#sylus you're next * ^ *
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starmocha · 1 year ago
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Rock-a-Bye [Sylus + Daughter ★ 1122 words ★ Masterlist ★ Birdie Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus has a stubborn little birdie who won’t go to sleep. A/N: God, I was not prepared for this man to sing “Rock-a-Bye Baby.” My womb and I have not been the same since then.
Sylus sat behind his desk, going over some new intel he had received that night. The door to his office was opened ajar, the hallway dimmed light filtered in. As his eyes skimmed the documents, his deep voice rumbled softly, “Mephisto is in here with me, so who is that little birdie lurking outside my office?”
He smirked when he heard a tiny startled gasp. He looked up just in time to catch a small shadow quickly backing up against the wall to hide.
“Baby,” his voice called out, “come into Daddy’s office.”
He waited, seeing the hesitation from the person outside, and after nearly a minute, he watched his office door opened further, a little girl in a pink nightgown walked into his office looking guilty.
“It is eleven, why are you not in bed, baby?”
“How…did Daddy know it was me?”
Sylus tilted his head in amusement at the little girl’s question, his eyes drifting over to the mechanical crow in his office. His daughter noticed and she instantly stomped her foot. The little girl gave a pout and then she turned and glared at the mechanical bird perched near her father’s desk.
“Mephie tattled on me!”
The mechanical crow looked startled before it lowered its head in shame, giving a sad coo.
Sylus had a hard time hiding his amusement, chuckling at his daughter’s angry pout. “Don’t be mad at Mephisto, baby,” he said calmly, “Look, his feelings are hurt.”
Instantly, the little girl looked guilty for her outburst. She walked over to near Sylus’ desk and reached up on her tippy toes to stroke the crow’s feathers. Her voice was very small and remorseful, “I’m sorry, Mephie…”
Mephisto gave a cheerful caw, earning not only a smile from the little toddler but also her father.
Sylus reached over and patted his daughter’s head gently, smoothing out her hair. “Now, baby, do you want to tell me why you are still awake at this hour? I thought Luke and Kieran had put you to bed.”
“They did…” she responded, looking down at the white kitty cat slippers she was wearing. She shuffled her feet guiltily, and then confessed, “I miss Mommy…”
Sylus’ expression softened, empathizing deeply with the little three-year-old girl. He leaned back in his chair and patted his lap, gesturing for his daughter to come closer. Delighted, the little girl immediately scampered over and raised her arms, waiting for her father to lift her up. Sylus easily picked her up, settling her comfortably on his lap. He smiled when she snuggled closer to him.
“I know you miss Mommy, baby,” he started gently, “but Mommy is away on a mission right now. Didn’t she video chat with you and said good night earlier?”
“It’s not the same,” his daughter replied with a pout, crossing her arms stubbornly. She looked up at her father with wide, pleading eyes, “I want to stay up with Daddy.”
Sylus sighed and shook his head. “Daddy has business to take care of tonight.”
“I can be as quiet as a mouse, Daddy!”
Sylus chuckled and stroked her cheek affectionately, pleased when he heard her sweet little giggles. “I know you can, my little birdie,” he said, but shook his head again, “But this type of business is for grownups only.”
“Okay…” The little girl looked down sadly, her legs idly kicking back and forth as she stared at her kitty slippers.
Sylus stroked her hair to comfort her. “Come on, baby,” he said, “it’s well past your bedtime.”
“What about Daddy’s bedtime?”
“Daddy’s bedtime is in the morning,” Sylus answered curtly, carefully lifting his daughter into his arms as he stood up. She clung to him as he carried her out of his office. Cheekily, she waved at Mephisto as she was taken away. The mechanical crow cooed softly.
“Daddy?”
“What is it, baby?”
“Can’t I stay up with you?”
Before Sylus could respond, he caught sight of Luke and Kieran searching from room to room down the hallways. He stopped, and cleared his throat, alerting the twins.
“Did you two lose a little birdie?” He paused, and added with an exasperated sigh, “Again?”
“Uh, listen, Boss,” Luke started, panicking, “It wasn’t our fault!”
Kieran instantly agreed, “Yeah, we tucked her in real good. We even stood outside the door for ten minutes to make sure she didn’t sneak out again!”
“And yet she escaped. Again.”
“Boss—”
The little girl giggled. “Sorry, Lukey, Kier-Kier…”
Kieran sighed and crossed his arms. “Little Miss, you are lucky you are so adorable.”
Luke interjected, “Don’t worry, Boss, we’ll make sure she’ll go to bed this time—”
“Forget it,” Sylus cut in, already walking past the two. “I’ll tuck her in myself.”
The twins sighed and waved weakly at the smiley, waving girl.
As Sylus approached his daughter’s bedroom, he felt her squirming in his arms. He paused and looked down. “Is this little birdie trying to fly away?”
“Maybe…”
Sylus shook his head and opened the bedroom door. Inside the large room, there were countless toys and books, much too excessive for a little three-year-old girl to have, but money meant absolutely nothing to Sylus when it came to his daughter’s happiness. Sylus walked to the middle of the room where there was a large canopy bed with sheer pink curtains and fairy lights strewn about waiting for its little owner to return. As Sylus tucked his daughter into her bed, he noticed her sulking again. “Baby, it’s almost midnight. You should have been asleep four hours ago.”
“Can I have a song, Daddy?”
“Trying to strike a deal, are you?”
The girl gave her best pout and puppy dog eyes.
“Deal accepted,” Sylus answered, sitting down on his daughter’s bed. He smiled as she snuggled up to him. “You might be the only person around this place who appreciate my singing.”
Sylus smiled when he saw his daughter yawning. Despite her stubbornness the whole night, it wouldn’t take much to finally lull her to sleep. His large hand gently held onto her little hand, stroking it tenderly as his deep voice sung softly, “Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop…”
He watched as sleepy little eyes drifted close as he sang her a lullaby. When he had finished, his daughter was already sound asleep, cuddled up close to him, breathing softly. Sylus took a glance at a clock in his daughter’s bedroom.
He was already running late to the meeting.
The meeting could wait, Sylus decided. After all, the people waiting for him to arrive needed him, not the other way around. He settled more comfortably in bed next to his sleeping daughter, his deep humming the only sound heard in the large bedroom.
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nattythebanshee · 15 hours ago
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Uhhhhh.....husband.... miss husband.....
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haikavehs-audhd · 2 months ago
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[smacks lips] InFold gets to live another day.
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seekingthestars · 10 hours ago
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HE CAME HOMEEEEEEEEEEEE. AT A MERE 50 PULLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he loves me, he did this for my bday, thank u bubs ilu back 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
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vibinsanemoved · 1 year ago
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affinity 100, we have finally made it.
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justine-the-guillotine · 3 months ago
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Finally engaged after 429 days 😮‍💨🥰
(I only played super casually until Sylus was released and now I am an obsessive player lol)
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lovinggreeniehours · 4 months ago
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ALL MY F/OS STEP TF UP /J MY FAVORITE SYLUS FIC UPDATED TODAY YIPEEEEEE
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bizarrelovetriangel · 2 months ago
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needy.
they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.
mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3
sylus.
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You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.
He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.
"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."
You paused.
Needy?
"Oh."
Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.
"I didn't mean — "
"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"
"No — "
"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"
That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.
No hand holding.
No hugs.
No kisses.
No sex.
Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.
But he can't lose your game so easily.
He'll toughen up if he must.
He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.
His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.
He'll be fine.
That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.
You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.
He'll wait until you give in.
It's more fun that way.
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Okay, so this is harder than he thought.
It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.
Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.
"Sylus?"
He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"
"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."
He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."
That was a total lie.
It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.
However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.
With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.
"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."
Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.
"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.
Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.
At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.
Or so he thought.
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Day four.
The frustration has gotten to Sylus.
It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.
He can look, but he can't touch.
It's much more difficult than he thought.
Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.
Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.
Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.
Sylus quietly growled under his breath.
He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.
You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.
"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."
Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."
He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.
"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"
"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"
You almost agreed in a heartbeat.
But you have to stay strong.
"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."
Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.
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Day seven.
You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.
It was the worst idea of all.
As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.
Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.
Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.
He was sweating throughout the entire ride.
And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.
From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.
As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.
Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.
Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.
Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.
"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."
"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"
"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."
"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."
That was all he needed to hear.
Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.
zayne
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You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.
"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."
You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.
"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."
Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.
It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.
He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.
"Oh, no..."
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Day three.
You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.
Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.
You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.
It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.
"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"
"What you said the other day?"
"You know... about your high libido...."
He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.
"Nope! I don't care at all!"
Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.
Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.
The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.
And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.
He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.
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Day five.
You and Zayne attended a formal event.
It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.
Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.
Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.
As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.
He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.
Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.
It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.
Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.
"Zayne, are you okay?"
You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.
"You feel warm. Are you sick?"
Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."
He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.
On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.
But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.
And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.
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Day six.
On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.
Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.
You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.
After all, he had a special proposal.
"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."
It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.
But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.
He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.
He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.
After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.
"How could this happen?!"
Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.
Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.
Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.
"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."
You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"
Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.
"Kiss me."
Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.
"Oh."
He found a way to end your silly little game.
He really is a clever boy.
"Your wish is my command~"
At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.
Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.
His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.
Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.
"...should we end picnic early?"
"We should end picnic early."
caleb
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You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.
"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."
Your hands come to a halt.
"What did you say?"
"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "
"No, you just called me needy just now."
Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.
"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.
"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."
"Wha — hey wait!"
It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.
Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.
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The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.
But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.
"No."
"Huh?"
"No kisses."
"What?! Why?!"
You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.
"Because. I don't want to seem needy."
"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.
"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.
Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.
Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.
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Day two.
The pout hasn't left his face.
You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.
You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.
"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."
"...."
"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"
"..."
No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.
But what if....
"Whew, it's so hot in here."
Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.
He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.
Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.
Or at least, that was the plan.
His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.
"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."
You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.
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Day four.
You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.
The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.
But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.
Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.
Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.
Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.
Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.
Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.
He can't help but seek for your touch.
It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.
Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.
This scheme of yours has to end now.
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Day five.
You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.
Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.
But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.
His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.
"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"
"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."
You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?
"What did I forget?"
Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.
"Ta-da! Here you go~"
Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.
".....Are you being serious right now?"
A hair clip.
"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."
"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."
Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"
He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.
You should've known he came in with a mission.
As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.
He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.
His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.
He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.
Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."
"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."
Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.
He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.
"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "
"Never!"
Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"
"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"
"The pot can wait. I'm busy."
"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.
"Okay I'm coming!"
rafayel
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"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"
You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"
Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"
"Right..."
You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).
Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.
But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.
As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.
He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.
At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.
Day two.
You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.
The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.
"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."
"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."
Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.
"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."
"Mhmm."
Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.
He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.
You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.
Without them, his day feels incomplete.
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Day three.
You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.
"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."
He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.
"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."
Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."
Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."
"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."
Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.
Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.
His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."
It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.
Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.
So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.
His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.
His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.
But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.
You held back a grin at his red face.
"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."
"...Hmph..."
He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.
Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.
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Day four.
"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"
You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.
"...."
"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"
"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"
"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."
You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.
You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.
You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.
Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.
"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.
"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."
Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.
"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."
Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."
Your face burned.
As did the rest of your body.
At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.
Stiff and twitching, just for you.
Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.
"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."
Rafayel has never moved so quickly.
xavier
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Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.
"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.
"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."
Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "
You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"
"Wait — "
"Goodnight, I said."
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Day one.
You had to be joking, right?
You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.
You probably don't even remember what you said.
Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.
When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.
So, everything should be fine.
He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.
"Good morning."
He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.
That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.
"Good morning, Xavier."
Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.
There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.
Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.
You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.
Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.
Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.
"Hmm? What are you — "
"Shhh. We need to be quiet."
Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.
But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.
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Everything is not fine.
He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.
But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.
For the final check: the Pocky test.
Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.
As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.
"Wait, let me check if yours is good."
He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.
But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.
"Wah — "
You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."
So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.
And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.
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Day two.
Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.
You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.
Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.
For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.
Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.
As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.
"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.
Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."
"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.
"I'll be fine~"
Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.
"Are you really that scared?"
He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.
"Ah!"
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His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.
"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."
He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.
"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."
You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.
"Xavier!"
"Ssshh, I got you."
After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.
The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.
You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.
"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."
You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.
"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."
"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."
Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.
"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"
"Well.... not really...."
They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.
"At least you're honest."
A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.
"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."
You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.
"Just focus on me."
From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.
Right now, there's only Xavier.
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deepspace-scenarios · 1 month ago
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[scenario/drabble] say it again
LIs react when you say their name, but not the one you usually call them by. (They love it. SO much.)
Genre: Fluff, TW: suggestiveness
(Note: HC all the LADS men are at least bilingual/trilingual for work purposes or just bc they've lived long enough)
SYLUS
The rain hits the glass panels like a scatter of beads, the curtains of dense raindrops draping over the N109 zone late at night.
Seeing that it is a slow night for Sylus, you decide to try your idea out.
