boulevardofpizzadreams

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

╰┈➤ 𝕝&𝕕𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕟 & 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕩 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

author’s note: 🗒️ oh i’ve had so much fun writing this. <3 talk to me about the lads men 😫💞

-> xavier *ੈ✩‧₊˚ legs up in a V

xavier loves control. loves precision. he loves to humble you at times when he switches from the cutest, most adorable little snuggly bear to the hardest dom you’ve ever seen. the eyes switch, the demeanor switches, and you love it.

he has your legs pushed up in a trembling v, hands wrapped around your thighs like restraints, your cunt exposed and twitching, so sore and swollen it’s almost pulsing. he loves the way his cock digs into your velvety walls, slippery sounds of him pumping you full echoing through his apartment.

his voice is calm, low, calculated.

“don’t move, princess. i want to see everything. i want to see your face when you cum, when it’s xavier making you cum — and not lumiere.”

he’s slow with it—methodical, hitting that perfect spot every single time while he watches your body tremble beneath him like an experiment unraveling. your hands claw at the sheets, lips parted in ruined moans, and he just smirks. jealousy dripping, conceited and oh- so so horny.

“mm. there. that reaction. that’s the one i wanted.”

-> zayne *ੈ✩‧₊˚ cowgirl

zayne wants you on top. not always, but on the occasions when he wants to see you struggling to fit his thick, fat cock inside you. when he wants to reduce you from a big, baddie hunter, to his subby little angel who’s sobbing because her pussy feels too full.

he lays back with that lazy, cocky smile, hands behind his head, muscles golden and taut like he’s built to be ridden. head leaned against the headboard.

“go on, little one. show me what that pretty body’s made for.”

he watches every bounce. every grind. his hands slide up your waist, your thighs, gripping your ass as you lose rhythm and start crying from how deep he hits. he would wipe your tears tenderly, peppering sweet kisses — “look at you, so little and so cute for me like this. sometimes i wonder if this is what you’re made for.”

“hmm, already falling apart? and here i thought you were gonna ride me like a good girl.”

he pulls you down, sucks a bruise into your neck, and mutters against your ear

“don’t stop now. i’m not done watching you yet.”

-> sylus *ੈ✩‧₊˚ doggy-style

sylus doesn’t just fuck you. he hunts you from behind. it’s like your predator chasing you. his thick, girthy & veinny cock loves when your pussy tries to run away from it. swollen & desperate, how your body lurches forward when he pumps you full. his heavy balls slapping against your clit.

has you on all fours, back arched, cunt dripping, and one hand pressing your spine down harder every time you try to lift your head. sometimes he would hold your shoulder, muttering softly, “ah ah ah— don’t run away now, sweetie.” voice laced with that soft mockery that you love oh so much.

“no, stay like that. let me see everything.”

his pace is brutal. steady. punishing. he watches your ass ripple, your thighs shake, your mouth gape into the mattress like you’re trying to scream but forgot how.

“look at that. twitching already? good. you’ll remember this one.”

and when you whimper out “sy—sylus—please—”

“mm-mm, sure kitten. you want to be bred by me just say so…” and you do, so badly.

-> caleb *ੈ✩‧₊˚ prone-bone

caleb’s all about ownership. he wants you to know he owns you, he wants everyone to know he owns you, he wants your body, your soul, everything related to you to know & remember — you’re his.

he lays you flat on your stomach, legs spread just enough, hips tilted up & a pillow underneath as he sinks in deep, pinning you under his body like you’re his. and you’re meant to be pliant & take it.

“don’t move, baby. i got you.”

his arms are tight around your waist, face pressed to the back of your neck, lips brushing your ear as he fucks you in slow, aching rolls that make your clit throb against the sheets.

“feel that? how deep i am? how i’m not letting you go?”

he grinds deeper, and you sob, trembling from how much you’re taking. caleb’s not small, and both of you know that. the way your pesky cervix stops him from forcing more of him deeper, harder..

“you don’t have to do a thing, angel. just lie there and come on my cock.” and you don’t. you just lay there and watch him, feel him make you see stars.

-> rafayel *ੈ✩‧₊˚ mating press

rafayel wants to own your soul. he’s waited for you so long & his stupid lemurian instincts want you to so many times to feel satiated…

he folds you in half, presses your knees to your chest, and thrusts so deep it feels like he’s kissing your womb with every stroke. he really is, and in the back of his head if the position is called — a mating press. then he should be able to make you pregnant.

“you’re mine, cutie. say it.”

his hand is on your throat, his other pressed to your belly where he can feel himself inside you. you’re gasping, leaking, absolutely gone. “say you’re mine~” he almost sing songs, the way your pupils have dilated from the sheer pleasure in your nerves only makes him chuckle a little. oh he’s gone so far deep.

