2K

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 allergen advice ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only ⋆ semi canon verse, newly established relationship, exploring new kinks, implied sex marathon, puppy play, pet play, dry humping, clothed sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, spitting in mouth, marking, squirting, cumplay, creampies to lovers lolll, soft dom caleb, shy female reader. ── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2025.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 store notes ⋆ not the first caleb fic ive written but the first i have posted and my first lads fic on dis blog !! this one really got away from me im scared lol. kinda selfship coded but i hope u like and stick around for more. @hunters-association

“caleb.”

the night is quiet, except for the gentle buzz of cicadas and rustling leaves outside of your open window — a cool breeze filtering through, welcomed into your home after the agonising heat of the day. you shiver, not because of the reprise of the cold, but because you’re nervous. you’ve been nervous, from the second you parted your lips and called for the colonel who lounges about in your bedroom, amongst your things, tucked between plushies and other collectibles as though he belongs right there with them.

and he does. caleb always belongs where you are. to you, to your heart.

logically, you know that. that there’s no reason for you to be afraid of the question dancing across the tip of your tongue — he would never judge you, not after everything you’ve been through together and apart.

“yeah, pips?”

so, why does your heart race? why is your pulse loud and erratic in your ears when he absentmindedly responds to you — voice gravelly and hoarse from all that you’ve gotten up to today. from not being used in the last half hour. the intimidating, cold and calculated leader of the Farspace Fleet, lies on his back between your legs, ruffled chocolatey hair soft against your clammy inner thigh, his breathing even and phone casually in hand. he looks so…cute and relaxed in comparison to how you feel as what if you ruin that with your question and the silly little thoughts running through your mind.

you shouldn’t feel this crazy or this nervous. not when you’re wearing one of his old zip up hoodies from college with the large DAA logo printed on the back that’s beginning to peel. underneath; your skin is bare, littered with love bites and bruises dotted across your body like a paint splatter on a canvas, and you’re sweaty perhaps because you’re only just calming down from your last round or maybe because you’re terrified. you shouldn’t feel terrified talking to caleb. not when he’s the one who’s done this to you. hours and hours of sex and making love to you and you still feel that nauseating sense of fear crawling through your ribcage like a stubborn weed desperately trying to reach the sun.

he’s yours. for crying out loud. he’s your boyfriend! he’s seen what lies beneath the surface, taken a peek beneath the folds of your flesh that protect the vital parts of you. caleb… he’s seen you in every shape and form, on dark sad days and brighter happy ones. there should be no shame in what you’re about to ask him, even if he says no to your request — caleb has been careful enough with your heart all this time, he knows how to let you down gently and easily.

secretly, you can only hope that he doesn’t have to.

a dry, cotton-like sensation invades your mouth and block the words on your mind — it’s just caleb, it’s always been just you and caleb. there’s no need to get so deathly anxious like this.

you hold a breath and swallow before you speak again.

“can we try something?”

“of course,” he responds almost instantly — cautious and caring. the colonel swipes away whatever app he’d been doomscrolling on, setting his amethyst ridden sights on you. with a gentle nod of his head; fluffy brown locks mussed and out of place, he rolls onto his tummy to look at you — caleb silently lets you know that you have all of his attention; that he’s ready to listen because it’s in his nature to spoil you. “what is it?” every fibre and strand of DNA that makes up caleb’s being is wired to meet your every demand and desire — there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, whether you’d asked him for it or not… because he knows you. he always has or he’s trained himself to pick up the new pieces of your soul he hasn’t had the chance to learn yet.

right off the bat, he doesn’t push you away or make you feel silly for hesitating — the better half of your brain knows he wouldn’t have done that. even still, you’ve got a lot of nerves to shake before you can fully confess to him.

words intertwined and twisted together like sturdy rope begin to catch in your throat, they coagulate and you choke on them and even though what you want to say is so oh-so-simple, you find yourself too flustered and panicked to speak. “i-if it’s okay, could you…u-um—?” frustration bubbles in your gut, why can’t you just say it, speak your mind with the man who loves you entirely too much for his own good.

sensing the spike in your anxiety, the one eighty from your previously relaxed and lovey-dovey state — caleb immediately moves to sit up, the depth of his perfect purple eyes increasing with concern.

“hey, hey, you’re okay,” he pushes himself over you, a large hand settling at the centre of your chest to guide its motions. “breathe slow for me, speak when you’re ready. i’m not goin’ anywhere, pipsqueak,” the colonel says with a charming smile, words sugar-coated and earnest. “promise.”

you do your best to follow caleb’s set of instructions — hyperaware of the push of his palm against your lungs as you breathe in and out for the man above you, caging you in against the sheets where evidence of your love lies. if he wanted to, he could carve out your chest, steal your organs, rip you apart like predator on prey… but he doesn’t. not quite ready to devour you, not until you’re the one who’s ready again. so instead, you choose to focus your attention on the puppy-like tilt of his head, the marks you’d left against the exposed parts of his tanned, manuka honey skin and most importantly — his smile. the one that shines and persists through the darkness of the night, despite all that he’s been through and all that he’s lost.

caleb shines brightest when he’s here. with you.

“i want you to call me something —” you say bravely, finally feeling calm enough. “— when we...” reaching up, you toy with the dexterous fingers slayed out against your chest — noting the way in which caleb’s thumb reassuringly strokes underneath the swell of your breast where it meets your ribcage ( from over your hoodie, of course). it distracts you momentarily, makes your breath hitch as you lose your train of thought to skilled and tender touches.

when we have sex.

you finish the sentence in your head.

it amuses him, the colonel, how you’re so shy and timid now. after you’ve been in this room for hours — going at it, screaming and moaning each other’s names until the roof threatens to come down. yet, caleb’s no longer in the mood for teasing, taunting or being ‘mean’ right now. any sinful, salacious nickname he had for you slips from his mind, though it’s not like you haven’t used degrading ones before when you’re both up and to being experimental. but he can tell, you’re feeling shy and nervous to ask, so it must be wanting to ask him for something different.

“wanna tell me what it is?” he prompts, dragging out the sound of the vowels dotted amongst his question.

you swallow thickly, a weak attempt to rid yourself of the haze you find yourself falling under. like caleb has cast a spell on you that gets you hot under the skin and needy for more than just his ghosting touch. the leader of the Farspace Fleet’s gaze drops from your softening eyes that simmer with something moreish and hesitant — like you’re afraid to be greedy before his stare becomes drawn to your exposed neck, the column of your throat as you gulp down your inhibitions. he tracks the movement, one that’s slow and torturous to the point where it strikes heat underneath his skin in a similar manner to that of a flint and stone — so this burning heat, mixed with the lightest hints of lust, swirls deep within the colonel’s gut.

caleb has always felt as though something belonged there, at the base of your pretty throat where your subtle adam’s apple bobs as you swallow gently. perhaps a pendant of his initials or something a little tighter that fits like his hand. he’s not sure, but you’ve previously enjoyed pressure there in your most intimate moments.

“can we uh…” blinking slowly, dizzied by your boyfriend’s lazy yet reassuring grin from up as he waits for you with an unbelievable amount of patience, you try again with your words. “can you try calling me ‘puppy’?”

silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable nor is it humiliating.

instead, it crackles with something more. something hot and electric and excitingly familiar. anticipation and desire trickles into the atmosphere — pulling caleb into your orbit, your sweet voice as you ask, as you murmur the pet name and your perfect bambi eyes lulling him in like a gravitational force. he quirks a brow. “puppy, huh?” he repeats slowly, just to make sure. drawing out the syllables and noting how you squirm for later. “how come?”

he’s still hanging above you, he has been all this time — leaning his weight on strong, glistening forearms that flex as caleb shifts over your frame. not to mention the fact that he’s still shirtless, chest heaving with the weight of what could happen next. the colonel’s brown hair, shaggy and sticking up in all directions from your last round of sex, shields you from his berry shaded eyes as they darken and begin to pick you to pieces — as if you were a puzzle to be figured out, he’s still learning what you like, still learning your body even though he’s admired it… you for years. getting to know how your pretty little mind works, what makes it spin, what makes you tick.

there’s a lot of time he has to make up for, a lot of things he has yet to try with you.

“i’ve read about it, i like how it sounds … i think from you i’d...” you continue and fight the urge to curl in on yourself, choosing to loosely wrap your arms around caleb’s neck instead. his response is instinctual and practised — quick to pull you up by your forearms and straight into his lap, the sudden change in position catching you off guard. “i-i’d really like it if you called me that.” with the new proximity, you’re forced to let caleb see your neediness up close, the dilation of your pupils as you set your sights on the man you desire most along with the hunger that seeps from your pores.

he can almost smell the need for sex on you or perhaps it’s just the way you get so wet at the slightest hint of attention.

cocking his head to the side, the usually cool and callous colonel looks up at you — expression teasing, yet curious, with his tongue poking the soft inner epithelium of his cheek as he watches you squirm like an insect under a microscope. “you would like it if i called you my puppy?” he’s trying to capture you in his hypnotic gaze, and you’re falling for it miserably — shuddering in caleb’s lap as he shifts to manspread on the edge of your bed.

oh.

you bite your lip, its skin still sore from previous makeout sessions, because like this — you can feel it all. the sudden swell to caleb’s cock, concealed by grey sweatpants halfheartedly thrown on during the aftermath, and the way its length pulsates against your sex barely covered by a thin, barely-there pair of floral printed panties. “mhm…” is all you manage to respond with, your abused and used hole already clenching down on the press of his twitching girth against you.

a soft warning follows. “be a good girl, use your words.”

“yes.”

an elated grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s stupidly perfect face. “you’re so pretty, puppy,” it’s like he’s rewarding you for being brave, showering you with immediate and overbearingly candied praise that has you melting in his lap like hot sugar on the stove. caleb slowly starts to buck upwards, grinding, pushing his tip through your clothed pussy lips as it reddens with need. “i love you, puppy. want me to say it like that?”

you nod carefully, because if you give an inch caleb will take a mile. he’ll tease you relentlessly over your confession and to be honest, you’ll like it. “love you caleb,” comes your meek reply, rolling your hips in synchronicity with his own — your bodies dancing to a tune only the two of you know. “sensitive…” you gasp quietly when his bulbous, leaky cockhead catches on your clit, swollen and achy between your bare and bruised thighs.

“but it feels good, right?” the colonel drawls, his tone husky and low — its baritone notes scratching an itch in your brain you can’t reach on your own. large and veiny hands find themselves settling at the meat of your waist — placed there for comfort and subtle guidance whilst caleb slowly begins to pull you back and forth over his prominent erection. the movements are precise and purposeful, intending to pull you under the surface waters of lust and twist at the familiar knots beginning to form in your lower belly. he knows you, like one would know their morning routine or the backs of their hands. caleb has spent his entire life studying you — in this moment, he knows exactly what you need.

a push. permission.

to be told it’s okay, to take from him so selfishly. to indulge in him now that no one is watching or judging. to let yourself get lost in the ecstasy he provides…because that’s what he was made for — to please you, keep you happy and make you feel safe.

“so good.”

it’s true, you do feel so good. his erect cock makes a home tucked between your barely-clothed folds — your wetness seeping through his sweats, outlining his length as it catches on the hood of your clit. the fortress built around your mind falters and falls apart, just as you do between deft fingers that belong to your loyal and dedicated colonel. his grip shifts downwards, sinking into the supple flesh of your semi-exposed ass before pulling you down onto his prominent girth — keeping you there as you bucks up to test the waters and eases you beyond your sensitivity.

“that’s my girl. my good puppy,” caleb mumbles firmly under his breath letting you know that he adamantly means what he tells you, the dangerous lilt to his whispered words and his velvety voice thickening with ardour. you whimper and lean into the praise that wafts through the night air like an electric current crackling with unspoken, unleashed desire. “know just what you like, don’t i?” and god, yes he does. your body moves on instinct, hips swirling down to match the pace of his because he knows just what spots to hit. even if it hurts, even if your poor pussy is wet and raw from previous rounds — you can’t and won’t fight the craving to have caleb once again.

slick sounds layer underneath the echoes of shifting fabric. every single movement that causes them is feverish and hot, setting you on fire from the inside out, burning at your veins and causing blood to simmer underneath the surface or your skin — taking on the form of embarrassment and neediness. it rushes through your system, coagulated red blood cells fusing together to worsen the feeling. he’s too much yet not enough. even with the fact that the two of you belong like this, bodies fit together perfectly as though they’re the final pieces of your love story’s puzzle. caleb was always meant to be yours, always meant to walk by your side and come back down from his place in the skies to make you see stars.

“y-yes…” you stutter out weakly, as though all the air in your lungs has been swiped away — replaced by a burning, salaciously smokey flame. you’re lost in the smog, in the darkness that shrouds your brain making it easier for caleb to move and manipulate your body in a way that suits you both. he looks so smug, so proud seated underneath you while you rut and grind against his throbbing girth. if you had the strength to look, to fight your fluttering eyelids, you’d surely be able to note the darkening patch on the front of his sweats — not sure if it’s from your slippery pussy as she leaks through your panties or the precum that oozes from your boyfriend’s bright red tip.

the very notion has your vision swimming even if you can’t bring yourself to glance down; instead focusing on raking your fingers through his chocolatey locks to ground yourself and the way inky black swallows the natural purple glow to his eyes — showing you how far gone the colonel is, showing you that he’ll keep crossing this line with you over and over again. that no kink or pet name could ever deter him from wanting you as badly as he does.

caleb laughs breathily at the far-gone look in your eye, the way your lips part with those sweet little mewls — letting him get a good look at the drool and saliva pooling on your tongue. “look at you, puppy. barely there ‘n i haven’t even kissed you yet. so sweet and needy for it…yeah?” an inkling of cheer and amusement makes itself known in the intonation of his voice, the praise melting you from the inside out like dangerously hot sugar at its boiling point. so he’s mocking you, ever so slightly, condescendingly grinning up at you with rows of perfect white teeth and furrowed brows that occasionally twitch in pleasure.

but that doesn’t mean he’s doing any better than you, in fact, he’s probably closer to his fall from grace. you’ll never truly understand the depth of caleb xia’s want for you — every sound, every sob or sniff and shift of your increasingly sluice sex against his clothed and meaty girth gives him head rush. he never thought he’d be the one to have you like this and he couldn’t tell you the number of times he’d pictured being in this moment. the very idea saved like a secret kept under his tongue, only uttered in the form of breathy moans in the depths of the night.

now you’re his and you’re humping the print of his dick like your life is on the line — adrenaline guiding rapid rounds you grind your hips in. you belong to him and you’re clinging onto him like a life line, like he’s your last thread of sanity before you lose yourself completely — turning brainless, void of all thought whilst you look to caleb for all answers. it’s only when some kind of hybrid cry, an adorable mix between a whimper and a sob, drips like honey from your plush lips ( as though you really are a sweet puppy looking for treats ) that the colonel is able to refocus and join you in the present.