His glass of whiskey pauses halfway to his lips when you pronounce "Qín Chè" with perfect inflection.
The ice cubes clink as he slowly sets it down.
"Now that," he purrs, rising from his chair with a predatory grace, "is a dangerous thing to know."
In your next breath, he appears in a cloud of black-red mist, leaning down to you with a hand in his pocket.
"Did you research me that thoroughly? Or..." His breath ghosts your ear, "have you been hiding secrets?"
When you admit to practicing, he chuckles. "Even more dangerous. Now I'll have to teach you all the ways I want to hear my name...in private."
And so you learn, saying his name like a prayer while his lips graze over your neck and his arms keep you pressed close to him. Soon, your attempts are swallowed by his hungry kisses, and lost between stuttered breaths.
The next night, he makes you do it all over again.
_____
XAVIER
The way back home is quiet, crowds dwindling quickly after dinner hours in the dreary weather. It's still drizzling, but you're under a covered walkway for this stretch of the walk.
There's a comfortable silence between you and Xavier, and you decide to test something out.
"Shěn Xīnghuí," you say softly, watching the light reflect in his widened eyes like stars.
"You...know." The way he says it makes you realize this isn't just about language- you've spoken a name he thought he'd never hear you say in this lifetime.
He takes both your hands, holding them delicately as he moves closer to you. "Say it again," he whispers.
You repeat his name, louder this time. The night suddenly feels sacred as the syllables hang between you.
He doesn't speak, only brushes his thumb lightly over your knuckles as he looks at you the way a stargazer would observe a meteor shower.
Then you feel the slightest squeeze on your hands.
“Let's head back quickly,” he says, moving to keep a hand on your waist on the way home. He turns to press a quick kiss to your temple. “Now that I know you can say my name this way… I won't let you stop at just saying it twice.”
_____
ZAYNE
When you pass by the reception desk at the cardiology ward, You wave to the nurses on your way in and greet Zayne in a sing-song voice.
It's a phrase you practiced, over and over in front of a mirror.
“Lí Shēn, I'm here~ I'll just leave your lunchbox on the table,”
His gaze snaps to you.
The receptionist nurse freezes as their usually unflappable chief surgeon stares at you like you've grown a second head.
"...That pronunciation is very precise," he finally says, clicking his pen shut and taking some charts from the shelf.
Later, in his office, he has you trapped against the table. He's careful not to make noise, his steps slow and deliberate until the back of your legs are pressed up against the cool wooden surface.
"Who taught you that?" He asks quietly.
You blink. He seems almost too calm- like he's trying hard not to let something irritate him. Something is simmering in his gaze, but it's one of those times where you can't quite place your finger on what it is.
“Well- I remember knowing you had a different name, but I just never actually asked you about it even after all this time-” You explain, “It came up when I went over the university alumnae list-”
“Are you a personal investigator now?” He says, inching even closer to you.
“I was just… sorry, I shouldn't have called you by another name in the hospital,”
He exhales, the hint of a smile gracing his sharp features. “No- don't apologize, my love. I have no reason to be unhappy-” When he wraps his arms around you, the tension in your cautious stance melts into familiar warmth.
The slightly coarse fabric of his doctor's coat rubs against your face, but you snuggle closer.
“-However,” he continues, voice low, “My private investigator, I can't let you leave just yet.”
He keeps you locked in place with a hand around your waist. “I have five minutes until my ward round. If you're ever going to say my name like that again..." His lips brush yours, "you'll do it where I can properly appreciate it."
_____
RAFAYEL
The name you learned isn't Lemurian- it's something you came across in a luxury-lifestyle magazine interview done years ago that lay forgotten inside one of his storage crates. You had gone to your friend and asked them to help with the pronunciation, and practiced till you could say it naturally within conversations.
"Qí Yù! Is this a new piece of artwork?" You call across the studio.
"Yeah it- WHAT DID YOU JUST-?!" He leaps over the couch.
"Say that again," he demands, gripping your shoulders.
When you repeat it with a grin, he gasps.
"You've been holding out on me! Oh, you say my name so wonderfully," He gushes with a smile so dazzling it would put the glittering sunset ocean to shame.
"Wait." He squints. "Did Thomas teach you? I'LL KILL HIM-"
You have to physically restrain him from storming off, and his arm almost slips between your grip.
“Rafayel! No, it's just me- I read in an old interview that you had a different name and-”
“So you've been reading about me- when you can just ask me anything?” He pouts.
You blink. “How would I even begin to know you have different names?”
He puts his hands on his hips, seemingly acknowledging an impasse.
Then he sighs and opens his arms wide. “Come here, cutie,”
His scent envelopes you as you sink into his embrace, and he rubs circles into your back.
His voice is lower when he speaks, “I will take a break now- I need some inspiration from you.”
_____
CALEB
It's rare that you ever tag along to Caleb's gym sessions. Aside from schedules never aligning, you always knew his workout routine was rigorous and intense, so you wouldn't want to distract him.
Apart from that, he is also a huge source of distraction to you.
Right now, he's doing shoulder presses while seated on the gym bench, looking absolutely distracting. The stair master machine faces the mirror, giving you a clear view of him.
There's no way you can complete your usual routine, so you approach him.
Time to call it a day at the gym.
"Xià Yǐzhòu," you call out.
His dumbbells wobble mid-air.
"Holy-" He braces himself and rights his grip, bringing the dumbbells back down to rest them on his knees.
When he looks up, his expression does something complicated. "...Haven't heard that in a while," he murmurs, placing the dumbbells on the floor and rubbing his neck.
There's a vulnerability in his eyes you rarely see. “What happened to ‘Caleb’?” he asks.
When you explain your practice sessions, his boyish grin returns.
"Well damn, pips."
He tackles you into a hug that nearly has you topple over- but he catches you. With the way he's looking at you now, you're glad the gym is quiet. Even after being with him, he never fails to get your pulse soaring with his stupid, rugged charm.
“Ew, Caleb your sweat-”
“I don't recall you having a problem with that last night,” he murmurs, holding you closer.
“Caleb, I swear-” You jab at his sides with your fingers, scrambling to find an excuse to get him to stop teasing, “I'm sweaty too, it's gross.”
It almost works. He squirms, but his grip doesn't loosen in the slightest.
“Xià Yǐzhòu-”
He hums contentedly, patting your hair to placate you, "Thaaaat's more like it. Now gotta hear that every morning."
His whisper turns teasing, "And every night. Especially when you're begging me to-" You clap a hand over his mouth.
“Caleb!”
He kisses your palm, then gently takes your hand from his face.
“Call me the other name again and I'll let you go,”
_____
Edit: (note: their chinese names are so beautiful and poetic and suits their characterisation/personalities so well I cant even begin to describe how much I love ! !! And especially the exact words/characters chosen for their names too where my multilingual stans at!!! OK incoherent vent over thank u all for reading <3)
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humanjarvis · 4 months ago
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lads LIs when you're hesitant to initiate kisses
sylus understands your hesitancy to make yourself vulnerable, but he also can't stand to see you unfulfilled. the first couple times he catches you staring at his lips, he offers nothing but lazy blinks and slow smirks, challenging you to come to him first. but when you look away in uncertainty one too many times, seemingly content to watch your own desires slip away as long as it saves you from embarrassment, he saunters toward you, maintaining eye contact all the way. placing one hand on your hip and the other on your chin, he bends to capture your lips with his, making you stumble with his intensity. his grip on you only tightens when he breaks the kiss, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he tugs you toward his lips. when you lose your balance and fall into his embrace, you realize his game: he’s making you kiss him first 
zayne empathizes with your shyness and hesitancy, afraid to so much as look at you the wrong way in case he offends you. since you’re both too frozen in overthought to make the first move, you don’t become intimate as quickly as most couples, trading physical closeness for emotional understanding. when he walks you to your door after a visit to the bakery, he leaves you with a warm goodnight hug, and you both assume the other is satisfied. only when you think he’s asleep on the sofa one evening and press a fond kiss to his cheek does he realize you share his private desires. the next day, after stoically psyching himself up for 20 minutes, he finds you in the kitchen and kisses you deeply, a pink tinge on his cheeks when he pulls away
caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?
you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.
xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips
a/n: anon who asked me if i’d ever write for zayne and i hinted at later this week this is not what i was talking about don’t worry, just an impromptu writing exercise to convince myself i’m not washed. also while this technically counts for xavier and raf i’m the least familiar with their cards so idk if/when i can write anything much longer than this for them (love them tho)
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satrs · 4 months ago
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Baby, Baby!
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SYNOPSIS; Babyfever with the l&ds men<3
FEATURING; ZAYNE. XAVIER. SYLUS. RAFAYEL. CALEB. xfem!reader
TAGS; ADULT/NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! unprotected intercourse, smegual intercourse. br$$ding. creampi. heavy dörtytalk. extremely pathetic crybaby caleb alert!!!. mention of kids, duh!. doggy in rafs. mating press in sylus'. spooning in xaviers. cowgirl in calebs.
✎ A/N; FUCK SWEETIES! FINALLY FINISHED THIS!! I thought I'd see the pearly gates before I get to live this day LMAO. Couldn't stop thinking about my babytrapper!Caleb post, so this came out of it ^^ This might be my fav work yet ngl hehe
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ZAYNE ✰ How to make a Baby 101!
"You",
Zayne stops himself as he takes a deep breath, a grunt rumbling in his throat, "You want a baby?"
It's as if you could read his mind. He's been thinking about this—about a baby—for quite a while now, seeing it as a next step after your established wedding. You're his love — his darling wife, so it only seemed it would be natural for you both to consider this next big step in your life.
Zayne loomed over you, his gaze dark, smoldering, and consuming. His breath was ragged, uneven, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs, spreading you open beneath him.
Your eager nod was all it took for him to stuff his entire length inside you in one swift motion, feral, low grunt erupting from the depths of his lungs.
"l'll give it to you. Gonna-" he stops himself with a hiss, hips stuttering at your greedy grip onto his dick, "Gonna give my sweet darling a baby."
"P-please Zayne. Need it soooo bad!"
A helpless, broken mewl spilled from your lips as your nails clawed into his shoulders, heels digging into his back in a desperate attempt to pull him in deeper. His body shuddered at your neediness, at the way you begged so sweetly, so pathetically.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, strained, like he was holding himself back. Like he was fighting the urge to ruin you completely.
His fingers traced along your jaw, down your throat, until his hand traced circles on your belly. His lips parted, his tongue darting out to wet them as he stared down at you like you were something he could devour whole.
"You always let me have you like this," he rasped, his hips rolling forward, stretching you open inch by inch over and over again. "Like you were made for me."
You gasped, back arching, hands flying to his biceps, gripping tight, and Zayne let out a deep, guttural groan. His head fell forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath fanning over your lips as he pushed deeper, until there was no space left between you.
"Fuck," he hissed, his teeth gritting and his hands clutching at your waist like he was trying to ground himself. "Can’t hold back when you’re like this."
His hips snapped forward, the sudden movement pulling a shaky moan from your lips, and he drank it in like a man starved.
His pace was slow, deep, and precise—savoring the cramped space of your cunt, memorizing every pulse, every clench, and every desperate little noise you made.
"You feel that?" he whispered, pressing his circling hand down against your stomach, his touch firm, possessive. "Feel how deep I am?"
His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping into something low, rough, almost dangerous. "Nobody else gets to have you like this." His teeth nipped at your earlobe, his breath shuddering. "Nobody else ever will."
And when he pulled back—just enough to see the way you were falling apart beneath him—his lips curled into a dark, satisfaction.
"Mine."
The gluttonous vibration of his voice startled you almost, his mouth hot against your neck as you both simultaneously come undone, rolling your puffy clit between his digits to ride out your high.
But he wouldn't stop cumming - he couldn't. He has to make sure you take it. Fat spurts of cum paint your walls completely, pumping the oh-so familiar fluid into your womb.
"You'll be the best mother ever- fuckkk." He continues to ram his now spent cock into you, growing full erect again, the thought of your pregnant form just plastered before his vision.
You huffed, trying to shove at his chest, but the wicked smirk on his lips only deepened. Voice dripping with something dark and sweet, "I think I should go for another shot, just to be sure."
And a crazed smile creeps up his usually nonchalant features at your aghast expression, quick to plaster a sweet, dotting kiss to your plump lips.
He rolled his hips, slow, deep, deliberate, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into you, and he knew that this really didn't make any difference on the outcome from a medical state point but right now everything in him screamed to pump you full.
One thing is for certain, though— you're not coming out of this not pregnant with his child. Or maybe in plural as in children? Yeah, that sounds way better.
"Yeah," he chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to your jaw,
"One more for good luck."
XAVIER ✰ Oopsie-Daisy!
The first thing you felt was warmth—the heat of Xavier’s body pressed tight against yours, his arm heavy and unyielding over your waist, keeping you right where he wanted you. Even in sleep, he held you close, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away.