“look at how your body opens for me. like it knows who it belongs to.”

and when you start shaking—so overstimmed you’re crying? oh how can his cock not erupt and fill you up? over & over & over?

“let me fuck it deeper. let me keep you.”

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

✴︎ MORNING SEX

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys wake up horny and make it your problem.

ﾉ including: Xavier / Zayne / Rafayel / Sylus

ﾉ cw: fem!reader, morning sex, cunnilingus, blowjobs, thigh fucking, creampies, cum eating, consent checks (no somno)

ﾉ notes: this wasn't planned but it just happened.... || TAGLIST

જ⁀➴ Xavier:

♡ Xavier really likes giving and receiving oral - especially in the mornings.

♡ It's just too good when he wakes up with your mouth wrapped around his half hard cock, feeling it growing fully hard in your mouth.

♡ When you wake up and can feel him pressed against your butt with the way he's holding you, you smirk to yourself. Someone was having a good dream, eh?

♡ You thought about letting him sleep peacefully at first, but the longer you two stayed in bed like that, the harder it got to ignore (quite literally).

♡ When you finally had enough, you turned around in his arms and started peppering kisses over his collarbones until you heard him groan tiredly.

♡ "Wanna wake you up properly," you mumble against his skin and you can feel the goosebumps forming on his skin before his cock twitches against your belly while he gives you a tired nod.

♡ Your kisses slowly descended downwards until you reached the hem of his sweatpants, which you pulled down without hesitation.

♡ The sight was a truly beautiful one, Xavier's pale cock was just waiting for your tongue to run over his veins, for your lips to wrap around his sensitive tip and you didn't even want to make him wait.

♡ Lazily, you ran your tongue up and down the underside of his shaft and along the thick vein there before taking his tip in your mouth.

♡ Your tongue lapped at his frenulum before sinking down your head until all of it was buried inside your mouth and throat.

♡ Xavier's eyes shut even tighter and he let out a soft mewl at how good you made him feel even when he was still half asleep.

♡ In his sleepy haze it never took more than a few minutes until you could feel his cock twitch desperately, so you doubled your efforts, needing him to paint your tongue with his seed.

♡ With a silent moan, he released inside your mouth, his hands gripping the pillow beneath his head tightly when you kept suckling his tip even after he came.

♡ Once you had your fill, you made sure to release his softening cock with a lewd pop and pressed a sweet kiss onto his hip bone. "Good morning to you, handsome," you mused and cuddled back up to him.

♡ Xavier would make sure to repay the favor once he's fully awake.

જ⁀➴ Zayne:

♡ Zayne absolutely hates lounging around in bed in the mornings, having his set morning routine - but sometimes he can't resist holding you close just for five more minutes.

♡ Especially if you wear a shirt of his and nothing else. How is he supposed to leave you in bed like that?

♡ You lay on your stomach, one leg raised ever so slightly and his shirt rose up over your hips so the globes of your ass were fully visible.

♡ He groans silently and pulls you against his chest so you two are spooning. Slowly, his hands travel over your body in a respectful manner until your eyes flutter open, a small yawn escaping your lips.

♡ "Good morning, beautiful." His voice is still hoarse from sleep, but his lips feel warm against your shoulder when he leaves a kiss there.

♡ One of his hands travels towards your hip and gives it a gentle squeeze before sliding over your thigh, stopping right before your core, a silent question for consent and you nod tiredly, hooking one leg over his to give him access.

♡ This was all Zayne needed, fingers gently gliding through your folds to play with your clit while his hips rut against you until you mewl for him, eager to feel him inside of you.

♡ Zayne pulled down his sleep shorts just enough to free his aching length before letting it glide through your by now drenched folds, gathering your arousal before slipping inside of you.

♡ It's not rough, it's slow and loving. His hips roll against yours almost in a tired fashion, but he holds you close by wrapping one arm around you while his other hand stays between your thighs to play with your clit.

♡ It might be lazy morning sex, but your pleasure is still most important to him.

♡ Mornings like that are rare but deeply valued by the both of you.

જ⁀➴ Rafayel:

♡ Rafayel isn't a morning person and likes to lie around in bed even if he does wake up early.

♡ If you're still asleep when he's already out of his little dream world, he likes watching you a lot, burning every little detail of you into his brain.

♡ But if he wakes up needy and you're not awake to help him feel better? He's not above waking you up with whines, shaking you slightly or straight up rutting against you in whatever position you two found yourselves when he woke up.

♡ This morning your plush butt was pressed up against him so beautifully and he couldn't help but roll his hips into you, the friction making him pant heavily.

♡ "Wake up, cutie, you're missing out on the fun," he whines a little, just wanting your attention.

♡ When you finally do wake up, Rafayel kisses your shoulders gently but also leaves small bites behind.