“hey. hey there, pup. you’re burnin’ up,” the colonel’s cock kicks up against your pulsating mound — pressing the ridges of his spiralling blueish veins between drenched folds, dragging them over your swollen clit deliciously. he thinks about it, really, he does. teasing you further to the point where you might actually burst into tears — but as his rough, dexterous fingers push you into his bare chest by the base of your spine, before they snake down to your fleshy ass just to spread you nice and wide, he switches gears. better to soothe you, coo at you, be the man you can rely on when your desires get the best of you and you can’t even think straight. “what should i do, huh? wanna make it feel better, baby. tell me what you need me to do.”

how to take care of you.

thick and viscous essence glues your cheeks together, seeping hotly through caleb’s clothes whilst he pulls them apart hungrily… and deep down he already knows the answer — his body, his mind even down to his cells and DNA, they know what has to be done in order to take care of you.

of course you don’t respond, reduced to puppy whines and snivels whilst your sex drools all over him in a subtle claim. poor thing, poor baby, you need the colonel to fix it for you — clean up your messes as he always has.

smoothing over your feverish skin, your boyfriend hums to himself — the sound vibrating from deep within his chest, sending a spark of lust moving through your own body and down to your weeping slit. “how about a kiss? c’mere, wanna kiss you.” the tip of his tongue pries apart your lips before you can even register the wet sensation as it licks over chapped skin in order to reach your own tongue. now caleb’s angled his head upwards, earnest and intentional, ready to swallow you whole – though contrastingly…his kisses aren’t too rough or fast paced. much unlike the way the two of you hump one another other. no, with each lip lock – you find that the end game of his lips is different. barely there, gentle as he slothily rolls his pink muscle over each feature of your hot mouth. claiming you, tasting you and promising you pleasure with unspoken works so long as you trust him.

you taste like the hours of love that you’ve made and the soured apple candies you’d shared in between – but underneath remains the subtle notes of you. caleb leans up for more, swallowing each and every one of your pitiful cries because you oh-so willingly give them to him in a gesture of love and trust. although your thoughts feel sluggish and mushy, you instinctively seek him out for comfort and lust. the dark haired man has never been more thankful for your bravery, daring to try out this new kink. it brings out a cuter, more vulnerable side of you that he just wants to keep all for himself.

perhaps its the lack of air and oxygen circulating from your lungs to your brain whilst you make out and dry-fuck like teenagers – but you find your limbs going so slack on top of caleb to the point where he has no choice but to collapse back into your bed. despite how clipped and cold the colonel, has grown to be, warmth blossoms underneath your skin as his palms smooth their way up your back and trace the curve in your spine until caleb is properly able to cup your throat from behind — pulling you up for another soul consuming smooch. he relishes in your flavour, the promise on your tongue and the dedication behind your teeth,

between the sloppy kisses you exchange, uncoordinated but full of want, each one of them doting — caleb exhales desperately through his nose, loving lavender orbs fluttering at the never-ending deliciously hot friction between your overworked bodies. he should be spent, should be exhausted after spending hours pouring passion into you until your limbs were loose in their sockets and splayed out on the sheets … but there’s something about the needy look in your eye, the sparkle ignited in them when he calls you his sweet puppy that keeps the colonel going. “will you let me fuck you? ‘cause i really wanna fuck you, puppy. please.” he lets out a glacé gripe, dragging out each syllable in a way that makes you go a little dumb and woozy for him. “let me roll us over, yeah? lie on your back for me…”

there’s a brief moment where caleb pulls back just to kick off his sweats, but you howl like you’ve been wounded or shoved back into your puppy crate without so much as a kiss goodnight. so, the dark haired man doesn’t even bother, shoving down the fabric with his boxers in one go, until they sit under his fat, heavy balls and his leaky shaft is able to spring free — hitting his washboard abs with a dull, sticky thud. no matter how many times you find yourselves making love, you can’t help but drool when caleb’s cock comes into your line of sight. he’s as thick as he is long. accompanied by a flushed tip dribbling a viscous stream of opaque white. proof of the arousal you stir up within him. “so impatient, be a good girl and wait for me. you can do that, right?” the dark-haired colonel tuts but… its not malicious. never that. not with you. instead rather boarding on the edge of restraint — trying to have patience for a sweet pet that has yet to properly be trained.

all you can respond with his a symphony of whimpers and whistle-like moans — lips parted with strings of saliva tethering your tongue to the roof of your mouth on display for your gross, pervy boyfriend to see. he loves the view, he really does, and it only makes the man more eager to wreck or ruin you until you’re satisfied. caleb could please you for hours, it’s all he’s ever wanted to do — go rounds and rounds without stopping if that’s all that you want. tossing the name puppy into the mix only worsened this desire for him.

no longer intent on letting time pass, effortlessly, the colonel flips you onto your back and groans softly as your legs instinctively part to make room for him. you can’t hide the way your sex glistens with arousal, a fresh slick webbed over your puffy and abused folds only worsening the transparency of your barely-there panties. they’re practically see through now, letting caleb see every inch of your perfect cunt and the way she clenches hungrily around nothing.

a greedy little hole ready to be filled after hours and hours of being fucked silly.

all because you like being reduced to nothing but a dumb puppy.

the way he watches you, picks you apart with that alluring amethyst stare is entirely too hypnotic and tilts your world on its axis. it’s crazy how he’s always so easily able to pull you into his orbit, even more so with the way you’re unable to tell if it’s because of his evol or the way he loves up on you. on instinct, your hips jump up as if to beckon caleb to fill you to the brim with whatever he can. you know you’re being voracious, taking whatever you can from the colonel who gives you the entire universe already, but if you can already taste him in the intimate buzz of the night air, smell him on your skin and feel him even when he’s not physically touching you — what more is asking to be bred like the desperate puppy in heat that you are.

another beat passes before a large and rough palm snakes its way down to caleb’s bobbing erection — he pumps himself twice, languidly, nearly getting lost in the pleasure and the sight of you enticingly on display for him.your body shines with light perspiration, your chest unevenly heaves with desperation, your pretty lips bitten and swollen, your inner thighs glossy and glazed with slick… and god, your eyes. his gut painfully twists with lust when he notices your darkened bedroom eyes . he could cum right here, right now. but your tone when you call his name is dulcet yet demanding — no foreplay. just him.

“caleb…”

you sound so broken and yet the only thing on your mind, the only word you can think to utter is his name… which belongs only to you. it’s so entertaining to witness the ways in which you crave him and unravel just for him, putting him at the centre of your universe where you are the centre of his own. you’ve had enough of the sensual hump and grind the two of you were once committed to, every part of you is aching for more of him — a painfully hot sensation, almost like a supernova, beginning to burn in the pit of your stomach. staving off his orgasm, caleb shifts forward on the bed and temperately presses his now bare, throbbing shaft against the gusset of your soaked panties — a strangled noise searing at the ridges in his throat at the sight of your juices seeping out of the cotton fabric.

he’s so close to being inside you, so close to shattering your world view because only caleb xia could ever bring you such pleasure. cloying and sticky sounds reverberate between your sweltering sexes whilst caleb pushes the entirety of himself through the length of your juicy slit. “i know, i know,” he coos over the messy soundtrack which is then ad-libbed by gentle sighs of relief, even as his pathetically weepy cockhead catches on the tight ring of your entrance that clenched down on him ever so slightly. the tiny little hole squeezes sweet droplets of essence all over him, adding the extra lube the colonel needs to slip inside of you without any unnecessary pain. “so fuckin’ soaked,” caleb voices quietly, his cadence made fuller by the admiration he has for you. “slick little puppy cunt… she’s gonna drive me crazy.”

he can hardly believe how he chastised you earlier for your impatience when he can’t even keep himself in check — between watching your angelic face crumple with babyish tears at the lewd praise to the way your spasming hole glides perfectly over his naked mushroomed tip, caleb is seconds away from losing his mind. he can’t take much longer, every second he waits to fuck you stupid has him losing his composure, and so, the dark haired leader of the Farspace Fleet finally hooks your soiled undies over the meat of your ravaged folds and aligns himself with your eager entrance — rolling his girth deep into you in one swift motion.

both of you let out gargled stuttering breaths you hadn’t realised either of you were holding — finding solace in the fact that your bodies are finally joining as one for the nth time that day.

with one hand, caleb carefully feeds your selfish sex with every inch — whilst the other roughly pushes up the hoodie that drowns your perfectly soft body. he touches you everywhere, revealing and mapping out more of your supple skin the more inches of him you take. when his comforting and warm palms eventually smooth over your stomach, the colonel presses down and gripes cutely at the outline of himself in your tummy as he bottoms out. “fuck puppy, so wet ‘n warm. can feel you clenchin’ down on me. squirmin’. relax for me...” a pleased huff coasts along the column of your throat, now that your boyfriend has thrown his entire body weight on top of you, ready to pound you through the mattress. you’re barely conscious enough to register his instructions, too worked up to focus on more than one thing at a time. “easy, pretty girl.,,”

right now, it’s the weight of his cock nestled against your rippling, wet walls — making a home for him deep within your cunt. “a-ah!” panting and heaving, you keen your head upwards for a kiss to pacify yourself and sag with relief when your boyfriend indulges you, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to help you cope with the delicious stretch of his heavy, sloppy shaft fighting the slight resistance from your sensitive, squishy insides. “mmf— caleb! s’big!” you push the words around in your mouth, cottony on your tongue as the colonel swallows them down in the form of moans.

caleb only manages to nod and press his forehead against yours when the need for oxygen outweighs the need to comfort you with kisses. using a gluttonous grasp he hikes the backs of your knees onto the unfairly perfect dips in his waist for a better angle, thrusting into you experimentally. “you say that every time, pips. when are you gonna get used to takin’ me?” amusement fluffs up his question, though it’s not long before his confident attitude dissolves and a mop of chocolaty brown hair is dropping to your neck in search of some sort of reprieve — a tempting whine breaches the seal of his lips and tickles the shell of your ear, because now that your hips are pressed flush against his and your pulsating puppy pussy envelopes him fully, caleb isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hold out. “s-sorry puppy, not gonna last long. not with you wrapped around me like this.”

“s’okay. feel so full…” you cry out blinking away the bleary edge to your vision — and then you turn to look at him with those sickeningly sweet bambi eyes at the same time he tilts his head to look at you. catching your gaze. those same eyes that seem a little too innocent when compared to the way your prettily filthy pussy locks around his aching dick.

everything is so snug, sloppy and caleb can’t help but sigh out fondly — you want to trap him inside. keep him all to yourself. he can’t even pull out now, not even to start the slow roll of his hips into yours because you refuse to let up, let go, pulling spurts from precum from him that could be enough to breed you if he tried. “but you’re taking me so well,” his voice is soft, laced with love and lust — you might almost miss it over the squelch of your own cunt each time he tries to make a move. “don’t wanna have to keep remindin’ you…you gotta relax for me, puppy.”

and you do try, you really do. to be a good and obedient — letting the tension in your bones, in the base of your spine and the joints in your hips seep into your fingertips whilst they reach out to grab the sheets. “‘m tryin’,” you say petulantly, small and weak like an angelic little thing, bucking upwards as if to force yourself to accommodate caleb’s sheer size. “move please. y-you can move…”

even if it hurts, you want him to have you, destroy your puppy cunt until it’s gushing and gross with even more of his cum — you’re practically full of it anyway. the idea is fulfilling, the way you want him so bad even when you’re struggling to take him, make room for him in your precious little pussy. light kisses cascade down your neck to ease the tightness on your muscles, rendering you dumb. stupid. weak enough to let the colonel pull back from the snugness of your heat to start a slow and steady steam-roll to his hips, his own thrusts.

“that’s it…that’s it, baby,” the brunette wraps an arm around the back of your head to keep you anchored to the bed as it creaks beneath the new weight of his ministrations. “even after hours, you’re still so good at takin’ it.” caleb starts you off easy, a kindness to your fluttering hole that’s been used and abused just mere hours before but the creamy strings of your arousal clinging to each blue ridge that spirals down the length of him act as motivation to claim you over and over again. faster. harder. give you everything. more. “can’t get enough of your caleb’s cock. ain’t that right, puppy?”

he slurs his words, sultry simpers slipping out from between his lightly chapped lips — letting them break out from behind the barricade of his perfect white teeth. hot air fills the little space between you both, buzzing with the lust expelled from your pores and the splashy saliva pouring from your open mouth when you mewl out for him. you nod, just barely, and in response — the colonel pounds into you with more vigor, the affirmation running through his system like pure honey, liquid gold.

there’s a friction from your soft cotton panties against the veins on his chubby cock, deliciously rubbing against him each time he glides in and out of swollen pussy. you have no idea how good it burns for caleb, how happy he is to see your seams loosen underneath him and your sanity to fade away along with his own. “g-good, ‘cause it’s all yours. always yours. just like you’re always going to be mine.” caleb wonders if you know much he needs you, how he’d die without you and how you’re the only person able to bring him back from the darkest parts of himself.

“m-mine?” your soft palms become clammy and tacky as they move to map up and down your boyfriend’s toned back — pulling him into you with the underlying message that you’ll never ever let him go. he’s so good to you, indulging your little fantasy, fucking you into the waning bed like it’s his god given right. you love caleb and all that he does for you. to you. so you hold him tight, unwilling to let him leave your silken insides because you feel like you might die if his dick isn’t safely tucked into your ribbed, sloshing walls.

something about the way you so meekly ask, coupled with the scratches you rake across his honey manuka skin in your own form of a fated red string — drives the colonel up the fucking wall. he’s dazed whilst he grinds into you avidly, jamming his seedy cockhead into your g-spot and swallowing down a thick whine each time he feels sweet nectar spew from between your nether lips in reply. painting him, glazing him, covering him nastily. “that’s right, that’s right sweet puppy. ‘m all yours,” extending the letters in ‘all’, caleb finds himself commenting back entirely too quickly and eagerly — grunting, heightening the ecstasy both you feel. he takes one of your hands in his, bringing it to the molten centre of his bare chest so you can feel his heartbeat. how it yearns for you. “no one else will ever get me like this…”

the display of dedication causes dopamine to bloom across the surface of your brain and other happy hormones streak through your bloodstream, stinging at your clit all smooshed up against caleb’s pelvis as he bucks into you passionately. every weighty, sensational drag of his dick along your gummy walls sends you to the high heavens and every one of his pathetically hungry moans heaved against the shell of your ear brings you back down to earth. grounding you. it goads you to clumsily circle your hips upwards, sweetly trying to match your boyfriend’s ravenous pace.

with skin slapping against skin rhythmically, your body jolts up the bed from the force of caleb’s hips clashing and crashing into yours — each movement full of love, intimate commitment because your bodies move together in ways only lovers know. sharing a familiar choreography, tangled limbs and high pitched moans that should be enough to wake your neighbours. there’s power behind the manner in which the colonel ploughs into you. he’s going so fast you’re scared he might rip through the underwear clinging to your waist but either way it has your heart racing beneath your breasts as they bounce, hardened nipples grazing caleb’s — you’re skin to skin, the blistering hot temperature of your flesh and bones mashing together fuelling this next round of passion.

slow, nearly painful waves crawl down from the base of your skull to the bottom of your spine — a tell tell sign of your orgasm and the release only the colonel can give you. he has you seizing up around him until sugary sighs tear from your throat and you to have to bite down on your lush lips to stop yourself from wailing. witnessing you fall apart like this creates an adoring hiccup in the way the cold commander bucks down into your quivering, creamy pussy. every mewl disintegrates into a loose gasp of his name and its syllables, all muddled up and panted out like a puppy succumbing to her heat and every jolt of your body beneath his earns you a seamless, steady stroke of his messy cockhead along the pleasure spots dotted along your walls that only he knows about.