You weren’t sure how long he’d been awake, but the lazy caress of his fingers over your stomach told you he’d been lingering in this moment, taking his time. Soft, slow circles, the barest drag of his fingertips across sensitive skin—teasing, testing.
A slow roll of his hips, and suddenly you did feel it—the firm, heavy weight of his cock dragging through your slick folds, grinding right up against your clit.
A sharp gasp left your lips as he did it again, long and deliberate, letting the thick head of his cock glide through the wet mess he was making of you.
His fingers dragged lower, barely brushing over your clit before pulling away—keeping you right at the edge, keeping you desperate.
“You’re not leaving this bed ‘til you’re full," he promised, his cock sliding against you again, so damn slick, so damn hard. "So damn full you got no choice but to take, take, take.”
His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He must’ve felt it because a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
In one swift motion he slides into you with ease, walls clenching around the all too familiar girth, his leaking pre smeared onto your insides.
"Mm-mm," he tsked, his gravelly voice thick with amusement. "Ain’t no runnin’ now, baby. You’re right where I want you."
His grip tightened slightly, his palm pressing just a little firmer against your stomach, like he wanted to hold you there, to remind you exactly who had you like this. His nose brushed against your jaw, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss beneath your ear.
"Feel me in there?" he murmured, voice thick with possession. "All deep inside you, right where I belong."
His hand flexed, fingers splaying wider, pressing down just enough to make you feel every inch of him buried inside you.
"Tell me you love it," he whispered, his lips dragging down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "Tell me you love bein’ mine. That you love me fillin’ you up like this."
Your breath hitched, and the second you whimpered out, "Hhnnn! — I love it when you fill me up, love you—"
Xavier growled low in his throat, his arm tightening around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his hips snapped forward in a slow, aching thrust.
"Damn right you do," he murmured, a smirk pressing against your skin.
Your breath hitched as his hips rolled forward, pressing his already-hard cock against your dripping heat between your thighs. A knowing chuckle rumbled through his chest.
"You want me to fill you up, don’t you? Fuck a baby into you?"
You opened your mouth to protest, but the second his fingers gripped your hips, the moment he rolled his own against you—
A small, broken gasp slipped out instead.
„Everyone's gonna know. They’ll know your mine. They’ll— goddd your squeezing me so damn tight, I can’t—„ his nonstop rambles only continue, accompanied by the lewd sounds echoing off the walls.
His breathing turns rapid, hooded eyes fixed onto your tummy, propping one strong leg onto the bed to sink deeper into you.
His chest pressed flush against your back, warm and solid, trapping you in his arms, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, giving him the perfect angle to bury himself deeper, harder, where you needed him most.
His hands—god, his hands—one pressed firmly against your stomach, splayed wide over your lower belly, like he could already feel himself inside you, claiming you from the inside out. The other? Sliding lower, fingers teasing along your inner thigh, thumbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you cry out.
"Well," he breathed, lips brushing against your ear, voice dripping with pure sin, "who am I to deny my girl?"
The way your body shuddered at his words, the way you clenched down around him had Xavier groaning, curses spilling from his lips, his hips faltering for just a second before snapping forward with renewed force.
"You like that, huh?" he rasped, his fingers tightening their hold on your stomach. "Like knowing you’re mine? That no one else gets to see you like this?"
Plap. Plap. Plap.
His hips rolled, slow, deliberate, deep.
"Say it," he demanded, voice wrecked, desperate, pushing his forehead against your shoulder. "Tell me you’re mine. That I’m the only one who gets to have you like this."
His thrusts grew more frantic, his breath ragged against your ear, his grip almost bruising.
"Tell me," he rasped, grinding deep, making you feel every inch of him. And the second you did—the moment you choked out that you were his, that no one else could ever have you like this—
Xavier lost it.
His arm wrapped around your waist, locking you in place as he drove himself as deep as he could go, his body trembling against yours as he came undone.
And even as he shuddered, even as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, his hands never left your stomach.
Because now?
Everyone was going to know.
SYLUS ✰ Mission: Impregnable!
"A-again." His slight stutter doesn't go unnoticed by you, despite the loud echoing of his hips snapping into yours. "Say it again."
He had to have misunderstood something, right? Because if he didn't, if you really said what he thought you said- you're fucked.
You whine at his guttonal voice, his desperate hips drilling his dick further into your depths. "Wan'- oh! Wan' you to make me a mommy, Sy."
Sylus had that look in his eyes again—the kind that made your breath catch, the kind that sent a thrill up your spine. His fingers ghosted along your skin, calculating, possessive, until they found comfort with your hand interlocked with his.
"You realize," he murmured, voice low, precise, mere inches from your lips, "that biologically speaking, your body is at its most receptive right now."
You see, Sylus was no dummy. Of course, he was keeping track on your cycle. Who do you think he is? And it just so happened that today you're the most fertile.
Core burning in pure excitement, your heels dig into his lower back, eager and hungry for his seed. You whine as you feel his swollen cock bullying your poor cervix.
"Sylus-"
He silenced you with a slow, deep kiss, fingers tightening on your waist.
"And if I were to push you past your limit tonight—again and again—" his voice dipped, sending shivers down your spine, "well, statistically, the odds would be in my favor, wouldn’t they?"
Your breath caught as he tilted your chin up, making you look at him. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous, obsessive, completely focused on you.
His fingers slid down your stomach, tracing slow, calculated patterns, as if mapping out the future he was about to give you.
"I should be thorough," he mused, almost to himself. "Another round would increase the probability of success by at least—"
You didn’t get to hear the end of that sentence.
Because Sylus surged forward, lips crashing onto yours in a way that was desperate and all-consuming, like he was finally allowing himself to break past his carefully maintained restraint.
Like an unstoppable force, he slides out of you until only his crown was engulfed by your puckering hole until he slams! His entire length past your sobbing ring.
The ridiculous stretch his dick inflicts onto your poor pussy is otherworldly, almost unbelievable. As he forces his girthy inches further into you, a noticeable bulge appears on your tummy.
And oh boy, does he notice it.
All it takes is one glance — one look of those rubies of his— downwards to the gradually growing imprint of his tip meanly poking against your tummy, and he snaps.
His big arms reach for your legs and in almost an instant, you’re folded into the meanest, nastiest mating press known to man.
„O-Oh!“ you surprised hiccup does nothing to soften his antics — quite the opposite. A feral grunt erupting from the depth of his lungs lets you know in what condition your beloved Sylus is in.
„Twins. I‘ll give you twins.“
"Ah!- T-twins!?"
He‘s gone mad.
What's left of him is a disheveled mess, crazed out mind deadest on pumping you full of his gooey load, even if it's the last thing he'll do.
"Yes. Two sweet little girls, just as beautiful as their mother."
His massive frame caged you in, your thighs now folded up to your chest, leaving you completely at his mercy. His body was trembling, slick with sweat, but his grip on you was ironclad. He wouldn’t let you run, wouldn’t let you escape—not from him, not from this.
His chuckle swells your heart with so much love you can barely breathe. Or was it because of his dick reaching so ridiculously far up into you, you could almost feel him in your throat? Both perhaps.
Flaming eyes, usually so warm and gentle, were wild now—dangerous, obsessive. This wasn't your Sylus anymore. This is the leader of Onychinus—conquering and claiming everything he desires.
And at this moment, his desire was to make you the mother of his offspring.
"There," he growled, his voice raw, almost a snarl. "That’s where I need to be. Need to be deeper—need to—fuck—"
His hips snapped forward, sharp, relentless, sending white-hot pleasure sparking through your veins. Lips were parted, panting, his expression one of pure, animalistic need.
Your head lulled back, words failing you, but he wasn’t having that. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, forcing your gaze back to him.
"Stay with me," he pleaded in a whimper, his voice thick, strained. His thrusts were turning frantic now, sloppy, desperate, like he was losing control. "Wanna see your face when I fill you up."
You whimpered, and that was all it took.
Sylus let out a broken, guttural groan, his body shuddering violently as he bottomed out, burying his throbbing cock as deep as he could go. You could feel him— only him  — hot, thick cum spilling inside you in endless waves, stuffing you full.
And the way he was still pressing his weight into you, still rolling his hips in slow, lazy circles, made you realize—
He was nowhere near done.
RAFAYEL ✰ Catching Feelings & Babies
The room was dimly lit, warm, and filled with the soft sound of ragged breaths and skin meeting skin. Rafayel’s strong hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place, keeping you exactly where he wanted you—where you belonged.
"You look so perfect like this," he murmured, voice deep and rich, like he was admiring a piece of fine art. Like you were something sacred. His fingers traced over the dip of your spine, down to where you stretched around him, taking him so beautifully.
"B-been waitin' for this sooo long baby, finallyyyy." Breathless, he pounds his hips against your plump ass again, again and again. His repeated movement rams you deeper into the soft cushion.
Rafayel’s hands were gentle, reverent, gliding over your heated skin, like you were something fragile and precious.
But his eyes?
Dark and Deep. Filled with something unshakable.
Your body arched instinctively, seeking more, needing more, and Rafayel only chuckled—low, dark, and knowing.
A broken gasp tore from your throat, your fingers clutching the sheets, barely able to hold yourself up as he pressed even deeper, stretching your hole to the very limit.
"Shhh, love," he soothed, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades. "Let me take care of you."
He rolled his hips in slow, deep strokes — each one hitting the perfect spot, each one meant to remind you exactly who you belonged to.
"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was softer than usual, thick with emotion. His fingers splayed over your lower stomach, pressing just enough to make you feel every pulsating vein of his, every knock against your cervix.
"Y-yes", you swallowed hard, head spinning in circles while nodding. A slow, warm smile curled his lips, but beneath it was something more dangerous. Something primal.
"Good."
"That’s it," Rafayel praised, his voice like liquid gold, soothing and possessive all at once. "Take all of me. Let me give you everything."
He adjusted his angle, thrusting deeper, harder, slower, dragging out every sensation until you were a trembling mess beneath him.
"Listen to her. Cryin' for me ta fill her up." He follows suit with his long finger pressed against your plump lips, consoling you. "Shhh, baby. I know, I knowww. But ya gotta hold on for me, mkay?"
You cry out his name as his hefty length hits every spot imaginable inside of you, stars appearing behind your eye sockets. "Nghhh! Rafayel, I can't!"
Dizziness overcomes you as you reach back for his beefy arm, nails clawing crescent moons into his flesh. His steady hips cause his bulging head to nudge at your gushy spot repeatedly as your juices coat his length in a glossy essence.
The lewd squelch sounding from your cunt has him in a chokehold. Each rapid thrust of his sinks your body further into the sheets, his head spinning at the obscene sight of your back in a nasty arch, his pelvis snapping against your ass, each jiggle robbing a needy sound from him.
He‘ll never get enough of this— enough of you.
"Sh-Shit, cutie. Gonna give it to ya realll good. Fill you up — f-fuckkk! Make you a mommy.“ The slight crack in his voice gets drowned out by the loud sound of his heavy balls snapping against your poor swollen clit.
Hm. Mommy has a nice ring to it.
His hand left your waist, only to wrap around your throat, pulling you up—back against his chest and you didn’t think that it could be possible for him to get even deeper, but he did. His lips brushed your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.
"You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, an unshakable truth. "And when I fill you up—" he thrust harder, dragging a desperate moan from your lips—"yer' gonna stay mine forever."
And the way he was holding you so close, fucking you so deep, made you believe every single word.
He could burst right at the sight of your fucked-out face, and he starts to imagine how perfect your child would be. With your gorgeous hair and that stunning smile of yours, and—
"M‘ gonna cum! G-oshhhh please don’t stop don’t—"
She, no — they would have his eyes and—
With your head leaned against his shoulder, blue and pink ombre orbs fixate on your face.
His repeated shallow breaths tickle your neck, an impatient hand cups your belly, finger soothingly brushing over it, his hot breath brushing against your ear.
" Mhmmm yeahh. We’re gonna have two gorgeous girls, can’t have her be all alone, can we?“
"T-two?“ you manage to choke out in shock, only to be startled by his chuckle. "Yeahhh, you’re right. Two is too little. Four is more like it.“
The speedy plap! plap! plap! Against the valley of your ass turns irregular, needier, even.
"Four—fuck—four perfect little babies," he panted, his lips brushing over your temple, his voice thick with love and obsession. "We’ll have the perfect family, won’t we? You, me, our little ones—"
His thrusts turned sloppy, desperate, and then—his entire body locked up. A deep, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spilled inside you, claiming you, filling you up until there wasn’t an inch left untouched.
He collapsed against your back, his weight warm, grounding, safe. His chest rose and fell in heavy pants, his lips pressing lazy, feather-light kisses along your skin.
"You’re mine," he murmured, his voice softer now, no less possessive but full of warmth. "My love, my home, my everything."
A shaky breath left you, your body spent but satisfied. "Four kids, huh?" you mumbled, exhaustion creeping into your voice.