♡ You could feel how desperate he got, his cock was hard as he rubbed it against the globes of your ass, but you were merciful, allowing him to slide it between your thighs.

♡ Your body was already reacting to him before you woke up, your pussy wet and needy when you woke up, which made it much easier for him to fuck your thighs.

♡ The tip of his cock rubs deliciously against your clit with each roll of his hips, making you hide your face in the pillows.

♡ Rafayel's arm snakes around you to play with your boobs, enjoying the sweet sounds you make for him.

♡ It doesn't take long for him to get to the edge, nudging the head of his cock against your entrance now, but not pushing in yet to wait for your permission.

♡ Instead of allowing him to finally fuck you, you push him onto his back and straddle his hips before sinking down on his cock.

♡ Both of you throw your head back when he slides in with ease, but Rafayel can't hold back from releasing immediately, your pussy squeezing him too perfectly.

♡ Once his eyes flutter open and the haze of his orgasm wears off, your hips start to move, causing him to blush furiously at how overwhelming it felt, but he wouldn't want you to stop - you deserve an earth shattering orgasm to start the day too, after all.

જ⁀➴ Sylus:

♡ Sylus is a night owl, so usually he goes to bed when you wake up.

♡ There are some nights when he lies in bed with you regardless, or days when you try to adapt to his sleeping schedule.

♡ But the mornings when he goes to bed are the best because he likes to wake you up and make sure that you have a wonderful start into the day.

♡ He's gentle at first, his big hands caressing your arms before they wander over your torso towards your thighs.

♡ His hands stay respectful until your eyes flutter open - that's where they start to get teasing.

♡ Fingers raking over your inner thighs and kisses following in their wake immediately.

♡ He doesn't need to ask - the way you nod and part your legs so willingly is all the consent he needs to grow bolder with his advances.

♡ When his kisses reached the junction of your thighs, he planted feather like kisses onto your clothed pussy, his tongue gently prodding at the fabric just to have you squirming beneath him.

♡ He didn't make you wait long before his fingers tugged your panties down, flinging them carelessly into the room before continuing to kiss your pretty pussy.

♡ At this point he was making out with your cunt, his tongue circling your clit before applying a little suction.

♡ When your hand started tugging at his white strands, he groaned into your pussy, red eyes looking up to watch you enjoying yourself while his tongue flicked over your clit at the perfect speed.

♡ His fingers soon slip inside of you to make you come undone for him while also prepping you for the main course.

♡ But as always, your pleasure is more important - only after you came at least twice would he think about making you come undone a third time, but this time around his cock.

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

The Shot:

Behind the Scenes:

I haven't been feeling so hot about my art lately, so I drew Rafayel being a really supportive fellow artist bc obviously he would be (◞‸◟；) He's such a comfort character for artists fr,,,

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

And suddenly she never had to face it alone again

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

Wait why do I have absolutely no recollection of Zero telling Yagari (talking about Yuki) that ''Her very existence means the world to me'' I am rereading through chapters and that line really surprised me.

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

Zero X Yuuki

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

warmth in the coldest places

On AO3

It hurts to have the gun pointed at her. The bloody rose and Zero’s pained expression. He doesn’t want this any more than her. He always hated vampires though and purebloods, even more. And she is one. Always has been.

Yuuki can’t think of how much this pains him. She doesn’t want to leave but is. She gives him a smile, and he shifts his eyes away.

How did the destiny find them here?

On opposite sides, with Zero pointing the bloody rose at her.

Just yesterday, he let her hands curled around his neck with a smile.

It was sounds like your saying that you need me, but you’re wrong. The one you need is Kaname.

“Goodbye, Zero.” Yuuki says. He looks back at her as she steps forward, and pushes the blood rose down. He doesn’t move a muscle as she comes closer to him. Keeps his steady, grey eyes on her. Yuki brushes her hands on his cheek.

It is small but Zero flinches and she immediately draws her hand back, clutching it to her chest. Tears stinging her eyes.

“I understand, Zero.” Yuuki says. And gives him a bright smile that she doesn’t feel at all.

His face twists. “Why are you always so—”

Yuuki widens her eyes as she finds herself suddenly in his arms. Zero tightly holding her close. She clings back, tears streaming down her face as she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

She doesn’t want to let him go. She doesn’t want them to become enemies.

Quietly, Zero asks, “Getting your memories back...did it help?”

Even now, he’s concerned about her. So like Zero. With a slight smile, Yuuki nods. (But it isn’t so sure, anymore.)

“...That’s good.” He says, a clear smile in his face. And god, this hurts so much. Yuuki clutches her fingers deeper in his shirt.

There’s so many things she wants to say, screaming inside her throat but she doesn’t. She just clings onto him.

It says all the thousand things that she wants to tell him.

