plzdonutpercieveme

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Hi! 💜 Can I request the LADS boys being doggos? Or puppy boys? Or both? 😔 I hope that's okay w/u! You can choose one too!

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive as dogs & puppy boys! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚YES! yeeees, yes, i love this, i love this so much. i couldn't chose, so I picked both! hope you like it!

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚caleb was a gift from when you were a baby, actually. as soon as you were old enough to crawl around and babble, boom! they added a german shepherd puppy to the family! —both of you caused mischief, though.

﹙♡﹚he's loyal, very protective, very intimidating. he won't let any strangers get near you, and if he feels you're uncomfortable in the slightest, he'll get defensive —or worse, ready to attack if you command him to.

﹙♡﹚he's outdoortsy! he loves being outside. he loves to play, to jump, to run around, and he absolutely loves fetching! he lights up whenever you praise him for bringing the ball or stick back to you.

﹙♡﹚certified good boy ™. he loooves being around you. tail wagging, tongue lolling out as he pants, big puppy eyes just for you. always by your side; sleeping at the end of your bed, waiting outside the bathroom for you, or resting his head on your lap while you watch a movie.

﹙♡﹚loves your scent. you once found all your suspiciously lost t-shirts draped around his bed. he'd dragged them there to keep your scent close, and sleeps like a puppy when he does! he sniffs you a lot, and he'd be able to find you even if you were miles away, just by following your scent.

﹙♡﹚now, as a puppy boy… he's not much different, honestly. though, he can't bark at people or bite them —doesn't mean he doesn't want to— and he can't eat out of his favorite plate unless you lift it from the floor and set it on the table, but he still hates using cutlery.

﹙♡﹚he is always texting you. always. “where are u? do u love me? hiii! are u okay? where are uuu? love me? u good? wheeeere? am i a good boy? yes? love u! hi!”

﹙♡﹚he wags his tail constantly. and yes, he uses those puppy eyes whenever he wants you to give in.

﹙♡﹚he wants to sleep next to you. sure, sleeping at the end of the bed is fine… when he's a dog. but as a full-grown man, he needs to lie down next to you, so he begs, and begs, and begs until you finally let him cuddle you.

﹙♡﹚still loves to play fetch! you can throw him things and he'll catch them for you, running back with a huge grin. you must tell him how good he is, or his ears will go flat.

﹙♡﹚both as a doggo and as a puppy boy, he's your best friend. loyal, charming, absolutely ready to defend you, and happiest when he's by your side.

﹙♡﹚and please, smooch this pup on the forehead. his tail will turn into an helicopter's helix and he'll end up flying! (or he'll just wag his tail furiously, which is just as cute)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚you found the little golden retriever puppy wandering around the beach while building sand castles. ever since then, he's been by your side.

﹙♡﹚obviously, he loves water. he swims, he dives, and he retrieves alright. you could be sunbathing, and this good boy will fill your lap with seashells, sea glass and shiny rocks —or even some treasures, like fallen jewelry or coins—. he's your little merpup!

﹙♡﹚he fishes, okay? if you stop giving him attention for even one second, he already has a fish between his teeth. he offers it to you while wagging his tail, and if you don't accept it…

﹙♡﹚the boy will throw a fit. whiny rumbles, turning away from you, stomping his paw in the sand. how dare you not accept his precious offering?

﹙♡﹚a few scratches there and a loud smooch on his head, and he's already good to go again —running around and panting as he digs in the sand and then goes for a dive.

﹙♡﹚he won't go back inside your home if his paws aren't clean. you must clean them, and his luscious coat too. he must be shining, darling. plus, he doesn't want to ruin your floor; he knows you don't like cleaning over and over again, so this pretty boy is trying to be considerate with his human.

﹙♡﹚now, as a puppy boy, he's just as whiny but just as caring. he dives and brings you trinket after trinket —and he looks divine under the sun—. he also found out he's good at crafting, so he's polishing his skills for you to admire.

﹙♡﹚he's friendly, yes… but that doesn't make him any less protective. on the outside, he's smiling and wagging his tail. but he gently steps in front of you, grabs your hand or stands closer, as if reminding everyone that he might be sweet, but you're still his to protect.

﹙♡﹚he absolutely uses his puppy eyes to manipulate you. and you fall for it every single time. both as a dog and as a puppy boy, he'll make you do as he wants —but of course, all he really wants is attention and cuddles. and fishy treats.

﹙♡﹚he found out he needed sunscreen in his human form. at first he didn't want to use it, as it felt sticky, and when he's a dog, he doesn't need it. but once he learned you'd apply it for him, and it could be considered his second coat, he quickly agreed.

﹙♡﹚he texts you like… every second, even when he's right next to you. “can u like… pay me attention? am i pretty? ohmygosh that dog is so annoying, do i bark like that?” you have to teach him to use his phone only for emergencies, but truthfully, everything feels urgent to this poor boy.

﹙♡﹚he just loves you. he's a big boy, yet he acts like a lap puppy. he can be dramatic, but he loves nothing more than to see you happy! he truly feels like you two belong together, and as long as you take care of him… he'll always take care of you, too.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚you found a small, white kuvasz puppy in a dark alley when you got lost from your parents. he was just as small, and just as scared as you, but ever since you held him in your tiny arms, he knew you two were going to be a forever deal.

﹙♡﹚he's big. very big. and he's protective. you don't call him your pet, because he's not. he's literally your guardian, and he doesn't even need to growl when strangers approach —if they even dare to do so.

﹙♡﹚however, he's a big, drooling teddy bear once he's with you. this big, fluffy boy follows you around. he's observant, not really that enthusiastic, but the subtle wagging and his loving eyes are more than enough for you to know he adores you.

﹙♡﹚he is vocal. very vocal. he howls, and… it doesn't sound good. but he's very passionate about it! he also enjoys when you listen to music; he'll wag his tail as he lies down by your feet, and if he doesn't like a song, he'll just look at you expectantly.

﹙♡﹚he befriended a tiny crow! you took him out for a walk, and a little black bird fell onto his thick coat. ever since then, the crow comes to visit, and sylus allows him to be near —even letting him stand on your shoulder without trying to scare him away!

﹙♡﹚one night, sylus also brought something interesting back home. you saw two things inside his mouth and almost screamed in horror, before he gently set down two identical kittens. oh, so he has paternal instincts? he lets the kittens follow him, and now your house is full of animals thanks to your caring boy.

﹙♡﹚as a puppy boy, sylus is literally by your hip at all times. you need to walk? he's going too. you have to go shopping? yeah, he's in. you need to�� yes, yes, and yes. he'll go with you.

﹙♡﹚he doesn't wag his tail that often, but when he does, it's usually when you tell him he's been very good, and that he did a great job keeping you safe during your nightly walks. he feels proud, and he'll hug you, while his white tail slightly moves behind him.

﹙♡﹚no puppy eyes. he'll literally just demand stuff. obviously, everything he asks for involves you. “you have to eat,” or “it's late, go to sleep.” literally, who's the pet and who's the owner? you don't complain, though. you know better than to argue with your huge boy.

﹙♡﹚both as a dog and as a puppy boy, he'll come to you for head pats. he likes it when you massage his scalp and play with his ears, and he also loves to lie on top of you — even when he weighs quite a lot.

﹙♡﹚he likes to bite and destroy! you didn't expect him to be playful, but when he has pent-up energy, he destroys his toys. as a puppy boy, he finds out that kicking pillows is just as relieving… but you once found him biting on a plushie, and he blushed like a cherry. you don't talk about it, though.

﹙♡﹚he'd take a bullet for you. literally. this good boy would die for you; he'd protect you until his last breath, and he'll forever thank you for staying.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚sweet, samoyed baby. he found you, actually. you were playing at the park when suddenly, a fluffy white cloud climbed onto your lap and fell asleep. instant connection, you took him home.

﹙♡﹚he's a sweet baby. he sleeps, he eats, he follows you… and then he takes a nap. he just waits for you to stay still before plopping down by your feet, sighing contently.

﹙♡﹚he listens to you. when you ramble and ramble non-stop, he looks up at you, head tilted and curious eyes shining. he genuinely pays attention, and he paws at your leg to remind you he's there.

﹙♡﹚he's the fluffiest pillow. he loves when you give him belly scratches, and even more when you rest your head on him while you sleep. he'll happily be your pillow anytime you want!

﹙♡﹚he's… a little chaotic, though. he's lucky he's cute, because you've already found dirty paw prints on your clean sheets and his treats scattered around the kitchen. but then he just looks up at you with those big, innocent eyes… and you forgive him like nothing ever happened.

﹙♡﹚he is a jealous doggo. no, he won't bark or bite, but he'll stand alert, protectively in front of your legs. if another dog comes near, xav steps in and rumbles ever so slightly. he needs to make sure you only have his white hairs all over your clothes —no one else's.

﹙♡﹚as a puppy boy, he's honestly identical. those same adorable eyes, the same quiet jealousy over everything and everyone.

﹙♡﹚you can't sleep with plushies when you could literally spoon him, —he loves being the little spoon— and he wants you to! besides, he's so warm and smells so good…

﹙♡﹚he likes being at the park, but not exactly to play. he loves when you two stargaze. when he spots pretty stars, his ears perk up and he wags his tail excitedly. he's such a cute baby.

﹙♡﹚he hates your plushies. straight up beats them up. as a doggo, he bites them until the stuffing goes flying everywhere. as a puppy boy, he punches them while pouting. he wants your attention only on him. nothing else can be cuter and lying around.

﹙♡﹚he loves kisses. this doggo will stand up and place his paws on your thighs, demanding smooches on his cute nose. as a puppy boy, he'll kneel between your legs and rest his hands on your thighs, looking up at you expectantly. and you smooch him until he grows giddy.

﹙♡﹚he's a very loyal dog. he's a cotton ball with legs, and despite the ruckus he causes around you, you're thankful for having such a bright light keeping you on your feet.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚oh, this sweet, small and fluffy terranova baby was walking through the thick snow, leaving the tiniest paw prints as he wandered around without a path. when you found him with your parents, they decided to bring him in, and ever since, he's been your loyal companion.

﹙♡﹚he's a huge doggo now. big. thick fur, your same height when he stands up on his back paws… if not more. he's a gentle giant, always behind you like a shadow.

﹙♡﹚whenever you ask where he is, you'll hear slow and deliberate steps coming towards you, before he softly pants with his tongue out and sits in front of you, waiting for whatever it is you need.

﹙♡﹚he is so smart. he knows basic tricks, though he doesn't do them often. he usually stays beside you, watching as you work or study. he also helps! he'll bring you your shoes if you ask, and he knows how to open the fridge when it's time to assist you making dinner.

﹙♡﹚he also senses when you feel sick. he'll literally refuse to leave your side, even if it's just a silly fever. he sighs upon seeing you, big green eyes looking at you before he softly licks your cheek. he's worried, but he's trying his best.

﹙♡﹚he's a bit naughty, though! he'll lick your plate after you eat something sweet. although now, he's careful as you once had carrot cake and he despised it. his tummy ached afterwards, and you had to rush to the vet. poor baby.

﹙♡﹚as a puppy boy, he definitely helps more. having thumbs is extremely convenient. he helps you cook, he helps you clean, he helps you shop. and when you're sick, he's even more useful now, bringing you medicine or making soup for you.

﹙♡﹚neither his tail nor his ears are very expressive, but his eyes… his eyes are just as gentle and adoring. he'll let you caress his ears, though, and he loves it when you say he's pretty. he blushes.

﹙♡﹚he doesn't play with toys. he usually lies beside you, but… one thing he does love is picking flowers and giving them to you. he'll go to the park and pick pretty flowers for you, or carry them in his mouth when he's a doggo.

﹙♡﹚he is a kind baby, but his big presence scares small animals away. poor baby tilts his head when the squirrels or birds run off, and puppy boy feels defeated. is he really that scary? even when you tell him how adorable he is?

﹙♡﹚he loves, loves, loves when you cuddle him, both as a doggo and as a puppy boy. his thick coat smells so fresh, and as a puppy boy, he'll embrace you oh so tight.

﹙♡﹚ever since you picked him up, he associates snowy days with warmth and love. so this doggo baby will go outside and lie down until his dark fur turns completely white. as a puppy boy, he'll take you outside and hug you under the snow, whispering how thankful he is for having you in his life.

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Neck-kisses and Centerpieces

Synopsis: You bribe Rafayel into attending his own exhibition...and make sure he’s the centerpiece of his new collection—lipstick-stained collar and all.

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content, established relationship, possessive behavior, oral sex (f receiving), marking (lipstick), praise kink, mild dom/sub dynamics, biting, messy makeout, public teasing (lipstick-stained shirt as deliberate marking before a public event), semi-public intimacy (in a car and private parking lot), power play, marking (lipstick stains; neck kisses; love bites), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, messy kissing/lipstick smudging, reader marks rafayel's shirt and neck with her lipstick, rafayel wears her marks like the centerpiece of his collection, sexual overstimulation, soft aftercare implied

Pairings: Rafayel x reader

Word count: 5.5k words

Of course, you had to bribe Rafayel into attending his own exhibition. He’d made a grand display of resistance that morning—burrowed deep into the ocean of satin sheets, his long limbs tangled possessively around you like ivy claiming its favorite pillar. Even the suggestion of leaving the bed had drawn a low, petulant groan from him, muffled where his lips nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“But I’m so comfortable, cutie,” he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with sleep and silken mischief. “Why would I subject myself to critics and champagne when I have you, warm and pliant, right here?”

He always knew how to say the most damning things in the most honeyed tone—dragging them out like a lullaby meant to soothe you, when it was his own craving he couldn't tame.

His slender fingers drifted lazily over your barely-covered body, moving with a featherlight reverence that betrayed just how thoroughly he’d memorized you. His touch wasn’t urgent—not yet. It was exploratory, leisurely. Like an artist reacquainting himself with his favorite canvas after too many days apart.

And when his hands found your breasts, cupping and kneading them with just enough pressure to coax a quiet moan from your lips, you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t. Not when he was humming so softly in your ear, as though your body’s reactions were the finest aria he'd ever heard.

“You know,” he whispered, as his hand trailed lower, fingers brushing your inner thigh, “I should be getting ready...Thomas wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I don't actually go to this exhibition tonight.”

But he wasn’t getting ready. Not even close. Not when your hips shifted, seeking him. Not when your breath hitched the moment his fingers slipped between your folds, already wet for him. His chuckle was quiet—low and proud.

“Oh? For me, cutie?” he teased, a smile in his voice as he began to circle your clit with maddening precision, watching how you writhed under his touch. “You always make it so hard to be responsible.”

You arched into him, your bare back pressing into his chest, your body wordlessly pleading for more—more of his fingers, more of his heat, more of that damned smirk you could feel ghosting against your shoulder.

And he gave it to you. All of it. 

He dipped his fingers inside, shallow at first, watching with those sharp, violet eyes as your thighs parted just a bit wider, your breath catching each time he curled his fingers just so. And when he set a pace—the one he knew drove you to the edge—you whimpered into the pillow, clutching the sheets like they might anchor you to something solid.

“That's it,” he breathed, lips brushing your shoulder blade as his fingers worked you open, deeper, slower. “Be my good little muse and fall apart for me.”

You did. Your orgasm took you under like a tide, sudden and overwhelming, your cries stifled by the pillow as your body trembled in his arms. But he wasn’t done—not even close.

By the time his mouth replaced his fingers, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thigh before licking a slow, sinful stripe over your aching heat, you were already moaning again—already lost.

He moaned with you, the sound low and desperate, his cheeks flushed as he tasted you like a man starved. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open for him, as his tongue drew tight, wet circles that had your breath catching and hips bucking.

And when your gaze met his—those gleaming amethyst eyes peering up at you from between your legs, drunk on the taste of your pleasure—he smiled. Smug. Beautiful. Yours.

And even after all that—after the teasing, the worship, the long hours tangled together in silken sheets—you remained insistent that Rafayel attend his own exhibition.

Predictably, he whined. Lounging beside you with limbs too long and too unwilling to move, he pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, sighing dramatically against your skin.

“Cruel little thing,” he murmured, voice muffled as his lips traced your collarbone. “Sending me off to suffer while you stay here, warm and soft and far more captivating than a room full of hollow praise.” His arms tightened around you, coaxing you closer. “I loathe those insufferable critics, you know. Always sniffing around for something clever to say, when they wouldn’t know art if it bit them.”

You laughed softly, not moving—because you knew he wasn't finished.

“I should stay,” he continued, nuzzling the curve of your throat, lips brushing sensitive skin between every word. “Stay here, cook for you, kiss you until you forget your name, and make you dinner in nothing but paint and bad intentions.”

His pout was theatrical, the kind that would’ve earned a standing ovation if petulance were an art form. But you only arched a brow and met him with a quiet, teasing smile—the one that said you’re not getting out of this, and we both know it.

So yes, cruel you made him go.

You watched him get ready in a haze of golden evening light, trailing kisses and tangled limbs making the process slower than it needed to be. Every time you reached for your book or your glass of water, he’d pull you back with a muttered protest and a mouthful of complaint. Still, eventually, Rafayel rose from the bed in a reluctant sprawl of limbs and attitude, muttering something about "inhumane schedules" as he began to dress.

He stood before the mirror, buttoning a crisp new designer shirt—pristine white, delicately embroidered, decadent in the way all his things were. The fabric clung just right across his shoulders, open at the collar like he couldn’t be bothered to tame himself entirely. He watched you through the reflection, his eyes trailing from your legs to the loose fall of your hair, then pausing—of course—at the shirt you wore.

His.

It drowned your frame in soft cotton and expensive scent, falling off one shoulder, barely reaching your thighs. You caught the shift in his gaze, the slow drag of it, the way his tongue darted out just slightly to wet his lips.

“Keep looking at me like that,” you warned without lifting your eyes from your book, “and you're going to be late.”

“But cutie,” he drawled, smoothing his palms down the front of his shirt with exaggerated dismay. “I already told Thomas not to expect anything punctual from me. You see what a menace you’ve made of me?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop smiling. He was impossible. “Were you ever punctual, Rafayel?”

You flipped a page, more for effect than content—you hadn’t absorbed a single sentence. Rafayel’s presence was too magnetic, even when he was sulking from halfway across the room. Your words came soft and coaxing, the same way a mother might sweet-talk a child into facing the world: gentle, amused, patient.

And just when you thought he might accept defeat with a final melodramatic sigh, he turned on you. He crawled onto the bed with feline ease, settling at the edge as his hand wrapped possessively around your ankle. With one sharp tug, he dragged you halfway down the mattress.

You yelped in protest, clutching your book to your chest as you glared at him, indignant.

���Rafayel!”

He only smirked. “Shhh, I’m making a very persuasive argument.”

His mouth followed, peppering kisses along your shin, your knee, soft and slow and annoyingly effective. His hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt—his shirt—thumbs brushing your thighs with infuriating intent.

“This isn’t fair,” you muttered, squirming as his lips found the inside of your thigh.

“I know,” he said, sighing dramatically. “But when have I ever been fair?”

His fingers skimmed higher, just enough to tease, not enough to distract completely. Then he leaned up, nosed along your stomach, and whispered against your navel, “Come with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“To the exhibition,” he said, smiling against your skin. “You’ll be the dazzling thing on my arm, and I’ll pretend not to stare at you all night. We both lie beautifully, don’t we?”

You tried to resist—truly, you did—but the kisses turned playful, the touches turned ticklish, and Rafayel’s laughter curled in your ear like silk ribbon. You kicked at him half-heartedly, rolling your eyes and groaning into your palms, but he had already won. He always did, eventually.

So you got up. 

The dress you chose was one of many he'd had custom-made for you—his taste, not yours, though he insisted they flattered you better than anything you'd ever owned. Tonight’s was a silky wine-red number, delicate and daring. It dipped low at the back, skimmed your curves, and whispered decadence with every sway of fabric.

You caught his breath hitch as he looked at you—no smirk this time, no quip. Just the quiet, unguarded hunger of a man already planning how to peel it off you again.

“Eyes up,” you teased as you passed him, heels clicking on the polished floor.

He smiled, slow and sinful. “No promises.”