Rafayel hummed, his arms wrapping around you, holding you impossibly close.
"Or maybe five."
CALEB ✰ Practice Makes Perfect
He must be dreaming, surely.
"Please, Caleb. Need it- need it so bad pleaseplease-"
Yeah. Because if there is heaven, fucking you raw for the first time surely is just that.
His head pressed against the bed, his breath coming in shaky, uneven pants, his hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure he’d leave bruises—but he didn’t mean to.
"So—so good," he whimpered, his voice breaking on the last syllable, like he was barely holding himself together. "D-don’t—don’t move, I can’t—"
You clenched around him, and he quite literally sobs.
He's a mess.
It's pathetic, really. Tears stream down his face as he sniffles back the waterfall from flowing. But he couldn't care less, honestly.
Scenarios of you with a round and glowing belly, the birth of your shared child, their first words, steps - hell, even their graduation. He had all of it laid out in a timeline.
If you could see his thoughts, you would've probably called him crazy. And he wouldn't even blame you.
His fingers trembled as he tried so hard to keep himself together, but he was slowly falling apart, crumbling, unraveling.
"I—" he choked on his own breath, tears pricking his lashes, his entire body shaking as your hips work faster, grinding harder against his pelvis. " ‘M too deep—too full—fuck, I can feel it—"
His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close, clinging, needy.
"Please," he begged, voice so broken, so wrecked, like he was praying to something greater than himself. "I-I wanna stay inside—I wanna stay with you forever."
His lips ghosted over your stiff nipples, soft, desperate kisses, imagining how full and plump they'll become once you're pregnant. And when you shifted the tiniest bit, he gasped—a wrecked, breathless little sound.
Your breath quickens, orgasm creeping up your spine with each rocking of your hips, desperately chasing your high.
His hips stuttered at the mere image of you - pregnant, movements turning frantic and uncontrolled, like he couldn’t take it anymore.
"C-caleb, I—" Mind going blank at one particular quick kiss against your cervix, you crash head first into your orgasm, pussy spasming around his girth.
A broken, wrecked sob tore from his throat, and you felt it—
The way his cock twitched inside you, the first thick pulse of heat spilling deep, painting your insides in long, desperate spurts.
His entire body shook, his arms wrapped around you so tightly you thought he might never let go.
"M-makin’ you a mommy," he babbled, voice thick with exhaustion, heavy with love. "Gonna—gonna make you so full, so round—"
God, he was a lost cause.
"I love you," he cried, his voice shaking, raw with need. "I love you—I love you—"
"Love you too, Caleb. You're s-so good for me. Gonna be a great papa." you spurt out in a spent, wobbly voice, body collapsing onto his in exhaustion.
And then he came. Again.
It was with a broken whimper, a desperate, wrecked sob, his entire body shaking, panting. He shoots endless ropes of cum deep into your womb, the overwhelming fullness in your tummy causing your mind to go hazy.
His orgasm was so intense and forceful, you can still feel stringy, weak cum dripping from his cock, only adding the cherry on top of your jammed vacancy.
He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t.
Even as his spent cock twitched inside you, even as his warm release dripped out in thick, messy streaks, he held you there, buried deep, unwilling to let even a drop go to waste.
His fingers clutched at your waist, desperate, like letting go would tear him apart. His chest rose and fell in quick, shaky pants, his eyes glassy, and his lips kiss-swollen and parted as he tried to catch his breath.
“P-please,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, pleading. “Don’t—don’t move yet.”
His face was flushed, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, tears clinging to his lashes. He was ruined, wrecked beyond repair, and it was all because of you.
A soft whimper tumbled from his lips as he nuzzled into your shoulder, his hands trailing weakly down your sides, needy, restless.
“Need to feel you just a little longer,” he mumbled, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “Can’t—can’t be away from you yet.”
You could feel him still twitching inside you, his cock softening, but reluctant to leave. His release seeped out around the base, warm and sticky, but he just shifted his hips, pushing deeper, as if he could keep it all inside you.
"Made for me," he murmured, feverish, pressing sloppy, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your neck. "You're made for me."
His fingers roamed lazily, tracing the shape of your hips, your waist—like he was memorizing you, worshiping you, committing every inch of your body to memory.
"Promise me," he whispered against your ear, soft and broken. "Promise me you'll never leave me. That you'll always let me have you like this."
There was a plea in his voice, raw and vulnerable, like he’d fall apart if you said no.
You ran gentle fingers through his damp hair, soothing, reassuring and tugging him even closer.
"I'm yours, Caleb," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
His breath hitched. His thighs trembled beneath you.
"Say it again," he whispered, so quietly it almost wasn't there.
"I'm yours."
A broken whimper slipped past his lips, his hands gripping you tighter, his body pressing so close you could feel every inch of him molding into you.
And with a deep, shaky sigh, Caleb finally let himself go—sinking into you, into your warmth, into the one place he always belonged.
Nowhere else. No one else.
Just you.
Always you.
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©︎SATRS. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify.
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aleksatia · 4 months ago
Text
You had an argument, and in the heat of the moment, you took on a secret mission—disappearing without a trace or warning for six days. He won’t let that slide, will he?
(⚠️ Warning: Slightly angsty and dramatic) 🔥 UPD: Guys, I hear you loud and clear about Xavier, and I'm already working on his full story. Let me know if you want more about the others (or any specific one).
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🖐️💥😈 Sylus 
You don’t even make it home.
One second—you’re stepping toward your door. The next—you're grabbed.
A sharp yelp leaves your lips, but it’s already too late.
One hand clamps down on your shoulder, the other hooks around your legs, and suddenly—you're airborne.
"Cargo secured."
A second voice. Muffled. Hollow.
You twist wildly.
Two figures in black masks, sharp beaked visors, curved horns on their hoods.
Luke and Kieran.
You thrash. “Put me down—”
"No can do, Miss," Kieran hums, flipping you upside down just slightly.
"Our Boss gave very strict orders," Luke murmurs.
Your stomach sinks. The car door swings open—
And you’re shoved inside.
Kieran and Luke plop down beside you, silent as shadows.
Then—
Luke sighs. Long and exaggerated.
"Such a shame," he muses. "She was so pretty."
Kieran hums. "So full of life."
Your eyes narrow. “What.”
They tilt their heads in unison. Luke’s fingers drum against the seat.
"He was so worried."
Kieran exhales. "On the first day, he simply waited."
Luke nods. "Second day, he sent people out. Checked hospitals. Crime scenes."
Kieran’s head tilts. "By day three… well, we all knew something had to bleed."
Your stomach drops.
Luke stretches, relaxed. "Four syndicates fell in one night. Just in case one of them had you."
Kieran sighs. "On the fourth day, he realized that wasn’t enough."
Luke hums. "So he started getting creative."
Your breath hitches. "Creative?"
Kieran taps his chin. "That warehouse in N109 Zone? The one that burned to the ground?"
Luke leans closer. "Day five. Still no sign of you. He collapsed an entire district."
Kieran shrugs. "Nothing personal. Just a message."
Luke tilts his head. "And then day six came."
A beat of silence.
Kieran chuckles. "You know, Miss… If you hadn’t shown up today, N109 Zone would’ve been repainted in blood by sundown."
Luke sighs dreamily. "It still might be."
Your blood turns to ice.
And then—Luke’s head tilts toward you.
"Now…?"
Kieran completes it, a beat later.
"Now he has you."
The car slows. Your chest tightens. And then—you realize where you are.
N109 Zone. His estate.
The car door swings open—
And you’re hauled out like luggage.
"Handle with care," Luke hums.
“I am handling with care," Kieran murmurs.
They carry you inside. Set you down with eerie gentleness. Smooth out your jacket. Brush imaginary dust off your shoulders.
Then—they step back. Bow, deep and slow.
“Welcome home, Miss.”
And then—they’re gone.
You whirl after them. “HEY—”
A quiet sound.
Fabric rustling. A slow, deliberate exhale.
You freeze.
And then—you turn.
Sylus is standing across the room. Calm. Collected. Expression unreadable.
But his eyes. They burn.
You swallow.
“What the fuck was that?” you snap, motioning toward the door.
Silence.
He just… watches you.
Then—slowly, smoothly—
He shrugs off his jacket. Lets it fall onto the chair. His fingers move to his cuffs. Undoing them.
One. Then the other.
Rolling his sleeves up, inch by inch.
Your stomach twists.
“Sylus.”
He doesn’t answer. His hands move to his belt. He unbuckles it. Pulls it free.
And you—
You fucking run.
You BOLT.
Straight toward the door. It’s locked.
You curse.
Behind you—he clicks his tongue.
“Oh, Kitten,” he murmurs, voice low, almost amused.
You spin, darting behind the desk. He follows. Casually. Slowly.
“You disappear for six days,” he murmurs, voice smooth, mocking, deadly.
You sidestep. He matches you.
“You ignore my calls.”
You swerve left. He steps right.
“I tear this city apart looking for you.”
You dodge back. He adjusts effortlessly.
“And now,” he exhales, tilting his head, smirking lazily, “you’re running.”
You hurl a stapler at him. He catches it. Drops it. Sighs.
Then—his patience snaps.
A sharp pulse of red energy explodes outward. The desk flips. The chairs crash against the wall.
And suddenly—
You are out of places to run. Before you can move—
He has you.
A sharp yelp rips from your throat as he grabs you, spins, and drops into his chair—
Bringing you down over his lap.
Your breath catches. “Sylus—”
"Ah, ah, ah.”
His palm glides down your back. Teasing. Amused. Smug.
"You made a very poor choice, Kitten."
Your heart pounds. His fingers hook into your waistband. And in one sharp motion—
He pulls your pants down.
Your entire body jolts. “Wait—”
The first smack lands. Sharp. Stinging.
You jerk violently.
Then—the second.
Then—the third.
“Sylus—you absolute bastard!”
A low chuckle vibrates through his chest.
“Six days, Sweetie.”
Another smack.
“You think you get away with that?”
You snarl, thrashing. “You—I’ll kill you!”
"Oh?" His hand presses against your lower back, keeping you pinned.
Then—lower now, smooth as silk, dripping with mockery—
“You sure you can handle that right now?”
You growl.
And then—
You bite him. Hard. Right on the thigh.
His breath hitches. Then—a slow, dangerous laugh.
He grabs you. Turns you over, setting you between his legs, hands gripping your chin—forcing you to look at him.
And then—
You see it. The rage is gone.
And in its place—
Something raw. Something wrecked. Like he’s aged years in just six days.
His voice—when it comes—is low. Hoarse. Unsteady.
“…I thought Ever carved you up for spare parts.”
Your stomach drops.
"You really think," his fingers twitch against your skin, "I was just waiting?"
His eyes flick over your face, scanning, memorizing. And then—softer now, almost broken—
"If you hadn’t come back tomorrow, I would’ve wiped them off the face of the earth."
Your eyes sting. Your hands reach for him, trembling.
You slide forward, onto his lap.
His breath stutters.
And then—you kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Unyielding.
He shudders.
Then—his hands clench around your waist, crushing you to him. When he pulls back—forehead pressed against yours, breath uneven—
“…Next time you disappear,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, voice shaking with something terrifyingly real, “I’m not looking for you.”
Your heart cracks. You shake your head. You cup his face. Hold him there.
“…You won’t have to.”
Silence.
Then—
His grip tightens. And just like that—
He is never letting you go again.
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❄️🩸💔 Zayne
You already know where he is.
Zayne isn’t home. Of course, he isn’t.
So you do the only thing that makes sense—you head straight for Akso Hospital.
By the time you step through the pristine glass doors, you’re already talking.
“I know how this looks, but I can explain—”
And then—you see him.
Standing near the nurses’ station, uniform crisp, posture rigid, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat like he’s carved from ice.
For a second—just a second—his breath catches.
But then—
A switch flips. His entire presence shifts.
Cold. Professional. Untouchable.
His eyes meet yours. And he says nothing.
No relief. No anger. Nothing.
Just pure, hollow emptiness.
You swallow hard. Force yourself to continue.
“Zayne—”
“You need medical attention.”
His voice is calm. Impersonal. A doctor speaking to a patient. Not the man you know.
Your stomach twists.
He doesn’t ask where you’ve been. Doesn’t ask why you disappeared. Instead—he starts listing symptoms.
“You’re pale. Have you lost blood?”
You inhale sharply. “Zay—”
“Concussion?”
“No—”
“Fever? Infection?”
His eyes flick to your scraped knuckles, the dried blood on your sleeve.
And you realize—
He’s not angry. He’s protecting himself. He’s shutting down. Like he already convinced himself you weren’t coming back. Like he already mourned you.
And something inside you breaks.
Your legs wobble.
You sway—
And then—
You collapse.
The reaction is instantaneous.
A sharp inhale. A rush of movement. A sudden, firm grip catching you before you hit the ground.
Zayne’s arms lock around you. One around your back, one under your legs, holding you effortlessly. His breathing is uneven. His fingers tremble against your skin.