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

Vampire knight wallpapers 🖤

pls like or reblog if u save it!

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

Vampire Knight by Matsuri Hino ヴァンパイア騎士

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear

NSFW WARNING

Sylus

Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).

“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave. 

“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious. 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”

“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.” 

You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”

“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.

“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.

“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?” 

Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused. 

“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”

“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly. 

“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.

You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”

He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”

Caleb

You’ve been teasing Caleb all day. 

Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.

So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.

He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him. 

But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.

After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.

He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.

“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.

He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?” 

You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”

“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out. 

“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.

His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips. 

He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties. 

“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.” 

Rafayel

You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.

You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.

“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”

“Raf-”

“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”

“That’s besides the point-“

“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”

“No, but I-”

“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”

“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“

“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”

When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.

“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.

You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.

He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.

Xavier

You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.

“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.” 

He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”

“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.

You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway. 

What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him. 

You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.” 

In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”

You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”

“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.

You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place. 

Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum. 

Zayne

“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”

When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.

But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him. 

You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place. 

When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.

In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along. 

He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

kissing ban

with: zayne, caleb, sylus, rafayel, xavier

content: crack, fluff, slightly suggestive

a/n: sylus’ is a continuation of this smau.

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

your first time with him — love and deepspace

synopsis. taking your virginity

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, taking your v-card, reader is a virgin, dirty talk

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne was anxious, very much so, trembling with his excitement as his forehead presses to your throat, his breath shaky with how hard he's trying to hold himself together, "are you sure?" he whispers at first, even though his hands were already gripping against your hips, like your yes would be the only thing that ever mattered.

and when you gave it to him, a silken sweet, real, response, he exhales like he's on the brink of dying, like you're honestly saving him with your answer.

"you don't get to take this back," he utters within a hoarse tone, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear ever so softly, "you give it to me, you chose me."

he says it like it's something sacred, like he's owed the softness between your legs, the stutter of your breath, the shiver of your thighs clamped around his hips, all in all with his hands slowly spreading you open, bare and exposed beneath him, untouched, and the glimmer in his eyes was honestly luscious, like zayne wanted to burn this moment into you until it scarred.

and then, well, he pushes in as your back arches immediately, the stretch resembling fire— like your body was folding in on itself trying to take him fully.

you cry out without meaning to, your voice cracking, the pain sharp and intimate and new, fuck, you've never felt anything like it. something so thick and overwhelming was repeatedly pushing through you, the friction of him splitting you open— muscle dragging against muscle, tight and wet and far too much.

"fuck, listen to that," he snarls against you with gritted teeth as his hips inch forward again, the sound of him sinking into you beginning to be loud and soaked, not to mention raw as your pussy clenches hard and somewhat instinctive.

zayne groans the moment he feels your body accepting him— he was, in fact, utterly gone by this point, finding himself in heaven in the way you whined for him.

your pussy clung to his length as his hand clumsily fumbles at your hip, trying to slow himself down, trying not to break you, fuck, but his rhythm falters and his mouth finds your throat instead— hot and open kisses battering all over your flesh with teeth scraping just to feel you twitch again.

your legs were out of control, thighs shaking around his waist as you didn't know it would feel like this— like you're being hollowed out from the inside, like there's no room and no air, nothing, no way to separate the ache from the pleasure that's already bleeding in at the edges.

you can feel him for real this time— hot and thick and twitching inside you, truly, feel every vein, every slow drag of his cock pressing against that too sensitive place that made your toes curl, such place you didn't know existed in the first place.

after a while, you adjust a little and get used to the new feeling as he's trying to go deeper, over calculating on how much your virgin cunt could take as you suck in a ragged breath and sob out something broken yet sweet, your fingernails digging into his back and still, zayne never stops memorizing your reactions.

his pelvis presses flush to yours as you cry out again, your stomach tight with unbearable pressure as a dull pulse starts to throb low and hard into your tightness with your nerves fried and limbs shaking.

the pain and heat on your split cunt blurs at the edges and gradually develops into pleasure, everything reduced to the feeling of being full and completely owned as you find solace in the new sensation making you addicted to his touch.