He drove, of course—because no one touched his car but him. The low purr of the engine echoed off the marble-lined driveway as he backed out, one hand on the wheel, the other already reaching for you without looking. You settled into the passenger seat with easy grace, legs crossed and body relaxed, the hem of your dress sliding just high enough to reveal a sliver of bare thigh.

He noticed. His gaze flicked to you as the engine rumbled to life, and then down—lingering in a not-so-subtle double take. A soft, appreciative sound left his lips as his hand wandered, inevitably, to rest on your thigh. His fingers splayed there like they belonged, brushing absent circles against your skin as he pulled out onto the road with all the elegance of a man pretending not to be distracted.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he murmured, almost lazily, but you could hear the heat tucked beneath his voice. “And I was going to suffer tonight anyway. How considerate.”

You smirked, offering no apology, just a sideways glance that said you started this.

He hated these events—especially this one. It was a new collection, something more personal, rawer than usual, and Thomas had practically begged him to show his face at the opening. Rafayel knew he had to attend. He even understood the importance. But that never stopped the dramatic sighs, the mumbled curses, or the reluctant way he clung to you like a lifeline all afternoon, trying to coax you into staying in bed until midnight.

You knew he’d hate every second of it—every empty compliment from people who didn’t understand a single stroke on his canvas, every flash of a camera from critics pretending to care. But he would endure it.

Because you were coming with him.

The two of you were a vision—effortless decadence, the kind of duo that turned heads before stepping out of the car. You knew the paparazzi would be ready, cameras greedy to capture Rafayel, infamous and infuriating, and you—the unnamed muse, the one always just out of reach in the photos. And tonight, you both looked like temptation incarnate.

When he pulled into the private garage beneath the gallery, he didn’t move to exit. Instead, he leaned over and tugged you gently toward him, catching you off guard with a kiss—sweet at first, then deeper, as though he wanted to make a mess of you before you ever made it out the door.

He groaned as your lipstick smeared against his mouth, lips plush and stained and kissed senseless.

“Oh, look what you’ve done,” he whispered against your lips, delighted, licking the red from the corner of his mouth like it was icing. “I’m ruined.”

“You love it,” you breathed back, letting your nails trail idly along his jaw.

He didn’t deny it.

You were the one to pull back first, only for him to chase after you again, another kiss, another soft moan at the back of his throat. He kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, like one taste would never be enough.

When he tried again—eyes dark, tongue flicking into your mouth—you stopped him with a finger to his lips, your voice low and warm.

Your eyes gleamed with mischief and quiet delight as you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved—gracefully, deliberately—into his lap. The luxurious interior of his sports car wrapped around you like a cocoon, tinted windows protecting the little world you created, tucked safely in a private corner of the exhibition’s underground parking.

His arms locked around your waist the moment you settled there, and his eyes gleamed, his fingers sliding up beneath the hem of your dress like he couldn’t help himself. His eyes sparkled, that distinct violet sheen catching the golden interior light—equal parts curiosity and hunger.

You leaned in close, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear as you murmured your terms. A simple little proposal, whispered like a secret but delivered like a dare.

“You behave tonight,” you said, each word slow and deliberate, “smile for the cameras, say something nice about your own art for once… and I’ll make sure you don’t regret it when we get home.”

He gave a soft, sinful laugh—low in his throat, breath warm against your shoulder. “Define behave,” he drawled, hands tightening just slightly.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smirked and began to leave a trail of kisses along the edge of his neck—slow, intentional, each one blooming into a red mark as your lipstick bled into his pale skin. Then, downward, onto the crisp collar of his pristine white shirt. Petal-soft stains where buttons met silk. Your mouth left deliberate proof in places you knew he wouldn’t bother to cover up.

“You’re so…fuck, you’re cruel, cutie.” he muttered, but he tilted his head to give you more of his throat, voice fraying at the edges.

“And you’re the centerpiece tonight,” you whispered back, lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw, “so I’m just helping you look the part.”

His breath hitched just slightly, but enough for you to notice. His eyes darkened, half-lidded now, no longer playful. His fingers gripped your hips with a slow, possessive firmness, and his body tensed beneath yours as your lips marked him again, and again, painting him like a canvas with nothing but color and intent.

You could feel the shift in him—restraint coiling beneath his skin, battling the very real temptation to forget the exhibition entirely and ruin you right here, in the front seat of his car. But Rafayel was nothing if not dramatic. He’d wait. He’d endure. Because he always performed better with anticipation crackling just beneath the surface.

When he finally surged upward to kiss you, it was with heat and hunger. His mouth claimed yours in a kiss that left no room for games. He kissed you like he wanted to swallow the sound of your laugh, like he needed to taste every corner of your mouth just to keep breathing. And when you pulled back—just before he could kiss you again—you did so with a quiet chuckle, placing one finger against his lips.

“Ah ah,” you whispered. “Be good.”

His lips parted against your finger, as if to argue—but he didn’t. He only exhaled a low sound, eyes gleaming with something wicked.

You let your hand trail slowly down his shirt, admiring your own handiwork—lipstick prints blooming like poppies across silk. You made a soft, approving hum in your throat, pleased.

You could feel him beneath you, the tension in his body, the low burn of desire radiating off him in waves. You knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was imagining. And oh, he would behave tonight—but only because he knew what waited on the other side of those gallery doors. You. Him. That same white shirt on the floor by midnight.

You pressed a single, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth—almost sweet, if not for the smirk curling at the edges—and then climbed off his lap with elegance intact, smoothing down your dress.

As you reached for your lipstick, angling the mirror just so, you could see him behind you—still sprawled in the driver’s seat, still breathless, watching you like you’d stepped out of one of his more dangerous daydreams.

And when you reapplied that perfect shade of red, smiling at your reflection like nothing had just happened, he groaned under his breath.

“Cruel little thing,” he muttered, voice thick with admiration.

You capped the lipstick, turned just slightly, and offered a wink over your shoulder. “I did say behave.”

The moment you both stepped into the exhibition hall—hand in hand, heels clicking against polished marble and the hum of curated ambience pressing in—Rafayel’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

Not possessive. Not anxious. Just restraint. A simmering tension curled beneath his skin like velvet smoke, elegant and barely leashed. You felt it in the way his fingers flexed against yours, in the slow inhale he took as dozens of eyes turned toward him—some hungry, others expectant, all of them curious.

But Rafayel was smug. Radiantly, shamelessly smug.

He wore the white shirt like it was couture straight from the hands of a fevered designer, the red lipstick stains across his collar and throat blooming like abstract roses. It clung to him like sin made tangible, and he knew it. He moved through the gallery like the shirt itself was the most scandalous piece on display—and perhaps it was.

Because for Rafayel, that wasn’t just a shirt. It was you. Your touch. Your mouth. Your claim. And tonight, he was the exhibit.

The collection—his newest body of work—lined the walls in soft, reverent lighting. Large canvases rendered in moody palettes, strokes that screamed both intimacy and violence. But he didn’t glance at them. Not once.

He didn’t need to.

What was art, after all, compared to the feeling of your lipstick drying on his skin?

Critics swarmed like perfume-choked bees, notepad screens flickering, velvet programs clutched in manicured hands. Questions began to form—about brush technique, symbolism, inspiration—but they faltered when they looked at him. At the crimson smudges along his collar, the faint curve of one perfect lip mark half-hidden beneath the lapel.

The bolder ones tried, of course. "Is that part of the exhibition, or...?"

Rafayel tilted his head, gaze lazy and lidded, the hint of a smirk coiling at the corner of his mouth. His arm slipped easily around your waist, tugging you in just enough to make a point without ever saying one aloud.

“She did that,” he said simply, his voice dipped in honey and just a touch of menace. “And no, it’s not coming off.” He paused, let the weight of his words settle between camera shutters and shallow laughter. “It’s the centerpiece of tonight’s collection.”

The critics laughed, nervously. The journalists didn’t know what to write. But Rafayel didn’t care. Not about their reactions, not about their interpretations, not even about the paintings he’d spent months pouring onto canvas. His eyes only gleamed when he looked at you—the slight tilt of his lips softening just for a breath, just enough for you to catch the truth behind the bravado.

This whole room could burn, and he wouldn’t blink. But you? You left your mark on him, claiming him shamelessly. And he would make damn sure everyone saw it.

————

Rafayel behaved. Miraculously. All night, he remained the picture of composure—poised, smirking, just aloof enough to remain untouchable. But he never let you stray more than a breath away. Whether it was his fingers brushing along the small of your back or the casual drape of his arm around your waist, he kept you within reach at all costs. A silent claim, unspoken but absolute.

And toward the end of the evening, you could feel the shift.

The way his body leaned ever so slightly closer. The way his thumb dragged lazily along your hipbone as another critic rambled on. The way his voice dipped when he leaned down, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear like a secret only meant for your skin.

“Almost over,” he whispered, tone velvety, warm, and low. “And then I’m taking you home, cutie. Not another second here.”

You didn’t need to glance at him to know the look in his eyes. That heat. That hunger. That glint that said he’d had enough of playing nice.

And when the crowd thinned, the cameras dimmed, and the final string of perfunctory goodbyes were exchanged, he all but dragged you through the private exit. His fingers laced with yours as you crossed the quiet parking lot, and the moment you slid into the passenger seat, you knew. He was done pretending.

The ride home blurred. You barely remembered the turns. Just the way his hand splayed over your bare thigh, thumb tracing absent, possessive circles. The quiet hum of the engine beneath you. The way his eyes flicked toward you at every red light, hungry and unreadable.

By the time you stepped through the door, the act had unraveled completely. He pressed you back against the nearest wall the moment it shut behind you, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that was less kiss, more hunger made tangible. You gasped into him, your lipstick already smeared, his breath ragged as he chased the sound of your pleasure like it was oxygen.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your neck, his voice hoarse, the kind of desperate low tone that only surfaced when he’d been holding himself back too long. “You’ve no idea what that dress did to me the whole night.”

His hands roamed like they had a destination and a deadline—under your dress, over the curves of your body, gripping your ass, your waist, your thigh. One hand lifted your leg up and over his hip as he pressed you flush to the wall, mouth dragging along your jaw, down to your throat, groaning softly when you tilted your head to give him more.

He didn’t need to say it. You felt it. The way his arousal pressed against you, so hard it was almost unbearable. The way his body trembled with restraint even as he kissed you like a man starving. The way his hands trembled just slightly when they slid beneath the delicate fabric of your dress.

“You looked divine and all mine,” he muttered, words slurred against your collarbone, teeth grazing as he spoke. “And I was good. All night, I behaved. Even when you marked me like that—made me walk around smelling like you...with the marks of your soft, sinful lips all over my neck and shirt…”

You moaned when he said it, when his voice cracked with need, when he rocked into you harder, his breath turning shallow.

You tangled your fingers into his soft, purple hair, tugging gently until he lifted his face to meet yours. His amethyst eyes were blown wide, glazed with desire, devouring you. His lips were red and stained and parted like he was just waiting for permission.

You gave it to him with a smile.

“Such a good boy,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath make him shudder. “You behaved so nicely tonight. So now... you get to do anything you want to me.”

The sound he made was low and broken. And the smirk that followed, oh, it was all teeth and ruin. He wasn’t going to waste a single second.

His hips rolled into yours with aching precision, dragging a moan from both of your throats as if your bodies had conspired to speak the same language. His breath caught, just for a moment, as your heat pressed up against the hard length straining through his black , designer pants—and then his eyes lit with something primal, amethyst catching the low light like stained glass on fire.

And that was it.

He kissed you again—messy, reverent, like you were the only religion he still believed in—and your back hit another wall with a gasp, the coolness behind you a sharp contrast to the way his hands burned against your skin. Your dress was gone in a blur of motion, practically torn from your body between hurried kisses and fingers that clutched like they couldn’t get enough. His shirt followed with a few deft flicks, the buttons scattering like lost thoughts, and then his pants fell away, forgotten somewhere in the space between hallway and bedroom.

He carried you with the kind of impatience that didn’t bother hiding itself—hands everywhere, touch frantic but purposeful, his lips grazing your shoulder even as he stumbled past the doorway. And then, the bed.

You landed with a rustle of sheets, limbs tangled, mouths colliding again. His teeth caught your bottom lip just enough to sting, and then he was gone—sliding down your body with a lazy, maddening grace. His mouth dipped low, tongue teasing you through the drenched fabric of your underwear, every slow lick sending sparks through your spine.

“Rafayel—” you gasped, but he just hummed, nose brushing your skin as if you’d said something amusing.

With one hand, he unclasped your bra—tossing it behind him like it offended him—and the other hand was already closing around your breast, fingers rolling your nipple between their tips. You arched beneath him, helpless and wanting, a moan slipping from your lips as he sucked and licked through the soaked lace below.

His voice was low and wrecked when he finally pulled the fabric down your legs, eyes drinking you in like the sight of you undressed was an answer to a question he hadn’t known he was asking.

“I knew it,” he breathed, fingers brushing through the slick mess between your thighs, “You were wet the whole night under that little dress. Walking around like a work of art…knowing exactly what you were doing to me. You know just how to rile me up, don't you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then his fingers slipped inside and you forgot how to speak.

The rhythm he set was steady, sure, merciless in its precision. His thumb circled your clit with slow, taunting ease while his fingers curled inside you, dragging out sounds you couldn’t muffle. Your hands found his hair, tugging him up toward your neck just as he bit down softly, groaning into your skin at the praise that tumbled from your lips between moans.

“How could I not be, when you were so good,” you breathed, voice trembling. “You behaved so well, wearing my marks so proudly the entire night. You deserve this, every second of it.”

He made a sound at that—low, broken, almost a whimper. His teeth sank into the delicate skin beneath your jaw again, and his fingers moved faster, wetter, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the space between kisses. You shook beneath him, every part of you unraveling with dizzying speed as your climax built, impossibly sharp and near.

And then—release. You shattered around his hand, crying out into his mouth as your body arched and clenched, wetness coating his fingers. He kissed you through it, swallowing your moans, voice raw and reverent when he murmured, “Beautiful. Always so good for me.”

You barely caught your breath before whispering it—desperate, breathless, the need blooming again too quickly.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his ear, voice soft and pleading, “You’ve earned it, haven’t you? I want to feel you, all of you. Want to welcome you warmly, make you feel good.”

His breath caught, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and dark and so very undone. His underwear vanished in an instant, tossed with the same careless urgency that burned behind his every touch. And then he was there, between your trembling thighs, his body hot and heavy against yours.

He dragged his fingers over your clit once, twice—drawing another whimper from your lips—and then he lined himself up and pushed inside.

You both moaned at once. He buried himself in one slow, delicious thrust, and the world narrowed to nothing but the stretch, the heat, the fullness. His hands gripped your hips, his jaw clenched tight as he sank into you, pulse pounding in his throat as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he hissed, forehead pressing to yours, “You’re perfect. Every time.”

He didn’t wait anymore because he couldn’t. His rhythm built fast—each thrust deep, hungry, desperate in the way only Rafayel could be when he’d denied himself all night. And you took it—took him—with open arms, soft gasps, legs wrapped tight around his waist, your nails dragging down his back like you never wanted to let him go. Because you didn’t. Because you wouldn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about being inside you all night, cutie.”

His voice was a husky whisper against your ear, words blurred at the edges with need, and the thrust that followed nearly knocked the air from your lungs. You clenched around him instinctively, welcoming him deeper, tighter, and he groaned—long and low, as if the pleasure was more than his body could hold.

“Couldn’t stop picturing it,” he rasped, hips snapping harder now, the rhythm punishingly sweet. “You wrapped so tight around my cock, like you were made to keep me here.”

The pace he set was fast, relentless—each movement slick and deliberate, his body pressed to yours like he wanted to crawl inside your skin. He was so hard inside you, every vein thick beneath your palm when you gripped the base of his spine. So tense, holding back, holding on. He always did. That slow burn of disobedience, even now.

Your moans filled the room like soft music—punctuated by gasps as he hit that spot inside you over and over again, perfectly, devastatingly. Your body bowed for him, melted into the mattress beneath his weight, one leg thrown over his shoulder, the other trembling around his waist. He groaned into your skin when you clenched around him again, unashamed.

The kiss you shared was messy and breathless, more tongue than finesse, teeth clashing as his hips rolled faster. His lips dragged down to your neck, your collarbone, and he kept talking through each ragged breath.

“So sweet for me,” he whispered, voice shaky with pleasure. “So fucking good, taking me like you’re addicted to it.”

You weren’t even sure what you replied—just that you praised him back in fevered gasps, telling him how perfect he felt, how much you loved the way he fucked you, how he always knew your body better than you did.

“F-fuck, cutie... you’re squeezing me so hard.” His moan stuttered as his hand slipped between your bodies again, fingers pinching your nipple until you gasped his name. “Wanna come inside you. Want to mark you up, fuck you so full—”

Another moan spilled from his throat, cut off halfway as you clenched around him again, deliberately this time, watching how his face twisted in bliss.

You could feel him trembling. So close. So desperately close. 

But Rafayel never let himself come first. That was one of his rules, spoken or not. He held on, gritting through every wave of near-release until you fell apart beneath him first.

It didn’t take much more. Just a few more deep, rough thrusts—his hands on your breasts, his mouth sucking at your neck like he wanted to brand you there—and you broke. Your climax hit hard, your walls fluttering around him in rhythmic pulses, your voice catching as you cried his name like a mantra. His name, again and again, until you came undone completely beneath him.

That was all it took.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as he finally let go, hips bucking once, twice, before he spilled into you with a stuttering breath. His mouth dropped to your neck as he rode it out, panting, body shaking, your nails dragging lazy red trails down his back.

“F-fuck, cutie... ‘m gonna—shit—” His voice fractured as he pressed deep inside you one last time, burying himself completely as warmth bloomed between your thighs.

You stayed tangled like that for a moment, bodies hot and slick, breathing each other in. He kissed you again, slower now, more languid. And when you let out a soft chuckle against his lips, he tilted his head like he already knew something was coming.

“You should let Thomas drag you to your exhibitions more often,” you teased, your voice raspy but full of amusement, your hand sliding through his damp hair.

He groaned—half-exhausted, half-mock offended—and dropped a kiss to your jaw.

“I’ll go,” he murmured breathlessly, smirking against your skin. “If you promise to reward me like this every single time.” his voice dropped to a purr. “I might even start looking forward to them.”

© zaynessbeloved 2025

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST HERE AND ON MY AO3.

.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!

taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @asiaticapple

[plzdonutpercieveme]

I did one of rafayels emojis!!

More stamps!! This time LADs themed!

[plzdonutpercieveme]

MC Twin AU

Like most cliche fanfictions, especially one dealing with the concept of reincarnation, you are MC's identical twin sister.

Fortunately for you, you weren't one of the many test subjects. Unfortunately for you, being separated from your twin and dealing with the disaster made you remember that oh shit this was an Otome Game.

Still, you enjoyed your life in Linkon. Sure, you weren't the MC. Sure, you aren't ever going to be with the love interest you fell in love with. And sure, you weren't strong like MC is, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were alive.

The only negative thing about this whole situation was that you looked just like MC, and were always mistaken as her.

"Miss Bodyguard? No offense sir but I can barely take care of myself. I'm definitely not the woman you're looking for."

"Appointment? Why would I. . . . Oh for heavens sake you have the wrong person. I apologize but last time I checked and I did check my heart is completely fine."

"Sorry but the thought of fighting those wanderers is honestly horrifying. I'm not cut out to be a Hunter. Sorry but you've got the wrong person."

It was a good thing one love interest lived in N-109 Zone, and one lived in Skyhaven, otherwise you would have been even more stressed.

You've run into MC once before. It was him that actually introduced you two together, something about reconnecting with one another. You had looked at her, and she had looked at you. She was beautiful, and deep down a hint of envy threatened to rise from your beating heart, but you were quick to squash it down.

Because so what if you weren't her? That was fine. You were your own person, and that's all that mattered.

So you gave your twin a smile and a hug. You exchanged numbers and started to hang out. You learnt more about each other, like how she adored plushies and how you loved playing Kitty Cards.

She tried to invite you over to her grandma's and his house, but you were quick to decline, using work as an excuse. Once, you caught sight of a familiar crow watching her, and you turned your head away for your sanity, not wanting to deal with that.