“Hey—!” His voice is no longer detached. It’s urgent. Terrified.
He tilts your face up, eyes scanning for injuries, pupils blown wide with panic.
"You—" His breath shudders. “Shit, you're—”
But you don’t answer. Because you keep your eyes closed. Because you know exactly what you’re doing.
And for a moment, it works. For a moment, he’s yours again. For a moment, his walls are completely, irreparably shattered.
Then—
His steps slow. His breathing evens.
And suddenly—
He stops. And you feel it. That one single, damning second of realization.
Your eyes are closed, but you can hear it. The sharp, cold click in his mind as he figures it out.
His arms loosen. Too loose. Too fast.
And suddenly—you're falling.
You gasp sharply, hands instinctively grabbing at him—
But he catches you at the last second, lowering you onto the cold, sterile floor of his office with just enough control to keep you from truly getting hurt.
But barely.
His jaw is tight. His nostrils flare. His hands press into his thighs like he’s physically holding himself back from losing control.
Then—flat, quiet, lethal—
“You lied.”
Your stomach drops. You open your mouth—and then you feel it.
A sharp, aching throb in your knee. It hits all at once—the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything that happened.
Your throat tightens.
And then—before you can stop it—
Tears prick at your eyes.
Your voice comes out small, weak, broken.
“Zayne… my leg hurts.”
Everything stops. The air in the room shifts.
And suddenly—
The rage is gone. His walls crumble.
His gaze snaps to your knee—swollen, bruised, torn fabric revealing skin already darkening with a deep, painful contusion.
And just like that—he’s on his knees. The doctor in him takes over.
His hands tremble as they press to your leg, fingertips ghosting over the bruised flesh like it physically pains him to touch.
He leans down. And presses a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised skin.
Your breath catches.
His forehead presses gently against your knee. And then—a whisper, barely audible, like he’s afraid of his own voice.
“…I lost you.”
Your heart cracks wide open.
He inhales sharply, his fingers tightening against your leg, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.
You slide off the chair. Sink onto the cold, sterile floor. Your hands come up, cup his face.
His breath stutters.
You press your forehead to his.
Hot. Unwavering. Eternal.
“Only death could take me from you.”
His eyes squeeze shut. And when they open again—
There’s nothing left but raw, agonizing devotion.
Then—
His hands reach for you. And this time, he doesn’t let go.
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🪑🍎🎖️ Caleb
The door clicks shut behind you.
Something feels wrong. The air is too still. Too perfectly controlled.
And then—you see it.
The chair.
Placed dead center in the room.
The apartment is spotless. Too spotless. Like someone scrubbed it raw, wiped away every trace of warmth, every sign of life.
Your stomach tightens. And then—a voice.
Cold. Measured. Absolute.
"Sit down."
You turn sharply—
And there he is.
Colonel Caleb. Not your Caleb.
Not the man who kisses your forehead every morning. Not the man who makes you breakfast even when he’s running on two hours of sleep.
No.
This is the soldier. The commander. The man who could level entire cities with a single order.
And you are his captive.
Your jaw tightens. “Caleb, what the hell—”
"Sit. Down."
Your spine stiffens. “No.”
A flick of his fingers. The chair scrapes forward, slamming into the back of your knees.
You stumble, cursing—
But before you can react—a force clamps around you. G-forces shift. Gravity bends. The chair drags you back to the center of the room.
Then—weight locks around your limbs. You can’t stand. Can’t move. Your pulse spikes.
His face is unreadable. His eyes—stormy, dark, endless.
Like he hasn’t slept in six days.
A tablet activates in his hand.
Several floating screens appear around you, flickering with surveillance footage.
And then—his interrogation begins.
His voice is calm. Clinical. Devoid of warmth.
"In the hours before your disappearance, this man entered your building. Do you know him?"
You blink. “What—?”
He gestures at the screen. A blurry security cam shot.
You squint. “That’s—a fucking courier.”
"Interesting."
A swipe of his fingers. Another screen appears.
"You placed an order at a bookstore six days ago. Three books were delivered. For what purpose?"
You stare. “...For reading?”
His brows twitch.
"Curious. You spoke to the courier for over five minutes. What was discussed?"
Your hands clench into fists. “How the hell would I know?”
A beat of silence.
Then—softer now, dangerous in its evenness—
"You really expect me to believe you don’t remember?"
Your blood boils. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”
He swipes again. More footage. More records. More evidence that means nothing.
And you snap.
"You are losing your fucking mind."
His jaw tightens.
And then—
The gravity releases.
You lurch forward, finally able to move—
But before you can get up—
he’s already there.
A single step. One hand gripping the back of your chair, tilting it back—
His face is inches from yours. His gaze burns.
"Are you fucking someone else?"
Your breath catches. Your pulse thunders in your ears.
And then—
You laugh.
Sharp. Bitter. Furious.
You gesture at yourself—the dirt, the bruises, the blood still crusted on your sleeve.
“Look at me, Caleb.”
He doesn’t move.
“Does this look like a woman having an affair?”
His fingers twitch against the chair. His voice drops to a whisper.
"I’m on the edge of it."
Your chest tightens.
“I don’t doubt that, you psychopath.” You shove against his arm, but he doesn’t budge. “Now let me up so I can strangle you.”
His fingers loosen.
And then—
"Six days."
Your breath hitches. His hand moves. Curls around your jaw, firm but careful.
"Six days. Eight thousand six hundred forty minutes."
His thumb brushes over your cheekbone.
"I couldn't breathe without pain."
Your throat tightens. Your rage collapses into something else entirely.
“Caleb—”
"I searched. I traced every lead. I turned this country inside out."
His voice wavers.
And then—softer, rawer, almost desperate—
"If you hadn’t come back, I would have burned everything to the ground."
Your chest aches.
“…I had a mission. It was classified.”
His jaw twitches.
"Then tell me—" His voice turns sharp, edged with something almost pleading. "Tell me you weren’t running."
You exhale shakily.
“You’re so obsessed with losing me, Caleb—maybe that’s why you always do.”
Silence.
Something in his face breaks. He straightens. Turns away.
Leaves.
The door slams.
And you collapse to your knees. Your hands come up—cover your face—
And finally, finally, the tears fall.
But then—
A soft creak. A shift in the air. Warmth.
Arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace.
You freeze.
His voice is hoarse, quiet, trembling with something raw.
"You’re the only one who can destroy me without lifting a hand."
Your breath shudders. His grip tightens.
"One word from you," he murmurs, "and I’m gone."
You shake your head.
“Caleb…”
His forehead presses against your shoulder.
"I tried. Every day. Every second. I tried not to hold on too tight." He exhales shakily. "But I can’t."
Your heart clenches.
“Caleb, I always come back.”
He flinches.
You pull back just enough to cup his face. His eyes are stormy, desperate, flickering with pain.
"You have to trust me."
His lips part, but no sound comes out.
Then—barely above a whisper—
"I can't lose you."
Your fingers tighten against his jaw.
"You won’t."
Silence.
Then—
He kisses you.
It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Devouring. Starved.
His hands tangle in your hair, holding you to him like he’ll die if you pull away.
A single tear escapes down his cheek. And you catch it with your lips.
“…I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Caleb, I’m so sorry.”
His breath shudders. He shakes his head. 
“No.” His voice breaks. "You don’t apologize to me." 
Your brows furrow. “Caleb—” 
He swallows. 
"If you’re better off without me—" 
Your hand flies up, slaps over his mouth. He freezes. Tears well in your eyes. 
“Don’t. Say. That.” His chest rises sharply. You lean in, press your forehead to his. 
“…You are my universe,” you whisper. 
His hands shake against your back. 
“No matter what we do, no matter what happens—” You press your lips to his, slow, deep, endless. “I will always come back to you.” 
His breath shudders against your lips.
And then—his voice drops, quiet but unshakable. 
"You will never disappear on me again without warning. Not now. Not ever."
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🗡✨🌥 Xavier 
The door clicks shut behind you.
You barely take a step inside before a voice cuts through the air—
Calm. Measured. Unshakable.
"Ah." A quiet exhale. "Look who finally remembered they have a home."
You freeze.
Xavier is already there.
Sitting in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a book balanced in his hand—like your sudden reappearance was nothing more than an interesting plot twist.
He doesn’t look up immediately. He finishes the sentence he’s reading first.
Then—calmly, unhurriedly—he turns the page.
And finally—his gaze lifts to yours.
Cold. Slow. Too calculating.
"Six days."
Your stomach tightens. "Xav—"
"Mm. No." He holds up a single finger.
The room falls silent. And somehow, that’s worse.
You watch as he closes the book. Carefully. Precisely. Then—without breaking eye contact—he sets it aside.
And then—a small smile.
Soft. Almost friendly.
Which means you’re in deep, deep trouble.
"You look tired," he murmurs, tilting his head. "Traveling, were you?"
You exhale. "Xavier—"
"Oh, no. Let me guess." His fingers tap idly against the armrest. "You were simply busy."
A pause.
"Too busy, in fact, to answer a single message."
Your jaw tightens. "It wasn’t—"
"Ah," he interrupts softly, as if realizing something.
His eyes flick over your torn sleeve, the faint bruises on your arms. Then, slowly—he smiles.
"Or," he murmurs, "did you lose your phone again?"
Your stomach drops. Because he knows.
You inhale sharply. "Xav—"
He shakes his head.
"No, it’s alright. I understand." He leans forward slightly, resting his chin against his knuckles. "I’m sure you had an excellent reason."
A beat of silence. Then—mild amusement, carefully laced with steel:
"Would you like to tell me what it was?"
You hesitate.
Because you were on a mission. A classified one.
Because he wasn’t supposed to know. Because you work together.
And yet—he knew nothing.
You try anyway.
"I had a—"
"A mission?" His brow lifts, a polite flicker of curiosity. "Fascinating."
His tone is smooth, unbothered. And that—that is when you know how angry he really is.
He gestures vaguely toward the stacks of reports on the table.
"Tell me, darling, which mission was it?"
You swallow hard. "I can’t—"
"Mm. Right. Classified."
Another small nod. A slow, deliberate blink.
"As are all major operations within the Association."
His fingers drum lightly against the armrest.
"And yet, strangely—" He tilts his head. "Not a single record of your assignment exists."
You say nothing.
Xavier exhales through his nose—almost disappointed.
"And here I thought," he murmurs, "we were supposed to trust each other."
You flinch.
His gaze softens. Not with kindness. But with something far worse.
Pity.
"You must have had your reasons, of course," he muses.
A small sigh, like he’s humoring a child.
"I imagine you thought it was necessary. Sensible, even."
His fingers lace together.
"Just as I found it necessary to send out a search party on day three."
Your breath catches.
"You what?"
He hums.
"By day four, I expanded my resources. You'd be surprised how quickly information spreads when you know where to look."
Your hands clench.
"Xavier—"
"Day five, I began considering alternative outcomes. Some of them, admittedly, rather unpleasant."
A flicker of something colder in his expression.
"Ever been forced to sit in a room full of people trying to convince you that your partner is dead?"
Your stomach turns.
"Xavier, I wasn’t—"
He clicks his tongue.
"Day six, I received word that you had finally resurfaced."
He leans back. Folds his arms. And then—a soft chuckle, utterly humorless.
"Imagine my relief."
Silence.
You exhale sharply. "Xav, I—"
"Did you know," he interrupts, voice light, conversational, detached, "that people tend to avoid looking a grieving man in the eye?"
Your throat tightens.
"Not that I was grieving, of course." He taps a finger against his chin. "I don’t make a habit of mourning people until I see a body."
He tilts his head slightly, studying you.
"But I imagine it must have been quite the inconvenience, being dead for six days."
Your chest tightens.
"You think I wanted to—"
"Oh, I know," he murmurs. "You didn’t want to disappear."
His voice lowers.
"But you still did."
And for the first time—he is no longer smirking. His blue eyes bore into yours, steady, sharp.
"You made a decision that left me in the dark."
A long, slow breath.
"And I need to know," he says softly, "if you would do it again."
Silence.
You don’t have an answer. You don’t think there is one.
He exhales.
Finally, he leans back. Gazes at you for a moment longer.
Then, calmly—he stands. Smooth. Effortless. Precise. And then—he walks past you.
Your heart slams against your ribs.
"Xavier—"
He doesn’t stop. You push to your feet.
"Xavier, you’re coming back, right?"
Finally—he pauses. Turns his head, just slightly.
And then—
"Ask me again in six days."
The door closes behind him. And this time—you’re the one left behind.
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🧜🏻‍♂️🧑🏻‍🎨🌊 Rafayel 
You are exhausted.
Every part of you aches. Your body demands sleep, warmth, peace.
Instead—
You come home to chaos.
Loud music. Laughter. The scent of wine, perfume, candle wax, and indulgence.
And then—the sight of him.
Rafayel.