"i told you," he breathes out, his voice tight like he's holding his heart in his teeth, "this isn't just sweet, yeah? it's not just soft, this is real, love, this is you giving yourself to me, and sweetheart, i'm not letting go."

ever so, zayne was careful even now, even with how fast he was going, how ruined you felt around him because, well, he's a doctor, wasn't he? he's spent his whole life learning how to fix what's broken, yet with you, all he wanted to do was feel you, let the control slip just for once, let this moment etch itself into your bones.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier watches you fall apart like he's taking notes— yet he wasn't frantic, he was patient and methodical, a hunter who's already mapped your collapse long before the first touch as with each squeeze and kiss, he shows you that it wasn't curiosity calling him— it's certainty that he wanted this to be with you. forever.

he's towering over you, his breath caught somewhere between awe and hunger, "you're really giving this to me?" he whispers, almost in disbelief, drowning in the moment with his speech being the only thing keeping him afloat, "i'm so lucky,"

his fingers flex tight against the inside of your thighs with his nails biting in, holding you open like a wound as the warmth of his palms burn through your skin.

you feel him there, right here yeah? feel it everywhere.

his cock splits you slow and brutally, the stretch pulling a sob from your chest as your lungs felt too small to bear it and your ribcage too tight to hold it down, your whole body resisting and yearning in the same breath. although he moves deeper, dragging thick through you and you swear you could feel the shape of him break you, feeling it in every vein and every twitch moving forward, every grind of bone and flesh into your virgin cunt being taken so well.

"see?" xavier breathes, frayed with hunger, "you're taking me, even when you said you couldn't."

but it aches— fuck, it aches, you cannot stop moaning, every press of him grinding up against something electric inside of your cunt making your back arch, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

it's slick too, soaking wet and overwhelming— your thighs all sticky with slick and arousal as his hips slam wet and fast into yours with a rhythm that felt like pain turned to pleasure.

your nerves were on fire and everything from the inside out of your body pulses with your belly drawn taut, consistingly multiplying in pressure as his cock fucks into you drastically, your head empty except for the maddening throbs his erection put inside you. at this point, your voice had become a mess of moans and pleas as all you could hear were grunts and hisses intertwining with your very own noises.

xavier felt just so good— he's out of this world and treating you so well, reaching places you never thought were able to be reached in the first place as he grew quite confident in his movements.

whenever he brushed his cock against your walls, you could feel your high approaching with every new snap of his hips, the position he had you in allowing the tip of his cock to reach deep enough for you to properly get used to it.

sweat clings between your bodies and turns you into one, your skin burning and flushed as the air was thick with pheromones and whines and the soft, saccharine coated sounds of him driving into you over and over and over again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

you cannot speak and it's futile to even try.

instead, your lips were parted, with breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sob as your chest rose with shallow, shuddering motion when rafayel slides his cock inside for the very first time— slow, of course, with his mouth at your ear, "relax," he whispers as his tip bumps upwards, sloppily thrusting into your folds, "you gotta let me in."

your muscles resist although at last, they seize around the stretch with the burn being intoxicating. you're a little anxious about it and he notices by how hard your nails clawed at his biceps— stabilizing yourself to anything while he adjusted himself, inch by inch making you take more of his cock into the small, untouched part of you.

such place no one else has ever felt, and fuck, rafayel's mouth waters at the thought, and well— he admires you, drinks in your struggles to take him as his breath comes sharp through his nose, although his hands remained steady.

one wraps around the base of your spine, the other cradles your jaw as he keeps your head turned just enough for him to study every flicker of pain that crosses your face, "you feel that?" he asks, voice a little raspy, "that's the shape of me, don't resist it,"

you whimper, your thighs slick with sweat and the mess of him spreading slow inside you and ugh, the pain, without rafayel being so considerate and talking you through the entire process, you wouldn't be able to handle it— it's so sharp and gnawing and too much, it brings you to tears, the unrelenting force of him coiling somewhere deep inside your gut, becoming unbearable.

how flustered you have gotten considering he wasn't even all the way in yet, yet you already felt like you're being broken in half.

with that, rafayel laughs when your hips involuntarily twitch, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand and murmuring so softly it vibrates through you, "you're doing so well for me, sweetheart, so brave, letting me be your first."

his lips trail down your throat as he groans when you shiver around him, every inch dragging liquid fire through the both of you, "you feel that? how warm you are? how soft you are around me? like you were made for this— for me."

your shy gaze averts from his heavy one as he found it so unbelievably cute and amusing that you still managed to feel embarrassed even after taking his cock so perfectly with your cunt by now.

rafayel pauses his hips for a bit, his forehead sensually pressed to yours, "you're not hurting, are you? I can stop— i'd rather die than hurt you," if only he knew you thought if only he could go faster now.

fuck, your head falls back when you urge him to continue moving, his hand dancing over your stomach as he abruptly presses down— always gently, just enough for you to feel him moving deeper inside within an invading force.

"you like that? you want me to do it again?" he smirks, "you're so tight, don't even know how to take it myself, but fuck, i'll teach you, i'll teach you until your body only knows me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you taste like need when sylus kissed you with your lips swollen, breath catching and the edge of panic sweetened on your tongue as his fingers trail down teasingly, forever feather light when your entire body tenses under the rub of skin on skin.

he treasures the lust in your limbs and the sheen of tears catching light in your lashes as his hands remain careful, but not hesitant, no, sylus was never hesitant.

he's memorizing every inch of you with that predator's patience— every hitch in your breath, every place that made your spine arch and your thighs twitch and now he's touching you like he's memorized the blueprints of your body.

sylus grinds into you with utter patience as he pushes through your sensitive hole, inserting just the head of course, just enough to make you feel the impossible stretch of him as your body betrays you.

a sound escapes and scratches your throat, truly, it was unrecognizable when you moaned his name for the first time, as if your soul had tried to flee through you and kiss his lips.