“can’t last any longer… it’s too much…” you bleat hoarsely, sounding more wrecked and aroused than he’s ever had you before. you’re both so sticky, glued to one another by a crude mix of your arousals and sweat from your session of love making — caleb is relentless at his loving, the pinnacle of your pleasure melting into a constant trance like a forest fire that’s too stubborn to go out.

he laughs at you, almost patronising but still in a lower register, sexier and deeper than his usual voice. “yeah? but if you want it…you’ll keep going,” now he’s whispering darkly, licking a wet trace up the side of your face and tasting the perspiration on your skin that makes you shine in the dark. practically glowing from the sex, the pretty pet names he calls you to help you along and teach your high. “my perfect puppy gets so happy when she’s full of cock ‘n cum, hm? bet if you had a tail it would be waggin’ like nobody's business.” he adds, pinging the waistband of your panties against your stomach.

although he’s the one in control right now, sucking on the junction of your jaw and leaving his mark — making you squeal like a lamb at the slaughter. caleb feels as though he’s trapped under your spell, ready to give you his all and his everything. your cunt languidly rolls up to meet his, breathy whimpers tacky against the wet bridge of his cupid’s bow. he falls into a trance as he fucks you? hikes your thighs up from his waist and over his wide-set shoulders, spreading you apart to split you open and hit deep. he wants to go deeper, harder — never letting up on your g-spot, because when he’s jamming up against it, pressing down on it… he gets to keep all of your pitchy squeaks and sighs to himself like they’re a promise of your commitment to him.

his ownership over you. his perfect puppy.

the newfound angle has your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, lips constantly parted the closer you get to the edge. “g-gods… caleb, please!” you gargle on whatever words that come to mind, mumbling praises into the tight and barely there space between your bodies. said body speaks for you, squeezing and frothing and foaming at the thick base of his pulsing length. whilst caleb hugs your head, you grip his neck — shaky fingers curling in the roots of thick, chocolatey hair all mussed up from sex and tugging on those same locks in that way he likes.

no one would believe you if you told them the colonel practically sobbed at the sudden sensation, overstimulated by both the pain and the pleasure. the molten heat of your precious rippling cunt coated in his pre-seed, the rough friction of your panties still stuffed to one side and keeping him strapped to you, the way you murmur his name between a litter of curses. caleb’s unfairly long lashes flutter against the apples of your burning cheeks, drawing all whiny and romantic over the saliva spread across the planet of his tongue. “good puppy, clenching down on me just like that, do you think you can lift your hips for me?”

you do just as he says, although the colonel mostly manhandles you into position — forcing you into perfect submission, letting you be small and safe with him. your hips rise from the sex stained sheets, helping the tune of his measured grinds and ardent, calculated stream of lunges into your blistering mound. but while you follow his command, he follows the instruction of your own body — greedy puppy cunt refusing to let him go, locking down his feverish pre-cum drooling cockhead against your gushing walls.

large palms, rough and slightly cold smooth from the chub at your waist round to your back — fingertips digging into the curve of your spine to keep you in place whilst caleb picks up the pace. his strength comes into handy, alternating between gentle oscillations of his hips to hard, purposeful plunges that drag you along to the very peak of cloud nine. you spew copious amounts of nectar around him, marking his heavy breeder’s balls as your own, dripping viscous arousal onto the bed — you’re so turned on, so close that it’s made obvious by the nasty pap, pap, pap reverberating from your puppy pussy. sounding like a dreamy aphrodisiac, if it could be a noise or a sound.

your boyfriend withdraws from his warm solace at your neck to observe you, drink in the sight of you sprawled out against the pillows — lip caught between your teeth and expression delirious like you’re high on some kind of class A drug. he looks at you like you’re artwork hung in a fine art museum, flawless, to be admired. it makes you giggle breathlessly, back arching away from the bed whilst you greedily spasm around him involuntarily, almost as if you’re rewarding him for taking care of your needs.

everything turns languid and lazy, caleb sluggishly massages that one spot nestled deep within with his syrupy, sappy pre-cum coated cock — lost in the lassitude painted across your pretty features. a place that only he knows how to locate. caleb grins wide, slow and sexy when you choke on a babyish whinge — canines on display as his lips quirk upwards. “right there, puppy? you need it right there?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, he can tell by the contraction in your tummy and how your eyes roll back into your skull too. “mnn fuck, deserve a treat for listenin’ so well,” he swoops down, licking at your top lip. “c’mon, open up…”

again, you easily follow his dominant orders — hot breath coasting over the tip of his tongue as you part your lips to make room for whatever gift he has for you. the leader of the Farspace Fleet leans over, letting a slow stringy glob of spit fall into your mouth before the rough pad of a single thumb moves quickly to smear the frothy mix over your pretty pouty lips. “So drooly; aren’t you?” he says tranquilly, more so to himself. you like it though, the way he talks down on you, throwing your hips up to match his thrusts and make a home for his milky girth between your creamy soaked folds both rubbed and fucked raw. “shit… that’s it, take it. take it where you need me most. take what you want from me, what you need from me.”

a dull thump against the mattress from every thrust, brackets the airy moans that you share — rising above the sound of smacking lips and tongues being sucked on. your mixed precum and essence soiling the bedding creates a shine on caleb’s pelvis and webs over your thrumming clit — the new wetness distracts you from the heavy clap of your boyfriend’s balls against the curve of your ass, voiding anything you’d planned on saying.

“‘m d-drooly…” you stutter softly.

caleb hums, leaning down to nip the tip of your nose. “a drooly what?”

“puppy. ‘m a drooly puppy. wanna cum caleb. please…” a hearty sob tears your lungs to shreds, shaking your body right down to its core. you don't think you can take anymore, you can’t hold off the orgasm that burns through your nerve endings like a flame to kindle. finally being able to admit that you’re his puppy washes over you like a burn salve, helps you to find the energy to push back and forth on his cock to alleviate its ache. so that the notorious leader of the Farspace Fleet can cum with you. the notorious colonel leaks and leaks, an endless stream of near transparent white that oozes against your wet walls from his bright red tip and aids his movements. “g’na cum!”

it’s so cute how you announce your pending orgasm to him as if the signs aren’t already there. the commander, your boyfriend, your caleb, knows every tick and sign that you have — he can read your body like an open book, he probably wrote the pages too. he knows when you’re close, when you need more, or when he has you right on the edge. no one knows more about you, than caleb xia does. and what his puppy wants, his puppy absolutely gets.

“i know, i know, baby,” caleb goads, a crease forming between his brows from where he’s focused on bringing you to release. “can feel the way this puppy cunt is lockin’ up around me. so close to creaming. all over me, yeah? all over me puppy. give it to me..” he can tell that you’re right there, teetering on the edge of bliss and insanity — he won’t keep you writhing much longer, since you’re already so sensitive from all the sex you’ve had during the day alone. he’s just happy, prideful to be pulling another orgasm out of his pretty girl while making all of her fantasies come true.

your panties are so soaked through they could be rung out and drip your arousal for days — though your slit is in no better condition, pouring treacly essence onto the purplish forked veins of caleb’s shaft as it pulses with his own peak. he feels too much sympathy to make you hold it and overwork your cunt, not when you sound so wet and cry so loud and beg for mercy. he slaps your clit, patting it oh-so lovingly to help you along — tilting his head to the side to get the best view of you breaking underneath him. “go ahead, pup,” he coos to you, making a promise only he can keep. “make yourself feel good, cum on my cock. let me see it, kay?”

“a-ah! c-caleb!” arching upwards, pressing your naked chest to his in an attempt to seek out the colonel’s closeness for comfort — you succumb to the unravelling knot in your lower tummy, the one undone by uncoordinated and feverish thrusts. your final words catch on the edge of your teeth, sitting wetly on the seam of your lips as you blubber out for the high commander himself. your lover.. “h-holy shit… ‘mmmfuck! c-cummin’!” you manage to get out as your release crashes over you like waves on a shoreline — pulled in by the moon’s gravity, just like caleb’s own force pulls you into him. when you cum, it’s loud, all of your walls come tumbling down and the colonel is the only one able to piece you back together. shakes and shivers overtake your body, darkness floods your vision as your pupils dilate and you don't even realise you’re practically fainting from the force of your orgasm until it’s too late. blacked out and blissed out beneath caleb.you squirt so hard, it nearly forces the sheet thickness of your boyfriend from your abused and swollen folds.

but he doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull out — collapsing on top of you and using the last of his own strength to chase his well earned release. “that’s my girl, such a good fuckin’ girl. cumming all over me. all over her cock,” caleb rambles aimlessly, working himself through the violent spasms of your cunt just so that he can keep rocking into you. “can i i breed you? give this sweet hole all my cum? get you all round ‘n full of our pups? t-think i will, think you’ll like it,” he gets way too into your fantasy but you’re too brainless to care, allowing the colonel to use your trembling body like a ragdoll to get off, barely fighting the agonising ache in his pelvis and the orgasm that tears him to pieces like a black hole.“fuck, fuuuuck. oh my god, ‘m cummin’ got you puppy…c-cumming!”

one last squeeze and clench of your ribbed walls down on him, practically begging to be filled with cum, is the final push caleb needs to reach cloud nine. instinctively, he forces himself as deep as your pussy will allow — mushroomed tip nuzzling your overstimulated pleasure spots before a burst of white hot seed fills you to the absolute brim. the Fleet commander, usually so rigid and strong and eerily composed, lets out a strangled sob against your hairline — shaking like a leaf and bucking weakly into you to make sure whatever he’s given you is able to stick. there’s so much of it, despite how many rounds you’ve gone, and it smears over your cute little clit, hole and pudgy pussy lips until there’s nothing left for him to give.

the two of you fall into romantic, love-tainted silence — a heaving, heavy breathing pile of limbs on your bed that most definitely needs a good change of sheets and linens. neither of you can find it in your hearts to care in that moment, instead, immediately chasing one another’s lips for comforting kisses as you languidly grind against each other. where his cock intermittently throbs as it softens, your pussy occasionally flutters as you calm down from your high. you don’t let caleb pull out and it’s not like he wants to either.

fatigue sinks its claws into you both, but you can’t stop the way your heart beats erratically and your mind swims with relief. “thank you,” you hum, voice small and appreciative as caleb rolls off of you — yet keeps you close by pulling you into his side. “i love you.”

in any other moment, caleb might have scolded you for your thanks, you’d never need to thank him for fulfilling his duty and taking care of you but he knows you only say it for him. so he knows his act and willingness to try something new for you (albeit in the bedroom), means more than you could ever put into words. so instead, caleb nuzzles into you — plasters a barrage of smooches against your warm face until you’re in fits of giggles and soothed entirely. “i love you most,” he mimics your cadence, allowing the pleasant crackle in the back of his skull to guide his words. “i love everything about you, the way you feel and the way you trust me… and the way you cum so hard when i call you my puppy…”

and even though he’s probably fucked every last drop of energy out of you — you can’t help but sit up with quickness, grasping the closest pillow to whack the colonel into next tuesday. out of pure embarrassment from his teasing, of course.

your once sleepy eyes blow wide, that shy demeanour sweeping over you once more… almost as if you hadn’t just spent the last thirty minutes blabbering all sorts of filth in the name of your own puppy pet play fantasy. “caleb xia!”

“whaaaaat?” your boyfriend drawls slowly, laughing from underneath the pillow you suffocate him with. his sexy tone is almost enough to get you riled up once more.“you asked for it! i’ll even get you a cute little collar for next time. how’s that sound?”

“oh my god, shut up!”

“make me!”

you did ask for it, you suppose. that much is true.

but you’d ask a hundred times over if it meant caleb would fuck you like a dog in rut all over again.

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heartyluv · 1 day ago

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♡ ‧₊˚౨ৎ sweaty caleb, my luv cw: smut, sweat licking, you're sniffing this man

“fuck, pips…” caleb groaned, gripping your sides tightly with a force that’ll surely bruise as you hungrily lap up the sweat that trails from his freshly trimmed sideburns to the curve of his sharp jaw. “wish you woulda told me… if i’d known you wanted to t-taste me like this—mmph, so tight... yeah, keep squeezin’ me…” he can’t help but to interrupt himself with a shaky breath to praise your efforts. “you know i would’ve given it to you… i’ll give you anything. always.”

you’re incapable of telling him that you’re so sorry for withholding such a filthy desire, that you’ll never ever hesitate to take him up on his offer in the very near future—because you’re too busy getting drunk off the way you suffocate his thick cock with your greedy pussy every time the saltiness of his exertion dances along your taste buds.

you loved caleb is any and every form; when he was focused on building his airplane models, rambled about trajectories, and guided you step-by-step through the process of a new recipe. but you were a slut for when he was like this: dripping sweat and smelling his most natural.

it’s the epitome of something purely masculine, nothing short of delectably addicting. it was inevitable that when you found him in the kitchen after he’d just gotten back from his morning jog, glistening beneath the fluorescents like a fucking caramel apple begging to be bitten into, that you’d need to gratify the immediate ache in between your legs if your day was going to be anything even remotely close to pleasant.

you were gawking at him like the fine piece of meat that he is. beefy, thick, and lean were adjectives surely created just to accurately describe the hunk of a man that is your boyfriend. it was magnetic the way you gravitated toward him and wrapped your arms around his strong neck, deeply inhaling his heady musk like he was a walking addiction.

it didn’t take a genius for him to catch on to your very obvious desire, lustfully whispering for you to take what you needed from him before he showered for the day and got too busy with housework and errands.

that in itself felt too much like a threat.

a shower? washing off something so inebriating? allowing it to go to waste? it was criminal. but if he really longed to be cleaned oh so badly, it would be your tongue to get it done. no exceptions.

his cock thrusted upwards into your drooling cunt, pulsing inside your tight walls each time you inhaled his scent until your eyes rolled as if you’d just been given another mind numbing fix. the raunchy echoes of squelching and meeting skin from your salacious lovemaking only continued to fuel the already blazing inferno in your gut.

“s-so good,” you mewl wantonly, rolling your hips with your face buried in the crook of his neck. “hah—can’t… can’t stop… can’t help it… ‘m so obsessed with it, ‘leb…”

you’re riding him with so much desperation that even with him being balls deep and his legs spread to give you room as you make a creamy pathetic mess down his dick that’ll leave its filthy memorable mark on the couch, it’s not scratching that itch. it’s not satiating that hunger, not nearly enough. there would never be enough of it.

“lick me up, baby,” he urges through a husky moan, slamming into you deeper to make you choke on your cries. “i’m yours to taste. don’t want you missing a single drop…”

sticky strings of his cum and your slick cling to your thighs with every rise and fall of your eager hips. he’s like a furnace beneath you, intensifying the potency of his unique fragrance that you wish you could bottle and spray on your favorite pillow when you humped it on the nights you ached for him beyond your control.

“gonna cum again, aren’t you?” your fingers tugging on his soft damp hair sends a pleasurable shockwave down his spine, all the way to his heavy balls that he’s so close to emptying for the second time before the sun even has a chance to fully crest over the horizon. “be my good girl and get my dick niiice and wet again, yeah?”