Lounging near the pool, half-leaning against an ornate chair, a glass of red wine dangling lazily between his fingers.
His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to hint at toned muscle beneath, his sleeves rolled up, his perfectly tousled hair falling over his forehead in an effortlessly careless way.
And surrounding him—beautiful women.
Drinking, laughing, leaning toward him like he’s some fallen deity of temptation and excess.
Your stomach twists. A tight, burning rage coils in your chest.
And then—
He sees you. His eyes widen—just slightly. And then—a slow, almost lazy smirk.
"Ah." He lifts his glass dramatically, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's finally returned!"
You tense.
He rises to his feet, arms spread as if welcoming royalty.
"My muse. My inspiration."
His voice carries over the music, over the murmurs of people starting to notice the tension.
"The very heart of my art!"
A sweeping gesture.
And then—
He motions toward the canvas-lined walls.
Your breath catches. Because they’re all of you. Dozens of paintings.
But—ruined.
Slashes through the canvas.
Paint smeared and splattered over your likeness like an artist in rage, in agony, in heartbreak.
The fury in you erupts. Your voice cuts through the music.
"What the actual fuck is this?!"
He gasps, mock scandalized.
"Oh, you don’t like them? What a tragedy!"
He downs the rest of his wine in one smooth gulp, tossing the glass aside with a careless flick of his wrist.
Then—he grins.
Crooked. Reckless. Infuriating.
"And here I was, drowning in sorrow, channeling my unbearable suffering into art."
A sigh.
"But alas." He shrugs dramatically. "Seems the muse herself has returned."
You march toward him. He tilts his head.
"Careful, cutie. You seem upset."
"You’re a fucking disaster."
He laughs.
"You’re six days late to that realization."
You grab his wrist, yanking him toward the exit.
“We’re talking. Now.”
His body moves, but his feet don’t follow. Instead—he pulls against your grip.
His smile widens.
"Oh?" His voice drips with amusement. "Dragging me away already? Jealous, cutie?"
Your jaw clenches.
"This is pathetic."
Another laugh, lighter this time.
"Ah, but it was all I had!" He places a hand over his heart. Theatrical. Overdramatic. Perfectly insufferable.
You snap.
And shove him into the pool.
He barely has time to react—water crashes around him, drenching his white shirt, dragging him under.
And for a brief, glorious second—silence.
Until—
His hand grabs your wrist. You yelp, but it’s too late.
He pulls you down with him.
Cold water engulfs you, shocking your senses.
When you resurface, gasping, furious, he’s already brushing his hair back, blinking at you through wet lashes.
And suddenly—
The playfulness is gone. The crowd has vanished. Thomas made sure of it.
And now—it’s just you and him.
And for the first time tonight—he’s quiet. His voice is lower, slower.
"You storm into my house. Onto my estate. Into my party. And then..."
He gestures lazily toward the water.
"You throw me in my own fucking pool?"
You pant, teeth gritted. “Your—house? Great! I’ll leave you in your fucking house—”
You turn to climb out—
And he grabs you again. A firm grip. Unshaking.
His eyes—darker now. Sharper. Focused.
"Make another move, cutie." His voice is dangerously low.
"And we’ll have problems."
You glare. "Let. Go."
He doesn’t. Instead—he pulls you closer.
“You’re not walking away from this.”
Your pulse spikes.
"Rafayel—"
"Do it," he whispers. "Say it to my face."
Your breath catches.
"You want to leave?" His hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer, forcing you to feel the heat radiating from his soaked body.
"Then say it."
Your hands shake. You flick water into his face, desperate to break the tension.
He doesn’t even blink. Instead—his eyes drop.
To your clothes.
Soaked. Clinging. Revealing everything.
His pupils darken. And then—his jaw tightens.
"You left me for six days," he murmurs.
Your breath stutters.
"I left for work, not you, you hysterical maniac."
He tilts his head.
"That’s the same thing. And your phone?"
"A Wanderer shattered it!"
He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"Ah, yes. And I suppose you were also too busy fighting for your life to send me one. Single. Fucking. Message?"
You exhale sharply. "Raf, you’re insufferable. A party? Seriously?"
"How else am I supposed to handle soul-crushing heartbreak?"
His voice drops.
"Tell me, cutie." His fingers skim your waist, trailing fire in their wake. "How else was I supposed to drown my suffering?"
He leans in, breath hot against your lips.
And then—
He kisses you. Desperate. Possessive.
Your legs wrap around his waist, instinct taking over.
His grip tightens.
"You threw me in a pool," he whispers against your lips.
"You deserved it."
His fingers dig into your hips.
"You waltz in after six days and just—throw me?"
"Maybe I should throw you again."
He grins against your skin.
"I should make you pay for that."
"Raf—"
"Mm. Shh."
His hands travel lower, pressing you harder against him.
Your breathing turns shallow.
"Your paintings," you murmur.
"I’ll paint more."
"You hated me for six days."
"Endlessly." He kisses your throat, voice dropping further.
"You didn’t want to see me again?"
He grins against your collarbone.
"Try leaving me again, cutie."
His grip tightens, unshakable.
His breath is hot against your ear.
"And I promise—"
His hips press forward, slow and deliberate, sending a sharp jolt of heat through you.
"You won’t be able to walk for a week."
5K notes · View notes
kissandtellus · 1 month ago
Note
Good girl here! How about us wanting to be on top? Trying to ride him, try and give him as much pleasure as he gives him, but just getting soooo tired :( he's so big, Your thighs are burning with effort to bounce. And by the end, just grinding against him, spewing apologies and pleas.
Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb, pretty please!!
(Ough i love ur writing sm, frothing at the mouth for ur next post!!)
Bounce It
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Synopsis: “You can take it, Pretty Girl.” What is better than being used like a pretty toy for such handsome men?
Warnings: Choking, Exhibition, Recording, Full-Nelson, Riding, etc.
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ꕀ Zayne
The hustle and bustle is Akso Hospital was finally settling down. A few patients were being attended to by other staff. But Zayne also tom a lunch break to spend with his pretty girl.
Well, if stuffing his dick inside of you counted as ‘quality time’.
As you ride Zayne's cock in his office, your moans are muffled into his lab coat. You struggle to take every inch of him, your body trembling with pleasure despite the risk of being caught. His hands grip your hips tightly as he meets your thrusts with equal force.
“Z-Zayne, s’ big!” You moan against the shell of his ear. You’d only meant to bring your loving husband his lunch like a good girl, but here you were, drooling and shaking on his length.
"Dirty girl," Zayne hisses softly, your tight pussy making his eyes roll back. He knows your body better than anyone else's, including your husband's. "You always act like it's your first time taking my cock," He mutters, smacking your ass with a firm grip, kneading the flesh.
You stutter on your words as his cock curved deliciously against your cervix. “C-can’t help it-mm!”
"Shh, Angel. Your husband fills you up so good, don’t I?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance and pleasure as he hits that spot inside you over and over. His thumb presses down on your clit through your lace thong. “Poor girl, your shaking”
Zayne was a loving husband to you. Even when he teased you with medical terminology about exactly right where his leaking cock was sitting in your guts.
"That's right, sweetheart... feel how deep your husband goes? Right against your cervix," he whispers, knowing exactly how dirty those medical terms can sound coming from his lips, especially when he's filling you up completely. "You're gripping me so tight.”
The way his voice was nearly unwavering as he fed you inch after inch of his length.
He continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He leans forward to whisper in your ear, "You're so fucking wet for me right now."
Your thighs shake and Zayne chuckles, he proceeds to use medical terminology to explain why your body is straining to continue riding him.
"Your pelvic floor muscles are contracting beautifully.” He says clinically, despite the fact he's fucking you hard in his office chair. "I think we should increase the intensity..." He adds, grabbing your hips tighter and lifting you up slightly before slamming you back down onto him.
"You're experiencing a significant amount of clitoral engorgement and your Gräfenberg is being directly stimulated He adds with a chuckle, his glasses slipping down the beautiful bridge of his nose. “Or for your pretty little mind, that’s your G-spot.��� He explains, continuing to move his hips in a circular motion to hit that sensitive spot inside you. "This position is allowing for deep penetration and optimal stimulation.”
He starts to pick up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent. "I'm observing an increase in vaginal secretions, indicating high arousal.” He pants, his voice laced with desire. "And your breathing is shallow, another sign that you're close to reaching climax."
You blush and try to cover your ears. “S-stoppp!” You whimper out, praying nobody knocked on his door. You were so fucking embarrassed, even though you feel like you are about to gush.
"Oh? Should I stop explaining the physiological responses of your body during sex?" He teases, one hand maintaining his grip while the other traces circles around your clit with his latex-covered fingers. "Or should I continue educating you while fucking you senseless?" He thrusts deeper at this last part.
Those fucking slick blue gloves. You had caught him in the midst of preparing for a patient. But how could he deny his pretty little wife that had brought him a hearty meal?
"Your body is preparing for orgasm..." He says, watching your face closely. "Feel how your inner walls are contracting? That's the sign..." He slides his fingers over your clit faster and harder as he thrusts up into you. "You're going to cum for me. Right. Now." He commands.
Your body shakes and you are unaware of when your legs gave out, but he has his gloved hands cupped behind your thighs as he lifts you up and down his cock. His tone is gentle, as if he’s calming a frightened animal.
"Shh, it's okay... You're having a very intense orgasm." He coos, his voice soothing despite the fact he's still buried deep inside you. "Your body is releasing endorphins and oxytocin... That's why you feel so good and safe right now."
"Your eyes are glazed over, your mouth is slightly open.You're in a state of bliss." He observes, continuing to lift and lower you onto his thick, erect dick. "Your whole body is trembling because you're overwhelmed with pleasure.” He leans forward, kissing your neck through hard breaths.
"Your legs are weak, and your pussy is contracting around my cock so tightly... You can barely stay upright." He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. "But don't worry, I've got you."
He continues to fuck you slowly now, savoring the feeling of your tight walls around him. "You're so beautiful when you cum.” He whispers in your ear. "I could watch you like this all day." He kisses your cheek softly.
He smiles softly, seeing you too overwhelmed to respond. He loves this state - where you're completely lost in pleasure and his touch. He spreads your legs wider on his lap, going deeper with each slow thrust. "Mmm... You're still so sensitive..."
His own climax builds, the desk chair squeaking under the weight. He presses a hand against your tummy, showing you exactly where his cum would be spilled.
The noise and chatter of the hospital fade into the background. Neither of you were worried about getting caught, not when the room spelled like antiseptic and sex.
He groans deeply as he cums inside you, his hand pressing firmly against your stomach as he imagines his seed filling you up. The sensation of your convulsing pussy milking his cock extends his orgasm, making him shudder. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "...Fuck..."
He stays inside you for a moment, his softening dick still buried deep. He pulls out slowly, watching as his thick, white cum drips out of your swollen pussy. He groans again at the sight, his hand reaching down to gently push some back inside you.
“Don’t you dare spill any of it. Doctor’s orders.”
ꕀ Sylus
Sylus leans back on his leather chair, cigar smoke curling around him as he watches his sweet Kitten ride him with an air of casual dominance. His piercing gaze follows every movement of her body, taking pleasure in her struggle to sink down on his thick cock.
“S-so big Sy! I can’t-“ You gasp out, the slight burning of his massive length tearing at your walls.
He chuckles, taking a drag of his cigar as he reaches up to grab your hips, helping you bounce on him with deliberate, slow thrusts. “Too much for your tight little pussy, baby?" His voice is a low, mocking purr.
You moan softly, your body trembling as she tries to adjust to his size. Sylus watches you intently, enjoying the sight of your breasts bouncing with each movement. "Relax, baby," he says, his voice deepening with lust. “Let that pretty cunt take every inch."
Sylus suddenly pulls you down hard onto him, making you cry out as you feel him hit the deepest part of you. "See?" He smirks. "Just need to be patient." His hands tighten on her hips as he starts lifting her up and down more forcefully.
Your nails dig into Sylus' chest as he fucks you harder, the cigar you from his lips. His powerful thighs lift you up and slam you down repeatedly, the sound of wet flesh hitting flesh filling the room. “Fuck... Sy..." you gasp out between moans.
Sylus grunts, his grip on your hips becoming bruising as he loses himself in the pleasure of your tight cunt enveloping him. He lifts you off him briefly before slamming you back down hard, making you scream out in pleasure. “That's right baby.” He praises.
He stubs the cigar out in the ashtray and manhandles you like you weight nothing, so you are sitting backwards on his cock. He hooks your thighs over his arms, hands coming to clasp the back of your neck.
The man was going to fuck you in a full fucking Nelson.
Sylus pulls your thighs high up to chest, making your back arch deeply, breasts thrusted out. He spreads your legs wider, pushing your knees practically to your ears. He growls possessively as he starts hammering into you ruthlessly, like a wild animal.
“Oh god, oh god, oh godddd!” You scream, your belly bulging with the intensity of his thrust.