"you're shaking," his voice was velvet, stretched thin and vibrating desperately, surely about to snap, "do you want me to stop?" a pause lingers between your lips as his hand finds yours, "tell me, and I will, but if you want this, if you want me, i'll be so gentle with you."

sylus cannot take his eyes of you, he's breathless, as if that noise were a sacred thing, a proof of something irreversible— that your body was already surrendering before you'd fully let him in. the man believed you're out of this world, wanting you to feel everything— the swollen stretch of his length, the heat his body permeated, the hefty pressure of being entered this way, inch by inch around something so intimate.

"shh, i know," each of his words dragging deeper as his eyes lock on your face like it's a mirror to his own hunger, "you feel like silk, you feel like you're fighting it."

you are, yes, you're drowning in it.

his cock sinks deeper and the burn starts to slowly blur away, sensation blooming in sickening waves, pain and pleasure curling tight in your belly until you didn't know where one ends and the other begins. the sound of your body taking him was ringing through you and when his hips finally meet yours, you felt split, your thighs immediately jerking up, your stomach knotting as you make another desperate noise, both moaning into the kiss, exchanging your breaths as the feeling of him stretching you was to die for.

sylus doesn't move a lot in the beginning, just a few pumps ever so often to find out what you liked, although staying buried to the hilt, watching the flicker of your lashes and the way your mouth trembles open like you want to say something but cannot remember how to speak.

his pace was slow but steady, every grind of his hips forcing a soft, wet sound from between your legs as his hair brushes your cheek within each thrust, his warm breath prancing over your neck— yet when you finally start to unravel, when the pressure cracks you open and your breath breaks in a thousand shards, sylus seeks for your lips as you moan into them, a sound of you falling apart being the only thing holding him together.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

you're underneath caleb, your heart pounding with a noise that didn't belong to your body, although not from fear, not entirely, it's due to him, yes— his darling face and angelic voice, murmuring your name like he's never supposed to say anything else.

caleb cups your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your cheek lovingly, your skin already burning from the softness of his hands as your thighs were slightly twinging from the way they've stayed open, aching in the weight of him.

"you're sure, really?" he asks again like he doesn't believe it.

but you nod at him and it kills him, choking up on the storm of sensation as the man moves closer when you take in his scent, the air permeating of pine and sweat and warmth, the dampness of your skin pressed against each other as the weight of his cock repeatedly nudging against your entrance was something fated, something unstoppable.

he kisses you deeply, tongue slow and ravishing your lips, like he's trying to memorize the inside of your mouth before he captures you further, your body flinches when he takes you at last, choking on the sheer breadth of it.

the stretch was cutting, your body clamping down on instinct and body saving energy due to turning overwhelmed and confused.

yes, it was painful, you cannot lie to yourself, and slightly dizzying too, like something too large being forced into a space that's never known intrusion.

caleb's hands were everywhere, one holding your thighs wide open, the other gripping your hand tightly and grounding you as he presses his forehead to yours, his breath stuttering against your lips, "breathe," he whispers, voice slightly cracking when you tense down on his length, "breathe for me, i've got you."

he's barely halfway in, and you can already feel it— stretching deep, dragging against your nerves that have never been touched before, quite literally stealing the air from your lungs.

not to mention that he was big, well, you could've guessed that yet despite that, your body kept pulling him in instinctively, not wanting him to leave anymore.

caleb gasps, "you're so tight, fuck, i can feel you shaking," you were, in fact, your whole body was shaking, belly fluttering with pressure and pain and something else— something lusting and awfully blooming low inside your belly, tight and insistent as he shifts his hips forward, just a little more, and it feels like you're being split.

his cock continues to move, dragging every wet inch against your walls as your muscles squeeze him, your eyes glimmering from how good you were being fucked as you instantly open more for him, trying to accommodate him as good as possible.

"you're doing so good," he breathes, "so perfect, you don't know what you're doing to me," as tears prick your eyes when he kisses them ever so gently, even as he keeps sinking in he whispers your name again, like he's swearing an oath.

truly, he's everywhere, moaning shamelessly like your body was the only thing that's ever mattered to him, inhaling your maddening scent sharply as he kept rutting inside of you.