So yes, you were the twin sister of the MC. It had it's ups and it had its downs. But as long as they were all happy, then you were happy.

Just a small little idea I had. I might write more actually but I hope this is good 😊

Prologue | Caleb | Zayne | Xaiver | Rafayel | Sylus |

[plzdonutpercieveme]

no one but me.

caleb/xia yizhou x fem!reader

cw. nsfw, swearing, virgin!caleb, (kind of) mean!caleb, yearning on both ends & jealousy, (usage of gege+meimei once each)

summary. he can’t see himself touching someone else that’s not you— so how would he react to you not being a virgin?

a/n. just trying smth new…

the topic of the conversation came randomly— not really, but— the rom-com series that the two of you were watching had a scene where along the line the girl confesses she couldn’t get off by herself to her friends.

you said it off-handedly and lightly, “at least it’s normal, while i got fucked without finishing.” ending your sentence with a soft chuckle.

“what?”

realizing what you just spilled from your lips, your smile dropped— turning your head slowly, you lock eyes with caleb’s narrowed ones. you fucked up. bad.

having a feeling he might grab you to shake you for answers, you extend you arms out putting space between the two of you. he was clearly not having it, he grabbed your hands, intertwining it with his before gently— yet firmly— placing it on his thighs.

“when was this? did this happen when i left you alone? or before i left?”

your jaw dropped, only to pick it back up. you’re racking your brain to give him a decent enough answer to satisfy him and drop this conversation. you took a gulp before answering truthfully,

“college.. before i graduated…” you glance at the way his jaw ticked, before he could explode, you continued, “it was just out of curiosity! we used protection as well!”

you thought that could cool him off, but every word you said only seemed to infuriate him more. he should’ve been fine. protection? at least that guy wasn’t stupid. but the thought of some guy that wasn’t worthy of you, looking at you bare and vulnerable when he wouldn’t dare? that boy couldn’t even get you off.

he lightly shook his head as he sighed before gently cupping your face. if a random boy had a chance to touch you, then he should have a higher chance, right?

“you said you didn’t get to finish. aren’t you still curious pips?”

you’ve known him for basically your whole life, he would rather die than to hurt you, so what’s the harm? yet you hesitate for just a split second before giving a small nod.

“i need words princess, wanna hear it from your lips that you want this.”

“yes..”

when he leans in, you’re greeted with a soft kiss— some small pecks in between. it felt… good. when you kissed that guy he didn’t give you this funny feeling in your tummy. he didn’t make you clench and rub your thighs together for friction. it was a weird feeling. weird but not unwelcoming.

you just started, yet you’re already clawing up at his shirt, silent begging for more than just kissing. and with caleb, he rarely refuses you, so you thought he would. yet you were proven wrong when he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

he wasn’t mad at you, not at all— was he disheartened that you went to someone else when he could’ve helped you? yes. sure he was a virgin, but he’s watched and read enough suggestive things that looked and reminded him of you. with how much he watches over you, he might as well know you better than you know yourself. he knows that the back of your neck, your waist, your ears are sensitive, and you don’t even realize.

he grabbed the back of your thighs together to place you on top of his lap— slowly hiking up your nightgown— eyes dilated as he sees your growing arousal.

“fffuck pips… ‘s this all for me?”

one finger teasingly traced the covered slit. with the way you trembled trying to be obedient for him made him give you just a bit of mercy, pushing your panties aside.

two fingers made its way to your entrance, using your slick as lube— pushed the fingers inside— groaning how your walls clamped around it.

he didn’t move. you needed him to move. but he was too busy watching your cunt swallow his fingers so greedily, you couldn’t help yourself but use his fingers for yourself.

“having fun huh, meimei?” you couldn’t answer, too busy gasping and moaning for air. “c-cumming! cale-!"

“oh? you’re cumming already? was he that bad?”

but before you could, he pulls his fingers out, causing you to whine at the loss.

his free hand grabs onto his buckle taking his belt off in one fell swoop, his thumb pulling down the waistband of his boxers releasing his throbbing dick out in full view.

you gape at how big he was— he wouldn’t fit— he couldn’t, you might be split in half if he tried.

he raises your hips to align you with his tip, and you completely freak out putting your hands on his boulders to stop him.

“w-wait! you’re way too big!”

he chuckles as his eyes gazes onto your worried expression, his thumb starts rubbing soothing circles on your hips,

“we’ll go slow. if you want us to stop just say apple, and i’ll stop. i promise. kay?”

you pout but give him a firm nod. giving him the cue, he slowly drops you down feeling you swallow his tip, slowly, savouring the feeling he could only fantasize about before.

you only reached around half-way and your already bouncing yourself deeper and deeper, slurring your words, “ca-leb..! feels so.. good-!” and “fuck! so big!”. you couldn’t deny the sting but the pain felt too good not to keep going.

“shitt, pips, slow down.” he gasps, his hand gripping you tightly, marks that will linger for a while even after you’re done.

while he’s too busy admiring you— face and chest covered with sweat, the strap of your nightgown slipping off your shoulders, and god— the moans and whimpers you make as you ride him. he’s too in deep with you he doesn’t register the reason you’re getting louder is he’s been slowly pushing you in deeper.

he can’t help but nip your collarbone and neck with little bites, and licking them up to soothe the pain— also besides the fact he wants to taste every part of you, sweat or others— his eyes shutting close. he feels you clenching around his dick so nicely, taking in your scent of body wash.

but his mind had to ruin the moment when he remembers someone had you like this. his hands grab your ass to keep you still only to buck his hips, making you take him whole. you came, hard— falling on top of his chest, whole body trembling.

moving positions, you’re under him laying on to couch splayed out just for him— leaning to lick the tears that spilled from your eyes. he doesn’t like seeing you cry, but in the back of his brain, seeing you cry out of pleasure because of him is making his dick twitch.

“oh i get it, was he too small? or was it because he wasn’t me?”

through your glossy eyes, you can’t help but give a loopy smile.

back then, you only chose the guy ‘cause in the dark he looked like caleb. but it went down the drain when he didn’t give you what you wanted. so you had to make an excuse to leave early so you could finger yourself to the voice messages caleb left.

you wrap your legs around his waist, one hand trailing down his chest, down to the base of his cock, pulling him inside again, “gege… one more, please?” you whisper.

and how could he refuse?

all rights reserved to ©calebsluvr. do not copy, repost, translate, plagiarise or modify my work in any way on any platform! thank you!

i swear i had it! but then i lost it.. if this flops i wont be surprised but i will be jumping out my window.

[plzdonutpercieveme]

How they ask for sex

Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb x gn!reader (Separately)

Warnings: Suggestive, sexual themes, established relationships, minors DNI, 18+

AN: Sorry if any of them are ooc.

Word count: 5.8k

Xavier

Xavier would be the type to tell you straight up, or at least hint at it. They wouldn’t be subtle hints either, he’d be straight up with his hints and make suggestive comments that on the surface don’t seem inappropriate, but most definitely are. Though before he ever gets to say anything, his body always speaks before his mouth.

You and Xavier were laid up in bed together, him behind you spooning you. He held you close to his body, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. He was holding you this close because—right before you both got into bed—you tried to kick him out of your apartment. As a joke, of course. But now he's making sure you can’t sneak away from him.

You assumed he was asleep while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Initially, he was sleep, but he had an oh-so-delicious dream about you that woke him right on up. You felt him shift behind you and assuming he was now awake, you spoke to him.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked… but no response. You shrugged it off and continued to scroll on your phone. After a couple minutes, you felt him shift behind you once again, this time pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to get in your skin. Or… your clothes.

Xavier waited a bit before loosening his arms around your waist and trailing them lower, finally slipping his hands beneath your shirt. He then pressed his body against your own and that’s when you felt something hard press against your backside. Xavier was rock hard and he wasn’t hiding it, he wanted you to know so you’d do something about it.

“Xav-” You choked out, before he cut you off. “You know, Honey, I’m quite hungry right now, but there’s something specific I’d like to eat and i’m not sure if I can have it.”

Xavier didn’t wait for a response before he started to kiss your neck and caress your body underneath your shirt. You let out a soft hum and bathed in the feeling of his touches before speaking.

“And what exactly are you craving right now Xavie?” He paused his kisses for a moment, before sticking out his tongue and swiping a quick lick from your shoulder to your jawline, and then sucking the area for a bit to leave a nice pretty hickey.

“This food is one of a kind…” Xavier started as he nibbled on your shoulder. “There’s only one in the whole world, you can’t get it anywhere else.”

Xavier started to explain the food he was craving and he described you in explicit detail before saying, “And I’m afraid I need a taste of this food or my hunger won’t be subsided.”

You hummed once again and then softly said, “There’s definitely something we can do about that.” You felt Xavier’s smile on your shoulder and he let’s go of you before getting up and climbing over your body, moving you to lay on your back.

Xavier spreads your legs and settled between them, moving them to rest around his hips. He turned off your phone that’s been sitting there, replaying the same video over and over since he started, and he sat it on your night stand. He leaned down into your neck and whispered into your ear.

“I hope you’re prepared, Honey. Because it’s going to be a longgg night. I’m not letting you go until I’ve had my fill—again, and again." He said before attacking your neck.

Rafayel

I feel like Rafayel wouldn’t be the type to ask you straight up to smash. He’d be a little too flustered to say anything. He expects you to know when he wants to have you. You know him so well right? So read him like an open book. Rafayel is soooo obvious when he wants to have sex.

You and Rafayel went out on a date to the beach. He wanted to collect a bunch of seashells for you and make you something special. But after not even five minutes, the rain started pouring down.

You two were still a twenty-minute walk from your apartment, but you didn’t feel like listening to your fishy complain about walking in the rain. So, you suggested that you both stay at a nearby hotel for the night.

The nearest hotel was a three-minute walk, which he was fine with, even though he complained a bit. You paid for one hotel room for both of you, with one bed and Rafayel thought that this day couldn’t get any better.

After settling into the room, Rafayel told you, “Hey cutie, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He winked as he said it and made his way to the bathroom, hoping you’d follow him. Instead, you told him you’d be back. He turned to you with an offended look on his face.

“What do you mean, you’ll be back?” he asked as if you just told him you ruined one of his paintings.

“I’m just going to the store down the street to get us some clothes to sleep in, I won’t be gone for long.” You said with confusion evident in your voice and a tilt to your head.

For some odd reason he looked even more offended “So you’re saying that you don’t want to bathe with the love of your life?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “Rafayel I did not say that.” You folded your arms, “Do you or do you not want warm clothes to sleep in?”

“Fine, hurry up.” He said as he shooed you off. You sighed as you walked out of the hotel door, closing it behind you. The two of you had just gotten here and he was already being a brat. He’s gonna get it when you get back.

After a bit, you returned to the hotel room with a bag of clothes and entered the bathroom. Rafayel was standing there in a towel, letting the shower water warm up.

“Took you long enough,” he said with his back turned to you. You rolled your eyes as you put the bag down and started to get undressed. “Rafayel, I was gone for five minutes.” Rafayel took off his towel and stepped into the shower, “Yeah five minutes too long.”

Rafayel watched you get undressed and then step into the shower with him. He turned his back towards you and grabbed a rag, putting soap in it, and began cleaning his body. He didn’t say a thing to you nor did he even offer to help clean your back. He’s usually sassy on the regular, but today in particular he’s being more bratty about simple things.

After the shower, the two of you stood in the hotel room in your towels. You offered to put lotion on Rafayel’s body and he declined. With a sigh, you tossed the lotion on the bed and approached him with your arms folded.

“Alright, what’s your problem Rafayel?” He folded his arms too and turned his head the other way. “I have no problem,” he said matter-of-factly.

Your arms unfolded, and you traced your hand down his torso while quietly speaking, “Come on, baby, you know I know you better than that.” Rafayel grabbed your wrist and guided it lower, letting you feel his hardness press insistently against his towel — practically begging to be let free.

“Well obviously you don’t know me enough, cutie,” he said as he turned his head back to you to watch your hand. You started to rub him a bit while he guided your hand.

“Aw, baby why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you said, while he let out soft sighs at the friction, simultaneously softly grinding his hardness against your hand.

“Well… now you know.” He said as he backed you up until you fell back onto the bed.

Zayne

Like Rafayel, Zayne doesn’t say anything at all. He usually just waits until you feel like you want to smash because he likes to please. But if he’s feeling extra needy and you’re not, you can tell by the way he gets super touchy. When he feels like it’s been a while since he bent you over, he’ll be a little extra clingy, like an extra shadow, but he’s subtle about it. He makes it just the perfect amount of obvious so you’d at least get the hint.

After a long day at work, Zayne returned home, putting all his stuff down, taking off his jacket, and slipping off his shoes. As he walked further into the house, he spotted you sitting on his couch watching TV and that brought a faint smile to his face.

The night prior, you had spent the night, and in the morning while he was getting ready for work, he suggested that you should spend the day at his house since you have the day off. He’d love to see your face first thing when he gets home, your face makes his day.

Zayne sat on the couch beside you, and before you could even turn and hug him, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair taking in your scent. He sat there for a minute just breathing you in like you were his lifeline —the very thing that kept him going. Oh, he loved your scent so much… It turned him on after a long day.

He sat there for a long while before you shifted and spoke, “You okay Zayne?” He didn’t respond immediately and lifted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Just fine.”

You shrugged it off and pointed to the kitchen, “Well, I made you dinner, you should go eat. It’s in the microwave.” He nodded to your words, before pressing a couple more kisses to your cheek and jawline before getting up.

He returned with the plate of food and sat beside you again, closer this time. He rested his hand on your thigh as he ate, slightly gripping the inner part every once in a while.

After he ate, he put the empty plate down on the coffee table and then brought your legs up to rest across his lap. He caressed and massaged your legs before speaking, “Must have had a long day, you need time to relax.”

You giggled. “Baby, I’ve been relaxing all day.” He hummed, “Mmm, as you should.” his words came out in almost a whisper.

Zayne’s eyes remained solely on those pretty legs of yours, his eyes sometimes trailing up the rest of your body. He continued to massage your legs until he felt your calf accidentally rub against his hardness. The feeling made him shudder and he abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go shower,” he said, leaving before you could even say anything to him.

Thirty minutes later, he quietly returned, sneaking up behind you on the couch and wrapping his strong arms around your neck. He buried his head into your neck breathing in your scent once again — the sensation traveling straight down to his core.

He started to rub your shoulders, fighting everything in his being to trail his hands down your shirt and caress your chest. Instead, he settled with massaging your collar bones.

“Zayne are you sure you’re alright?” you asked him once again, you knew there was something wrong with him. Still, he didn't answer.

He started to kiss your neck and you felt the couch start to softly rock — he was grinding his hardness into the couch. Soft moans and sighs escaped him, right in your ear.

And finally, he let it out, with a soft audible moan, “Please… I need you so bad.”

Sylus

Would be the type to tell you straight up that he wants to fold you like a pretzel and make sweet, sweet love to you. But instead, he gets a thrill out of making you guess that he wants to smash, and then he twists the narrative and makes you beg for it instead.

There was a little festival going on and you and Sylus were out together. The two of you walked side by side while he watched you with a smirk pointed out different stalls. You wanted to buy little trinkets, play different games, try different foods, etc, etc. You were definitely in your element and that brought a smile to his face.

Even though it made him happy to see you happy, seeing you so giddy turned him on oh so much. It was so endearing, so much so that he was ready to take you to an alley and have his way with you there. But he decided that on this fine Saturday afternoon, he’ll keep it cute for the time being.

You had strayed away from him, trying one of the games at a stall and he approached you from behind, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching what you were doing over your shoulder.

“Having fun, Kitten?” He asked as his hand slightly squeezed your waist and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. He watched you nod your head as you played the game and that made him smile.

After you played the game, you showed him the prize that you won, it was a cute little cat plushy and you wanted to give it to him. He gladly took it from you, when he grabbed it his hand slightly grazed yours, and he realized that you were quite warm. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it.

“Your body temperature is quite high, would you like some ice cream?” he nodded to the ice cream stand not too far away. When you said yes he led you to the stand.

While in line at the ice cream stand, he let you order while he stood directly behind you. You felt him push his body up against you and you turned your head back at him.

“Sylus why are you so close?” You asked, your expression quizzical. He had a sly smirk on his face, “Whatever do you mean Kitten?” he said, but as he did so, he ground his hips against the cleft of your backside and he looked around like he was confused.

“Sylus what the hell-” “Your ice cream is ready.” He cut you off, pointing at the guy holding out your ice cream to you. You scowled at him, before accepting the ice cream from the guy and thanking him, then Sylus paid.

The two of you sat on a bench while you enjoyed your ice cream and he rested his hand on your inner thigh. You felt him keep his hand up every once in a while and you ignored it. Things go away when you ignore them— allegedly.

Sylus noticed that you had ice cream spilling down your forearm and instead of being a normal person and grabbed a napkin. He brought your forearm up to his mouth and sensually licked up the melted ice cream while holding eye contact.

You watched him with your mouth agape and your eyes widened when his lips sealed around the tip of your ring finger, to get the last bit of melted ice cream off. He also noticed the bit of ice cream you had on the corner of your mouth and he leaned in to lap that up too.

You popped him with your hand and he sat back with a smile, oh was he ready to eat you whole. But to his dismay, you turned your back on him, though his smile never faltered.

Later that evening, both of you returned to your apartment. He slipped off his shoes and watched you with a hungry gaze as you took off your jacket. Without warning he walked up to you, pinning you to the side of your couch. He started to kiss your neck, leaving a nice hickey.

“Do you know what I want to do right now, Kitten?” he asked, his breath hot against your shoulder. You shuddered at the feeling and spoke, “What is it Sylus?”

And that’s when he just let go and walked away to the kitchen to wash his hands. You were confused, you were so sure that you and him were about to get down and dirty on the couch, but he just… walked away? You followed him to the kitchen, closing the fridge door on him as he was about to grab a bottle of water after washing his hands.

“What the hell was that, Sylus?!” you scoffed. “What are you talking about?” he said seemingly unbothered. You frowned at him and folded your arms before speaking again. “You can’t just... do that and walk away.”

Sylus smirked when he heard you say that, and he slowly approached you, backing you up against the fridge. “What do you want from me, baby. Tell me, I’m all ears,” he said as his eyes raked over your face, he was ready to pounce, but he was waiting for you.

“Just… please Sylus, don’t do this to me,” you said, but in an instant, you were picked up and placed on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he started as he began to slide off your shirt. “You know closed mouths don’t get fed, Kitten.”

Caleb

I actually don’t know how Caleb would ask for sex. I feel like he’d say it straight up but he’d mainly wait for the natural progression of sex to happen. When he’s feeling needy, he’s going to kiss you like he needs you oh so desperately and then let everything else smooth sail. (I will be feeding into pantie sniffer Caleb allegations.)

Caleb was over at your apartment fixing a plumbing issue that you’ve been having for the past couple of days. Yeah, you could’ve fixed it yourself but you loved seeing Caleb play big provider man… it turned you on. So you saved something that he can fix, just so you can watch.

After fixing the plumbing issue, he came into your room to let you know that the issue has been solved, “Hey, Pip. The issue has been fixed, your sink should be working just fine now.”

Aw, he fixed it too fast, you were just wondering if you should go out there while he lies on his back, working under your sink and ride him, for moral support… of course.

You sat up off the bed with a sigh, “Thank you for your hard work Caleb, are you thirsty?” you said, as you got up and walked your way to the kitchen and he followed you.

“If you’re offering, then yeah — I am,” he said, all too giddy.

As you got to the kitchen, you opened the cabinet and reached for a glass. Caleb’s eyes locked on your midsection — the way your shirt slightly rose, exposing your pretty skin to his hungry gaze.

The shorts you wore sat low on your hips, and when your shirt lifted just a bit more, he caught a perfect glimpse of your panties.

Freshly worn panties… mmm perfect for a sniff, he thought. He knows you smell delish, good enough to eat. His mind started to drift, daydreaming, wondering if you’d let him smell your panties while they were on you.

His nose pressed against your mound getting a good whiff, while fighting the urge to lick. Oh, the things he would do for that right now.

“Earth to Caleb,” you called out to him, waving a hand in his face. “Oh sorry, Pip Squeak, I was just thinking about how… nice the sun is today,” he said, subtly angling himself so you wouldn’t notice he was completely hard from his daydream.