“mmph.. mhmm,” you hum tiredly, sucking on his heated flesh and savoring that spicy essence. his unique tang is enough to make you dizzy. you worship this man with every inch of your being, and it frustrates you how much it’ll never be enough no matter what you do to compensate.

“such a fuuuckin’ freak…” he sucks on your ear with a guttural groan and a cocky chuckle. your puffy pussy lips quiver and your thoroughly used hole flutters at his words laced with unmistakable admiration. “so pretty when you’re just as hungry as i am…”

and when he fills you once more, pumping you full of his cum until you milk him for all he’s got to give, you’re still whining, nipping at his flesh like a baby kitten clinging to liquid gold as he keeps you plugged and generously stuffed. your clinginess, the solace you find in everything he is, it warms him. that security makes him feel complete, gives him comfort knowing that his pipsqueak shares the same level of infatuation that he does.

A/N: this is new for me, isn’t it? 🤭 short and straight to sex! idk how well written this is, but i was obsessed with @cloudedangels and this BEAUTIFULLY NASTY fic they gifted us —click here—and i just wanted to write something small about fucking a sweaty caleb! i need every inch of him in my body somehow and i’m not kidding…

creds to @/uzmacchiato for the moving heart divider & cloud divider - @/cafekitsune for the mdni banner - @/asiatic-apple for the username banner!

🍎 Tags: @xiaprint @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @meadowinthesky @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @horanghaeegr @iconoclastoc @hilliserose @rina-lidou @celestialhoneycaleb @jeansdoll @yanviioo

♾️ Tags: @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @sensual-study @sweetcalebb @asiaticapple @raemanova @awquaz @callads7 @floatinginaer @crimsonsylus @aquarianbeat @inutrasha94 @jadestone2 @lamogliedizayne@sylusqt @gktdh @nottodaynotrn @raendarkfaerie @sickleddreamer @cloudedangels @alyakhq @aoinili

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb smut #lads x you #lads caleb #lads x reader #caleb xia #lads smut

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medicli · 5 days ago

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⋆˙⟡ THE LADS MEN AND WHO THEY ARE IN BED! ࿐

pairing ♱ xavier ⌇zayne ⌇rafayel ⌇sylus ⌇caleb [ separate ]

content warning ♱ extreme possessiveness, multiple creampies, marathon sex, squirting, cervix fking, mean brat tamer!zayne, body worship, slight spit play, orgasm denial, heavy praise, marking, dom/sub dynamics, needy, pssydrunk boys — MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

kit says ♱ if you’re reading this then hello (^_−)−☆ this is my first l&ds fic ever! i have been yearning to write for them for a year and i finally did it teehee. feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ

medicli ⌇ masterlist ⌇send an ask ♡

CHOOSE YOUR COMPANION!

#XAVIER: THE POSSESSIVE ONE!

xavier is extremely possessive of what belongs to him, and you? well, you’re no exception.

it’s not that xavier sees you as an object– you’re way more than that. it’s just that you’re his whole world and he can’t have anyone taking that away from him.

so every time a male hunter requests to train with you or every time a man even looks in your direction, he feels the need to stake his claim.

and maybe there’s a study that needs to be done on his brain because you’ve told him countless times that you’re his. you don’t want anyone but him. but it’s almost like he can’t hear or understand you unless you’re saying it with his cock shoved inside of you and you’re babbling it out to him.

like right now.

with his silver brows drawn in, he grunts rolling his hips against yours, “i hate when he talks to you.”

he, is jeremiah, and the talking was a simple greeting followed by your name when you and xavier went to visit him at philo after work.

you grip at his arms with clammy hands and you let out a shaky laugh, “h-he’s your best friend, xavie, don’t– fuck, baby– don’t be cr-crazy.”

“you’re my best friend. don’t care about him– only you, you hear?” he’s literally splitting you open, thrusting into you like a rabid bunny with a pout on his face. “hate that he even said your name.”

“ah, xav, please!” you cry, but there’s no stopping him when he gets like this. “he was just– just being nice, jere–”

he cuts you off with haste, his sapphire eyes turning a shade darker. “don’t even say it.” he demands, voice dropping an octave lower. “don’t say his fucking name.”

and then he offers a deep, hard thrust and you moan, arching your back off the bed. your nails dig into his skin leaving red, little crescents in his milky skin.

he’s hissing out your name and leaning in to shove his face in the crook of your neck. he licks and bites and licks and bites until he’s sure that the entire right side of your neck is littered with hickies.

“you’re mine, right, honey?”

you clench tightly around him, breathing out all the words as they come from the bottom of your heart. “all y-yours, baby. always gonna be y-y– mmph– yours.”

he kisses your neck again. this time, it’s a soft, little peck which is a stark contrast from the way his cock ravages your cunt. “this is mine.” he mumbles against the tainted skin.

he pulls back, his hands coming to squeeze your tits gently. “these are mine.” they trail down, one on your hip and the other splayed right over your abdomen where he can feel his dick inside of you. “and this right here, baby?”

he pushes down with a lazy smile on his gorgeous face all while he watches you cum for him.

“this is me taking what’s mine.”

#ZAYNE: THE ONE IN CONTROL!

before seeing you again, zayne had nothing but med school and work. he never let loose, never made many friends, never had anything. the only thing he had holding him together was the memory of you and the thought of what it would be like to see you again.

then one day… he ran into you at that cafe and you’ve been practically inseparable since.

now you stand to be the one person in all of deepspace to make zayne completely and utterly lose his mind.

“keep quiet,” he said, pushing his pointer and middle finger down on your tongue. “bad girls don’t get to talk.”

you whine, the noise garbled by excess spit and his long digits. you wish you could say you were surprised that you’re even in this position, but you’re not. not shocked in the slightest.

you’d been teasing your busy boyfriend all week– sending him ‘i miss you’ texts, showing up to akso on your lunch wearing low cut tops and teasingly threatening to play with yourself if he didn’t fuck you soon. his last straw was when you sent him dirty pictures and videos of you doing that just that followed with a text that read:

fucking myself since you won’t do anything about it :/

it’s almost like you wanted zayne to turn you inside out with his cock…

and now here you were, fingers in your mouth, cock in your sopping cunt and a very, very angry zayne above you.

“you think it’s okay to tease me? think it’s okay to send nasty videos of yourself while i’m at work, huh?” and he’s fucking you so hard that the bed creaks with every thrust. it hurts– the way his cock bruises your cervix– but in a way that has the knot in your belly drawing in and your gummy walls tightening around him.

your eyes roll back as drool seeps out of your mouth down his hand. you’d think this would bother him, him being your (nagging) doctor and all, but it doesn’t. he loves this. seeing you so messy and disheveled– mascara running down your face and your chin drenched with your saliva. he loves doing this to you,

he pulls his fingers out, watching you splutter with a smirk on his face. he leans in, grips your chin and makes you lock eyes with him. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? you wanted to see me like this.”

you pant his name, softly, “zayne–”

“answer me,” he demands, tilting your chin up all the while his dick drives into you deeper and deeper if it’s even possible.

you cry, overstimulated. “yes, wanted it s’bad! f-fuck, just wanted you to fuck me, zaynie,”

he smiles cockily, shaking his head, “what a troublemaker.”

then you’re empty, your orgasm dissipating to nothing.

you gasp at the abrupt action on his part. you sit up, your teary eyes widen in confusion, but he places his soft lip against your cheek and speaks before you can question him.

“bad girls don’t get to cum either. we’ll talk when you stop being such a brat.”

#RAFAYEL: THE ONE WHO WORSHIPS YOU!

rafayel loves having sex with you. he’s enthralled by your beauty and body– you’re his muse after all. so it’s no surprise that he enjoys reminding you how fucking gorgeous you are while his cock spears in and out of you.

you’re on your side and he’s behind you, chest pressed against your back where you can feel just how erratic his heart is beating.

“so good for me, cutie,” he moans, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “so pretty ‘n perfect. god, you were just made to be worshipped.”

and it’s so overwhelming. every word, every praise, every single sound that slips past his swollen lips goes straight to your cunt and it merely spurs him on. the adoration never ceases.

rafayel doesn’t fuck you fast. no, not today. today, he needs you to feel it. to feel every second of it, every inch of his cock. he needs you to feel the way his tip french kisses your cervix. it wouldn’t be right otherwise.

“r-raf,” you whimper, bringing your hand to tangle in his hair. you guide him to your pulse point and he smiles against your skin. “faster, please.”

“you’re so demanding,” he teases as he sucks and nips at the thin skin until he knows there’s a splotchy, red spot left in his wake.

“but it feels better like this, no?” he asks after giving you a particularly sharp thrust. “bet you can feel me everywhere, can’t you, princess?”

his lips move up, placing soft, wet kisses along your jaw and you turn your head slightly to capture his with yours. you mewl into his mouth, body pulling taut.

you’re close, you both know it. he’s been fucking you like this for what feels like hours and you’re all pent up. all you need is a little push to have you seeing sounds and hearing pretty colors.

and rafayel has studied your body. you’re the best thing the universe has ever created… his absolute favorite thing, so of course he has you memorized. it’s how he knows to snake his hand down to your swollen, neglected clit.

you gasp, the sudden action sending shockwaves right through you. “right t-there, baby.”

“pfttt, duh,” he scoffs, slightly offended, giving you another rough thrust. “i already know, princess. you don’t have t’be so bossy. just make a mess for me, yeah?”

a few more thrusts is all it takes for you to give him what he wants. a choked sob slips out and you're drenching his cock in your slick, honey-like arousal.

he smiles big and wide, eyes shining with more adoration. he whispers in your ear and it sends another shiver running down your heated spine.

“my pretty girl.”

#SYLUS: THE ONE THAT LIKES TO SWITCH!

sylus is massive in every sense of the word. you’d think a man so domineering– the leader of onychinus– would have the filthiest sex, bending his girl every which way.

but… then you’d be wrong. so, very wrong.

sylus has a reputation for being a big, bad wolf, but the truth? sylus is an absolute sucker for you. always at your beck and call. you want him to sit? he sits, proudly, with the slyest grin on his face. you want him to come over? he’s there in 30 minutes or less no matter what he’s doing or where he’s at.

you want to ride him and you don’t want him to touch you?

he nods his head obediently and says, “whatever you want, sweetie.”

it’s how you wind up sinking down on his throbbing cock and fucking him senseless. and, fuck, does sylus love every second of it.

he’s so used to being in control, but with you? that’s not happening. he’s yours. mind, body and soul. he loves watching you take the reins even though you cutely struggle to take his girthy length at first. when he bottoms out, though, all he can think is that’s my fucking girl.

despite your demands to keep his hands to himself, he’s obsessed. “h-hands off, sy. you know the rules.” you pant out, peeling his hot and heavy paws off of you.

he all but moans– the sound you love pulling out of him the most. “you’re so cruel, baby.” he says, hooded, red eyes burning into yours.

you just smile, placing your hands back on his chest and bouncing up and down his cock like it was what you were made for. “you love it when i use you.”

he nods, and his next words come out a little slurred like he’s already pussydrunk. “love it bad, sweetheart.”

you tighten around him, the affirmation encouraging you.

your pulsating vice of a cunt has his brows furrowing and eyes rolling back. he longs to hold you, to feel your skin on his calloused hands.

but sylus has waited for you for lifetimes. he adores you. all he breathes is you.

so he’ll do anything you say, whenever you say it.

when you tell him to cum for you, to cum so deep inside of you that you’ll feel it for days… he does just that with a groan, fisting at the sheets so roughly that you swear you hear the faint sound of fabric tearing.

and the copious amount of warm seed that fills you to the brim triggers your own orgasm. it’s so intense that you’re clawing at his chest like the kitten he claims you are. you’re babbling on top of him, breathlessly going on and on saying, “love you, love you s’much, sy,” and “fuck me more, please,”

and he gives up all his restraint, grabbing your hips, flipping you over and filling you up all over again.

#CALEB: THE ONE WHO CAN’T GET ENOUGH!

caleb has always loved you unconditionally. the time without you was unbearable– it changed him. he yearned like never before. he put every rom-com male to shame.

so, now that you’re back in his life– now that you’re finally his girl, he doesn’t waste time.

his stamina is basically infinite when it comes to you. poor, pent up caleb has spent years upon years hiding his feelings from you and now it’s all coming out.

literally.

“more, you can take more, baby,” he whispers, eyes dilated and toned body layered in a sheen of sweat. “know you can take more.”

he doesn’t wait for your protest, not like you would, he just pins your legs back and watches his previous loads of cum seep out of your cunt with hearts in his eyes.

he uses his cock to scoop up his seed and he pushes back into you in one go thrust.

“caleb,” you cry.

he nearly growls. it’s so out of character that you’re almost concerned but then his raspy voice rings in your ears. “again.”

you cock your head to the side, “w-what?”

he grabs at the back your thighs, driving in and out of you with fervor. “fuck, pips… say it again. say my name, lemme know who’s fuckin’ ya this good.”

you practically feel him in your throat, let alone your battered, painted walls. he’s fucking you like he needs it to breathe. like if he doesn’t give you at least 2 more loads of cum, then he’ll just die.

because… yeah, he just might. caleb can’t lose you ever again. he couldn’t bear it. he’d die for you and he’d be nothing without you.

“cal-caleb!” you cry, tears streaming down your face as your hands press against his rock hard chest. “‘s too deep, caleb. ‘s too much!”

he moans himself, cock twitching uncontrollably. it’s not deep enough for caleb. he needs more, he needs you stuffed full 24/7. he needs you to be his forever.

“i know, baby, i know.” he’s able to say even though the only thing he can hear in his unchaste brain is more, more, more, more. “fuck, i know, but you’ll take it for your caleb, right?”

you can’t. his words and the way his cock pistons in and out of you at the speed of light has your orgasm washing over you out of nowhere. you scream his name– so loud that it leaves your throat raw– as you gush all over his washboard abs, soaking him completely.

caleb malfunctions, cumming with a stupidly loud whine as soon as he realizes you’ve squirted for him.

he doesn’t even give either of you the chance to recuperate before he’s pleading.

“a-again… please, just one more, pips.” he lies. one will never be enough.

“i just need ya s’bad.”

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applecaviar · 3 days ago

Text

Get used to it. You get this when I'm ovulating.

🔥His favorite position🔥

🔞MDNI🔞

Reverse Cowgirl (you know he loveees your back)

The thick, hard length of Zayne's cock throbs inside you as you grind your hips back and forth, your wet cunt squeezing and milking his dick with each clap of your ass against his skin.

You can feel every ridge and vein dragging against your walls as you ride him, pussy gripping him like a vice. He loses himself in the sight of your ass rippling and bouncing with each thrust, his eyes tracing each lacy stretch marks etched into your plump skin.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of his palm striking your ass cheek echoes through the room, followed by another and another. The stinging pain mingles deliciously with pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. Your clit grinding deliciously against his heavy balls with each movement, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine as his pretty cockhead kisses your cervix over and over.

You plant your hands on his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle as you drive yourself down on him again, harder this time.

"God, look at you," Zayne rasps, his voice rough with lust when he sees you arching away from him, hair cascading down your back, muscles rippling beneath your skin. "You were made for this" his large hand slides up the curve of your back possessively, as if he could mold your writhing body to his will.