"i can't believe this is real," he cries out with his mouth against your temple and his hips rocking in and out, the friction too much as you're still too sensitive when dig your nails into his back to sob into his neck.

you're crying, you don't even know why, maybe it's the pain, maybe the stretch, maybe the way he kept whispering your name like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to say. with that, you clutch to him tighter, needing him closer, needing him deeper, and caleb gave it to you instantly, everything you desired— every inch, every rock of hips, every broken word of promises.

"you'll never need anyone else," he speaks as if the air itself was fragile, every word cutting deeper as he places a couple kisses on your cheek before smiling into the skin, "i'm going to keep you like this forever."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — FIRST “I LOVE YOU”

ZAYNE

You don’t even remember what they said when they called your name.

Something about courage. About leadership. About the recent mission and how it “wouldn’t have succeeded without your tactical intuition.” The applause was loud, the flash of the holo-cameras brighter than it needed to be. You smiled. You shook hands. You took the crystal-etched plaque from the Director with practiced grace.

But the only thing you really remember is looking toward the crowd and finding him.

Zayne, standing near the back — like he always does. Not trying to be seen, not demanding attention. Just watching you with that steady look of his. Calm. Quiet. Proud.

When you finally get off the stage, people swarm you. Congratulating you. Slapping your back. Toasting to you. It blurs into a dizzy, golden haze.

But when you turn around, he’s already there.

“You looked incredibly awkward up there,” Zayne says, folding his arms, mouth twitching in that almost-smile he pretends not to have.

You laugh. “Thanks. I was going for ‘confident and composed.’”

“Mm. Landed somewhere between ‘deer in headlights’ and ‘trying not to pass out.’ Still — impressive.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart’s pounding — not from nerves anymore, but from him. From the way he’s here, quietly orbiting your world like he always does. Constant. Solid. Yours, even if the words haven’t been said yet.

You hold up the plaque between you. “They gave me this. Probably to keep me from blowing up another hallway during recon.”

He quirks a brow. “You’ve only blown up one hallway. That’s below average.”

You laugh again — a little breathless this time. And then you really look at him.

He’s in that dark jacket he saves for formal events, sleeves rolled just enough to still be himself. His hair is slightly mussed, like he got here in a rush and didn’t bother fixing it. But his eyes — they’re steady. Warm.

And suddenly, the weight of the night hits you. The missions. The near-misses. The days you weren’t sure you’d make it home. The nights you did, and he was always there. Even if he never said much, even if he never needed to.

You reach for his hand — the one still at his side — and curl your fingers around his.

“Zayne.”

He tilts his head, just slightly. “Hmm?”

“I love you.”

It’s soft. Real. No fanfare, no ceremony. Just you, saying the one thing that’s been stuck in your chest since long before tonight.

Zayne’s breath catches — so small, you almost miss it. His hand tightens around yours.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just searches your face like he’s committing every inch of it to memory.

“I was wondering when you’d say it,” he says finally, voice low, a touch raspy.

Your heart skips. “You knew?”

“I had a guess,” he says, dry. “But I’m a doctor. I wait for confirmation before drawing conclusions.”

You laugh — full this time, warmth rising through your ribs. “You’re impossible.”

He steps in closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I love you too,” he says, steady as stone. “Always have. Even before I figured out what to do with it.”

You breathe out shakily, letting your forehead rest lightly against his.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you whisper. “That you’re here.”

He exhales — slow, grounding. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

XAVIER

You don’t remember running. Just the sound of the collapsing metal above you, the warning sirens blaring, the flicker of Xavier’s hand grabbing yours and not letting go.

The dust is still settling around you, the transport’s back hatch sealed, the hum of hyperspeed kicking in just behind your ribs.

You’re alive. Barely.

Your lungs burn. Your legs shake. And you can’t seem to stop gripping Xavier’s arm like if you let go, the whole world might fall apart again.

He’s sitting across from you, equally disheveled — hair mussed, clothes scorched in places, a smear of black across his cheekbone. He’s blinking hard, like he’s trying to believe it too. That you both made it.

Then he meets your eyes. And everything inside you cracks wide open.

“I love you.”

You don’t mean to say it. Not like this. Not with adrenaline still screaming through your veins and the taste of smoke in your mouth. But the words tumble out anyway, desperate and trembling and real.

Xavier goes very still.

His eyes go wide, and for a second, you swear he stops breathing.

“I—uh—what?”

You let out a shaky laugh. “I said I love you.”

He blinks. Again. Slowly. Like the words are still echoing around his head and he’s trying to make sense of them.

“You just almost died,” he says, his voice somewhere between disbelief and panic. “We both almost died. You’re in shock. You’re—are you concussed?”

You reach out and touch his wrist, grounding both of you. “I’m not. I meant it.”

He looks at you like you’ve just handed him a live wire and asked him to hold it still. He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Then, softly: “You love me?”