Curse those stupid tight pants he decided to wear today. He knows how much you like his butt, so when you called him to come fix your sink, he put on the tightest pair he owned to make it look extra plump for you.

You nodded at his response and poured both him and you a glass of apple juice. He took his with a quiet “thank you” and looked around awkwardly as he sipped it.

Then his eyes landed on you once again, and widened the moment he saw a drip of apple juice trickle down your face and chin. He swallowed hard holding back a moan at the sight and the way his hardness jumped in his pants.

He choked on his drink and immediately you turned to him, grabbing a napkin, putting down your drink, and cleaning his face. “Oh my gosh, Caleb are you okay?” you asked concerned as you cleaned juice off his face. All he did was nod in response.

“Let’s go shower, babe,” you said, as you led him to the bathroom by his arm. While in the bathroom you started the shower and then turned to Caleb to help him remove his clothes. He immediately stopped you and told you that he could take care of it.

You shrugged your shoulders and undressed yourself then hopped in the shower. After a couple of minutes, he joined you and you noticed that he was (attempting), to cover himself and you raised a brow.

“Why are you covering up? You act like I’ve never seen before,” you said with a smirk on your face. A pink hue dusted his cheeks, and he changed the subject: “Would you like me to help you clean yourself?”

You said sure and passed him your rag after pumping soap into it. He took it and began cleaning you up. After a bit of time, it started to feel like he was just fondling you, well he definitely was.

“Caleb, what are you-” he cut you off by smashing his lips with yours, dropping your rag to the floor. He kissed you like a man starved and that he needed this to survive.

Caleb picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed your back against the glass door of the shower. He started to grind his thick hard on against your tummy, moaning into your mouth as the heat between you built.

Absolutely no words needed. You know what he wants…

[plzdonutpercieveme]

I think Xavier got the best deal tbh. Zayne second bc he got two years of somewhat joy. Rafayel definitely repainted your wedding portrait with him as the groom and has it hanged in his bedroom

the lads men finding you again in this life. . . but you're already with someone else (angst version) what who said that

post-writing clarity: written while listening to the Dear Hongrang OST, very much set the mood. i recommend! most songs are instrumental.

go back to masterlist

content: mentions of death, mentions of toxic behavior/abuse, use of indecent language/swearing, use of pet names (pips)

caleb

bonus points: imagine zayne is "the other guy" in caleb's story

he'd immediately try sabotaging the two of you. over and over again, using his status and evol to his benefit and that asshole's detriment. he'd play the perfect older brother, you'd come crying to him each time something went wrong. each time an issue popped up. caleb wouldn't let him enter the house, wouldn't let him explain or apologize. he'd let the miscommunications fester. when you find out how much caleb had been meddling, you're furious, you're outraged -- you feel betrayed. he had already lied about his death, now this?initially, he's firm and stubborn. he won't let go of you. "can't you see how much better i could treat you?" maybe if you were single, he'd let you be. but you acted as if you were in love with that other guy, like you might marry him. spend your whole life with him? he can't have that, now, can he? no, that wouldn't do. he locks you up, hides you away from the rest of the world. you didn't even get to say goodbye, you had screamed at him once. he didn't care. you missed your lover, you never quite had the courage to confess. he could tell anyway. he didn't relent. "i know you, pips! he'll never know you like i do." you don't know for sure what happened to your partner ex. you get hints. caleb tells you he took care of him. you didn't have to guess at what that meant. the important part was that you'd never be able to see him again. it broke you apart. you stopped speaking, ate less, never laughed. your smiles were only half-hearted. you had trouble sleeping. it takes a while, but he eventually takes a step back. he sees you fading away, missing the man you used to be with, the one you really loved. you're just a shell of the bright, loving, confident woman you used to be. you don't even look at him anymore. he'd broken your trust. he was too intense, too possessive, too much. he lets you go. you don't look back. instead of your partner's loving arms, you come home to a tombstone and a death certificate. even though you eventually forgive caleb, you can't find it within yourself to love him back the way he's always loved you. he's killed (backstabbed) by one of his colleagues a few years later, eternally distracted by thoughts of you. people think he died without a lover. but he loved you to his grave, even when you didn't love him back. even when you had another in your own heart.

rafayel

bonus points: imagine sylus is "the other guy" in rafayel's story

he ignores you. initially, he wants to shout at you. he wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake until you remember him again, remember what you did to him, what the two of you had. he sees your eyes scanning the crowd and missing him. you didn't recognize him, you weren't even looking for him. he watches your lover lean down and plant a kiss on your lips, startling you. rafayel watches you blush and turns to leave. fine. if you were happy without him, who was he to object? the second time you meet, it's at one of rafayel's art exhibitions. he's mingling with the other guests. he's charming, captivating, unforgettable, everything a world-renowned artist like him should be. he's startled when you suddenly appear behind him. you introduce yourself and he turns around with his usual flirtatious gaze. he meets your sparkling eyes and, for a moment, he can't speak. why were you here? maybe you had finally remembered something-- but you only ask him for a favor. he pretends to be skeptical, when he was truly curious. he thought you might ask about lemuria. or at the very least, just be a fan of his work, wanting to meet him. but when he hears your favor. . . he laughs. hard. it sounds bitter, even to him. oh, you were audacious. who did you think you were? he wanted to say no, to just walk away, so badly. he was one of the best, for god's sake. he could afford to be an asshole this far in his career. but that would be cruel and unfair to you. you did not remember him, for whatever reason, and he couldn't expect anything from you. and, perhaps, he also just couldn't refuse you, no matter how hard he tried. like he was under your spell. thomas was right behind you. please say yes, his eyes seemed to be screaming at rafayel. so he does. only a few months later, he's dressed in soft pastels, blending in with the venue. he's sitting in the very front, a little off to the side, brush in hand. he paints. the life, the weather, the people. part of him feels like he's wasting his pigment on this. he's finally done when he hears you, "i do," voice full of emotion. rafayel watches the ring get pushed on your finger. he looks away. packs up his stuff, waits at the back, leaves before the afterparties. drowns himself in his work. years pass and people notice something had changed in his work. like something was missing. his fame and wealth skyrocketed. he had everything he could want. and most of all, he was happy. he didn't need you.

sylus

bonus points: imagine xavier is "the other guy" in sylus' story

he stalks you. he'd never call it that though. he was simply keeping an eye on you, to make sure you were safe. he has cameras set near your apartment building. when you go out, he usually sends luke and kieran, not willing to trust any of his mindless lackeys to ensure your safety. he has mephisto on the job when you're on a mission and you're trying to lay low. that's how he finds out you're with someone, another hunter. someone he had seen you spending time with at home and at work. instead of backing away, he keeps an even closer eye on you. what exactly had you two done? how far had you let him go? he kept catching his evol out of control, ready to strangle the man who dared touch you. he wouldn't believe you were in love with another. not when his soul was tied to yours. when you go on a sort of solo mission to find the leader of Onychinus, he sees his chance. he tries to get you to remember, he tries to resonate with you, he tries near everything he can think of. nothing works. no, he's only made things worse. you leave to go back to linkon city and he felt himself going insane. how had you forgotten everything? when it was you that tied your fate to his and cursed him. you, who doomed him to only be yours, when you couldn't even remember who he was to you now. on his better days, he has hope. he trusts that you'll make your way back to him. but on his worse days, he pays you a visit. he appears in your vicinity, scares the living hell out of you, and he wants to demand answers. but you hated him. you could only see him as the murderer of your foster grandmother and brother. he disgusted you, how could you love him with that fear, that betrayal in your eyes? one time, he appeared in your room while you were in his arms, the two of you in your bed. he went crazy. he lunged, aiming to kill. he almost did, but he caught sight of your eyes again. horror. pleading. tears. you call him a monster. his gaze dropped to his hands, strangling an innocent throat, black and crimson tendrils of smoke clouding his vision. you were in the corner of the room, looking like you wanted to disappear. sylus' grip loosened. he wanted to disappear. he stands up. takes a step back. he vanishes from the room. you never see him again.

xavier

bonus points: rafayel is "the other guy" in xavier's story

he'd introduce himself. he'd make his presence known each time he walked past your desk at work, past your door at home. he'd bring you home-baked muffins, to welcome you to the neighborhood. you're shocked by the acidic taste in the dough, but his aloof nature is charming. he leaves quite the impression on you. you become friends -- going on missions together, hanging out at his place on the weekends sometimes, having a drink together after a particularly intense fight. he's happy. he's friendly, he's sweet, he's respectful. he's such a gentleman, and honestly, a little bit of a flirt. he knows you don't remember anything. but he doesn't mind. it was more than perfect like this. he didn't have enough time to be nitpicking over the finer details. then you decide you want him to meet your fiancé. he had recently come back from a five-month-long world tour, you were saying, and you just had to introduce him to xavier. of course. xavier never did ask if you were single. he thought his feelings were obvious. he thought you two were on the same page. he forgot you didn't remember the things he did. you didn't catch the little inside jokes he made in reference to your past. and now, he was about to come face-to-face with your lover. fine, he'll be the judge of it. and when they met in person, xavier was livid. it would've been easier if he were horrible. but he wasn't. your fiancé was the whole package: deathly handsome, world-famous, wealthier than one could imagine, and most of all, he had left quite the impression on you too. only he had gotten to you first. xavier didn't ever smile at him, never spoke directly to him, always seething beneath the surface. the worst part was he was so good to you. he was so kind to you. xavier couldn't ignore that, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. you invited xavier to your wedding. he still tried to make you see him as the better choice. he could fight, he could protect you, he would never forsake you. but you couldn't turn your head from your husband, your heart couldn't stop loving the passionate, flirtatious, loving man you were already tied to. he could feel how distant you were getting already. he could feel the friendship hanging on by a thread. he had a choice: he could try and save it, savor what little interactions he had with you, or go off the grid again. he never got to make the choice. his body was so tired and he already had such little time. he should've noticed the signs, without your love and comfort, all alone again, the stress, the solitude, it was all getting to him. then, one night, you found yourself dressed in black, hand-in-hand with your husband. you were told it was painless, in the middle of the night. you were grateful. you never knew how deep his feelings went for you.

zayne

bonus points: imagine caleb is "the other guy" in zayne's story

he'd keep his distance. at first, he couldn't believe it. it was you. you were the girl in his dreams. the woman formed from fragments of his mind. it had been years since you two had last spoke. but that was before the nightmares started, when he began to think there was something wrong with him. but like a fairytale come to life, he saw you. your eyes, your smile, your everything -- you were divine. his drink was untouched as he stared out the window, into the town square. he needed to speak to you. he thought he was crazy, having nightmares of killing a wife he never even met. but there you stood, laughing as you were grabbed by the waist, kissed until you ran out of breath. his heart dropped. you looked so happy. all hopes of talking to you vanished. he wouldn't cross that line. he got up and left the café immediately. it wasn't his place, to try to speak of such an intimate matter to a taken woman. how could he ruin that for you? he wouldn't. but, maybe. . . he'd make sure to be assigned to you as your primary physician. he'd get to know you in a professional setting, in a respectful manner. just for his own sake. when you had problems with your boyfriend, he'd comfort you. give you advice, sometimes as a doctor, sometimes as a friend. he kept his eye on you to make sure you were never hurt. he couldn't help himself, he couldn't completely stay away. how could he? but he never pushed it. he never flirted with you. even when he might've felt like you were attracted to him too. you had been in your relationship for years, why would you risk that for him? he never explicitly expressed his feelings to you, never wanting you to feel pressured to return them. there were boundaries he wouldn't cross. you weren't his, for god's sake, no matter how much he'd wished otherwise. but he kept telling himself if things didn't work out between you and that guy, he'd try his own luck. two years later, he was attending your wedding. he watched you exchange your vows, eyes sparkling, skin glowing, like you were made of gems. he was so happy for you. he moved towns. kept having nightmares of your lifeless body, dying at his scarred hands.

[plzdonutpercieveme]

hello! just wanted to say I LOVEEE the way you do non-mc content. that being said could i request a headcanon on: lets say non-mc and the LI’s broke up because the dudes were still hung up on MC (they end up regretting it lol). then later on see non-mc in public who has moved on to someone else who is doing everything they guys failed to do.

The One Who Never Got It Right

Pairing: LADs x Non-Mc reader Genre: Angst (Breakup regrets) Writer's notes: Thought I could be getting more fluffs to do, but instead I got slapped in the face with this one, welp, no rest for the wicked, I guess 😅

He sees you across the bustling Skyhaven terminal—laughing, radiant, clinging to the arm of someone who isn’t him.

The man by your side is kind-eyed, attentive. He holds your bag, listens intently, and actually smiles when you talk. He doesn’t look distracted or distant—he’s there. Present.

Caleb halts mid-stride, fingers curling around the edge of his datapad. For a moment, it’s like the mission debrief in his hand doesn’t even exist.

He remembers every time he cut conversations short, gave you half his presence, let you walk beside him in silence because his mind was always elsewhere—on MC.

He thought you didn’t notice. That you’d wait. That maybe you’d always be around until he figured himself out.

Now you’re smiling in ways he never earned.

The worst part? You glance his way. See him. Then look away just as easily, returning to your conversation without missing a beat.

He used to be the safe place. Now, he's just a distant name in your past.

Later that night, he types a message to you. Deletes it. Writes it again.

In the end, he just stares at your contact photo for hours, then shuts off the holoscreen. And for the first time in a long time, Caleb can’t strategise his way out of the ache in his chest.

Mission Log 6.14.3A — Deleted Draft I saw her today. Not MC. Her. The one who asked me to be present. To try. To stop living like the past was all I had left. I thought letting her go would make me noble. Thought I was sparing her the weight of being second to a ghost. But maybe she wasn’t second. Maybe I just never gave her the space to be first. And someone else did. I hope he keeps holding her the way I never learned how to. I hope he never makes her feel like a placeholder. …I hope she never looks back.

He saw you at a gallery opening.

You're dressed in something elegant, arm-in-arm with a gentle-faced man who looks at you like you're art incarnate.

The moment hits him like a palette knife to the ribs.

You’re glowing—not in a spotlight way, but in a quiet, contented kind of joy he never could give.

He flashes his usual grin to the crowd, but his fingers twitch at his side.

Because of that new guy? He’s whispering something in your ear. And you’re laughing. That laugh used to belong to Rafayel, once.

But he made jokes about still missing MC. Let you hear silence when you needed security. Let you fade beside someone else’s memory.

Now?

Someone else painting you with attention. Frames you with love.

He downs his champagne and pretends to care about the next exhibit, but he draws you three times from memory that night.

None of them capture your smile the way he just did.

He doesn’t stop drawing until dawn. Each page is more desperate than the last.

 Sketchbook Entry — Page Torn Out She asked me once what I thought love looked like. I told her it was impossible to capture - always shifting, always out of reach. But she caught it. She was it. And I? I framed her in glass and called it finished. She wanted a mess. Partnership. Splattered hands and stained shirts. I gave her monologues and empty wine glasses. I thought she was a phase. A warm red before I returned to ash. But she was permanent. I saw her smile today. It wasn’t for me. And for once, I couldn’t paint a damn thing.

He was leaning on the railing of a shadowed walkway, scanning the crowd below on a recon run, when he spotted you.

You're tucked into the side of someone unfamiliar—someone laughing with you, their hand laced with yours, feeding you a bite of something sweet.

The softness on your face is devastating. It used to be his. It was once the only softness he’d let himself keep.

He stays hidden, watching.

That guy kisses your knuckles. And you smile like you trust him completely.

His chest tightens, fingers twitching. He almost drops the comms unit in his hand.

You’d begged him once to try, to stop comparing you to MC. To see you. He hadn’t known how to let go back then. Now?

He’s thinking about how that man just wiped whipped cream from your lip without flinching—and how he never even learned your coffee order.

“Idiot,” he mutters to himself, pushing off the railing.

But he doesn’t go down there. He’s already done enough damage.

And this time… someone else didn’t waste the chance. He hates it. He admires it.

Mostly, he regrets that it wasn’t him who made you stay.

Encrypted Voice Log – Never Sent SYLUS.ENTRY_097.BURNOUT Timestamp: Corrupted “She looks better without me. You’d think that’d piss me off, wouldn’t you?” “It doesn’t.” “Not really.” “He holds her like he’s not afraid she’ll disappear. Like he’s not too busy sharpening knives to hold her with both hands.” “I didn’t know how to do that. Couldn’t stop chasing shadows.” “I told myself she was a game. A way to forget.” “But she was never small. Never temporary. She waited for me to look up. I never did.” “He did.” [long pause] “She’s not coming back. Good. Let her stay gone. Let her stay whole.”

It’s late in the museum observatory, and Xavier’s here to recalibrate a projection model—until he looks down from the upper dome and sees you.

You're walking hand-in-hand with someone else through the starlit halls. Laughing. Calm.

The person beside you spins you under their arm, and you twirl without hesitation, radiant under the artificial cosmos.

He stands frozen in the upper dome, unseen.

You once asked Xavier to dance. He hesitated, too quiet and too caught up in thoughts of MC to say yes.

But that stranger below? He didn’t hesitate at all.

And you look so light in his arms. So free.

Xavier leans his forehead against the glass, breathing deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, even though you can’t hear him.

His star map reboots beside him, scattering constellations. But for the first time, he doesn’t reach out to correct them.

Because he knows now, you weren’t meant to orbit him forever.

And you didn’t. You became your own universe. One that he was never brave enough to explore.

Private Memoir Entry – Unpublished I was always afraid I’d look at her and see someone else. So I never truly looked. Not the way she deserved. She asked me once if I was choosing to heal with her or without her. I said, “Without.” She nodded. Didn’t cry. Just left. And now I’ve healed. Or so I pretend. But sometimes I think healing isn’t a choice. Sometimes it’s a cost. I gave up the one person who saw me in the shadows and stayed. And someone else saw her light and danced into it.

You’re seated in a corner café with a man Zayne doesn’t recognise—easy smiles, shared laughter, his coat wrapped around your shoulders.

Zayne was on his way to deliver lab files to the main district med unit but now… he can’t move.

His gaze locks on the way the man leans in to tuck your hair behind your ear. How your eyes crinkle with joy.

It’s the kind of comfort Zayne never offered you—not because he didn’t care, but because he was too distracted chasing clarity with MC.

You once told him you felt like his second choice. He never answered that. And now, someone else treats you like you're the only choice.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t approach.

But that image burns in his mind for weeks. It replays in the sterile quiet of his clinic, on late nights when no one needs stitching up.

And when he returns home, he finds one of your old letters still tucked inside his medical textbook.

He rereads it, fingers trembling, and realises too late—he could’ve loved you right, if only he’d let himself try.

His next patient finds him staring into nothing, stethoscope in hand, utterly elsewhere.

Medical Log – Never Filed Patient: N/A Status: Unreachable Treatment note: Emotional detachment leads to unintentional abandonment. Prognosis: Permanent loss. Notes: She used to come into my clinic with little things. Fake injuries. Paper cuts. Just to be near me. I knew. And I let her pretend. I let myself believe I had time. That once I stopped thinking about MC, I could finally give this girl the pieces I hadn’t sealed away. But healing is slow. And people… they don’t always wait for your hands to stop trembling. She’s warm now. She’s whole. And I still wear gloves to hold my regrets.

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Mistakes Were Made Part 2

Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier | Zayne (this part) | Rafayel | Sylus | Caleb

You really didn't know how you kept ending up in this situations. It's not like you planned it. Especially not with your childhood-crush turned primary care physician, Zayne.

Seeing him always made your heart flip. Zayne was devastatingly handsome. Tall, with broad shoulders, and a calm, soothing voice that gave you butterflies. Those hazel eyes of his always seemed to know when you were up to something, and when he smiled? Gods. You'd run headfirst into trouble for a glimpse of that little smirk of his any day of the week.

Zayne's calm, cool energy turned out to be exactly what you needed after your hectic week. He was probably the most stable person you knew, energy-wise. His quick wit and dry humor kept you entertained, and when he got serious? Yeah, that was nice too. Maybe you still had a teeny crush on him after all these years. How could you not when he was a dream in countless ways?