He fists his hand in your hair, pulling your head back and arching your spine, opening you up completely to his thrusts. Your breath hitches on a keening cry, thighs trembling as you slam down one last time, shattering into a million pieces.

His name tears from your throat on a sob and you feel him swell and pulse inside you, his own release imminent. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding you steady, anchoring you as he buries himself to the hilt, his hot cum painting your insides.

Mating press (He likes it hard and deep)

Your tight grip on Caleb's arm is the only thing keeping you anchored as his body cages you in, surrounding you completely. His thick biceps and forearms flex, holding your hips steady, pounding into you with deep thrusts that drive you further into the mattress with each snap of his hips.

The angle is brutal, your shoulder and neck pressed at an uncomfortable angle, sure to leave a bruise later. But the sharp sting is barely registering as Caleb's fat cock fills and stretches you so good, reaching parts of you that no one else ever has.

Folded nearly in half, your knees nearly touching your chest, you're completely at the mercy of his relentless fucking. He has you pinned, helpless to do anything but take the ruthless pounding and the pleasure pain of it.

The room fills with the obscene slap of his balls on your ass, the creaking and squeaking of the mattress springs as he fucks you into them.

You can barely hear anything over the noise of your own body's responses, the breathless hitches and sharp cries spilling from your lips with every deep, cervix rubbing thrust.

Your mind is hazy, drowning in a sea of conflicting sensations, the sharp zip of pain from your strained position warring with the liquid heat of pleasure.

"Fuck, Cay," you hear yourself moan, the words slurred and distant, as if spoken from the depths of a dream. Your train of thought is shattered, derailed by the pounding of Caleb's hips against yours, his thick cock splitting you open and reshaping you to fit him perfectly.

Somehow, miraculously, you've managed to hold out this long, your high building with each thrust. But as Caleb leans in to brush a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, you feel the last of your control slipping away.

"You look so good folded like this, Pips, makes it so easy for me to fuck you nice and deep." He punctuates his words with a sharp, aggressive thrust, grinding his pelvis against your bruised cervix and forcing a strangled cry from your throat.

Your legs tremble, thighs quaking and toes curling as the pleasure builds to a fever pitch.

"Caleb-!" The name tears from your lips as you come undone, but Caleb doesn't stop, doesn't let up, even as your cunt spasms and clenches around him. He rolls his hips, fucking you through your orgasm with deliberate strokes that draw out your pleasure until you're a boneless, mewling mess.

Before you can catch your breath, he's pulling out, only to slam back into you with a filthy squelch, your over sensitive folds parting.

"Fuck!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he hilts inside you. Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you try to anchor yourself.

"I'm not done with you, princess. I wanna hear you scream for me again" he demands, one large hand sliding around your throat, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes. "Until you can't think of anything but me"

Missionary (he loves when you ride him but he adores missionary.)

Sylus leans into you, closing the distance between your bodies until your breath mingles, hearts beating in sync. For a moment, you resist, fingers tightening around his throat in protest, but he's having none of it. Your hand slides around to grip the back of his head, fingers tangling in his silky hair, and you pull him to you, capturing his lips in a kiss.

He lets you lead for a heartbeat, before his teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging, demanding more. A squeal of pleasure escapes your throat as he hilts inside you one last time before he grows tired of your defiance. The room blurs around you as he flips you both, and stars explode across your vision when he slams back into you.

Your back arches off the bed as you moan your ecstasy, and he laughs, relishing the sounds he's dragging from your throat. Struggling to meet his eyes, you brace yourself against the wall with trembling hands, only for him to grab your hips and yank you back down. Now he fucks you, really fucks you, each thrust driving you up the bed again.

His fingers find yours, tangling, squeezing, a silent warning that he's close. He claims your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue owning every inch of you. And still he pounds into you, chasing his release, determined to fill you up in every way possible.

"You feel so good, kitten...so fucking tight"

His lips trail down the column of your throat, his breath sending shivers racing across your skin. He reads you like an open book, knows your body's every desire before you even voice it. Your head tilts to the side, giving him unrestricted access to the smooth expanse of your neck, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your racing pulse.

He scrapes his teeth across your skin, a promise of pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. The way he nips at the underside of your chin is your complete undoing. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you come undone beneath him.

"Just like that," he growls, feeling your pussy clench around him "Come on my cock, kitten. Squeeze me just right."

He holds you tight, curling around you, molding your curves to the hard planes of his body. He drives into you with unrelenting intensity, chasing your pleasure, pushing you further.

Just as your muscles begin to relax, sated and pliant, Sylus's body tightens. His hips jerk, slamming into yours one last time. A loud groan tears from his throat when he finds his own release. He pulses inside you, filling you, marking you as his.

From behind (no explanation needed)

He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest when he sees the way your tight little cunt swallows his girthy cock over and over, a perfect creamy ring forming at the base when he pulls back, only to vanish again as he slams forward and buries himself to the hilt inside you.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight bunny... I love seeing my dick stretching out your greedy pussy," he pants, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he holds you in place, fucking into you with deep, purposeful strokes that have your tits bouncing and jiggling.

One large hand snakes up to wrap around your throat, tilting your head back as he nips and suckles at your neck, surely leaving marks for all to see. The other hand slides around your waist to your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles over it.

"That's it, fuck..." he growls filthily in your ear, hips never ceasing their rhythm as he rails you into the wall. "You fucking love this, don't you? Love being split open on my dick?"

He gives a sharp thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he curls his fingers just right against your clit. The combined stimulation makes your pussy clench and flutter around him as you rapidly approach your peak.

"Come on bunny, let the whole building know who this cunt belongs to."

“Oh God Xav, I’m about to…”

He drapes his body over yours, the heat of his chest searing your back as he molds himself to you. His forehead rests against the side of your neck, silky strands of hair tickling your skin as he pants softly, still rocking his hips in shallow thrusts. The new angle keeps him buried deep inside you making your eyes roll back.

"Imgonnacum! fu..." the words dissolve into a drawn out keen and you collapse forward, only to be caught and held tight against Xavier's chest. He wraps you up in his arms like a ragdoll, one hand splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned to him as the other grips your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh hard enough to bruise.

You squeeze around him and his hips stutter and jerk, losing their rhythm when his own release follows yours.

"Shit, I'm gonna...unngh...cum!" he grunts, burying himself inside you. His cock throbs and pulses, spilling hot ropes of cum. He rocks into you with short, sharp thrusts, working you both through the aftershocks until his release tapers off to a trickle.

Lotus (He loves to keep you close)

"Have I ever told you I love your tits?" Rafayel murmurs appreciatively. His hands skim down the curve of your waist to grip your hips, guiding your movements as he starts to thrust up to meet your downward bounces.

With each thrust, he drives his cock deeper, the fat head kissing your cervix, making you see stars.

His hands come up to cup and fondle your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers. He leans down to capture one pert bud between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard before swirling his tongue around it. Pleasure sparks through, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts further into his eager hands and mouth. Your nails rake down his chest, leaving faint red lines. He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending pleasurable tingles straight to your clit. His hands move to map the contour of your spine, fingertips digging into the muscles as he pulls you flush against him.

Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, you grind your hips in circular motions, relishing the feel of his hard dick throbbing inside you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he loses himself in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. The room fills with the heady perfume of sex and sweat, a potent aphrodisiac driving you both closer to the edge.

As the minutes tick by, Rafayel's thrusts grow more urgent, more insistent. He grips your ass, lifting and dropping you onto his cock with increasing force. The bed creaks beneath you, headboard slamming against the wall in time with his pumps. You can feel him twitching inside you, his release fast approaching as he chases his pleasure in your tight pussy.

"Cutie, you feel so fucking good"

His hands skim up your sides, mapping the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips, before cupping the soft swells of your breasts. He lowers his head to worship the tender mounds, laving each nipple with devoted attention until they pebble beneath his tongue and teeth. "I can't..." Rafayel's voice is strained, a hoarse whisper against your skin as he fights to hold back. "I'm going to... Cutie, I'm so close."

Each thrust grinds his pelvis against yours, stimulating your puffy clit "Yes," you gasp out, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper. "Don't hold back" Your hands fist in his hair "Give me everything you have."

You bury your face into the crook of Rafayel's neck when your pleasure crests, your body shaking in his embrace. His arms wrap around you, crushing you against his chest as he too gives in to the force of his release. His breath coming in ragged pants against your scalp as he grinds his pelvis against yours, pushing through the aftershocks that wrack your body.

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cloudedangels · 3 days ago

Text

From the Source (18+)

F!Reader x Roomie/FWB(?)!Caleb, +5k words

Caleb realizes his shirts have been going missing, and he's pretty sure you're the culprit. His solution? Give you what you want. Straight from the source.

cw/tags: freak for freak, voyeurism, stolen laundry, sweat, scent kink, possessiveness, obsession, light humiliation, praise, teasing, marking, body worship, licking, piv and creampie, begging, established relationship, mutual pining, gym, sweat, morning sex, shower, possessiveness, praise, mutual aftercare, pet names including a little bit of pips(queak), honey, pretty and others

a/n: I was enlisted and requested to write this i refuse to toot my own horn (lie) but I do feel like I cooked maybe >-< I wrote this like a madman and tried to proofread but I'm sooo impatient. Sooo yeah. Posting this n then running and hiding bye 🏃🏽‍♀️

Get added to my taglist(s) must have age in bio or pinned

🍎 for caleb

☃️ for zayne

🖤 for sylus (in future)

🐟 for rafayel (also in future)

🌟 for xavier (also a maybe in future)

🐇 to be on the list for all of my writing

Masterlist (not up to date will update soon when i'm not so lazy anymore)

It's been weeks of Caleb's gym shirts going missing. At first, he thinks it's nothing. It must just be the washer, right? The dryer? Maybe he wasn't paying attention when he did your laundry together. But when he notices that it isn't clean ones going missing—but always just one from the laundry—suspicion wriggles its way into his mind.

He himself knows a thing or two about… borrowing… laundry for his own unsavory purposes, the justification being that you'd long already given yourself up to him more than once. What was a few pairs of underwear to that anyway? He's tasted every inch of you enough to miss the scent of your need for him flooding his senses once your hookups became sporadic.

The memory of it, the taste of it, is a ghost on his tongue. That’s why he notices. It starts with a single white tank top, the soft, cotton kind he always wears to the gym. One day it’s in the hamper, the next it’s just… gone. He chalks it up to the laundry gremlins, the same ones that supposedly steal single socks.

But then it happens again. And again. Always a tank top, and always one he’s just worked out in, ripe with the evidence of his effort.

The suspicion is a slow, creeping vine, wrapping around his ribs. He knows this particular sin too well. His own drawer is hidden in the back of his closet. It holds the silky lace, delicate proof of his obsession: a collection of your panties, gathered over many months. A trophy case from those hazy, breathless nights when you’d stumble into his room, or he'd stumble into yours, and give each other everything. It’s been too long since the last one. He’s starving.

So when you’re out with friends, laughing at some bar across town, after he told you he was too tired to come too, he does the very thing he’d never want you to do to him. He slips into your room.

His heart is a frantic drum against his ribs, a mix of guilt and a dark, thrilling hope. He’s meticulous, careful not to disturb a thing. He checks your drawers, his hands trembling slightly, feeling like a hypocrite and a thief. He finds nothing. Disappointment sinks in the pit of his gut. Maybe… he was wrong.

He's not sure what has him look underneath your bed, but when he does, his suspicion is proven to be intuition. Under your bed, with all sorts of other chaos is a carelessly crumpled pile of white compression tank tops, his to be precise. A puff of air punches out of him. How silly of him to think for a moment that the two of you weren't the same.

He considers his options. He could confront you, but that wouldn't be any fun would it? He could pretend he doesn't know, but that would be harder than anything. Then the idea comes to him. With a sly smirk, he goes to his own room, pulling today's sweaty contraband out of his laundry hamper before sauntering back into yours with it. He tosses onto the back of your desk chair. A lure.

The world tilts woozily as you push open your bedroom door. The bar had been loud, the drinks strong, and the ride home was just long enough to let the buzz settle into a warm, comfortable hum in your veins. You kick off your shoes with a sigh, the cool of your floor a blessing against your feet.

A yawn stretches your jaw as you flick on the light, your eyes scanning the familiar mess of your room. It’s then you see it. Draped over the back of your desk chair, a stark white against the dark wood, is one of Caleb’s gym tanks.

You blink, your tipsy brain processing slowly. His shirt. In your room. You shake your head, a small, confused smile playing on your lips.

Silly Caleb.

He must have come looking for you after all, gotten tired waiting, and left in a hurry, accidentally leaving his shirt behind.

It’s the only explanation that makes sense in your hazy state. You take a step toward the chair, your eyes drifting to the space under your bed. The guilty pile is still there, hidden in the shadows, a secret you’ve been nursing for weeks. Untouched, and unmoved.

Satisfied that your collection is undiscovered, you turn back to the shirt on the chair. This one isn’t part of the stash. This is a fresh offering, left behind by mistake. A little prize just for you.

With a glance toward your closed door, you reach out. The cotton is soft, still slightly damp with the evidence of his day. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply. This scent… it floods your senses, making your head spin more than any cocktail ever could. It’s an intimacy you’ve been craving, a closeness you’ve been stealing because the real thing has been so scarce.

You clutch the shirt to your chest, a secret smile finally breaking out on your face. He doesn’t know. Your little trophies are safe. And now, by some happy accident, you have a new one. The best one. Still warm from his body, practically a gift.

You decide you’ll give it back to him tomorrow. You’ll tease him for being so forgetful. But for tonight… tonight it’s yours. You curl up in bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, the soft cotton of his shirt pressed against your cheek, breathing him in. Your hand slips below your waistband, and in your tipsy haze, you touch yourself with the contraband tank pressed to your face. The sounds you make are so quiet you couldn't wake a soul.

You never see the shadow shift in the crack of your doorway, or the sly, satisfied smirk that had been watching you the entire time.

It's around 5 in the morning when you here the clock off the front door, causing you to stir in the warmth of your sheets. Ah right, it's Thursday. He goes to the gym early on Thursdays. Arm Day.

Sleep takes you back, dragging you back into your dreamless rest before you can think much more—a worryless slumber of someone with much less to hide than you.

You're awoken only by the feeling of your mattress dipping under pressure and a scent you could swear was—

Your eyes fly open. “Caleb?”

Caleb looms over you, caging you between two beefy, sweat-slick arms. His chest, broad and sheened with a fresh layer of sweat, rises and falls with his deep, even breaths. He didn't shower. He came straight here from the gym, still dripping, the damp fabric of his white tank top clinging to every defined ridge of his torso.

A single drop of sweat escapes the damp hair at his temple and lands on your pillowcase with a soft, devastating pat.

His face is inches from yours, his eyes dark with a knowing, predatory glimmer that makes your stomach swirl and your thighs clench. That slow, sly smile of his plays on his lips, a smile that says he’s already won a game you didn’t even know you were playing.

“Morning, Pips,” he rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly thing that vibrates straight through the mattress and into your bones. The old nickname, from when you first met and he said your sneezes sounded like a tiny mouse… he's teasing you.

You’re frozen, your mind scrambling, still fogged with sleep and the lingering memory of his scent on your fingers, on your lips. Your heart is a wild, panicked drum against your ribs.

He knows something. Oh God, he knows, doesn't he?