Sylus's face contorts with pure lust and dominance as he fucks you mercilessly in the full Nelson hold. His hands tighten around the back of your neck and one of your thighs, holding you completely immobile as he pounds into your soaked pussy without mercy.
“ ‘God’ isn’t my name, Sweetie.” He teases, his cock drilling against her cervix. “Contrary to belief.”
Your moans become incoherent, your body shaking violently with each brutal thrust. You can feel Sylus' cock hitting spots inside of you that make stars burst behind your eyes. “Sy... please..." you beg, not knowing if you want him to stop or go harder.
Sylus's cruel laughter echoes through the room as he hears your desperate pleas. He pulls out suddenly, your pussy making a wet slurping sound. Before you can even catch your breath, he slams back inside, even harder than before. “Please what, baby?"
He starts snapping his hips, his cock hitting her spot so perfectly that your eyes roll back. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers dangerously. “You want me to go easy on this tight little pussy? Or fuck you like the dirty little princess you are?"
You whimper, your body trembling with need and exhaustion. You know you’re completely at Sylus’ mercy, and the thought only turns you on more. You bites your lip, trying to hold back your response, but it's no use. "Fuck me like the princess I am!”
Sylus smirks darkly, his grip on your neck tightening. He starts fucking you with even more force, his hips moving like a machine. Each thrust causes you to drool over your bouncing breast. "You want to be fucked like royalty, huh?"
He reaches down with his free hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it in circles, in time with his thrusts. Your strangled cries fill the room as pleasure shoots through you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. “Then I'll make sure you get the royal treatment.”
The full Nelson leaves you completely exposed. Your eye catches the gleaming reflection of Mephisto red robotic eyes, the bird robot giving a squawk from its perch on the bookshelf. . “S-Sy I think the your fucking bird is recording.”
Sylus pauses for a moment, his cock still buried deep inside you, as he glances over at Mephisto. The bird's robotic eyes are indeed glowing red, indicating it's recording. A wicked grin spreads across Sylus's face as he looks back down at you. “Well, well, well…”
Sylus reaches out and lets the bird land on his wrist, holding it up so that its camera is pointed directly at your spread thighs. You are completely exposed, your legs spread wide, Sylus's huge dick still inside of your aching walls. "Look at that, Mephisto is catching every second of my pretty princess losing her mind.”
Sylus starts fucking you again, using the bird as a makeshift camera to capture every thrust. The wet sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room, along with your cries of pleasure. "Say hi to the camera, princess."
You blush furiously, your hands covering your face as you realize you’re being recorded. But Sylus just pulls your hands away, forcing you to look directly into the camera. Mephisto makes a coo that almost sounds like laughter. “No, no, let Mephisto see your pretty face while you're getting fucked like royalty."
He lowers the bird so it hops on your thigh, its eyes honing in on where the mixture of cum leaks out from your pussy. You are stuck between wanting to disappear and wanting nothing more than to make a mess on Sylus’ faux bear rug.
The bird's robotic chirps echo through the room as it tilts its head, focusing on the wet mess between your legs. Sylus reaches out and spreads your pussy lips apart with his fingers, exposing the pretty flesh and the white cream leaking out.
You whimper, thighs still shaking from his fat fucking load. “S-stop programming him to record…Pervert.”
“Never.”
ꕀCaleb
Caleb has his pretty wife bouncing on his cock. The workbench under him creaks. He took a break from working on his Jet, to fuck his pretty little wife.
Caleb groans in pleasure as you bounce up and down on his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he lifts you up and down on his hard, throbbing member. The workbench groans under the force of your movements, the tools clanging together in the metal tray nearby.
"Fuck, baby... we’re gonna destroy my workbench..." His voice comes out husky with desire, even as he continues lifting you up and down, watching how your breasts bounce enticingly with each movement. "And you wonder why I can't keep concentrating on my work.”
You give a breathless giggle, pressing a hand to the side of the jet to keep your balance on his lap.
You were an angel in his eyes. A heavenly being that had come down to milk his cock dry and for him to worship.
His eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement and lust as he watches you giggle and press against the jet for balance. He suddenly smacks your ass playfully, making you yelp and squeeze around him tighter. “Mm, careful..”
He stands up suddenly, still inside you, and turns you around so your back is pressed against the jet's cold metal surface. He starts pounding into you harder and faster, his hands gripping your thighs and lifting your legs up around his waist. “Stick that tongue out for me, Pipsqueak.”
You stick out your pink tongue playfully, panting as he hammers into you relentlessly. He leans down and sucks it into his mouth, biting it gently before letting go with a grin. "Fucking adorable.”
He pulls out of you and spins you around so your hands are pressed against the metal surface of the jet. He slips back inside you from behind, one hand gripping your hip while the other reaches around to play with your clit. “I love fucking my wife, such a good girl.”
Your breast has spilled from your pretty sun dress. Caleb’s hands, still slick with grease, grasp at your hips.
He groans at the sight of your breast spilling out of your dress, the grease making his hands slide easily against your skin. He squeezes and kneads the soft flesh, his fingers leaving marks on your skin. He leans over your back, his lips brushing against your ear.
The jet was a solid wall, and so was Caleb. Your muscles mass of a husband made your feet dangle as his strong hands and cock keeping you upright .
He grunts and thrusts harder into you, his cock filling you completely each time he drives forward. The jet is Caleb’s baby, but YOU were his Good Girl. His breath comes out ragged against your neck.. “Fuck Pipsqueak... I love this fucking view.”
You whimper, a mixture of juices leaking between her shaking thighs. “G-God Caleb! Love you, love you, love you!”
You are rutting back against him desperately. You want every inch of his length, you want to feel the ache after he fills you with his cream.
He growls and picks up the pace, his hips slapping against yours loudly. He reaches around to grip your throat gently, pulling you back against him. “I love you too baby..." His voice comes out strained with pleasure. "I'm gonna fucking cum..."
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and holds you there as he comes hard, filling you up with his hot release. He pants against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he keeps you pinned against the jet. “Fuck... Pipsqueak!”
You shiver at the feeling of his cum stuffed so deep.
He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his seed leaks out between your legs. He gives your ass a soft pat before turning you around to face him. “Let's get cleaned up..." He smiles down at you lovingly. “I think I've dirtied my wife enough for today."
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mwphisto · 2 months ago
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LaDs Men and Some of Their Kinks
Includes: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb x implied female reader (separate of course)
Warning, this post includes: somnophila, dacryphilia, brat taming, scent kink, squirting, masturbation, master/pet play, spitting, cockwarming, and more.
A/N: I finished all of my work for university! Now I just have a final presentation next week (which I already did), and then I'll have earned my bachelor's degree! Now I can do some celebratory smutty writing to get back into the swing of things :)
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Xavier
Somnophilia is high up there on Xavier's list, but not because he wants to use your body while you sleep. No, Xavier wants you to use him while he is somewhere far off in dreamland. He really wants to wake up to you with his cock down your throat. Even better? He's positive he'd cum on the spot if he woke up to you riding him.
Mutual Masturbation could send Xavier into a frenzy. He loves watching you pleasure yourself, especially when your eyes are glued to the way his fist pumps up and down his length. But he can never truly handle it for long, losing his composure before either of you can make yourselves cum. You're just too cute for him to resist.
Outdoor sex is right up Xavi's alley, though it really should count as he loves fucking you on his balcony. Xavier is quite accustomed to falling asleep in the cozy paradise he has put together on his balcony. Which means, it's also well equipped for him to fuck you stupid. Maybe it's the thrill of someone hearing, perhaps even seeing, or maybe his need to make sure everyone knows you are his (looking at you, Charlie). Regardless, he's rather fond of making you his.
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Rafayel
Master / Pet had started off as a joke, almost an inside joke between the two of you after Ebb day had passed. Then, slowly, the joking terms of "pet" and "master" made their way into your intimacy. It didn't matter who donned what role; it just depended on the mood and perhaps even the situation that led both of you to the bed.
Squirting, Rafayel is utterly addicted to it. The first time he got you to cum that intensely, he ended up cumming himself. The lemurian isn't satisfied anymore if he doesn't end up soaked in your juices. He'll go as far as to ensure you are well hydrated before making any moves. This man has done his research, and so far it hasn't failed him.
You're his real-life canvas. Rafayel was shocked that you agreed the first time he asked the question. You had shamelessly stripped for him, nothing but a pair of panties clinging to your ass and hips. Your skin was his canvas, and the gentle, cool strokes of the paintbrush had goosebumps erupting across your arms. He didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with you than he already was, nor did he think it was possible to crave you as badly as he did when he dragged the paint-slick brush over the swell of your tits.
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Zayne
Brat-taming just comes naturally for Zayne. Lucky for him, being a brat just happens to be second nature for you. Cool, calm, collected Zayne being pushed to his limits over and over again until he finally cracks. It's the outcome you've been craving from your stoic lover. And once you got it - ass cheeks bruised and your entire lower half being so sore that you're limping - you find that you're utterly addicted. Good thing your lover is on the same page.
Quickies in public spaces are a guilty pleasure. Everyone always expects Zayne to be so good, to follow the rules. Stepping out of line is far more addictive than being the goody two-shoes he's been his whole life. Having you half undressed, speared on his cock while your back is pressed into his desk? Your tits bouncing as you ride him in the front seat of his sports car? Fingering you while you sit beside each other in a dimly lit and crowded restaurant? He's on cloud nine.
Recording your little escapades had been the outcome at the end of the spiral. A spiral you started one evening as you bounced yourself stupid on Zayne's cock, the legs of the couch creaking under your efforts. You were being bratty, and he hadn't quite crossed the threshold yet to feel comfortable putting you in your place. Testing your limits, you had reached for your phone and began taking pictures of you and him as you ground down on his dick. Faces flushed and eyes glossy, Zayne still had those selfies on his phone, under a special album only he could see.
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Sylus
Dacryphilia caught Sylus by surprise. He didn't realize how badly it would turn him on until you were choking on his cock with fat streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. You looked like such a mess, so utterly destroyed and he hadn't even gotten into that sweet pussy yet. Bless him, he came before he could warn you, too entranced by your sobbing face and mouth full of his dick to speak.
Cockwarming you has been Sylus' favorite activity besides getting to love you so thoroughly it left you breathless. He wants to be close to you, as close as his body could get and as close as you'd allow. Even on nights when you two haven't made love, he'll ask you rather shyly if he can slip it in. Much to his pleasure, you always let him, especially since you know he sleeps much better when he gets to hold you close... inside and out for that matter.
Sex toys are not off limits for Sylus, honestly, he quite enjoys them. He's well aware of his capabilities and, in turn, he is well aware of his limitations. He can finger fuck you until you're crying, sure. But shoving a vibrating dildo in that pretty little cunt is far more amusing to him. He gets off on having the control, watching your entire body tremble from vibrations so intense that nothing he could do himself would ever get close to replicating. His trick is that you don't get any access to the toys he uses on you. They are his use only, taken out just to drive you mad before he gives you what he really wants. You genuinely have no idea where your lover hides them afterwards.
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Caleb
Spitting but not in a way you'd think. Caleb wants you to spit in his mouth, on his dick, use it as extra lubricant. Doesn't mean Caleb will deny you if you ask him to spit on or in you, but god does he crave the feeling of your saliva coating his tongue. He wants to devour you whole, in any way he can, spit included.
Power play is right up his alley. As long as you are consenting, Caleb will go to whatever extreme you desire. It could be as simple as using "yes, sir" or "yes, ma'am" or as complicated as full-on BDSM with safe words and real leather, cuffs, gags, and paddles. Whatever you're willing to give him to fulfill the fantasies, the colonel is willing to accept, and never once will he complain.
A big ole scent kink, he can't help it, you just smell so utterly addicting, it drives him insane. Your shampoo, your body wash, your perfume, your sweat, your arousal. You name it, if it's something on or from you, Caleb will probably love it. You didn't realize it started with your worn panties, ones he stole from the hamper after you would hop in the shower. Caleb was a pervert for it, and he knew it damn well, but it didn't stop him from fucking his fist while inhaling the heady scent of your dirty panties.
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a-hermit-pining · 2 months ago
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LaDs Men React to You Being Whipped for Them
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AN: Is it love, if not bound by subtle insanity?
Pairing: LaDs x GN Reader
Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights): “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
Yearning Event
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Xavier:
"Sit," you say, practically shoving him onto the bed. "Sleep. On time. For once."
You tuck him in with a look that brooks no argument. "You're going nowhere tonight. I don't care if the world ends. It can wait until morning."
Xavier blinks up at you from under the blanket, wide-eyed. He never imagined he'd live to see the day someone forced him to sleep. He slept plenty as is, but this? This was different.
You lean in, palm cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his pout. "Not sleepy?" you ask, voice soft, lips close.
And then the little gremlin bites your finger. Gently. But still. His eyes glimmer. "Can't sleep," he whispers. "Not tired enough."