He took you to a new boutique bakery that specialized in deserts in a small mountain town a few hours outside of Linkon. You both mentioned wanting to get out and enjoy the weather, and it turned out that this tiny town also had access to several beautiful hiking trails. You made a whole day trip out of it, with plans to spend the night in the area.

You spent the majority of the afternoon catching up with him and all the things life had thrown at you recently. He got very quiet after you mentioned visiting Caleb in Skyhaven. He claimed it was because you disappeared for days in first time you went, and he worried for your safety. Which, was fair. You tried to explain to Zayne that it was a misunderstanding on Caleb's part, but he wouldn't hear it.

Apparently the two men 'caught up' shortly after that, but neither would tell you what happened. The two were best friends up until Zayne left, and you wondered if you could get them both to hang out with you sometime soon. For old time's sake, and possibly to clear the air.

"You're plotting something," Zayne said.

"Me?" You batted your eyelashes as innocently as possible. "I never plot anything. I don't know what you mean."

Zayne sighed, but that little smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as he nibbled on one of the various treats on the platter before you. "It's cute you still think you can hide your schemes from me."

That smirk. The fact that he said you were cute. Gods, it did things to you. Terrible things that made you want to push his buttons. You took a sip of the tea you ordered and once again listed every reason you should explicitly not do that.

First, you and Zayne were friends. Good friends. Second, he was your fucking doctor and there were probably ethics or something that put you on his "absolutely not" list. You’d be lying if you said the white coat did nothing for you, though. Third, you had a fuck buddy in Xavier. It wasn't exclusive or anything, but your impulsive decisions had already led you to him, and you really shouldn't complicate things that did not need to be complicated. Like your relationship with Zayne.

It was nice to hang out with him. Familiar in a way you missed greatly after the explosion. Caleb was so different now it was hard to face him sometimes, but Zayne? Zayne was steady. Stable. So much the same as he'd always been, and you needed that.

All those reasons went out the window less than four hours after you came up with them.

After your sweet treat, you and Zayne walked around the small town, taking in all the sights and enjoying your time together when your Hunter's Watch went off.

Wanderer attacks were a normal part of life. Flux stabilizers did a good job, but it wasn't always enough. It’s why you never went anywhere unarmed. Did you need to pack five weapons with you everywhere you went? Yes. Yes you did.

Thanks to you and Zayne, the wanderer situation was handled quickly without any casualties. He wasn't as fast as you in combat, so you took a few hits for him to keep him out of harm's way. The fight wasn't particularly hard, but it was unexpected and adrenaline still surged through you. It was only made worse when Zayne gave you that look. The one that said you were in trouble.

"You should not have taken that hit for me," he said, his voice icy cold as he helped you into the car.

You huffed. "I'm fine. I've gotten hurt way worse than this."

"Overusing your Evol isn't good for your health, and neither is acting like a human shield." Zayne buckled you in then sighed. "If this is how you fight all the time, I have more reasons to worry."

"I'm not overusing anything, and like I said, I'm fine. I don't even think I need any stitches this time. A few over the counter painkillers and some rest and I won't feel it in the morning."

"Just because you convinced me not to take you to the emergency room does not mean I won't check you over myself when we get to the hotel. You need to be more careful," Zayne said.

You hid your burning cheeks by looking down at your lap. "Yes, Doctor."

He hummed and ruffled your hair. "That's better."

He got into the car and headed toward the hotel. Your heart raced. All the adrenaline turned into molten heat that pulsed between your thighs, you regretted it. This was becoming a problem.

Thoughts of Zayne checking you over for wounds, his slightly cool hands on your bare skin, and that intense look in his eyes when he worried about you filled your mind. Your thoughts were not helping your situation, and if anything, it only made you wetter.

Maybe you'd call Xavier before you turned in for the night to address the need that coiled low in your stomach. It wasn't ideal, but you couldn't be impulsive again. You'd never forgive yourself if you ruined your friendship with Zayne just for a quick fuck.

Your already lust-addled mind disagreed, though, and you spent most of the ride to the hotel silent. Your thoughts were full of what it'd be like to be in between calm but jealous Xavier and cool, level-headed Zayne...

"Are you alright?" Zayne asked as the car came to a stop in the hotel parking garage. "You're flushed and staring off into space."

"I...uh..."

He reached into the back seat and grabbed his first aid kit—because of course he had one—and pulled out the thermometer. You stopped him before he could turn it on. Zayne only stared at you, his eyes hard in the way they were when he tried to mask his concern.

"I'm fine. It's just warm out today and I forgot to drink water," you said.

"I'm going to have to send you reminders to make you hydrate yourself, aren't I? Those energy drinks you love so much are terrible for your heart," he chided.

"I know," you sighed.

Half an hour later, you were checked into the hotel and sat on the bed in your room, freshly showered and in a sports bra and loose shorts so Zayne could tend to the gash along your ribs. It wasn't deep, but wander claws were nasty things, and the last thing you needed was an infection. He bandaged you up with care, his cool hands soothing on your overheated skin.

Having Zayne so close made you more anxious. Your heart raced under your breast, thundering louder in your ears every time he touched your skin. Zayne was nothing but professional, but your mind loved to hang out in the gutter, and it made its home there now. All you could think about were the sounds those steady hands of his could pull out of you...

You blinked when a cup of ice water appeared in front of your face.

"Drink the entire thing," Zayne commanded.

You did as you were told without hesitation. The cool water helped clear your head a little, and you polished off the glass. You passed it back to his waiting hand.

"Good girl," he praised. "I'll refill this and be right back."

Oh gods. Zayne just good girl'd you. Whatever hope you had of cooling off this desire went up in flames. There was no way he knew what that term did to you, especially coming from him. It slipped out. A little bit of praise because you didn’t argue with him for once. That's all it was. You did your best to convince yourself of that, but your pussy pulsed his name.

Zayne left the room. You knew he'd be right back, and you didn’t exactly have time to deal with the problem pulsing between your thighs. At least, not completely, but maybe you could take the edge off?

Maybe you were high strung. Maybe all of this came on from the adrenaline of an unexpected fight. Or maybe, you had too many painfully attractive men in your life and a high libido you tried to ignore. The reason didn’t matter, not when the result was the same. You needed to come, ideally before you did something stupid.

You snuck into the bathroom and closed the door. The shorts you wore slid off your thighs and you rubbed your clit in firm, quick circles. You didn’t have time to draw out your pleasure, and you couldn’t be loud, just in case Zayne came back.

You were drenched, each touch made a soft, wet noise echo through the small bathroom. You didn’t mean to imagine Zayne’s fingers in place of yours, or his voice in your ear telling you what a good girl you were being for him. You bet he’d make you beg to come, and that sent you over the edge of your hurried release.

You didn’t realize you moaned his name out loud until the door opened.

His face went scarlet, and the door closed before you regained enough awareness to realize what happened. The moment you did? You wanted to melt into the aether and die.

Zayne heard you moan his name as you came. Caught you with your fingers buried in your cunt. He likely came into the bathroom because you said his name, and then he got an eyeful. Yeah. Death sounded good right about now.

You slipped your shorts back up, washed your hands and your face, then opened the bathroom door. Zayne faced the window, away from you. His broad shoulders looked too damn good in the deep green button down he wore, and you looked away.

“I…The adrenaline after a fight…” you stuttered, in an attempt to explain yourself. “I get extra energy, and I need to work it out, so…”

He said nothing. Didn’t react. You gulped. Without the ability to see his face, you didn’t have as much as a hint of what he was thinking. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

“That is a natural response,” he said, his voice low. “For some people, it can be quite intense.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you huffed.

“The most surprising thing to me is that it was my name on your lips.” Zayne’s voice didn’t falter. He kept that same calm, cool tone, and your head spun.

You called me a good girl, it’s not my fault. You’re too hot for your own good. You take care of me, and it makes me wet. All were things you wanted to say, but you couldn’t make yourself actually verbalize the words. So you settled for the only truth you could muster. “You weren’t supposed to hear me.”

He turned to face you, that damned smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “I imagine I was not. Now that I have, what do you want to do about it?”

The question took a full ten seconds for your mind to register. “What?”

“The way I see it, we have three options,” he said. “First, we can pretend this never happened. Second, we acknowledge this, but take the night to gather ourselves. Third…”

“Third..?”

“Third, I assist you. I’m clearly on your mind, and something so rushed likely wasn't enough to calm you down."

Your mouth hung open in shock. You weren’t sure what you expected from reserved Doctor Zayne, but this was not it. Your mouth opened and closed several times, and the man chuckled as you tried to process.

“Is it really such a hard choice, darling?”

You short circuited. Did you pass out and fall into your dirtiest fantasy? If so, Sylus would walk through the door in three, two, one…

Ah. So this was real, then.

The smart thing to do would’ve been option one. Pretend it never happened and go back to normal. Option two wouldn’t have been too bad either, but you didn’t want either of those. No, you wanted option three. Because he was right. Your fingers did almost nothing to ease the ache.

“It’s hard to believe that three is an option,” you murmured.

“I couldn’t hear that. Speak up,” he commanded. Not harsh, but firm. Steady in the way that made you want to obey him.

You repeated yourself. Louder this time and Zayne smiled. He approached you, his large hand reaching out to push your hair out of your face.

“You should know by now how much I care about you,” he said. “I don’t spend my rare days off with just anyone, Miss Hunter.”

You should’ve stopped him right there. He admitted to having feelings for you. Given both your positions and busy schedules, that should’ve been the end of it, but no. Your heart thrummed that stupid rhythm it did for him.

“I never thought you’d be bold enough to say such a thing, Doctor Zayne.” You took two steps closer to him, and held your arms behind your back as you smiled up in his direction.

"I never expected to hear you moan my name, yet here we are." He cupped your cheek, the coolness of his hand a welcome balm against your heated skin. "I confess that hearing it has made me bolder. Do you like it?"

"Very much." You took another step closer to him. The part of your mind that still clung to rational thought screamed "do not fuck your doctor", but you were so good at ignoring that voice. Zayne -- your forever crush -- looked at you like you were the sweetest treat he'd ever seen. You couldn't deny him or yourself from taking something you both wanted.

"Allow me to make another bold move, then." Zayne held your face as he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a tender kiss, and you melted. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his free hand settled around your bare waist.

Your fingers tangled in his thick black hair, and he groaned against your lips. The sound sent sparks of pleasure straight down your spine, and you pressed yourself against him, needing more, but unable to break the kiss and ask for it. You whimpered against his mouth, the sound desperate and needy.

Zayne's fingers trembled on your waist, then his grip on you became tighter, his lips hungrier as he devoured you. He stepped into you, and you followed his lead, moving backwards toward the bed. Your thighs hit the mattress and Zayne's hand traced up your ribs to your sports bra. His fingers hooked under the band, and he held there, waiting for you to object.

Your soft whine urged him forward, and his deft hands slipped the garment off your body. He pulled away from your lips and kissed down your neck. Pleasure hummed down your spine. You tilted your head to the side to grant him better access, and he took it, planting hungry kisses down to your chest.

His eyes darkened once he got to your tits, and his large, cool hands cupped them. He kneaded them as his fingers rolled your nipples. A broken moan left you, and you shuddered. He continued his kisses down your chest, to your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts. Again, he waited there, his eyes meeting yours.

"Zayne," you whined.

"Do you want something from me, Miss Hunter?" Zayne smiled up at you, mirth gleaming vibrantly in his hazel eyes. "If you need something, speak up."

You whimpered, and Zayne pulled back. Not far, but just enough. He shook his head and hummed. "I didn't catch that. Try again."

Heat bloomed across your face, and you couldn't find the bravery to speak the words. Your fingers looped around your waistband, but before you could push your shorts down, Zayne had both your wrists in one hand. He shot you a look. The stern one that made your stomach flutter. The added glint of amusement in them made your pussy pulse around nothing and pulled another whine from your throat.

"Behave, darling. All you have to do is tell me what you want. If you can't do that, how will I know what I'm allowed to do with you?"

You can do anything you want to me -- the words burned on your tongue, but despite their accuracy, you weren't sure if Zayne was ready to match the level of degenerate you were. He surprised you this far, but how high did your calm, stable doctor's freak flag fly? Unsure, you contained yourself for now. You swallowed and tried to find your voice. "Take them off."

"Where are your manners?"

"Take my shorts off, please."

"Better. Good girl." Zayne released your wrists and slowly peeled the shorts off your body, leaving you only in your soaked-through pale blue panties.

His praise did terrible things to your already lust-addled brain. You needed him to touch you, but he didn't move. Instead, his unwavering gaze stayed on your face, seemingly waiting for you to once again tell him what you wanted.

"Zayne!" you whined. "You're being mean to me!"

"I'm being mean to you?" he asked, his smirk growing wider. "How?"

"You know what to do, but you're not doing it," you pouted, your eyes going wide.

"I told you what you need to do if you want something. Were my instructions unclear?"

"No," you grumbled.

He raised one brow, just slightly, and waited.

"Take my panties off too. Touch me. Give me your hands, your mouth, your cock, I'll take it all, just please touch me. Please?"

"Was that so hard, darling?" He pulled your panties off in one smooth motion, but his eyes never left your face.

"Yes," you pouted.

"I reward good behavior," he said as he sank to his knees in front of the bed. "Would you say you've been good?"

The sight of a fully clothed, calm Dr. Zayne sat down between your thighs made you dizzy. He looked so put together, his hair only slightly mused from your fingers, his shirt still fully buttoned, and glasses still straight. His large hands settled on your hips, anchoring you in place. Distracted by the sight of him, you didn't respond. A sharp, firm smack landed over your right tit, and you squeaked. It didn't hurt, but it left a delightful sting behind that sent pleasure dancing up your spine.

"I asked you a question. I expect a response."

"I've been on my best behavior," you said.

Zayne chuckled, a rare sound from him and great gods even that did things to you. One long finger slipped inside your slippery pussy and you moaned. Loud. He cursed under his breath at the way your needy cunt pulsed around his finger. He slowly worked you open, and one finger became two. He curled his fingers just right, and fingered you with a steady, even pressure.

His thumb found your clit, rubbing in small circles. The pressure was perfect, and each time he pressed in on your clit his fingers inside you curled forward. Your wetness leaked out around his fingers, the filthy sounds filled the air. His hazel eyes focused on your cunt, focused on the way you took him.

“You’re opening up so well for me, darling. Just a little more and you can have my cock.”

You fisted the sheets, long, low moans stuttering out of your lips. “Please, please give me your cock!”

He chuckled. “You want it bad, don’t you? You clenched around my fingers quite hard.”

“Yes, yes please!”

"I want to make sure I don't hurt you, so you need to stretch just a little more," he said, his voice steady and grounding in your ears.

You whined as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace. You never let yourself imagine his cock, but you were now. He didn't want to hurt you? Did he have a cock or a weapon?

When a third finger slipped inside you, you were almost certain he had to have possessed the latter. Zayne worked you up toward you peak slowly. Methodically. Each stroke of his fingers and every ounce of pressure he put on your clit was done with precision.

You cried out his name as your peak approached, the slow drag up toward it making your anticipation for the drop all the more intense.

"Do you want to come for me, darling?" Zayne asked.

"Yes!" you moaned.

"I don't know if you've earned it. You keep mouthing off, not responding, accusing me of being mean to you. Does that sound like someone who deserves to come?"

"Zayne," you whined, dragging out the vowels in his name until you ran out of breath. "Please!"

"Beg. Convince me you deserve it."

Your fantasy blended into reality. You knew he'd be the type to make you beg. But, like the stretch of his fingers and the punishing pace he set, your imagination paled in the reality of the real thing.

"Zayne please, let me come! I need it. Pretty please? I'm so close. Won't you please let me come for you? I've been so good, please! Please, Zayne, please let me come so I can take your cock. Please!"

"Fuck," Zayne cursed, low and breathless. "Come for me pretty girl. Let me feel you."

His permission and soft praise sent you rushing over the edge. You came with a choked cry of his name. The orgasm tore through you, your entire body shuddered with the force of it.

"That's my good girl, just like that," Zayne praised. His talented fingers didn't stop until the wave of pleasure receded, and he slowly slipped his fingers out of you. His entire hand and the sheets below you were soaked in your come. He lifted his soaked fingers to your lips. "Clean them."

Your mouth opened. His steady gaze focused on your mouth as his fingers slipped inside. You licked them clean, running your tongue over both sides, cleaning off every drop.

"You're so well behaved right after you come." Zayne pulled his fingers out of your mouth and took his glasses off. He folded them up and set them on the nightstand before returning to his place in front of you. With slow, careful movements, he unbuttoned his shirt. You swallowed hard when his toned chest came into view. His shirt drifted to the floor, and you watched, entranced, as he removed his belt with one hand. The leather snapped and you moaned. Zayne laughed softly. "My favorite little brat likes the belt. I suppose that takes it off the list of punishments, then."

"It can still be a punishment," you said.

"Perhaps," Zayne said as he made quick work of the button of his pants. The slacks fell down his muscular thighs, and you got your first good look at the absolute weapon he had between his legs.

You needed three of his fingers to stretch you out. Thick and long, even seeing it under his boxers made you dizzy. He pushed his underwear down, and your jaw hit the floor.

As thick around as your balled fist and long, your cervix ached just looking at it. Zayne pumped his cock lazily a few times, and you swallowed. He kneeled down on the bed between your spread thighs. His massive body leaned over you and he planted one, soft kiss on your lips. When his eyes met yours, there was a deeper level of seriousness in them. Whatever bedroom game you two were playing set to the side.

"Are you sure you want this?" Zayne asked.

You returned his kiss. Despite all the reasons you shouldn't have done this, you weren't backing out now. You'd wanted Zayne for a long time, and now that you had him hard and throbbing against your pussy? You weren't going back. "I'm sure. I want you, Zayne. Please."

He notched his cock at your entrance, and those stunning hazel eyes locked onto your face as he slowly sunk inside you. The stretch of his cock stole your breath away, and you whimpered. He paused, his brows drawing together. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Feels good. So. Good," you panted.

"Tell me if it hurts," he said.

"Yes, sir."

He groaned as his hips stuttered forward. Zayne moved slow, so slow, giving your body ample time to adjust to his size. His cock seemed to go on forever, but eventually, his hips met yours. Fully seated inside you, he leaned over you on his forearms. He was so deep the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, and all thoughts melted out of your mind.

"Look at me," he commanded.

You hadn't realized your eyes closed. You opened them obediently, and looked up at him as he slowly rolled his hips.

"Good girl. Keep your eyes on me."

Too full of him to consider anything else, you obeyed, your eyes glued to his as he fucked into you in slow, deep thrusts. You wrapped your legs around him, preventing him from pulling all the way out. He stayed deep and the shallow, firm thrusts punched the air out of your lungs.

“Zayne,” you moaned. “You’re so deep!”

He thrust his hips forward, burying his cock all the way inside you. Zayne held there, the deep pressure on your cervix both blissful and sweetly painful. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, but you couldn’t stop the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“How does it feel to have me here, darling?”

“So good, Zayne. You feel so fucking good,” you babbled, the words coming out in choked moans with every thrust he made.

“The way you say my name is intoxicating. Do it again.” Zayne thrust forward, hard, and you cried out his name. “Fuck. Again.”

You clutched onto his strong arms and cried out his name each time he thrust into you. His pace picked up, his thrusts remaining just as hard, but now they had speed. The wet slap of your bodies meeting filled the air. One hand kept him upright, and the other traced down your body to your clit.

You were a mess, moaning his name over and over again as he pounded into you. Every deep thrust stretched you to your limit, almost beyond what you could take. Zayne’s deep thrusts paired with the firm, steady circle of his fingers on your clit pushed your closer and closer to the edge.

“Can I come, please?” you begged.

“What a good girl you are, asking so politely. I’m feeling generous today. Come for me, darling. Soak my cock.”

Your mind blanked out, and you had no choice but to obey the steady command. You came around him with a cry of his name. You squeezed him so tightly, he couldn’t help but follow you. He barely pulled out in time. Thick, sticky ropes of come splattered over your stomach, reaching up to your heaving tits. He came so much, your head spun and your pussy ached from how hard you clenched.

You both caught your breath in the aftermath, the warmth of pleasure rolling through you. Zayne broke the silence first. His large, cool hand cupped your cheek.

“Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m amazing,” you hummed. “Nothing hurts.”

“I wasn’t too rough with you?”

“You can be a lot rougher, if you wanted to. I’m sturdier than I look.”

The slight bit of tension in Zayne’s shoulders eased. “Good. I’ll be right back.”

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead and vanished from your sight. When he returned, he had a warm, wet cloth and he cleaned you up with gentle hands. He then passed you a full glass of water with instructions to drink. You obeyed, and he tucked you into bed.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you nestled into the pillows.

“You don’t need to thank me for taking care of you,” he said.

“I know, that doesn’t make me any less grateful.”

He kissed your forehead, then settled in the bed beside you. You curled up under his arm and hummed, content.

“To be clear, I have no expectations as for what happens now. We are both busy adults, and we are friends. I’m happy to help you in any way you need me. Like this, or otherwise.” Zayne pulled you closer. “Aftercare is vital. I will stay here as long as you need.”

His words took a massive weight off your shoulders. Xavier didn’t handle your denial of anything more, and you worried Zayne would be the same. Knowing that he was of the same mind that you were let you relax further.

“Thank you for saying that. Casual sex is great for our situation. It’s not like either one of us have time to prioritize a relationship right now.” You hadn’t had more than a single day off in weeks, and for Zayne..? Likely months. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He hummed, the sound affirmative. He held you in comfortable silence for a long while after. It was better like this. As much as you cared about him, you both really were far too busy.

Yet, for some reason, your heart ached when he returned to his room.

A/N: Zayne is my #3, and I love him sm! Since this was their first time having sex, I didn’t do too much bratting, but it will come if I do another part that includes Zayne! I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Artist. One of my mains, our dearest fishie. I just know that one is going to be fun all around!

Masterlist | Next Part

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Mistakes Were Made Part 3

Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier | Zayne | Rafayel (this part) | Sylus | Caleb

It was meant to be a simple gallery event. No wanderers and minimal drama. You expected the worst part of the evening to be pulling Rafayel out of the house by his ear. How wrong you were.

The only lights faced the paintings themselves, each one stunning and beautiful in a way that surpassed any words you had. Rafayel literally turned his nose up at the endless praise people gave him. He wasn't interested in talking to anyone but you, much to poor Thomas' displeasure.

He dressed in a stunning black suit with fine rose gold embroidery. It fit his lean frame like a glove, and the blush pink button down he wore underneath his jacket brought out the warm pink tones in his eyes. Rafayel was a beautiful man, anyone with eyes could see that, but tonight he looked like some sort of ancient god given form, and it took a significant amount of focus to keep your eyes off him.

Your dress matched his suit, and he insisted you wear it. Made of sleek black silk, the dress hugged every curve of your body. Rose-gold embroidery dipped down the sides until it met your hip. The blush elements came in the makeup on your face, and the pale pink pearls that made up your necklace.

Your guns were holstered under your dress, hidden around the curve of your inner thigh. The dress left little room for hiding weapons, but you never went out without your trusty guns. For good reason.

One minute, Rafayel was pouting beside you because you told him you both had to stay for at least one full hour before vanishing. The next, he was gone. As if he vanished. He loved to slip away. Hide and seek seemed to be a favorite game of his, so you didn't immediately worry. At least not until you found a trail of blood leading toward the back of the exhibition hall.

Twenty minutes later, you held onto a woozy Rafayel while authorities led the two assailants out the back door of the gallery. The blood was theirs. Rafayel was safe and uninjured. However, being unable to find him, seeing the blood, and the fight all sent your adrenaline sky-rocketing. He made it worse when he told you they stabbed him with some sort of injection, but he refused to go to the hospital.

"Don't worry, cutie. This isn't the first time this has happened. I'll be fine in a bit."

You didn't ask how he knew that, or when this happened to him before. You doubted your nerves would like the answer. Your time with Rafayel at the Nest proved to you he wasn't all sassy remarks and dazzling smiles, and you were content to leave that mess alone. For now. You were almost certain Rafayel and Sylus knew one another somehow, and you weren't quite sure if you wanted to open that can of worms. So, you held Rafayel upright as you waited for your taxi to arrive.

"You can't take your eyes off me, Miss Bodyguard. They almost got me." Rafayel rested his head on your shoulder. His bottom lip jutted out in a soft pout. "I could've died, you know?"

"I know," you said, your voice flat. "I take my eyes off you for one second, and you disappear."

"It's that bounty. You really should be more alert."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't disagree with him. "Next time we go out, we should have earpieces. Maybe something with a tracker."

"You don't need a tracker to find me, do you, cutie?" He batted his long lashes at you. Gods. He was so fucking gorgeous. And annoying. Sort of like Sylus in that way. They both irritated the shit out of you sometimes, but somehow their irritating behavior also made you wet. You sighed. You were in fact a hunter. You obviously liked a challenge.

You didn't respond. The cab showed up and you helped Rafayel in before sliding in beside him. The driver headed toward Rafayel's studio, and your eccentric employer-turned friend slumped against you. "You're gonna take me inside, right? I'm still dizzy."

You bit your lower lip as you thought about what to do. The battle and almost losing Rafayel had your heart thrumming and with that came the slick wetness between your thighs. You needed to take care of yourself before you made another mistake. You already had Xavier as your regular fuck buddy, and you stopped by Zayne's place some nights to work extra energy out of your system.

You had two sexy men you could visit, either one would be happy to take care of you, if they were available. You did not need to add a third to your roster. This would probably be the worst yet, because you worked for Rafayel. Sure, you already fucked your co-worker and your doctor, but the Lemurian you were hired to protect? Yeah, that was a step too far, even for you. Also, with his fame, there was a chance things could go public and you didn't want that kind of attention.

Still, when he looked up at you with those big, sapphire-rose eyes, you couldn't deny him. He did need you, and he was only inebriated because you didn't do your job right. You just had to keep it together long enough to see him to bed. Then you could leave Rafayel alone to recover, get laid, and check on him in the morning.

"Yeah, I'll help you get inside and settled."

That seemed to please him. Rafayel kept his head on your shoulder the entire drive back, sometimes whimpering softly and mumbling about being dizzy. You did your best to soothe him with gentle words and rubbing his head, both of which he seemed to like. He nuzzled against your shoulder, and his nose brushed against a sensitive spot on your neck. You almost moaned, but you caught yourself before it happened. His hot breath brushed over your neck, seemingly content to stay put.

Each breath and soft, contented sigh against your neck brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. His lips were so close. If he kissed you there? You would be done for. You tried to keep your mind from wandering down that path, but you couldn't stop the thoughts, and you grew even wetter on the too-long drive back to the studio.

Once you got back, you helped Rafayel inside. He seemed more out of it than he was when you got in the car. He clung to you like he needed you to be able to stand, and that sent your worry spiking up.

"Are you sure you shouldn't go to the hospital?" you asked.

"I'm sure. Help me get to bed. I'll sleep it off."

You led him inside and helped him through his house to his massive bedroom. Sketchbooks, drying canvases, and countless candles dotted the floor. You carefully dodged every obstacle and pulled back the sheets, setting him down in bed. Moonlight poured in from the glass ceiling above, settling over the bed and haloing his lithe form.

"I can't fall asleep in my suit. Won't you help me get these buttons undone, cutie? I'm too dizzy, I can't see them." Rafayel pouted.

You didn't believe him at first, but it did take him a solid thirty seconds to kick off his shoes. The gods were truly testing your self control. It was time to be brave. You could do this. He was obviously not sober, you wouldn't touch him right now if he begged. No matter how beautiful the flush of his face would be when you -- nope. You cut that thought off before it could finish, refusing to go down that rabbit hole. You undid the buttons of his jacket, released his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. He lifted his arms, and you peeled the clothing off his body.

His bare chest came into view. Rafayel's body was as much of a work of art as the rest of him. You knew he was a Lemurian and lived part of his life in the sea, but damn. Built but lean, his shape was made to cut through the waves. His waist made your mouth water, but you restrained yourself from sinking too far into your depraved mind.

He leaned back on his arms and looked down his torso at you. "I need help with the belt, too." You hesitated, for just a moment, and his brows drew together. A moment later, his lip curled up into a smile. "Miss Bodyguard."

He caught where your mind wandered off to, and you narrowed your eyes at him. "What?"

"Someone is having dirty thoughts when I'm weakened. That's bold, even for you."

Your mouth opened. Then it closed again. You had nothing to say for yourself, and your cheeks heated.

Rafayel grinned. "I promise, I'm being a good, honest boy. I really do need help."

You took a deep, steadying breath and your fingers made quick work of his belt. One handed, you slipped it off his waist. "You have to do the rest yourself. I'm going to get you some water."

"Don't be gone long, I might need you again," he said.

Your body buzzed as you all but ran out of his bedroom. You took your time going to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and filling it with ice water. Rafayel loved to play games. It was in his nature to tease and needle you, to make flirtatious jokes then pretend he didn't mean them like that. You accepted it for what it was. A Pisces man being a Pisces man, some fun banter, and a slight headache. He didn't talk to a lot of people, and you were easy to get a rise out of. That's why he teased you so much. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You would not add a third man to your roster. Especially not this man. Is his dick like a human's? Nope. Stop thinking about his dick!

To calm yourself down, you splashed cold water on your face. It didn't matter how much you two bantered. It had to stay banter.

You wouldn't put it past him to fake something like this, but who were you to question him? He was drugged because you failed to do your job right. How much of it was an act, and how much was real suffering? Only he knew.

You slowly made your way back to his bedroom. He was right where you left him, leaning on his arms, looking at the sky, only now his pants were on the floor, leaving him only in thin underwear that hid nothing.

"I was starting to worry you forgot about me," he said. "Again."

You hated how hard it was to not look at his crotch. As calmly as you could, you handed him the glass. "Drink."

"So bossy." His tone was teasing, but he did as you bid. He drank fast, and a drop of water seeped out around the glass, dripped down his plush lower lip, his chin, then lower. You pulled your eyes toward the ceiling before you followed that drip all the way down his abs.

"Thank you, cutie." He handed the glass back to you and you placed it on a coaster on his bedside table.

"Is there anything else you need before I go?" you asked.

"You're leaving me?" He looked up at you, his beautiful eyes wide and brows drawn.

You looked down at your dress and the room around you. "I was going to head home."

"But what if I die? Thomas won't find me for days."

"If you're so ill you think you might die, then I should call an ambulance." You pulled your phone out of the clutch around your wrist to dial for medical services, but he stopped you.

"I'm not," he confessed. "I'm...nervous. There was an attempt on my life less than an hour ago, you know?"

"And those who tried to carry it out were arrested. You're safe here."

"What if I don't want to be alone?" he asked, his voice low.

Your eyes fell to his face and you knew it was a mistake. The puppy eyes did you in every. single. time. He could murder someone in front of you, give you those eyes, tell you he didn't do it, and you'd find a way to believe him. Those big, beautiful eyes of his were dangerous things, and he used them as well as his dagger.

"I can't exactly sleep in this," you said.

"Raid my closet, then. I'm sure you'll find something," he said.

You did as he suggested. You found the brown hoodie he wore on more casual days. It covered your ass and hit low enough you were fairly confident you wouldn't accidentally flash the scrap of fabric that barely covered your lower lips at him. You hung your dress up beside his suit, then wandered to his bathroom to wash the makeup off your face. Clean and ready for bed, you stepped back into his bedroom. "I'm going to sleep on the couch downstairs."

"Nope. Too far. What if an assassin gets to me before you?" he crossed his arms. "You need to stay here."

"Whatever gods can hear me right now, please grant me the mental strength needed to not hop on Rafayel's cock tonight." You sent the prayer out into the aether, hoping that someone was listening, and that you would find that strength. When you looked back to Rafayel, the grin on his face signaled danger. "What?"

"Nothing, cutie." He patted the side of the mattress. "Come here."

Setting your guns and clutch on the nightstand, you peeled back the covers and got into his bed. The cool sheets caressed your skin, and the down-filled pillows were plush and soft. His bed might've been the most comfortable you'd ever laid in. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you hummed a low, pleased sound.

"Comfy?" Rafayel asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You opened your eyes and gasped. He hovered a breath away from your face. Any sign of inebriation or dizziness vanished from his expression. Only the playful glint in his eyes remained, and his lip curled in a devastating smirk.

"Yeah," you said, breathless. "Very comfy. Goodnight."

His gaze burned into your skin, and you tried to ignore him. You rolled to your other side, away from him, but his gaze never faltered. Your heart raced. Loud in your ears, it eclipsed all other sounds. Slick arousal soaked through your thin panties, and you squeezed your legs together for some sort of relief. You found none.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, his voice light. "I can practically hear you thinking over there."

"You're staring at me," you deadpanned. "Kind of hard to sleep when I'm being watched."

"My artistic eye is always drawn to beautiful things," he said. "It's in my nature. I can't help it."

You looked over your shoulder at him. Dressed in his hoodie, your hair tossed in a messy bun, with no make up on you didn't exactly feel stunning. You scoffed. "I would've believed you if you told me that when I had that dress on."

"You looked gorgeous tonight, but you're the most breathtaking like this. It's your natural beauty, ya know? Stunning simply because you exist. Like the moon, or the sea."

"What the fuck did they inject you with?" You flipped over to face him. "You sound like a lovesick poet."

"The injection is wearing off. I feel fine, I'm just telling you the truth." Rafayel rested his head on his hand, propped up slightly on his pillow. His sapphire-rose eyes were soft. Honest.

Your stomach flipped. Butterflies took flight and your heart thrummed faster than hummingbird wings. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Um. Thank you. Goodnight."

Your squeezed your eyes closed, and you heard him chuckle beside you. The sound soft, full of mirth and something like contentment. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, and your pussy fluttered in time. Gods, his laugh. His eyes. His fucking everything.

Why did every man in your inner circle have to be so damn hot, charming, and downright perfect in every single way? Oh no, you had a mysterious knight-in-shining armor type with a fat cock, a handsome renowned doctor who made you scream and beg at the curl of his fingers, and now you were in bed with a sexy, famous artist merman who spoke poetry about you. Truly, you were suffering.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, you can always ask me for help," Rafayel said. "I'll do whatever you want, even if it means using my body."

His voice dropped into something low and hot. It filled the space between you with the warmth of a sinful promise. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing, and gods, it hit you just how empty you were.

He laid flat on his back and patted his bare chest. "Come here, cutie. Let me help you fall asleep."

You knew it was a trap. The way his eyes burned with heat. The low, heady siren song of his voice. He laid back with an arm behind his head, stretching those stunning muscles of his taut. Your throat dried. It was a trap, and yet, you willingly slipped into it. Your head settled on his pecs, and your arm naturally draped across his body and rested over his heart. His arm wrapped around you and cradled you against his chest.

He smelled like the sea breeze, something fresh and calming to your senses. You breathed him in, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you did so. Rafayel always ran a little cooler than humans, and the difference in temperature was a balm over your heated skin. Yet, despite your comfort in his arms, your clit throbbed. Needy and aching, it brushed against your too-slick panties and you had to stifle a whimper.

"You seem uncomfortable. What's wrong?" Rafayel stroked your spine in gentle, lazy patterns that did nothing to help the ache between your thighs.

Damn it. You couldn't hide this for much longer. Rafayel had a sensitive nose. As a Lemurian, he picked up on every subtle change in perfume, body wash, or detergent you used. For some reason, thinking that he knew how wet you were only made it worse.

"I get like this after hard battles, or nerve-wracking situations," you said, keeping your voice matter-of-fact. "I was worried about you, and now I'm having a hard time relaxing. My body is tense. That's all."

Rafayel hummed. "I can help you relax, you know. If it will help you sleep, I'm happy to use my body in any way you need."

"Raf," you warned.

"What? I'm serious. You can use me however you like, cutie. My face is an excellent seat."

"What?" you squeaked, sitting up slightly.

"Have you considered that you might not be the only one who gets tense after high-stress situations?" Rafayel pulled you back against him, and threw the blanket off. His cock strained against the fabric of his boxers, a wet spot at the head. Holy fucking gods. You didn't expect Rafayel to be packing a fucking sea monster in his well-tailored pants. Were all Lemurians so well endowed, or was he just blessed?

"Won't you help me, princess?" Rafayel looked down at you, his eyes dark and wide. Your hand absentmindedly traced down his stomach, and he whimpered.

That fucking sound did you in. You swallowed hard. “I’ll help you.”

Rafayel closed the distance and captured your mouth in a heated kiss. He devoured your lips like he was starved and desperate, like he needed only you and nothing else. Your head spun, dizzy with the pure need that passed between you. His large hands settled on your hips and he effortlessly lifted you on top of him. You straddled him, your lips still connected with something that caught like gasoline. Deft fingers gripped the hem of his hoodie and lifted it off your body, parting from your lips just long enough to toss it to the side.

He took in your body. Strong from all your training, but soft and yielding to his firm grip. Your heavy tits heaved with your panted breaths, and your nipples hardened in the cool air of the bedroom. “Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

Coming from him, the artist, the one who knew beauty and how to pull it from nothing but pigments and brush strokes, the words carried a weight. They resonated through you and you found yourself unable to breathe. His fingers toyed with the thin scrap of lace around your hips.

“Can I rip these off?”

“Yes,” you said.

They were gone, torn off your body an instant later. He held them off to the side, and his eyes trailed between the soaked scrap of lace and your now bare pussy.

“Fuck. You need to come bad, don’t you princess?”

“Maybe,” you huffed.

He chuckled and tossed the pillows behind him to the side and scooted down the bed. “Sit on my face. Use me to make yourself come.”

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Yes. Sit on my face. I need to taste you, please.”

You nodded and you settled over him, one leg on either side of his head. Strong arms locked over your thighs and he pulled you down to his face. You let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned into your soaking cunt.

You gripped the headboard for leverage and ground into Rafayel’s face. You looked down your body, meeting his heated gaze from between your thighs. Hair mused and face flushed, he was a devastating sight. So gorgeous it punched the air out of your lungs.

His nose rocked against your clit as his tongue slipped inside you. You were so wet, so needy, the simplest brush of his tongue sent a shock of pleasure dancing down your spine. He barely touched you, and you were already on the brink.

You ground into his face, chasing the coiling spark of pleasure building in your core. His eyes never strayed from your face, and you couldn't look away. The intensity of his gaze and the skilled roll of his tongue forced broken gasps out of you. Your thighs trembled, but he held you steady, nuzzling into your cunt like he belonged there.

His talented tongue curled just right, and you were lost. Your back bowed and your knuckles went white on the headboard in an attempt to steady yourself. You cried out his name as you came. His answering moan as he drank you in only extended the wave of intense pleasure. You tried to lift your hips away, but his arms locked around you, keeping you in place as the overstimulation hit. You whimpered and leaned forward, still trying to lift your hips.

"Where do you think you're going, cutie? I wasn't finished with my meal." Rafayel nipped the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "Do you really want me to stop?"

Your head spun. His voice, husky and playful did dangerous things to your insides. Your stomach flipped. You were sensitive, sure, but his tongue was heaven.

"No," you said, breathless. "Keep going."

He pulled you back down, fully on his face the second the words were out of your mouth. You whined at the sharp edge of overstimulation wearing on your nerves, but gods, his face made the perfect seat. He ate your pussy the same way he kissed you earlier. Starved, full of need. Like you and your pleasure were the only things that mattered.

You rode his face, rolling your hips to chase the burning pleasure he stoked within you. His moans matched yours in desperation and intensity, as if tasting you, pleasuring you, did the same to him. As if he got off on being used by you. Your hips rolled back, and his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked, and you gasped.

"Right there, fuck! Raf you feel so fucking good," you praised, your voice high and breathless.

He shuddered under your praise, and he sucked harder. Between the steady suction of his lips and the steady roll of his tongue over your clit, your second orgasms came crashing down far faster than you expected. You tried to hold back, for just a moment longer, but his talented tongue wouldn't let you.

Rafayel shoved you over the edge of your second release with a firm suck that stole your breath. You gushed over his face, the release hitting you so hard you could only scream his name. He worked you through it, his sucks softening as the wave ebbed. You slumped against the headboard, too worn out to hold yourself upright.