“You… you’re gross. You're sweating on my sheets,” you manage to whisper, a weak, pathetic deflection.

His smile only widens, a flash of white in the dim morning light. He shifts his weight, one powerful thigh pressing against your leg, and the heat of him sears through your thin pajama bottoms. He lowers his head until his lips are almost brushing your ear. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, a confidential, intimate whisper that’s somehow louder than a shout. “I know a lot of things, Pipsqueak.”

“You don't have to call me that…”

Your heart rate picks up even faster, if it's even possible.

“Like how you've been stealin’ my shirts. Not the clean ones, either. You always take the good ones, don’t you? The ones I just worked my ass off in.”

“N-no I—”

“No?” he breathes, interrupting you, the word a warm puff of air against your lips.

“So that wasn’t you last night? Curled up with my shirt? Making those little sounds…”

Your breath hitches, a tiny, trapped sound. He heard. He was there. The shadow in the doorway—it was him. The shirt on the chair wasn’t an accident. It was a trap, and you walked right into it.

There’s no point in denying it. The evidence is all over your face, in the way your body is trembling beneath his. You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation washing over you.

A low, rough chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Look at me, Pips.”

You shake your head, eyes still sealed shut. You can’t. You can’t see the mockery in his eyes.

The bed shifts as he moves one of his arms. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking over your cheek. The touch is shockingly gentle, so different compared to the sheer, sweaty dominance of his position.

“C’mon. Open those pretty eyes for me,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble that does things to your insides. “I’m not mad.”

Slowly, reluctantly, you let your eyelids flutter open. His face is so close you can see the faint stubble shadowing his jaw, the tiny flecks of gold in his violet eyes where the light of the sunrise meets them. There’s no mockery there like you expected. Just a dark, intense heat that steals the last of the air from your lungs.

“You’re not?” you breathe, the question barely audible.

“Mad?” He lets out another low chuckle before he continues, shaking his head. “Honey. Look at me. I'm dripping sweat on your nice clean sheets at 6:30 in the morning. Do I look mad?”

He doesn’t. He looks… starving.

His eyes drop to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. The intensity there sends pulses to the very place you pleasured last night.

“I’ve been goin’ out of my mind noticing my shit was gone. Knowing what it meant… what I would be doing if it were me,” he confesses, his voice a rough whisper.

Oh. He knows… he knows that you know… about what he's taken from you too.

He leans in closer, until his nose is almost brushing yours. You are breathing the same air, air thick with the salty, musky, utterly primal scent of his sweat. It’s intoxicating.

“So… I gotta know. You like how I smell that bad? Tell me the truth”.

There’s no hiding now. No point in it.

Swallowing hard, you give a tiny, jerky nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, the admission feeling like both a surrender and a victory.

A low groan rumbles in his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. “Fuck,” he breathes out, the word a prayer. His eyes flutter closed for a second, as if he’s savoring the confession. When they open again, the violet is almost swallowed by black. “Ive been dreaming of hearing you say that.”

His hand slides from your jaw into your hair, fisting gently but firmly at the roots. It’s not painful; it’s possessive. It anchors you, tells you there’s no escaping this.

“You... left the shirt on purpose,” you accuse weakly, your body arching slightly into his touch despite your words.

“Yeah, I did.” His smirk is back, wicked and knowing. “I had to be sure… had to hear it for myself. Your little whiny cries while you inhaled my fucking sweat… I could barely focus at the gym this morning.”

“Caleb…”

“Shhh,” he soothes. He grinds his hips down once, a slow, deliberate roll that makes you gasp. The damp, hard ridge of him presses against your core through the layers of your pajamas and his gym shorts. The heat is searing.

“Since we’re confessin’ our sins tonight… I have a collection of my own... Of your little lace things. They've been mine for a while now.”

You knew, but hearing him say it, his voice thick with ownership, sends a jolt straight through you.

“I miss it,” he continues, his voice dropping to that gravelly whisper that goes straight to your knees.

“I miss the taste of you. I miss you coming apart under my tongue. I’ve been so desperate, and you… you’ve been right here, stealing my scent instead of just taking me again.”

The raw honesty in his words really throws off the last of your defenses. Your hands, which had been frozen at your sides, come up to clutch at his sweaty sides, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his obliques. The fabric of his tank top is soaked, plastered to his skin.

“You're… you're sweaty.” You repeat it as if it means anything now, now that he knows.

“I know,” he growls, lowering his head until his lips are against the shell of your ear.

“And you’re gonna taste every drop of it. You like my smell so much? Then you’re gonna breathe it in while I’m buried deep inside you. You’re gonna lick it off my skin. You’re gonna come to me, get it from the source… next time you think you wanna steal another one of my shirts.”

The threat—no, the promise—hangs in the air between you, thick and heavy as the sweat beading on his skin. Your heart is hammering against your ribs. His words paint a picture so vivid and so exactly what you’ve been craving, that all you can do is whimper.

Your fingers, still clutching his damp sides, curl tighter, pulling him closer to you. The evidence of his workout is now being offered from the source, and the reality of it is overwhelming.

He sees the surrender in your eyes, feels it in the way your body softens beneath his. That predatory smirk softens into something darker, more possessive.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, reading you like an open book. “That’s what I thought.”

He doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he grinds his hips down again, a slow, deliberate circle that has you gasping, your head falling back against the pillow. The friction, even through the layers of clothing, is electric. You can feel the formidable strength in his thighs, the solid proof of his early morning dedication, and it’s all for you, to hold you down, to ruin you.

“Say it,” he commands, his voice a low growl. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes holding yours captive. “Tell me what you want. Since you’ve been so good at takin’ it, now you have to ask for it.”

You’re trembling, completely at his mercy. The humiliation is still there, a hot flush on your cheeks, but it’s been eclipsed by a need so profound it steals your voice. You manage a shaky breath, inhaling the potent, musky scent of him—a scent that is now yours to claim openly.

“You,” you finally whisper, the word cracking. “I want you. Please, Caleb.”

A groan rips from his chest, a sound of pure, feral triumph.

“So good.”

In one fluid, powerful motion, he shifts his weight, rolling off of you just long enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pajama bottoms and your panties beneath. He yanks them down your legs in a single, ruthless pull, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning air and his scorching gaze. He doesn’t even bother to fully undress you, just pushes your shirt up your torso, baring your stomach and breasts.

He settles back between your thighs, his own gym shorts pushed down just enough to free his aching length. He’s huge, hard, and dripping with a different kind of sweat. He grips himself, giving a few slow, slick strokes as he looks down at you, sprawled and wanton beneath him.

“Gonna give it to you,” he promises, his voice ragged. “Gonna make sure you never gotta steal a fucking thing from the laundry again.”

He notches himself at your entrance, and you cry out at the contact, your hips lifting off the bed to meet him. He doesn’t push in. He teases, rubbing the head of his cock through your slickness, coating himself in you.

“Caleb, please…”

“Breathe me in, Pips,” he orders, lowering his chest until the sweat-damp cotton of his tank is pressed against your bare skin, chilling and heating you at once.

“That’s it. Get it all.”

And then he drives into you.

You're so wet that he doesn't need foreplay, all this was enough. All it takes is a single, deep, brutal thrust to steal the air from your lungs and replace it with him. You scream, a sound he swallows by crashing his lips onto yours. His kiss is as demanding as his invasion, all tongue and teeth and the shared taste of morning breath and desperate want.

He sets a punishing pace from the start, each thrust jarring you up the bed, the headboard knocking a steady rhythm against the wall. His sweat rains down on you, dotting your face, your chest, your lips. Remembering his command, you open your mouth, and a drop lands on your tongue. It’s salty, musky, and utterly, perfectly him. It’s better than any stolen scent from any hidden shirt.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his rhythm faltering for a second as he watches you taste him. “Fuck, yes. Lick it up. Take it all.”

You obey, your tongue darting out to catch the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, his collarbone. You suck on the salted skin where his pulse hammers wildly, and he growls, fucking into you harder, deeper.

One of his beefy arms snakes under your lower back, arching you into each piston-like thrust, while his other hand fists in your hair, holding you in place for his ravishing mouth. You are surrounded by him, filled by him, suffocated by him. It’s everything you never let yourself dream you could have.

“You feel that?” he grunts against your lips, his breath coming in ragged pants. “That’s me. All me. No more second-hand shit. You're too good for that, my love”

You can only nod, your face in the crook of his armpit.

His low, guttural groan vibrates through your entire body, a direct response to the way you’ve buried your face into him. The scent here is the most potent, the most him—a concentrated, intoxicating blend of everything that has driven you to theft and secrecy.

It’s the warm, spicy-woody base of his cologne, swirling with green apple, now deepened and amplified by his heat, clinging to his skin like a second, more primal aura. Underneath that, the clean, herbal ghost of his bodywash from last night’s shower fights a losing battle against the raw, musky evidence of this morning’s exertion and the current workout he's getting from driving into you. Layered over it all, a faint, familiar floral-musk, the deodorant he always uses, now thoroughly worked into his skin, a familiar note in the symphony of his sweat.

You inhale deeply, greedily, as if you could pull the very essence of him into your lungs and keep it there forever. A broken, needy sound escapes you, muffled by his damp shirt and the solid muscle of his torso. Between that and the feeling of his cock dragging cock your walls, the moans you give him are honey-sweet and just as addictive to him as his scent is to you.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes out, his thrusts losing their brutal rhythm for a moment, stuttering into something slower, deeper, more feeling. The hand in your hair loosens its grip, instead petting you, encouraging you. “You’re really… fuck… you’re really doin’ it, aren’t you? Huffing me like I’m some kind of drug or something?”

You nod against him, your lips parting to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the fabric, tasting the salt and him through the cotton. It’s not enough. The barrier is suddenly unbearable.

“Off,” you beg, your voice a ragged whisper against his skin. Your fingers, which had been clutching his sides, scramble for the hem of his soaked tank top.

“Caleb, please, take… take it off. I need to… I need…”

The command, the sheer desperation in your tone, seems to undo him completely. A high, whining sound gets caught in his throat, something utterly vulnerable that you’ve never heard from him before. He’s always been the one in control. Now, he’s laid bare by your hunger for him.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his voice shot. “Okay. Yeah.”

In a frantic, graceless movement, he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness a shock that makes you whimper in protest. But he’s not leaving. He fists his hands in the back of his own shirt and yanks it up and over his head in one swift motion, his biceps bulging with the effort before he tosses it to the floor with a slap.

And then he’s on you again, skin to skin this time, and your world explodes.

He's all you can breathe, all you can taste in the air. His chest, slick and hot, presses against yours. You moan, your hands flying to him, sliding over the sculpted planes of his pecs, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under your palm. Your fingers trace the lines of his abs, down through the trail of hair, following the paths of sweat, collecting the moisture on your fingertips.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his eyes dark and wide with awe, watching your hands roam his body as if you were molding him out of stone. “You can’t get enough.”

You aren’t listening. You’re consumed. You lean up, your tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe from the hollow of his throat up to the pulse hammering in his neck. He tastes of salt and pure, unadulterated Caleb. You suck gently at the skin there, and he cries out, his hips jerking involuntarily.

“Do it again. Please, baby, please. Taste me,” he pleads, his voice cracking. He’s trembling above you, his strength seeming to leach away under your worshipful mouth.

You obey, lavishing his collarbone with your tongue and kisses, his shoulders, the hard curve of his pectoral muscle. You run your hands over his slick back, feeling the powerful muscles working as he holds himself above you, pulling him closer, smearing his sweat across your own skin, marking yourself with him. You are both slick and sliding against each other, a feverish, desperate mess.

“I’m gonna—” he gasps, his control nearly splitting through him, breaking.

“Inside, Please, Caleb, I need to feel you.” you beg, your own climax coiling tight in your belly, spurred on by his taste, his smell, his complete surrender to your desire for him.

With a broken groan, he sinks back into you, and the feeling is infinitely more intimate without any barriers. His skin slides against yours, his sweat mingling, his scent enveloping you completely. He fucks you now with a raw, unashamed passion, his forehead dropped to yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his release, spurred on by every lick, every sniff, every whimper you give and have given to him.

“Breathe me in,” he rasps, his voice a ruined thing. “Come for me, pretty. I wanna feel you lose it just ‘cause of how I fucking taste, alright?”

It’s the final command that shatters you. Your orgasm crashes over you, violent and all-consuming, a direct result of his scent in your nose, his taste on your tongue, his body moving inside yours, his breath and words in your ear. You scream his name, your body clamping down around him, milking him, pulling him right over the edge with you.

He follows with a guttural cry, his own release pounding into you, his body shuddering violently as he collapses on top of you, crushing you into the mattress, spent and breathless.

For long minutes, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the frantic pounding of your hearts slowly settling into a synchronized rhythm. The room is thick with the smell of sex and sweat and him.

He doesn’t move, his weight a comfortable, heavy, feeling on top of you. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the fading, post-climax version of his scent, and press a soft, languid kiss to his damp skin.

He shivers, a contented, weary sigh escaping him. His arms tighten around you.

“No more stealing,” he mumbles into your hair, his voice slurred with exhaustion and satisfaction. “You just come and get it from me. Any time. Whenever you want it. Got it? Don't keep this from me.”

You nod, a smile touching your lips as you breathe him in one more time.

“Yeah.”

The silence that follows is thick and the air hums with the echo of your shared release. You can feel the steady, slowing thump of his heart against your own, a rhythm that feels more like home than anything ever has.

His weight is a familiar pressure, a warm, sweaty blanket you never want to leave. You trace idle, lazy patterns on the slick skin of his back with your fingertips, feeling the powerful muscles there twitch in residual pleasure.

Eventually, with a groan that seems to come from the very depths of his soul, Caleb shifts. He doesn’t roll off you completely, just lifts his torso enough to look down at you. His violet eyes are soft now, filled by a sated, drowsy warmth. A strand of his dark hair, damp and sticking to his forehead, falls into his eyes. He doesn’t brush it away.

He just looks at you, his gaze tracing the features of your face as if he’s memorizing them. A slow, utterly smug smile spreads across his lips.

“Told you it was better from the source,” he rumbles, his voice hoarse and sleep-rough.

A laugh bubbles out of you, breathy.

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you like it. Admit it. You like me just like this. All sweaty and gross on your nice clean sheets.” He dips his head, nuzzling his nose against yours.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“I do.”

The admission makes his smile widen, as if that's possible. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then another on the tip of your nose. It’s so gentle it makes your head spin.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, finally pushing himself up. The loss of his warmth is immediate, and you make a small sound of protest. He chuckles, low and deep.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Pipsqueak. But we’re a mess. And I’m crushin’ you.”

He stands from the bed, a magnificent, rumpled sight. His gym shorts are still tangled around his powerful thighs, and his torso glistens in the morning light filtering through your curtains. He is a work of art, all hard lines and spent energy, and he is entirely yours.

He holds out a hand to you.

“Shower. With me.”

You let him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly, and you stumble into his chest. His arms come around you instantly, holding you steady. He smells even more intense up close, a heady mix of sex, sweat, and pure man that makes your head spin all over again. You bury your face in his chest for one last, deep inhale.

“Yeah, okay. Get your fill. Last call before the soap and water,” he says, his voice laced with amusement and something like infinite fondness for your twisted little head.