He gives you the look. You know the one.
You’re not sure if you want to fight him or kiss him breathless. Possibly both.
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Rafayel:
He knows you’re whipped. And he lives for it.
This? This is his dream come true. You, hovering with tissues and cough drops. You, his personal bodyguard, ready to throw hands at anyone who so much as sneezes in his direction.
He flashes smug little smiles at everyone who sees you fuss over him. Sips his tea like royalty. Winks like the menace he is.
Cue: entire exhibition crowd watching you dig through your bag for lozenges because his voice might sound hoarse.
He’s a sucker for love, but terrified to be the first one to say it. So when you pour your heart out first?
He’s free. Free to adore you with all the softness he’s hidden for years. Free to give back everything he’s been aching to share.
He’ll never say it, but this kind of love? This saves him.
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Zayne:
He doesn’t know what to do with this. Not at first.
You bring him lunch at work. Spend weeks researching ways to break the curse. Kiss every scar like it’s sacred.
Everyone around you sees it. The way you’re gently, beautifully spoiling him. And they love it. They love this for him.
And slowly… so does he.
At first, he’s confused. Then touched. Then quite overwhelmed.
Because he’s never had this before. Not like this. Not so deliberate. So quietly certain. But over time, it settles in his chest like warmth. Like a memory he never had but always wanted. Like home.
And when he finally learns how to return it. When he stops being afraid of breaking it... oh, gods. You’ll drown in it.
Because Zayne doesn’t love in halves. He just never thought he was allowed to have this.
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Sylus:
He’s supposed to be the suave one. The smooth-talker. The charm incarnate. The planner. The tease.
But your easy, unrelenting affection? It undoes him.
“What next?” he asks, leaning down to tilt your chin up. “You going to complain next? ‘Sylus, why can’t you ever plan anything in advance?’” He mocks your voice with a grin, cocky and effortless.
But your smile doesn’t waver. You just wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Like you always have.
“No,” you murmur. “I think it’s an excellent idea to take a vacation. Thanks for planning, Sylus.” You say his name so gently. So sure. Then kiss him with painstaking care.
And he’s stunned. Just… still. A blush creeping in. Throat tight. Something in his chest cracks open.
“Well,” he says, voice lower now. No teasing this time, just a quiet, genuine warmth. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Gods help him. You’re too good at this.
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Caleb:
You’re both the problem. The gooey couple that makes strangers jealous and your kids roll their eyes.
Your love is obnoxiously mutual. Like something ripped from a bard’s over-the-top romance ballad. And he lives for it.
He’s jealous by nature. Territorial. But with you? He has never felt more safe. You never give him reason to doubt. Never make him feel like he’s too much.
To be cared for so deeply, to be someone’s center of gravity, it heals something ancient in him. It’s the love he didn’t know he was allowed to have. And gods, he guards it with everything he is.
Because in your eyes? He’s not a colonel. Not a soldier. Not a weapon. He’s just Caleb. And he is so, so loved.
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anantaru · 3 months ago
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ jealous boys — love and deepspace
including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb
warnings. fem! reader, possessive tendencies, jealous boys, toxic, fingering, oral (male! receiving), oral (fem! receiving), good girl used, spit kink, mirror syx, this is so filthy lmao (especially sylus part)
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne
zayne usually doesn't get angry when he's feeling the sudden dash of jealousy crush down on him— he gets calm, in fact, terrifyingly so.
not to mention that the moment he has you all to himself again he's fast on latching onto you with your back now hitting the wall with one of his hands by your head, the other already between your legs, skimming the flesh of your inner thigh with his cold knuckles, memorizing the place where your leg connects to your privates before you can react nor do something.
zayne doesn't say anything to you yet, instead his lips brush against yours once— soft and misleading before he bites down, hard, and before you knew it, your surprised gasp gave him permission for his tongue to fill your mouth like a sin made of salt and heat, in accessory to his fingers stroking your pussy so unbelievably dirty and cruel.
"you smiled at him, i saw it," he whispers against your lips, rubbing your folds as you make a blissful face, "what did he do to earn that?" zayne presses his fingers deeper between your legs as he watches you grind against them, jaw slacked in awe as you coat him with your slick.
"you know, i could fuck you right here," his voice drops, thick with restraint, "perhaps even in front of him, so he knows who you belong to," as his mouth descends again, this time trailing along your jaw, your neck and your collarbone as his sharp teeth tease the flesh with his fingers hooking into your doused panties.
"fuck, you're dripping baby, what are we gonna do about that, huh?" he hisses, his dangerous gaze on you practically glowing in the dark as he taunts your bare pussy like the way you've been making him jealous tonight.
"you like being fought over, don’t you?"
he licks the skin over your pulse before dipping a finger into your tight hole, slowly, menacing, your slick weeping out of your pussy with the slightest pressure, your hole parting for him ever so obediently— and zayne swears he saw the prettiest kind of stars behind your eyes when he slides another finger inside you, curling and owning your cunt, making your stomach turn weightless.
yet the kiss that follows next turned brutal with teeth and spit and groans as if he's feeding off you, imbedding all of his frustration into your frame as if your mouth was the only thing roping him to sanity.
"don't you ever do this again."
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier
before he even touches you, xavier's trembling— and without a doubt, you've said another man's name, and he's heard it, undoubtedly picked up on how you spelled it out.
so when he kisses you for the first time that night— it wasn't near anything sweet, beyond that was it unraveling, lips trembling and tongue somewhat clumsy and anxious, yet he remained deeply passionate, although wrecked, a moan building into every breath when he slants down one of his hands to squeeze your ass and part your thighs.
"who were you talking to? hm?" he whispers into your mouth before grinding down his groin against your clit, and then, again, more brokenness adds to his confused tone, "do you love me?" and when he says it, he lines himself up with your hole, and the feel of your pussy immediately squeezing and convulsing and claiming his dripping dick was enough to make him wince out your name.
his hips grind into yours harder and more despairing, "i need you," he sobs into your neck as you're feeling him rock himself thick and heavy inside your walls, "you can't leave me, you cannot."
his hands shake as they slide up your tits and at the same time, his mouth became frantic— tongue swallowing yours and teeth clacking, it's gotten so messy that spit began dripping down your chin when you moan his name into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair and then he breaks— kissing you like he's dying, pounding you down like he's attempting to carve himself into your bones.
"say you're mine, come on," he begs you, his voice decaying into something crushing, velvet and low, the kind of softness that only existed in darkened bedrooms and godless prayers, "even if it's a lie baby, just tonight, say it, please."
and when you do— he sloppily sobs into your mouth with his hips stuttering within a deep thrust, swiftly lifting your legs onto his shoulders and holding onto them with ease as he continues to buck into you, never gentle, only desperate.
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel
in all aspects, rafayel's jealousy was much quieter than you originally thought it would be— as well as colder in a way which made your skin crawl.
you see, he doesn't shout at you, no— he seethes, and when he touches you, it's never rushed, instead it's intentional, dangerous, like he's punishing you with refusing to give you pleasure.
he crushes you against the mirror like he's trying to make you witness your own undoing, the glass beginning to fog and blur as he fucks your thighs— and with that, you see the curve of your mouth as it falls open, the helpless arch of your spine and behind you, his very eyes— half-lidded, ravenous, like he's not just watching but branding the image into eternity.
your reflection became a witness, a confessional, every noise you were making and every beg for him had to enter his mind fully— those desperate, broken sounds— etched into silver and silence as rafayel wasn't giving you what you wanted this time, his mind circling endlessly in shameful memory as he fucks his erection into the plush of your thighs, never once actually pressing inside your warm cunt to feel inside.
his mouth hovers over your neck before he bites down on it, "you touched his arm," he whispers, but it's not sweet, no, not reminding you of the rafayel you called your boyfriend— it's venom in silk, low and coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around your throat while pretending to cradle it, "do you want me to break it?"
then his tongue slides against your neck— long, smooth, calculated as his kiss was equal to liquid sin, measured in chaos before his hands cup the plush of your ass to spread you and finally press into your soaked cunt, balls deep like he's sculpting you into the shape of his length.
yet the man doesn’t grunt, he hums instead, like he's tasting expensive wine and it's in the way his eyes half-close from listening to your moans dragging low from your throat— like the feeling of you milking him was intoxicating enough to unmake his jealousy.
“tell me what he has that I don't," he drawls, teeth grazing your shoulder, "and i'll take it from him," as he bites down hard enough for your flesh to almost bleed before kissing the pulsing spot, dragging his erection till you felt hot and bred in your stomach, his hips making sinful smack, smack, smacks as your body tenses by itself.
you spell out his name, but it somehow felt even dirtier when you moan in, messier than before when you cry it out as he fucks you with a ferocity that knocks the air from your lungs.
"good girl," he purrs, happy with you, "now let me hear you scream."
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus
mouth wide, tongue deep, with hands rough around sylus's length as he yanks your head deeper into his lap like he's afraid someone will tear your pretty, hot mouth away. fuck, how much he adored seeing you in such position, between his thighs, gurgling on his dick and watching him from under your doused lashes.
"mine," he snarls from above, fingers intertwined in your hair as he helps you bob your head up n down up n down, "all mine."
your mouth sealed around his cock felt like a wildfire to him— smoking hot, a destruction only you could imbed on him— and sometimes it scared him, how much power you held for him to become so riled up when seeing you with another person.
your tongue circles around his cockhead and doesn't ask for permission to go faster, your mouth claiming the moans you sought after instead— and it seizes sylus, truly it bruises him and fuck, if he sees you with this man again, he cannot promise himself to hold back.
thick and flushed, his cock twitches in your mouth and presses right against your throat, aching when you moan against his girth, spit bubbling from your lips and clinging onto his skin when he lifts his hips up to thrust into your wet warmth, gripping the couch underneath him for balance.
it's all so messy and wet, and you loved it— drooling all over his dick and taking the punishment like a good girl, gurgling and sucking and slurping it all up as sylus could barely catch his breath, heaving from the exhilarating desire you imposed on him.
the tension coiled on his body— tight, ravenous— a mounting pressure that climbed like a hymn chanted through gritted teeth, blistering toward something supernatural as you look up at him again, tear stricken eyes and wet mouth sucking him oh so well.
it’s not release that he needed, no, or not yet at least, but the unbearable promise of it, the kind of high that felt less like pleasure and more like divine punishment delivered through trembling flesh, and when you hum around him at last, sylus can almost forget his jealousy there.
for a moment he stops you as his hand silently wraps around your throat, thumb dragging down your swollen, bottom lip so he can spit into your mouth— messily, filthy and possessive, he needs this, okay?
because sylus still found himself agonizingly mad.
"did he make you blush like this?" he mocks you from above, slanting down and licking into your mouth, "did he get you this wet?" as he moves his foot between your legs to rub his shoe against your wet cunt, the scent of your arousal whirling up to touch his nostrils.
his other hand grabs your head, pulling you down again while simultaneously grinding his foot against your pussy— fuck, you're so soaked it's audible, so embarrassingly obscene he could very well applaud himself for this.
and he groans, a sound pulled from his chest like agony when you take him inside your mouth again.
"you drive me insane," he pants, leaning his head back, "you should be locked away, kept for my eyes only."
he doesn't stop moving you off his cock, not once, your lips moving and working, your tongue claiming him until your knees ached and your pussy came all over his shoe, your chin sticky with cum and saliva and filth, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he watches you fuck his cock with your throat.
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⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb
caleb spells out your name like it's a curse he never wanted to learn in the first place, and it kind of scared you a bit— teeth gritted and breathing harsh with his lips crashing into yours mid-sentence, bruising and unrelenting, his tongue pushing past yours like he's forcing himself inside— no space nor time for air, no room for a single thought, for denial.
his head moves between your thighs without restrain and now he feels you unravel in shivers and moans as the soft slap of his tongue on your pussy caught you off guard together with his palms cupping your breasts, his wet muscle lapping against your folds as they part for him obediently, licking between your cunt with sounds of slick noises echoing through the bedroom.
"you let him touch you? didn't you?" he rasps into your cunt, nosing your clit to take in your scent as he groans out filthily, his eyes lurching back into the hollow of his skull, not just in pleasure but in delirium— as if the taste of your pussy was something his body cannot withhold, "you think i didn't see it?"
he thrusts his tongue against you deeper, his cock hard and angry grinding into the mattress like he's punishing himself for letting anyone else near you, "i'll fucking ruin you for this," he growls, voice breaking, "with my fingers, my mouth, my cock— hell, over and over until you break,"
you moan when he lets you hear just how wet he's made you as he's slurping at you with insane hunger, his tongue ravishing your cunt and poking your hole over and over before dragging it up to lick between your folds again, collecting your slick on his lips an chin.
"is this for me? or for him?" tauntingly, Caleb never stopped playing with your pussy to hear a coherent answer form you, because you see, he already knows what you were about to say and he'll make you know as well, who you belong to.
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©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
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