You lifted your hips, and this time he let you go. You pushed yourself up on trembling thighs, and blinked around the stars in your vision as you looked down at him. Fuck. His pupils were blown wide with lust, cheeks flushed, and face coated in your come. Wet skin reflected the pale moonlight, showing just how much a mess you made. His smirk sent aftershocks of pleasure skittering up your spine. He planted soft kisses to your inner thighs, and you shuddered.

"Oh gods," you sighed, your body so senitive that even the softest touch bordered on too much.

"Gods?" Rafayel chuckled, the sound dark and teasing. "No. I'm the only one here with you, princess." He flipped you over so fast you were dizzy. One moment you clutched to the headboard for dear life, and the next you were pinned beneath him, his lean, muscular frame looming over yours. One hand held both your wrists and pinned them over your head. He leaned down, stealing all the air from your lungs. His eyes flashed a vibrant blue as he spoke. "If you're going to call out to anyone, you call out to me, and me alone."

Your pussy fluttered, empty and needy. "Yes, Rafayel."

"Good girl," he cooed. The teasing, playful note in his praise only made the husky tone of his words all the more tantalizing. You shivered, suddenly hyper-aware of him. The heat between your bodies, the weight of his eyes, and the sensation of his hard, hot length pressed into your core shattered all thoughts outside of him.

He released your wrists and captured your lips in another kiss. This one was more consuming, more dominating than you expected from the man who told you to use him not twenty minutes ago. Yet, you surrendered to it, and to him, all the same. Your dynamic with Rafayel was fluid, all teasing and banter, always changing who came out on top. It seemed your dynamic in bed would follow a similar pattern, and you couldn't help but moan into the kiss.

Rafayel pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. "Can I fuck you, princess?"

The way he said it, his voice husky and dripping with the same amount of need you felt nearly made you come. You both needed this, needed each other, so you said the only thing that mattered. "Yes, please!"

His lips met yours again, and in one fluid roll of his hips, he was bare above you. The hot length of him dripped his need all over your stomach. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into your neck. "Let me hear you, cutie. Don't hold back."

You nodded, unable to form words. With one last kiss on your neck, he reached between your bodies and lined himself up with your entrance. Not quite as long as Zayne, but somehow thicker Xavier, your head spun just looking at it. That thing was a monster, and you weren't sure it was going to fit.

"Don't worry, cutie. It'll fit just fine." Rafayel notched the head at your entrance and hummed. "Now, if I was in my true form? Then you'd have something to worry about."

Your mind reeled from that bit of information and while you were distracted, he pressed forward. The stretch of his cock stole your breath. It burned slightly, not painful, just heat, as he pushed deeper inside you. He cursed as your fluttering cunt squeezed around him, but he didn't move any faster. He slipped in slowly, giving you his cock inch by inch until your hips were flush.

Your legs wrapped around his hips and your hands clutched his forearms to steady yourself. He rested his forehead against yours, a low moan falling from his mouth. You struggled to breathe. Buried inside you as far as he could go, the tip of his cock brushed your cervix. Stretched around him so wide, there was no room for anything but sensation. You moaned, high and breathy, as you adjusted to him.

"Fuck, Rafayel, yes!"

"Do you feel how deep I am, cutie?" Rafayel rocked his hips forward, forcing a loud moan out of your mouth. One hand traced down your side, then to your clit. He rubbed it in a small, tight circle, and your back arched off the bed with a sharp moan. "Look how well you fit around me. My princess."

The slight edge of possession in his voice made your eyes roll back into your head. You rocked your hips, seeking more friction, but he held you still.

"You want me to move? Beg." Rafayel's command came with a weight that forced your eyes open. His eyes held the same playful mischief as normal, but his tone was serious. Sharp. "Tell me how much you want this. Let me hear you. Otherwise, I'll stay right here all night."

You blinked. His brow raised. You swallowed hard, unsure. His hips pressed forward, applying more pressure on your cervix while his fingers abandoned your clit. Your resolve broke.

"Fuck, Raf, please!" you whined. "Please fuck me. I need you to move. I need you to pound into me, to make me come all over your cock, please. Fuck. I'll fuck myself on your cock if you don't want to move. Please, please, just fuck me. I need it. I need you!"

"Fuck yourself on my cock, huh? Is that how you want to use me, princess?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Maybe I'll let you next time. Right now, I think I'll use you."

"Please, Rafayel! Please use me!"

"Fuck. If you insist." His devilish little smirk made your heart flip, and then he moved. The drag of his fat cock along your walls hit just right, stealing your breath. Your vision blurred, and you made a low, desperate sound as he fucked into you.

On his knees, he held your hips in his strong hands, keeping you in place as he pounded into you. His eyes drifted from your face, to you heavy, bouncing tits, to the place where you joined. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the pleasure too intense, but you also couldn't look away from him. Strands of amethyst hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His muscles rippled with every thrust, and the veins in his hands strained under his tight grip. His beautiful face contorted in pleasure with each deep stroke.

One hand reached up to grip your bouncing tits. He kneaded the soft flesh in his hands, then rolled your nipple between his deft fingers. You cried out, the added sensation nearing too much for your already overstimulated body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he moaned. "A stunning work of art. A Goddess given flesh. Look at you, my beautiful br--princess."

"Raf-ay-el!" you screamed his name when he slammed in hard, forcing the very air out of your lungs.

"That's the sound I'm looking for. Again."

He thrust in hard a second time, and you gave him the same cry of his name. High, breathless, loud. Edged with a hint of desperation.

"Fuck yes. Keep singing for me, cutie. Just like that."

You did as he commanded. You couldn't help yourself. Not when he fucked you so thoroughly. He moved his hips in smooth, fluid motions, pulling back and slamming in over and over at the exact right angle. The wet sounds of your fucking filled the space between your screams, both getting louder the closer you got to your third peak.

"Are you going to come for me, my princess?" he asked.

"Yes, Raf, please!" you moaned. "Keep fucking me just like this. Please, I'm so close. You feel so good!"

"Come for me. Let me feel you."

You broke. Shattered. Came apart as you gushed around his fat cock. White hot pleasure burned through your blood, and stars filled your vision. You screamed his name so loud your throat burned, and yet, he didn't stop fucking you. Each roll of his hips only extended your release, and by the time the wave ebbed, another already beckoned. Overstimulation burned at your senses, but you didn't want him to stop.

"Where do you want my come, cutie?" he asked.

Your brain screamed only one answer. Probably the dumbest answer you could give him, but logic went out the door awhile ago. Plus, you weren't technically the same species, so it was fine. "Inside me. Come inside me, Rafayel. Please."

Whatever threads of control he had snapped in that instant. He fucked you hard, loud, needy moans falling from his lips. He lifted you into his arms, holding you tight against him as he buried his face into your neck. He came a moment later, and as the first slightly cool spurt filled you, his teeth bit into your neck. Your back bowed and you came with him, the sensation too much for your overstimulated body.

Rafayel stilled only as long as it took him to come. His still-hard cock rocked in and out of you, just enough to hit your sweet spot before fucking back inside until he hit your cervix. Deep, firm strokes that sent your mind melting out of your ears.

"Raf, I can't...'s too much!"

"Yes you can. Come on, cutie, give me just one more. Then we'll take a break."

The fleeting conscious thoughts you had stalled. A break? He planned to keep fucking you after he came a second time? You were too fucked-out to think too hard about it, so you moaned. You were so sensitive, too sensitive, but the drag of his cock, the way his body enveloped you, how he held you against his chest, you didn't want it to stop, either.

"One...more," you agreed.

"Good girl," he praised. "I know you can do it. Come one more time. Just for me."

His pace, his gentle praise, and the way he clutched you like you were something precious added to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that built within you once again. Your orgasm hit with all the warning of a lightning strike, and burned twice as hot. You screamed his name once again as you convulsed around him, the pleasure rising out of your very bones.

"That's it, princess. Good girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm gonna fill you up again."

"Please," you whined.

Rafayel groaned and held himself all the way inside you. His lips found the other side of your neck and he bit down there, too. He filled you a second time, somehow with more come than the first. Each spurt extended your release. Finally, the pleasure stopped. Your ears rung. You panted your breaths. Sweat slicked very inch of your skin, and your thighs were sticky with your combined release.

Rafayel set you down on the bed gently, and he kissed your forehead. "Such a good girl. Do you feel better now, princess?"

You nodded, words too hard for you to manage. He stayed inside you for a few minutes as you both caught your breath. He pulled out of you slowly, and to your surprise, he was still half-hard.

He promised to be right back, and all you could do was lay there. Fucked out, full of come, and realizing that mistakes were made yet again. You really needed to stop getting into situations like this, though, you wouldn't say you were upset to be here. You were so fucked out you felt like you were high, and you had a sneaking suspicion that if you asked him to, Rafayel would fuck you 'till you passed out and keep going until you woke back up.

You had two nights of marathon sex with Xavier, each time after he came back from a secret mission he couldn't bring you on. Still, even he tired after round three. Rafayel looked like he could go for six more. Probably because he was Lemurian, or something.

He came back with a warm cloth and cleaned you up, his touch gentle and words soft. Soothing in a quiet tone as he tended to you. Once you were both clean, he settled back into bed and pulled you onto his chest. Your head rested over his heart, and it beat steady and strong in your ears. You nuzzled into him as he pulled the blankets over you. Ignoring the call of sleep was a hopeless task wrapped up in him, so you gave in and fell into a deep slumber full of dreams of a world beneath the waves.

Your phone alarm blared at far-too-fucking-early-for-this o'clock. You blinked at the blinding sunlight that poured in from the glass ceiling above. Rafayel groaned under you and hid his face in a pillow.

"Turn it off! It's too early."

"It's my work alarm," you mumbled. You rolled off of him, and he made a pouty noise in protest as you scrambled to find your phone. You turned off the alarm, then sent a quick text to Jenna, telling her that you aided in an arrest last night and would be late coming in.

You still needed to get home, shower, eat something, get dressed, and get to work. Hopefully, Xavier would already be gone by the time you got back to your apartment. He was jealous normally. If he knew you spent the night with someone who wasn't him?

Yeah. He'd throw a fit, despite the fact that you weren't exclusive. Which is why, you usually went to see Zayne when Xavier was off on missions.

"I gotta get going," you said.

"You should call out." Rafayel propped his head up on his arm as he looked over at you. "You came down with something. You're sick. Only I can take care of you, so you have to stay here. With me. All weekend."

"I can't call out, Raf. We've had this conversation before. Don't give me that look!" you whined. "That's not fair!"

"What's not fair is having my cuddle time interrupted because someone has to clock in somewhere," he huffed.

"Yeah, well, not all of us can be millionaire artists." You rolled your eyes as you tried to gather yourself. You couldn't not talk about what happened last night. You couldn't have him thinking this meant anything more than it was. Silence stretched between you, and you could practically feel him sulking from across the bed. You turned to face him. "Listen, about last night..."

"What about it?" he said, his voice cool and detached.

"I'm really busy. I don't exactly have time for a relationship. You're busy too. And I technically work for you, which makes this kind of complicated." You caught yourself rambling so you took a deep breath, then continued. "I just want to be sure you know this is casual. Probably not an all the time thing. It was great, really fucking great, but I don't want to overcomplicate things between us, you know? We're friends, and if you really need me like that, I'm happy to help but it can't be more than that."

Rafayel looked at you, his face too neutral to be good. You knew his expressions well enough by now, and that one never meant anything positive.

"Alright. If that's what you want. We'll keep it casual. But, you should know something important, Miss Bodyguard."

"Yes?"

"I've been stroking my cock to thoughts of you for months, and now that I've had a taste of you? My hand isn't going to be enough anymore. If you're worried about the ethics, we can work that out later, but casual or not, I will need you like that again, and again."

Your stomach flipped and your sore cunt clenched. Damn it. "I'm fine with that. We'll need to talk about this more, but I really do need to get going."

"Take the hoodie," he said. "A designer sent over some matching couple sets. In the back of my closet there should be some pants that fit you. Want me to drive you home?"

You thought of how Xavier turned off the streetlights on your block that one time you spoke to a co-worker that wasn't him outside of your apartment for ten minutes too long. "You don't have to. I can call a cab. I know it's early for you."

"You sure? If you're already running late, waiting for a cab will only make you later."

He had a point. Fuck. "Alright, but I live close to the Association building. Walking in will give me time to eat."

Rafayel smiled like he won, and your stomach flipped again. You prayed to whatever gods were listening that Xavier would not be anywhere near your apartment when you showed up.

A/N: Our fishie is tied for my #1 with Sylus, so obviously I love him & had so much fun with this part! I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Dragon. I hope y'all are ready bc I'm already melting!

Masterlist | Next Part

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Mistakes Were Made Part 1

I was going to do this as a filthy one-shot but then I started writing and realized this is probably gonna be like 30k+ words by the time I finish with all of them, so we're breaking it down in parts. Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier (this part) | Zayne | Rafayel | Sylus | Caleb

The first time it happened, it wasn't on purpose. Not really. Xavier was so fucking cute, it wasn't fair. The way his pretty blue eyes got wide, the soft pout that settled on his lips when you did something that made him jealous. How he'd place his hand on your lower back like it belonged there when he led you out of rooms or away from people who stole your attention from him, it was hot.

In addition to that, the man was seriously skilled. His evol was powerful, and he cut through wanderers like it was nothing. After one particularly tough day of battle, you both were a little roughed up. Not too bad, a scrape here and there, but a streak of blood ended up on his face. Gods help you, Xavier was a handsome man normally, but roughed up and messy from a battle? It was downright sinful how good he looked.

After battle, your blood always ran hot. Since you started this job your vibrator got a workout, most days leaving you so on edge you had no choice but to find some sort of quick release. You expected the same would happen after that battle. Yet, instead of telling him goodnight in the elevator, you asked him to come inside you apartment and have dinner with you. He agreed.

So you ordered dinner in, washed up enough to eat, and he did the same. Dinner arrived and you ate next to him on the couch, half-watching some boring movie you didn't care about. Especially not with him so close to you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and warm in your ears. Unwanted goosebumps danced up your arms, and you did your best to repress the shiver.

"Fine. Just on edge, you know?" You sighed and laid back into the couch. "I'm always a little tense after battles. It'll pass."

He looked at you in that way of his. Bright blue eyes that seemed to already know every secret you had, like he saw down to the very essence of who you were. You, on the other hand, never knew what he was thinking. He was so calm. So stable that your bullshit never fazed him. Like Zayne, in a way. Maybe that's why you liked Xavier so much. That stability and seemingly never-ending patience soothed your nerves and made your mind turn into jelly when it was directed at you. Like it was at that moment.

"What do you usually do to calm down?" he asked.

Gods, his eyes were so wide, he looked too innocent. You wondered if he heard you come before. He was right upstairs, and while you tried to be quiet, the walls were thin. Your heart thrummed under your breast and you tried to come up with some sort of lie that sounded convincing.

"I...uh..."

"Your face is red," he said in that same monotone voice. A little glint of something sparkled in his eyes, but you turned away to hide your burning face.

"I'll calm down in a little bit. I think I just need to lay down." It was a lame cover up. You knew it, Xavier knew it, and so did the thirty-seven plushies in the corner of your couch.

"Lay on me then. We have to finish the movie, I won't be able to sleep if I don't know how it ends."

A lie almost as lame as yours. Xavier could sleep standing up waiting for backup if he had to. Still, when he leaned back on the couch and opened his arms in invitation, you couldn't resist. He was your work partner. You trusted him with your life every day, certainly you could take a nap on him.

His coat was off, and all he wore was a thin t-shirt that fit close to his body. Battle-toned muscle laid under a soft layer of bulk, he turned out to be the perfect pillow. Warm and soft, he registered in your mind as safe on a bone-deep level. You took off your hunter uniform when you went to wash up, and you regretted the short sleep shorts and thin shirt you picked out, because the heat of him seeped through the fabric and burned against your skin.

The rush of adrenaline-induced desire you dealt with after battle didn't ease. If anything, his proximity and the fact he was still partially mused from battle did the exact opposite of help the predicament you found yourself in. You laid on his chest. He used one arm as a pillow, and the other draped over your waist like it belonged there. Distracted, his thumb stroked your side and you thought you'd melt out of your skin you were so hot. Your panties were soaked through, and you tried to adjust every few minutes to escape the feeling.

The third time you squeezed your thighs together and rolled your hips to a more comfortable position, Xavier stilled you with his firm grip. You mewled, like the pathetic little kitten Sylus insisted you were. It was an embarrassing sound, and you hid your face in Xavier's chest, pretending he didn't hear you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you sore?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight. "I'm very, very sore."

You refused to look at him. You reminded yourself all the reasons you needed to behave yourself. Xavier was your neighbor. You worked together. He was jealous of anyone else who took your attention now. You saw him every single day. You were friends. You should not ruin all of that by letting your horny brain make the decisions. Yes, he was handsome, gentle, and lethal at once. Sure, he was tall with big shoulders and strong hands. Yeah, he was probably strong enough to throw you around and his cock was--

His cock was hard. It throbbed against your lower stomach between the clothing separating you. You moved just enough that you felt it, likely why Xavier tried to get you to stop. You kept your head buried in his chest. He said nothing. Silence dragged between you as you fought yourself for mental clarity.

But then he said your name. Breathless, almost a whine. Needy. Your self control left the fucking building. You braved meeting his face, and his eyes were dark with desire. You sat up with your palms flat on his chest. Your hair curtained over your shoulder as his large hands came to rest on your waist. Your left hand slid up his chest, to his jaw, and you held him there, neither of you speaking.

He broke first.

Faster than you could track, he flipped you so you were on your back with your arms above your head. Your wrists were held in one of his hands, and he crashed his lips into yours. You moaned as he ground his hips into you, showing you just how hard he was. Your mind spun. He was so thick, you could already imagine the stretch he'd give you.

He tore his lips away, and you were both breathless. Pinned under him, you had no desire to move. His broad form blocked out the dim light of the movie, and all you knew was him. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, and he kissed you again. More tender than the last time.

"Do you want to continue this?" he asked. His grip loosened around your wrists, giving you an easy way to escape. Not that you couldn't before. You were strong enough to knock anyone who you didn't want touching you on their ass, but the gesture made your heart and stomach flip.

"I do," you said, your voice soft. "Do you?"

"More. than. anything."

He punctuated the words with kisses down your neck. That little voice in the back of your head that screamed "don't fuck your co-workers" went silent as all the remaining rational thought in your mind melted out of your ears. Who were you to deny yourself something you both wanted?

You arched into his kisses and his free hand slid under the hem of your shirt. Big, calloused, and oh so warm, he reached up your side and pushed your shirt up. He let go of your wrists only long enough to pull your shirt off, and then he unhooked your bra. Your full tits jiggled as he removed the garment, and he cursed.

"Fuck, bunny. You're so beautiful." His praise came out with the sanctity of a prayer. The nickname he gave you, something he hadn't done until now, made your cheeks burn. His shirt came next, and by all the fucking gods, you couldn't breathe. He was so good looking it was unfair. How were you ever meant to resist this?

Before you could reply with a sultry remark, his lips were back on yours with your wrists pinned under his palm. He kissed you softly at first, but it quickly grew more heated. It was like he was pent up, so full of need that the slightest touch would break him, and that drove you wild. His lips left your mouth and trailed down your neck, to your tits, and down your stomach.

"Xavier, please I--"

"Quiet," he commanded. "I'll give you what you need, but I need something first."

His voice took on a harder edge. Soft-spoken, meek Xavier was gone, and in his place stood the dominant, deadly, serious version of him you only caught glimpses of. Gods, you didn't think you could get any wetter, but here you were, so wet that even your shorts were soaked through. He cursed again when he came face-to-face with the truth of your desire. He released your wrists and again, faster than you could blink, he slipped your shorts and panties off.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and kissed from your knee down to your thigh, moving slowly as he eased himself in line with your soaking pussy. Nestled between your thighs, he licked from your opening to your clit. You both moaned. His strong hands gripped your thighs, and he lost himself in your pussy. Long, firm licks lapped up all your juices and his nose bumped against your clit in a perfect rhythm.

Pent up and drenched, you were already close. Not that Xavier seemed to notice. He was too busy devouring you to respond to your warnings that you were close, or maybe he wanted you to shatter all over his face. Either way, the wave built until you couldn't hold it back. He moaned as you came on his face, and he looked up at you from between your thighs. His pretty blue eyes bright and sparkling in the low light.