He leads you to the bathroom, his arm a solid band around your waist. The shower steam quickly fills the small room, blurring the mirror and clinging to your skin. He steps in first, pulling you under the hot spray with him.

The water pours over him, carving paths through the sweat and the evidence of your coupling. Hickeys cover his skin, the sight of them making you blush red hot. He takes the soap and begins to wash you with a focus that leaves you breathless. His big, calloused hands are surprisingly gentle as they glide over your skin, washing away everything but the memory of his touch.

Then he turns you, pressing your back against his front, and hands you the soap. “Your turn.”

You understand the assignment. You lather your hands and begin to wash him. You start with his chest, soaping the defined muscle, watching the suds mix with water and slide down his torso. You work over his shoulders, down his arms, feeling the corded strength there.

You drop to your knees in the spray, soaping his powerful thighs, his calves, every inch of him. You are worshipping at the altar of him, cleansing him with gratitude. He lets you, his head tipped back against the tile, his eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on his face.

When you’re both clean, he turns off the water and wraps you in a fluffy towel, rubbing you down with care. He dries himself off, then leads you, warm and smelling of shared body wash, back to your bed.

He doesn’t even ask before just pulls your comforter over the damp, rumpled sheets and guides you down, climbing in beside you and pulling you into his arms, your back to his front. He spoons you, his body a solid wall of heat against you, his nose buried in your damp hair.

“The laundry… Your shirt from the chair… and the sheets…” You mumble, already half-asleep, nestled in his embrace.

Today's going to be a lazy day, probably. You were both up too early. Energy burned away into the rising sun.

You feel him chuckle.

“Fuck the laundry. It can wait. This can’t,” he whispers, his arms tightening around you.

You smile, drifting off. You’re almost asleep when his voice, soft and serious, rumbles against your ear.

“I meant it, you know. No more stealing. You want a shirt? You come find me. You want me? You come get me. I’m yours. All of this…” He squeezes you gently.

“It’s yours. Whenever you want.”

You lace your fingers into his where they rest on your stomach.

“I will.”

🏷 taglist 🐇🍎: @sylvieisoffline @mylifedoesntexist , @crowskitten22 , @etsuniiru, @asiatic-apple , @starryeyed-apple , @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t , @floatinginaer, @mcdepressed290, @raendarkfaerie , @katiiee80 , @rchltruly , @starpop12, @bitewiththis , @beaconsxd , @strawberrydragon24 , @heartyluv , @moxxalad , @tharunnihaa , @itsme3rin , @rikissaurus

706 notes · View notes

so6ncie · 3 days ago

Note

I'm going all in with the "my towel just 'accidently' fell off my body" (right after a shower) and they just so happened to be there to see your full naked body, turning them on for the nth time ☺️. Basically mc just being a flirt with them and they take it to the next level tehe..

── 𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐒, 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! purposely flashing the love and deepspace boys

❀ after a shower, you let your towel “accidentally” slip to the floor, deliberately exposing yourself to the one person who just so happened to be in the room. what started as playful teasing quickly spirals into something far more intense — lips clashing, hands exploring, and clothes discarded. a night of passionate sex that blurs the line between punishment and pleasure. what began as a flirtatious game turns into a night of overwhelming lust neither of you could resist. content. fem!reader, post-shower teasing, “accidental” towel drop, voyeurism-ish, multiple orgasms, messy cumplay, overstimulation, heated aftercare, final notes. 1243 words / thank you for requesting <3 this was so so fun to write lmaaaoooo, mc bein mischievous- smart. anyway hope this was up to your expectationss loveya baby

೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 Steam clung to your skin as you walked into the bedroom, towel hanging loose around your body. Sylus looked up from his phone, his sharp gaze locking on you immediately. The towel slipped—whether by accident or design—and hit the floor with a soft thud.

For a beat, silence hung heavy in the air. Then his lips curved into a dark smirk. “That wasn’t an accident.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Maybe it was.”

Sylus’s patience shattered. In two long strides, he had you pinned against the wall, his broad frame towering over you. His rough palms slid over your damp skin, fingers digging into your hips like he was branding you. He leaned down, lips grazing your ear. “You’re begging to be ruined, sweetheart.”

His mouth descended on yours, hot and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his hand slid down between your thighs. Two fingers pressed against your folds, teasing the slick that had already gathered there. “Fuck, you’re wet already? From dropping a towel?” His voice was a low growl, vibrating against your lips.

You whimpered, arching against his touch. “Sylus—”

“Say it properly.” He circled your clit slowly, deliberately, until your legs trembled. “Beg.”

“Please… please, Sylus,” you breathed, desperation cracking your voice.

That was enough. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down but didn’t give you a chance to adjust—his cock pressed against your entrance, hard and heavy. The moment he pushed inside, you cried out at the stretch, his thickness filling you to the brim.

“Fuck,” Sylus hissed, burying himself to the hilt. “So tight around me. Like your body was made for this.”

He set a brutal pace, hips slamming against yours, each thrust deep and precise. The head of his cock dragged perfectly against your sweet spot, stealing moans you couldn’t hold back. His hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your thigh to keep you open for him.

Every movement screamed possession. His teeth grazed your neck, biting just enough to leave marks, while his breath came hot and ragged against your skin. “Mine,” he growled, pounding harder as if to drive the word into your body. “You understand? No one else gets to see you like this.”

The coil in your stomach tightened fast, his relentless rhythm building your climax until you were shaking under him. “Sylus—I’m—”

“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice sharp, and you obeyed. The orgasm tore through you, clenching tight around him as you cried out his name.

He didn’t slow—if anything, the squeeze of your walls made him rougher, chasing his own release. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a shudder. He held you there, cock pulsing as he filled you, refusing to let a drop escape.

Collapsing against you, he pressed his forehead to yours, smirk tugging at his lips. “Next time you think about teasing me like that, remember—” his hips gave one last slow thrust, making you whimper, “—you’ll always end up flat on your back.”

೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 Steam trailed behind you as you stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped loosely around your shoulders. Xavier was sitting at the desk, flipping through notes, but the moment you let the towel “slip,” his head whipped around.

It hit the floor, leaving you gloriously bare.

Xavier froze, eyes wide, face turning crimson as he fumbled with his glasses. “W-wait—your towel—!”

You smirked, leaning against the doorframe like it was nothing. “Oops. Guess it slipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, gaze darting over your body before he forced himself to look away. “You can’t just—God, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice cracked with tension, his knuckles white as he gripped the desk.

You padded over to him, straddling his lap before he could protest. The heat radiating off his body betrayed him—he was already hard beneath you. “Why don’t you tell me?” you teased, brushing your lips against his jaw.

That broke him. He groaned, hands grabbing your hips, pulling you flush against him. “You’re evil,” he whispered hoarsely, crashing his mouth against yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, his tongue sliding against yours like he’d been starving for it.

You ground against him, feeling the bulge straining his pants, and he shuddered beneath you. “Fuck, I can’t… I can’t hold back when you do this.” His hands roamed your body—hesitant at first, then bolder—palming your breasts, fingers tugging at your nipples until you moaned into his mouth.

He stood abruptly, lifting you in his arms, and carried you to the bed. His movements were clumsy but driven by sheer need. He laid you down, lips never leaving yours as he fumbled his pants open with one hand.

When he finally freed himself, he groaned in relief, his cock heavy and leaking against your thigh. He rubbed the tip against your entrance, coating himself in your slick, before sliding in slowly. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his back.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathed, face buried in your neck. “So warm… so tight around me.”

He started moving, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that was fast, desperate, almost frantic. Every thrust made you cry out, the head of his cock hitting deep inside you, over and over. His hands held your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, anchoring himself in the heat of your body.

Your moans only spurred him on, his lips finding your collarbone, biting and sucking marks into your skin. “Say my name,” he begged, voice breaking. “I want to hear you—want to know I’m the only one making you feel like this.”

“Xavier!” you cried out, back arching as pleasure built hot and fast in your belly.

His pace stuttered when your walls clenched around him, and he gasped, fucking you harder as you came undone beneath him. Your climax ripped through you, trembling and clenching around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

The sensation dragged him over the edge, his thrusts turning erratic as he spilled inside you with a broken moan. He collapsed onto you, chest heaving, arms wrapping tightly around your body like he couldn’t let go.

After a long moment, he pressed a shaky kiss to your lips, cheeks still flushed. “You… you’ll kill me one day if you keep pulling stunts like that,” he whispered breathlessly, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed how much he loved it.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 The sound of running water stopped, and a few minutes later you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around you. Rafayel was lounging on the couch, sketchbook in hand, eyes lazily flicking up at you.

When the towel “slipped” to the floor, his gaze sharpened immediately, lingering on your bare skin.

You smirked. “Oops. Guess I should be more careful.”

His lips curled into that knowing, arrogant smile you both loved and hated. “Careful? Darling, you’re never careful with me. You like tempting the wolf, don’t you?”

You shrugged innocently, but the flush in your cheeks gave you away. “Maybe I just wanted your attention.”

He set the sketchbook aside, rising from the couch with unhurried grace, like a predator savoring the moment before pouncing. His eyes devoured you, head tilted as if admiring a masterpiece. “Attention, hm? You’ve got all of it.” He stalked closer, fingertips grazing your damp skin. “Now… what are you planning to do with it?”

Before you could answer, he spun you around, pressing you against the wall. His chest was firm against your back, his breath hot at your ear. “Such a naughty little girl. Dropping your towel, standing here naked, dripping from your shower… You want me hard, desperate, losing control, don’t you?”

You whimpered as his hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your folds. He chuckled darkly when he found you slick. “Already wet? You really are shameless.”

“Rafayel…” you breathed, hips rolling against his hand.

“Say it slower,” he teased, sliding two fingers inside you without warning. The stretch made you moan, walls clenching around his digits as he pumped them slowly, deliberately. His thumb brushed your clit, lazy circles that drove you mad with want.

He pulled his fingers free, sucking them into his mouth with a groan. “Sweet. Addicting. But I want more.”

In one swift motion, he bent you over the arm of the couch, pushing your legs apart. You gasped, body arching as he pressed his cock against your entrance, thick and already throbbing.

“Beg me,” he murmured, teasing you with shallow thrusts, just the tip slipping inside before pulling out again.

“Please, Rafayel,” you whined, pushing back against him. “I need you—inside me.”

He rewarded you by slamming in to the hilt, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, watching your body swallow him whole. “So tight, clinging to me like you’ll never let go.”

His pace was ruthless, thrusts deep and sharp, making the couch creak beneath you. Each snap of his hips sent sparks through your veins, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss along your jaw, biting just enough to leave marks.

“You love it,” he taunted, his voice a mix of mockery and heat. “Being fucked like this, bent over, dripping for me. Say it.”

“I love it,” you cried out, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.

“That’s my good little muse,” he praised, fingers sliding down to toy with your clit as he pounded into you. Your body tensed, climax approaching fast, and he smirked against your skin. “Cum for me. Let me see how gorgeous you look falling apart.”

Your orgasm tore through you, walls tightening around him, squeezing his cock as you screamed his name. Rafayel groaned, hips stuttering as the sensation dragged him over the edge too. He buried himself deep, spilling hot inside you with a shudder.

When he finally pulled out, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, still smirking. “Next time you want my attention,” he murmured, slipping a finger between your folds to push his cum back in, “just ask. Or better yet… drop your towel again.”

೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 You stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around your damp skin, a towel clinging precariously to your body. Zayne was in the bedroom, organizing his gear, but the moment he saw you, his sharp eyes softened, then immediately darkened when the towel slipped to the floor.

You pretended to fumble. “Oops…”

His jaw clenched. He froze, chest rising and falling harder than before, like he was trying to restrain himself. But then you smiled, deliberately unbothered by your nakedness. That was all it took.

Zayne’s composure snapped. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” His voice was gravelly, low.

You tilted your head innocently. “I dropped my towel.”

A growl rumbled from his chest as he closed the distance, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. “No. You baited me.”

Before you could tease him again, he shoved you back onto the bed, climbing over you with a predator’s hunger in his eyes. His mouth crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, his tongue dominating yours as if he needed to claim every inch of you.

“You think I can just sit still after seeing this?” he growled, dragging his hands down your body, nails grazing your damp skin. He cupped your breast, squeezing until you gasped, then shoved your thighs apart, pressing his cock against your slit.

“Zayne—” you whispered, already trembling.

“Mine,” he snarled, sliding in with one brutal thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. You screamed his name, clutching at his shoulders as he filled you completely, his cock stretching you deliciously wide.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. His hips slammed into you again, and again, fast and merciless, the bed creaking under his force. His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight, but enough to make your pulse race under his palm. “Don’t ever tease me like that again—unless you’re ready for this.”

Every thrust hit deep, raw and primal, like he was trying to fuck the lesson into you. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. His free hand gripped your thigh, forcing your legs wider so he could pound into you harder.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. “So wet, so perfect—taking me like you were made for me.”

You could barely form words, only desperate whimpers spilling from your lips. The knot in your stomach coiled tight, pleasure building fast under his relentless pace.

He felt it—your walls fluttering around him, clenching tighter. “Cum,” he ordered, thrusts growing erratic. “Now. I want to feel you lose it.”

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching, nails digging into his back as you cried his name. The pulsing squeeze of your release dragged Zayne over the edge too. With a guttural groan, he slammed in deep one last time, spilling inside you, his cock twitching as he filled you to the brim.

He didn’t move, still buried inside you, panting against your neck. His grip softened, his forehead pressed to yours. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, voice still rough but tinged with affection. “But you’re my trouble.”

Then his hips gave a slow, teasing roll, making you whimper all over again. “And don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 Steam still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower, towel draped loosely around your frame. Caleb was lounging on the couch near the window, scrolling through a datapad, relaxed as always. But his eyes flicked up at the sound of your footsteps, and the second your towel “slipped” and fell, he froze.

You smirked. “Oops. Clumsy me.”

Caleb inhaled sharply, knuckles whitening around the datapad. He set it down slowly, carefully, like he was fighting the urge to leap across the room. “You think that’s funny?” His voice was low, dangerously even.

You turned just enough for the light to catch your damp curves. “Maybe.”

That broke his composure. In a few strides, he was in front of you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “You’re playing with fire, darling.”

“Am I?” you teased, brushing your lips near his jaw.

His eyes darkened, and with a rough growl, he swept you into his arms and carried you straight to the bed. He set you down hard, pinning your wrists above your head in one hand as his mouth devoured yours in a hungry, claiming kiss.

“You test me like this…” he murmured against your lips, “…and I can’t stay a gentleman.”

You gasped as he slid two fingers down between your thighs, finding you already slick. His smile turned wolfish. “So ready for me… all from a little stunt?”

Without waiting, he freed himself, cock heavy and throbbing as he aligned with your entrance. The stretch was slow but deliberate as he pushed inside, filling you inch by inch until you moaned helplessly beneath him.

“God, you feel incredible,” Caleb groaned, burying his face against your neck. He began to move, thrusts steady and powerful, each stroke hitting deep, perfectly angled to make you writhe.

He kept your wrists pinned, his control absolute, while his free hand roamed your body — squeezing your breasts, tracing the lines of your waist, gripping your thigh to spread you open wider.

Your moans grew louder, and he chuckled darkly against your skin. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let everyone hear who you belong to.”