Xavier kissed your still-pulsing clit then sat up on his knees. His belt came off in one hand, and his pants and boxers slipped down his strong thighs. His cock was just as thick as you imagined it would be, and a good length. Big enough to hit all the right places and wide enough to give you the stretch you needed. You bit your lip and shivered as you imagined how it'd stretch you wide open, and your legs spread of their own accord.

Xavier slapped the head of his cock on your clit and you whined, a high-pitched, pitiful sound. He chuckled, the sound just as warm as the rest of him. "I think you're wet enough to take my cock. Do you want it, bunny?"

"Please, Xavier," you whined. "I need you."

"Bend over for me. Hands behind your back," he said.

You flipped around and pressed your chest into the couch, arched your back, and spread your legs. Your hands went to the small of your back. The smooth leather of his belt wrapped around your wrists and he planted a kiss between your shoulder blades.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Tell me if you need me to untie you." Another kiss between your shoulder blades made your heart do the stupid flipping thing it liked to do around him, and you made a simple noise of agreement, not trusting your voice.

He gripped the tail of the belt and held it tight in his hands, pulling your arms back. Restrained, your already lust-fogged mind emptied further, sinking deeper down into the sensations Xavier gave you. His large hand clapped down on your ass, not hard, but just enough to make noise. Your hips rolled back against his, and he cursed.

"What a good girl you are," he cooed. "Fucking perfect. Better than I imagined."

The confession that he imagined you like this was too much for your lust-drunk mind to process. Thankfully, Xavier didn't seem to expect a response from you. He lined his fat cock up with your entrance, then slipped in.

Your moan was muffled by the couch. His cock was so thick it burned slightly as he settled inside you. You hadn't taken anything bigger than your fingers since you started work, and Gods, having Xavier inside you was the best kind of stretch. He started off slow, going in deep and hitting every spot that made your breath hitch, then he slowly eased back until only the tip remained. He continued that slow pace, stretching you out around his fat cock.

Your fingers wrapped around his belt for some sort of purchase, needing something to tether you to the moment. Each slow, luxurious roll of his hips pushed another desperate, needy whine out of you and into the couch.

"Xavier!" you moaned.

"Yes, bunny?" he asked, his voice as calm as ever.

"More, please."

"You need more?" Xavier hummed. "I'm not sure you can take it."

"I need more, please!"

He clapped down on your other ass cheek. Noisy, but not hard enough to hurt and your mind melted. His pace increased from torturously slow to a medium pace, the added fiction against your slick inner walls pulling more needy sounds out of you. Your walls fluttered around him as you neared your second release.

"You already want to come again, don't you?" Xavier said, his voice low. "I feel you getting close. Fuck, you feel so good."

You cried out his name again, with some sort of half-babbled praise about how big he was, how much he stretched you. You were fucked out. Gone. Lost in sensation.

"I can't hear you. Say that again." Xavier slammed his hips hard into yours and you moaned his name again. Louder this time, followed by more babbled praise. "Good girl, that's more like it."

His hand settled around the belt holding your wrists together and his thrusts became deep, punishing things. You babbled out praises and moans of his name as your release grew closer and closer. His other hand reached under your bodies and rubbed your clit in slow, firm circles and you shuddered.

His cock throbbed inside you. Pulsing alongside your slick walls as he thrust into you. The wet sounds of your fucking echoed in your living room, over the sound of your forgotten movie. Panted breaths and muffled moans added to the sounds, which only made you burn hotter. Your pussy clenched around his cock when he hit just the right angle, and you choked out a needy moan.

"Come for me, bunny. Let me feel you."

The command was spoken softly in your ear, but there was a sharp edge to it you had no choice but to obey. You came with a loud cry of Xavier's name, gushing over his thick cock. You clenched and squeezed, and Xavier barely pulled out before he came. Thick, hot spurts painted your ass, and he moaned your name as he coated you in his come.

You both were breathless in the aftermath. Xavier leaned down and kissed the space between your shoulder blades as he freed your wrists from his belt. Strong hands massaged your wrists until they stopped tingling, then he placed a soft kiss on each one. He disappeared for a moment, and when he came back he had a warm cloth. He cleaned you up, then pulled you against his chest.

You nuzzled into his neck, sighing softly. He turned your chin and convinced you to drink some water. You slowly came back to the moment, your body blissfully calm and mind blessedly empty. He laid back on the couch and pulled you with him. You flopped on top of him, and he pulled your couch blanket over you both.

You didn't mean to fall asleep.

That was your first thought as your work alarm blared from your bedroom. Sunlight danced in through the windows of your apartment, and a quick look at your phone said it was just past seven. Work started at nine. Xavier was fast asleep under you, snoring softly without a care in the world. His arms held you tight against his chest, and after a little bit of wiggling around, you realized there was no escaping his death grip.

You were both still naked, wrapped up together and warm from shared body heat. Your living room smelled like sex, and your face flushed as you realized you'd need to spot clean your couch. Looking down at the sleeping man below you, your neighbor, your co-worker, you realized mistakes were made last night, and now you had to suffer the consequences.

You shook Xavier's shoulder. "Xavier. It's time to wake up."

He mumbled something that sounded like a "no". You tried again, shaking him harder this time. "Xavier!"

His arms wrapped tighter around you, as if he refused to let you go even while sleeping. You rolled your eyes. Running out of options and feeling increasingly trapped, you opted for something odd. You bit him. Right over his nipple.

It worked.

Xavier startled awake, and upon seeing your face, he eased, a soft laugh bubbling in his chest. "I didn't realize bunnies bit so hard."

You hummed, almost saying something stupid like, "that's why another sexy man I know calls me kitten", but you caught yourself. You cleared your throat. "You weren't waking up, so I had to resort to extreme measures. We have to get up for work."

Xavier checked the time on his phone and made a disgruntled noise. "I suppose so."

You swallowed hard as you prepared yourself for what could quite possibly be one of the most awkward morning-after conversations ever. You liked Xavier. A lot. However, this wasn't and could not become a relationship. You didn't know the extent of Xavier's feelings, but you knew he felt something, and you wanted to nip that in the bud before anything got too serious.

"We're good, right? Nothing is different with us?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, we work together, live next to each other. I don't want last night to make things weird between us. I don't regret it, but I also don't want you to think it means something more than it does, you know?"

Xavier's smiling face went blank, and you knew you fucked up.

"What did it mean, then?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Well...we're friends. And maybe fuck buddies, if you want to be. If either of us needs a hand like I did last night, I'd be open to that. But, I honestly don't have time for a relationship, and I don't think you do either. I think it's best if we keep this casual."

"Casual." Xavier said the word like it offended him and you winced.

"Yeah. Is that alright with you?"

Xavier looked at you, the distance back in his blue eyes. The silence stretched on between you for several uncomfortable minutes, but you kept your mouth shut. If you fucked everything up permanently, it was best to figure that out now, before you got to work so you could request a new partner. Eventually, Xavier sighed and a little bit of the warmth he showed only to you came back into his expression.

"The next time a battle leaves you needing a way to burn off some steam, come to me. I'll take care of you," he said. He planted a chaste kiss on your shoulder, and you smiled at him.

"Alright. Otherwise, we're back to normal?"

"Yeah," he said. "Otherwise, we're back to normal."

You both knew it was a lie, but it comforted you all the same.

Yeah, things were perfectly, totally normal.

So. Normal.

A/N: Xavier isn't one of my mains, but I love him sm & I can easily imagine something like this happening, so he's the one we started this lil series off with. I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Doctor. I'm excited to write that one!

Masterlist | Next Part

[plzdonutpercieveme]

fish fear me and i believe this specific fish should fear me the most because i will turn him into sashimi and sell his jewelry

[plzdonutpercieveme]

rafayel who... (nsfw)

rafayel who longs for his bride, awaiting the day they will unite, his heart echoing with yearning all while his paint strokes another canva, telling another story that is deep buried away in his mind.

rafayel who sees his bride for the first time in this lifetime, the pure shock rendering him confused and speechless, the captivating aura inspiring him anew.

rafayel who stays up late at night, unable to rest as his hand fists his leaking cock. his heart thrumming so fast he could hear it beat against his chest with every rise and fall. every small sensitive feeling having him spiral as he imagines his bride wrapped around his cock, squeezing him dry for her own pleasure.

rafayel who cums a shaky orgasm, his hips desperately jerking up into his hands. whiny grunts leaving his lips as he tips over the edge, the sound of your voice in his head capturing a tingling feeling through his sweaty body.

rafayel who then paints his bride's figure at the strangest hours of the night, the robe he threw on barely hiding his already sensitive and hard cock as he imagines every curve, every dip, every line of her body. the plush softness he yearns to feel, to kiss and treasure for another lifetime.

rafayel who patiently waits for his bride who eternally is his in this life and the next.

this pookie is unedited, HOPE EVERYONE'S PULLS WENT GOOD, got the myth in 150 pulls, 100 euro later :")

[plzdonutpercieveme]

(INVOLUNTARILY) GAWKING ft. xavier

notes: fluff, fem!reader, housemates!au, pre-relationship situation, reader is awkward, xavier tries at flirting (and kinda fails),

a/n: it's too hot outside to properly function so my brain birthed this fic, uh enjoy ig - wrote this in like 15 mins (my study break) so it yet to be proofread. wc: 857 . rbs are very appreciated <3

m.list

it is infact not alright when it's 37 °C outside (about 100 F) and you are living with a (male) housemate.

nope, you no way you were going full on nude in front of xavier, nope. you'd rather die from the heat. although, at some point the heat became so unbearable any insane thought became completely rational.

“ugh it's so hot,” you groaned while stretching on the sofa, the shorts and tank top feeling sticky against your skin.

oh, right, the ac refused to turn on for some reason, and the fan was broken, apparently one of its blades had snapped off and it just stopped functioning correctly.

xavier cocked his head out of his room, a pearl of sweat sliding down his temple until it fell in a bead down from his chin.

he had it way worse, his wide shorts just right above the knee and a white t-shirt... just the sight of that made you sweat.

“it's alright [name], i've just ordered another one, it'll be delivered in a couple of hours,” his soft voice angelically carried the glad tidings, except you felt even more desperate and exhausted.

more hours of that inferno.

you closed your eyes. maybe a short nap would help take you out of that dread. minutes passed and... nope it was too hot to sleep.

you sat up and headed for the kitchen. there, a sight made you stop in your tracks. an unexpected one.

xavier leaned against the counter, shirtless, while drinking a can of chilled soda. his toned muscles seemed to shine under the natural light of the sun, his adam's apple bobbing up and down with each sip.

he didn't seem to notice you, so that gave you a chance to observe him for a while longer.

he was attractive alright.

you'd been housemates for about a month, but your schedules never aligned in a way that you'd be that often in each other's presence, so you'd never actually paid attention to xavier's presence around you.

you just thought having a man as a flatmate had too many downsides for your liking, but still accepted him as you really needed someone to split the rent with.

“oh, you're here,” his calm tone slowly carried you out of your trance.

xavier put down his soda and turned to face you, but then noticed his bare chest so he crossed his arms against it and swiftly turned around, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“oh how long have you been there? i'm sorry, i didn't realise...”

“no no, it's alright haha... i've been here for a while, i didn't mean to stare,” you stretch your hands forward in a defensive way, “but! i was going anyway...” you trailed off and ran away in a jiffy, heart thumping and a familiar warmth in your face.

shit. did i just get caught gawking?

you bit your lip in frustration and closed the door to your bedroom before plopping onto the carpeted ground.

dignity gone, you started planning your move-out. because, how could you even face him after that.

desperation aside, two hours went by, and except for the heat and the embarrassing scene from earlier replaying in your head every time you closed your eyes, nothing eventful happened.

“[name]?” a voice called out to you, followed by a knock.

you hesitated but still got closer to the door. “is she asleep?” a voice mumbled from the other side, so you nervously opened up.

xavier's watchful blue eyes were the first to meet your surpised - not really - gaze.

your heart leaped to your throat, you cleared your voice. “y-yes?” oh god, how awkward.

“i just wanted to tell you, the new fan has just been delivered,” he pointed to the living room.

“i already installed it, i think the maintenance is coming to fix our ac in about a day or two,” he said, trying to keep a neutral tone while scratching the back of his head.

your eyes involuntarily jumped to his flexed arm and you had to call each and every atom of your self-control to avert your gaze and stop staring.

“oh! that's... great! yeah!” you answered, a bit to excitedly. you hoped it sounded as natural as possible, embarrassment from a couple of hours prior still holding you captive.

xavier nodded and turned around, walking a few steps. then, as if he'd remembered something, he stopped and turned around.

you'd only now noticed a small bag he was carrying in his hand. he then offered it to you.

“here, since i've put the fan in the living room, use this if it's too hot at night,” and off he went, as soon as you grasped it.

closing the door behind you, you unpacked the gift(?) only to find a mini desk fan. how adorable, you thought with a smile, thinking of xavier's attentiveness, as warmth spread across your chest from gratefulness... and maybe something else.

a small paper fell out, so putting the object aside, you opened it.

i'm sorry for making you feel embarrassed earlier. also, i didn't say you couldn't look, you can stare as much as you want.

you gulped. oh.

© sylusgworl - 2025, all rights reserved / i don't allow anyone to copy, repost on other platforms or sell my works.

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Getting Rafayel out of chains was a good and a bad idea. Falling into the Siren's trap to be seduced was way too easy when an extraterrestrial enitity was this beautiful. Maybe only having a glance at the Sea God meant you could have an eternal life.

Wrong.

Here you were with your places reversed, beneath the waters where the sun could only graze upon—trapped within the Sea God's embrace as he cherished every nook and cranny of his sacrificial bride's body. Rafayel wondered, what a diservice it was that you had to be sacrificed for a prophecy when you looked at him with such devotion and were bonded to him.

The calculated stroke of his hips as he thrusted had you rolling your eyes to the back of their sockets. You placed your one hand onto his hip for support while the other arm was wrapped around his neck, busy bracing your upper body that was reduced to a shaky mess, your cunt drooled with your nectar and prickled with heat that only Rafayel could extinguish.

Taking two of his cocks in your poor, yet demanding pussy wasn't an easy task. Your lover himself knew how huge he was, snaking his tail around your frame to stabilize you.

"I'm not letting you go until you're completely satiated, my beloved bride."

[plzdonutpercieveme]

愛 ⋮ xavier overstimulates you .ᐟ

buzz. buzz. buzz.

"n-no more, s'too much b-ba—ngh!"

a little press of the vibrator to your engorged clit has you convulsing.

it's not even an "almost", your body reacted before your mind could think. a light laugh leaves your lover, amused at how openly reactive you are to his touch.

"it's okay, baby. not too much." you'd honestly think he's gaslighting you if not for the way how your stomach clenches (no) thanks to the feeling of the little toy going crazy on your sensitive bud.

"can't! xav—!" your fingers scrap his bicep, trying to ground yourself while he just eyes you almost lazily but his cock, standing upright and very much hard, says otherwise. "feels good?"

you'd shake your head, though both of you knew that was a lie. "i can see you're about to cum again," his eyes move down to your cunt, watching the empty hole he just stretched a prio ago, open and closes; an indicator that you're about to release again.

"fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck! g-gods, please—" you're not even sure what you're begging for, but you know you're about to squirt in a few seconds or so.

xavier smiles at your tightly closed eyes, the sting of your grip nothing compared to watching you fall and crumble below him. this is the view.

"ah, there we go." your high pitched scream reverberates through your room, the vibrator buzzing unrelenting despite the amount of hot liquid squirt pouring out of you. xavier, for some reason, found himself catching a few of your release in his mouth before forcing yours open to transfer it you. "swallow." his eyes dark, yet his smirk so angelic.

you did so as you're told, and then xavier's removing the toy away from your cunt. "did you keep count?"

oh no.

your blissful state was shattered with one question.

oh no, no, no, no, no... was it maybe, the 8th? the 10th? your fried brain tries to track from 4 hours ago to now, just how many times has he made you cum just tonight alone?

your eyes turn teary as you look at him. him who laughs freely.

"i'm joking honey, know your little brain couldn't keep up with how many times i've made you do all that." he spoke with ease, kissing your entire face as his hands roam your body, seemingly still not tired.

"you can still give me more, right?"

prodding his middle and ring finger to your hole, you gasp. "no! pleade, xav, been a good girl—" he's deaf to your pleading words, entering your pussy in no time.

"know you can." and he's kissing you before letting his fingers do the dirty work to your cunt.

after all, you haven't even said your safe word.

all rights reserved, rafasbride 2025

Ი︵𐑼 % dividers from @/cafekitsune

[plzdonutpercieveme]

Becoming aware (Lyssa)

Breaking the fourth wall series. Previous >>> next

From the moment the customization page popped up, she knew.

Feeling the shifts on her face, seeing the hair options, the flashing colors, and limited critiques from her counterpart, Lyssa was aware she was apart of a game.

It could be worse. At least being the main character wasn't so bad. Who was she kidding? The last thing she wanted to be was the love interest to four guys.

One was cloaked in secrets and sleeping in random places. One was a sass mouth who had brat behavior. As the main story progressed, there was one who had henchmen and seemed to be the leader of a mafia group. The doctor was the only normal one, but even he was a workaholic.

As she sat in her apartment, Lyssa evaluated the situation she was in. It was nice knowing that she wasn't some kind of damsel in distress, but the job choice could have been better and her evol type.

Then there was her counterpart, Bree. It struck her odd that the woman spoke to and about each of them like they were alive. However, she appreciated it in some way. It was hard sometimes pretending and not responding when Bree asked questions or made comments.

Lyssa gets excited when it is time to take photos. She gets to see Bree clearer, her voice isn't muffled, and gets glimpses of the outside world.

"It would be nice if the game developers could give more hair choices, especially with hair texture; you wearing braids or having more curls would be wonderful. Clothes too that offered more pants, maybe some sandals for your feet. A girl can't always be in heels or combat boots."

Lyssa agreed with the commentary.

As time passed, she learned things about Bree. It was nice learning about the woman. She was a nursery school teacher who taught a class of seventeen children (battling wanderers sounded better), was the eldest daughter and sister to thirteen siblings; she couldn't drive any form of vehicle, was a mom to an energetic baby and had an obsession with watching Korean dramas.

The woman also tends to catch a cold quite often and stares off into space from time to time.

Bree also prefers to say home more than anything else. It was just work, home, and the occasional outing to the park or visiting her siblings. It worried Lyssa a bit.

Sometimes, she wished to just say hello but knew that would freak Bree out. It would be nice not being the only self-aware character. Was it possible to find a way out of the game?

"You're thinking so hard, I can almost hear your thoughts."

Blinking, she remembered where she was currently... having lunch with Zayne. He sat across from her eating macaroons.

"Sorry. I'm thinking about a friend of mine."

He looked at her calmly. "Anything I can offer assistance with? You looked troubled for a moment."

"I don't think you can help. Unless you know how to travel to another dimension..."

Zayne raised a brow. "Dimension travel has something to do with your friend?"

She shook her head, letting out a small chuckle, "Forget I said anything."

Zayne's ears picked up on the last sentence she whispered, "Can't get to her anyways. Bree doesn't even know I exist."

Lyssa jumped in fright at the breaking of porcelain, and the table suddenly covered in ice. Her head snapped up, making eye contact with a shocked Zayne.

Before she could ask what was wrong, he firmly grabbed her wrists. "Zayne! What the hell!"

"How do you know that name? No, wrong question... how do you know who she is?"

They stared at each other. Lyssa searched his face, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then it clicked.

"You know who I'm talking about. Oh my goodness, you know who Bree is! Oh, fuck how long have you know? How long have you been self-aware!?"

He let go of her and quickly reached for his phone, placing it on speaker after dialing a number.

She nearly choked when Sylus's voice filled the space.

"SYLUS KNOWS ABOUT BREE TOO!?"

"Well, this is interesting. Hello, kitten."

"How fast can you get here?"

"A few minutes. I have your location already, so just stay put... relax kitten, the doctor and I have a lot to discuss with you."

Not waiting for a response, he hung up, leaving her speechless. Well shit. It seems she wasn't alone in this anymore.