His pace quickened, hips snapping harder, his composure unraveling as he lost himself in you. The head of his cock hit that sweet spot with every thrust, making your vision blur with pleasure.

“Caleb, I—” you gasped, legs trembling.

“Cum for me,” he growled, grinding deep inside you. “Right now.”

Your orgasm hit hard, clenching around him as you cried out his name. The pulsing squeeze of your release dragged him over the edge too, his thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself deep, spilling hot inside you with a groan.

He collapsed against you, still inside, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw as you trembled beneath him. His grip finally loosened on your wrists, replacing it with soft caresses.

“You’re reckless,” he murmured, kissing your cheek tenderly even as his cock twitched inside you. “But I’ll always match your recklessness with fire of my own.”

And with the way his hips rolled again, slow and deliberate, you knew round two was coming.

— 𝐬𝐨𝟔𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞 2025: do not republish or copy any of my works. 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 are open < request here >

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dollgxtz · 1 day ago

Text

Putting a fussy kitten to sleep.ᐟ

۶ৎ Word Count: 2.7k

۶ৎ Tags: brat tamer!Sylus x brat!reader, fem!reader, spanking, teasing, clit rubbing, slight fingering, orgasm, fluff at the end :33

۶ৎ Summary: Sylus finds himself having an overtired, whiny, mean kitten on his hands who needs to go to bed. Nothing a quick spanking and orgasm can't fix ofc :3

"Oh, I see. My sweet kitten just needs a little help tiring herself out," Sylus coos, his voice a low, seductive purr that sends shivers down your spine. He increases the pressure on your clit, his touch both demanding and tender, pushing you closer to the edge.

۶ৎ AN: I just had funny little thoughts of brat!reader being SO sleepy and rude to sylus that he puts her in her place before forcing her to go to bed xDD

@leiaglamela @shia247 @Lazylightmusic @hyphensei @beaconsxd @adzir @zoezhive @mmeerraa @webmvie @mysterios-hoe @sylvieisoffline @riamir @blcknebula @wooasecret @chososlvrr @deathlycrow @mcdepressed290 @sylusqt @becky-chan @shawnberry @abrielletargaryen @Itsme3rin @2004crows @kokoqian @lioria @hon3yydew @laudyadee @yiddyyaddayami-blog @chaemaire @mylifedoesntexist @moonlitreveri3 @dvwnstar @ellie662 @your-l0cal-puppy @miserysscompany

You’d been locked in back-to-back online Kitty Card tournaments for four straight hours. Eyes dry. Limbs stiff. Soul on fire.

And you were winning. Mostly. You had clawed your way through ranked matches like a demon possessed, wrecking strangers in neon usernames who clearly underestimated your skills. The grand prize? A limited-edition kitty badge and the plush of your choice.

You could've asked Sylus to just buy the prize for you. Hell, he’d probably offer to buy all of them in triplicate just to please you. But that wasn’t the point. You didn’t want to own the plush. You wanted to earn it. To crush your enemies and sleep on their cartoon kitty corpses.

But then. It happened. The final match. You were one move from victory. Your cups were set up perfectly. You had the momentum. The math checked out. And then—

Your opponent stole the last green cup. The exact cup you needed to secure a victory. Your jaw dropped. Your breath left your body like a dying balloon.

“No—no no no no—fuck!!!”

Your phone wobbled in your grip as your hands flailed above your head like you were trying to summon a lightning bolt to smite your enemy. From the kitchen, something metal clattered. A spoon, maybe. You didn’t care.

Your brain buzzed. Your blood pressure was an actual war crime. You stared at the screen with the wrath of a Greek god denied tribute.

"There's no way!! How stupid of you to put a pink cat in a green cup just so I don't win???" you groan, voice cracking as frustration boils over. Your fingers tighten around your phone, but you stop short of throwing it across the room. Barely. The bright, obnoxious "LOSE" screen flashes across your screen, taunting you with glittery defeat animations and an upbeat jingle that makes you want to scream again.

You slump back against the couch, groaning like your soul has left your body. How could it end like this? You had the perfect combo. You used all your best cards. You read your opponent like a book. You almost had enough points to put you ahead of them. And yet—some troll on the other side of the internet just decided to end the entire match by throwing a pink cat in a green cup like some kind of absolute animal.

The rankings pop up on screen, a final insult. Your name flashes second on the leaderboard—so damn close. Second place. Just under the winner by the slimmest point margin imaginable. If you had gotten that last green cup, the badge would've been yours. The plush. The title. All of it.

You roll over on the couch like you've been mortally wounded. "I was robbed," you mutter, half into a pillow. "Actually robbed. They probably had a green cat too, they put the pink one just to mess with me!!"

Your thumb twitches, instinctively reaching for the rematch button—then stops. There's no rematch in ranked mode. No second chances. All that time, all that effort...four hours of your life. Gone. Just like that.

"You don't put nearly as much effort into our matches, kitten," Sylus's smooth, sultry voice filled the room as he stepped inside, arms crossed lazily over his chest, eyes fixed on you with that infuriating little smirk.

You rubbed your tired eyes, more to avoid his gaze than anything, the burn of exhaustion crawling behind your eyelids. The sting of your loss still lingered, and now his teasing only twisted the knife deeper. You shot him a half-hearted glare from where you lay draped over the couch, limbs heavy and mood sour.

"You let me win half the time anyways, I don't need to try. Shut up," you muttered, voice gravelly from yelling and lack of sleep.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face as he sauntered closer. That low chuckle of his rumbled out, deep and unbothered.

"Oh? Feisty tonight? My kitten's mad she lost her kitty card match?"

He leaned one hand on the back of the couch, towering over you just enough to annoy you further, clearly enjoying the view of your pouty, post-defeat sulk. His eyes scanned your face like he was cataloging every tired twitch and spark of indignation.

You hated how smug he looked. And worse, how much he loved catching you like this—grumpy, wrecked, and too stubborn to admit you needed to go to bed. You suddenly sit up, more pissed than ever.

"Im more than mad!! Ive wasted almost four straight hours of my life battling hundreds of players all for some stupid kitty plu-" your sentence is interrupted by a giant yawn that practically unhinges your jaw. You barely finish the word before it overtakes you, your voice trailing off in a sleepy groan.

"And then you come in here being a massive dick, of course," you grumble through the tail end of the yawn, glaring up at Sylus with red-rimmed eyes. Your limbs feel heavy, your back aches from the way you've been hunched over your phone for hours, and the last thing you need is him being smug about it.

Sylus crosses to the other side of the couch with slow, deliberate steps, eyes full of amusement. He doesn't even try to hide how entertained he is by your pitiful state. You bristle as he stops in front of you and reaches down, ruffling your hair like you're some cranky toddler mid-tantrum.

"Ah ah. Fix your tone," he says coolly, voice smooth but with just enough edge to let you know he’s not entirely joking. His hand moves from your head to your chin, tilting it up gently so you're forced to meet his gaze.

His expression is calm but firm, like he’s been waiting all day for this meltdown to hit. "I'll let it slide," he murmurs, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as if to soothe your bruised pride, "but I think its time for bed now."

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing coherent comes out. Your brain short-circuits somewhere between your frustration and your exhaustion, and all you manage is an irritated huff. He raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting more defiance, but you just scowl.

"That wasn't a request, kitten," he adds firmly.

"That wasn't a request, kitten..." you mock, rolling your eyes dramatically as you rub at them again with the back of your hand. The exhaustion clinging to your limbs is thick, syrupy, and you’re barely thinking straight at this point—so naturally, you're pushing him. It's reckless, bold, and 100% sleep-deprived bravado.

Sylus doesn’t laugh this time. His smirk fades. That amused glint in his eyes shifts to something far more serious, and a beat of silence hangs heavy between you.

"What—?"

Before you can finish the thought, before your next breath even settles, the air shifts. Red and black mist curls around your body, rising up like smoke from beneath the couch cushions. You barely have time to gasp before it engulfs you entirely.

"Eek!"

Your shriek bounces off the walls of the room as the world flips—literally. One blink you’re sitting upright, the next you’re horizontal, the couch replaced with the firm, steady support of Sylus’s lap.

You blink again, and yep, you're definitely stretched across him, your legs hanging off one side of his thighs while his arm rests across your back, holding you there like it's the most normal thing in the world. Your hands scramble for something—dignity, leverage, escape—but none of them are available.

"Sylus! Wait no!" you cry out, your voice trembling with a mix of surprise and fear as you feel his strong hands deftly peel your shorts and underwear down, exposing your bare ass to the cool air of the room. The sudden chill sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively try to wriggle free from his firm grip, your body tensing in anticipation as you struggle in his lap.

"Shh, now," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble that contrasts with the sternness of his words. "You know how this goes. If you don't want to listen, you get punished. Stay still." His command is firm, leaving no room for argument, and you feel your heart race as you squeeze your eyes shut.

His large, warm, and calloused hand gently caresses the soft skin of your ass, sending a confusing mix of sensations through you. You shriek as his palm comes down hard several times, the sudden sting of the impact making you gasp. The sound of his hand meeting your skin echoes in the room, and you sniffle, your eyes watering as you whine softly, squirming under the lingering warmth of his touch.

"You're normally just fussy and all over me when you're tired," he remarks, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "I wonder where that kitten went? Do I need to spank that attitude out of you?" His fingers gently rub your aching skin, the contrast of his touch from harsh to tender making your head spin and thighs clench together.

You feel your brain melting, every thought dissolving into a haze of sleepiness and desire for him to touch you further. The only coherent sound you can muster is a whine, a plaintive cry that escapes your lips as you instinctively push your bare butt closer to his palm, seeking more of the confusing mix of pleasure and pain.

His fingers, warm and firm, brush against your cunt, a brief, electrifying touch that sends a jolt through your body. You shiver, your breath hitching as he chuckles. He pulls away, but not before giving your ass a squeeze, his grip possessive and teasing.

"There she is. You're not supposed to enjoy it, y'know," he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and warning.

"B-but..." you whine, your voice barely above a whisper, as you let out another yawn, your exhaustion on full display. Thankfully he begins touching you again, your body arching involuntarily as his skilled fingers find their mark, the sensation of his index finger rubbing your clit sending shocks of pleasure through you. His thumb presses in between your wet folds, the sensation eliciting a deep moan from your lips. You can feel a soaring ache building in your core, a delicious tension that threatens to consume you.

"I suppose I'm partially to blame here, considering I haven't touched you like this in a few days" Sylus says, clearly enjoying the way you're squirming in his lap. "Poor thing, feeling a little pent up, hm?"

"Mghn! Ah-y-yes..." you pant, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you wiggle on his lap, the friction of your movements adding to the overwhelming sensations. Your body betrays you, arching and writhing against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he so expertly coaxes from you. You're a captive in his arms, your resistance melting away as you surrender to the intoxicating touch of his fingers.

The relentless rhythm of his fingers continues, each stroke building upon the last, pushing you further and further towards the precipice. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled and ready to release, as the sensations become too intense to bear. And then, with a final, shuddering arch into his fingers, you cum, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you whining and shaking like a leaf, your body convulsing with the force of your release.

As the aftershocks subside, you sink into him, your body limp and sated, the tiredness that had been a distant threat now settling in with a vengeance. Post-orgasm, you feel a deep, bone-deep weariness wash over you, your limbs heavy and unresponsive.

"All right, you've had your fun. Bed time now."

You feel his hands on your body, gently readjusting your underwear and shorts. The warning he gives you barely registers in your foggy mind, but before you can fully comprehend, you're being scooped up off the couch like an unruly cat.

His arms slide under you with ease, lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all. Your head lolls against his shoulder, the room spinning slightly from how heavy and hazy your body feels. You're almost drunk on exhaustion now, too tired to mount any real fight.

"Syyyy, m' tired..." you whine, voice slurred as you clutch your arms tightly around his neck. He readjusts your body against his chest, one arm hooked under your thighs, the other beginning to rub soothing circles against your back.

"I know. Let's get you to bed," he murmurs gently, his tone softer now, stripped of the teasing edge from before. His warmth seeps into you with every step as he carries you, his steady heartbeat thudding against your ear.

The creak of the stairs follows as he makes his way upward, your legs instinctively tightening around his waist to anchor yourself closer. The world beyond his hold blurs, and all you can focus on is the rhythm of his stride and the safety of his arms as the last of your fight drains away.

You go in and out of consciousness, your body giving up the fight even as your mind scrambles to hold on. One second you catch sight of the top of the stairs as Sylus leaves them behind, your chin tucked against his shoulder, the next you feel the cool air of the room wrapping around you like a quiet reminder that you’re not on the couch anymore. The shift is dizzying, and you cling tighter to him as though you’ll slide right out of his arms if you let go.

Then, before you know it, gravity tilts. The weightlessness lasts only a heartbeat before the soft dip of the mattress cradles your body. You’re being laid down gently on the bed, his hands precise and steady as though he’s afraid you’ll break if he moves too quickly. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, the pillow catching the back of your head as he eases you down. You wriggle automatically, trying to find comfort, curling toward the warmth he leaves behind. Sylus fusses with the blanket, pulling it snug over your shoulders, adjusting the pillows under your head until you’re cocooned just the way he wants you.

In your haze, you whine softly, your lips barely forming the words. "Kiss..."

Sylus pauses, his head tilting as his gaze sharpens on you. A small smirk plays across his lips. "You want a kiss?" he murmurs, low and teasing.

"Mhm...please...," you breathe, voice muffled and whiny, almost pleading in your drowsy state.

"Quite hard to say no when you beg like that" he says with a quiet chuckle, the sound both amused and fond as he leans closer, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, delicate kiss. Then another, softer still, each press of his mouth unhurried and gentle, like he’s coaxing you deeper into calm. He lingers, giving you several feather‑light kisses on your lips, savoring the way you melt under the touch before pulling back just enough to watch your drowsy reaction.

In your tired stupor, a small pang of guilt pushes through the fog. The bratty comments, the yelling, the way you mocked him—it simmers faintly, leaving an ache in your chest. Maybe you pushed harder than you should have. The thought slips to your lips before you can stop it, a clumsy attempt at an apology bubbling up as your mouth parts.

Sylus presses a finger lightly against your lips, firm enough to silence, gentle enough to make your chest flutter.

“Sleep. Apologize later.”

You want to argue, but your body won’t obey. Your limbs feel like they’ve been filled with sand, too heavy to lift, too tired to fight. His hand shifts upward, palm spanning across your face as he moves to cover your eyes. The warmth of his skin blocks out the nightlight, coaxing your eyelids to stay closed. Darkness pulls at you immediately, stronger than your will.

“Mgm…mhmm,” you whine lazily into your pillow, the sound muffled, pathetic, almost childlike. Even your defiance is dulled now, reduced to little noises that fade as quickly as they come.

Sylus chuckles again softly, the sound low and rumbling through the quiet room. He bends down, close enough that his breath ghosts against your hairline, and presses a small kiss to the crown of your head. The tenderness of it burns through your fading awareness, grounding you in a way that makes your throat tighten.

Already, you’re drifting, sinking fast into the warm pull of sleep. Your body goes slack, surrendering to the exhaustion you tried so hard to fight.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice quiet but edged with warning, the last thing you hear before the world tips fully into dreams.

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