You nod. “I know I said it at the worst possible time, but it’s been sitting in my chest for weeks and I couldn’t—I didn’t want to wait anymore. Not after… that.”

He exhales. Quiet. A little stunned.

His eyes flick down, like he’s trying to hide the smile threatening the corner of his mouth — as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. “You love me,” he says again, like he’s testing the words out in the air. “You. Love me.”

He shifts, rubs the back of his neck, then lets out a breathy, awkward laugh. “God, I… I had this whole plan. For when I told you. It involved music. Candles. Charts.”

“Charts?” you echo, laughing despite yourself.

“I panicked, okay? I like structure,” he mutters, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

You reach out and cup his cheek, thumb brushing that smudge of dirt like it’s something sacred.

“You don’t need charts. Just tell me how you feel.”

He leans into your touch. Swallows once.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s the most terrifying, incredible thing he’s ever admitted. “You scare the hell out of me in the best possible way.”

Your breath catches.

He lets out another laugh — softer now. “I was going to wait for the perfect moment. But if today taught me anything, it’s that waiting is overrated.”

You both fall quiet then, the tension of the mission slowly unraveling between the warmth of your palms, the beat of your shared breath.

You survived.

You said it.

He said it back

RAFAYEL

You don’t plan to say it.

It’s one of those things that lives in the back of your throat for days, maybe weeks—simmering just under the surface. But then he does something small and completely ridiculous: he tries to carry three canvases at once while holding a half-eaten croissant between his teeth, muttering about “creative vision” like the disaster he is.

And you love him. So much it hurts.

He doesn’t notice you watching him from the doorway until he drops one canvas, catches it mid-fall with a flourish, and turns to you like he meant to perform the whole mess.

“Did you see that?” he says, puffing out his chest like a cat that just knocked over an antique vase and wants praise for the sound it made.

You raise an eyebrow. “You almost decapitated yourself with a paintbrush.”

He gasps, placing a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him. “How dare you. That was an elegant recovery. Graceful. Artistic, even.”

You bite your lip. Smile. Shake your head. And then you say it.

“I love you.”

The room stills.

Rafayel stops mid-stride, croissant still in hand, but now hanging uselessly by his side like he’s forgotten what it is.

His expression flickers through at least four emotions: surprise, awe, terror, and something dangerously close to tenderness. Then—

“Oh no,” he says, deadly serious. “No, no, no. You don’t get to just drop that on me like it’s nothing. I’m wearing my studio clothes. I’m not emotionally moisturized. My defenses are down.”

You blink. “I—what?”

“I had crumbs on my mouth,” he says dramatically, pointing to his lips. “Crumbs! That’s the first time you say it? When I look like a tragic, starving artist cliché?!”

He paces. Actually paces.

“I should’ve been leaning on a balcony,” he continues. “Maybe holding a rose. There should’ve been music. A sunset. Something cinematic!”

You just laugh.

“I mean it,” you say again, stepping toward him, heart in your throat. “Rafayel. I love you.”

He stops pacing.

And then — so softly you almost miss it — he says, “Say it one more time. Please.”

You do. You say it like it’s truth carved into stone. “I love you.”

He exhales. Slowly. Like your words knocked the air out of him and he's only just relearning how to breathe.

Then he tosses the croissant onto a table like it’s offended him and closes the space between you in two long steps. His hands cradle your face — warm, stained faintly with paint, trembling just slightly.

“You really mean it,” he murmurs, voice lower now. Raw.

“I do.”

He lets out a laugh that’s almost a sob. “Oh, you absolute menace. You realize I’m never going to be normal about this again, right? I’m going to be unbearable.”

You grin. “You already are.”

Rafayel grins back, something shining bright behind his eyes, and leans in until his lips brush yours.

“Good,” he whispers. “Then we’re perfectly matched.”

And when he kisses you, it’s every bit the drama he was begging for. Like the world’s ending. Like he’s waited lifetimes to earn the words you finally gave him.

SYLUS

The lights are low, casting a warm golden wash across the apartment. The city glows outside the window, stars blurring into neon — distant, quiet, irrelevant.

Inside, everything feels still.

Sylus leans back against the couch, legs stretched out, wine glass dangling lazily from his fingers. There’s a record playing softly in the background — something slow and smoky, a little old-fashioned. Fitting.

You’re curled up beside him, your feet tucked under his thigh, a half-empty bowl of popcorn between you. The movie playing is long forgotten. He’s watching you instead.

“You’re not paying attention,” you murmur, nudging him with your elbow.

He smirks without shame. “Why would I? I’ve got something far more interesting right here.”

You roll your eyes — but your heart skips, just like it always does when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the only thing in the world worth noticing.

“You’re impossible,” you say, smiling despite yourself.

“And yet you keep inviting me over. Strange.” He tilts his head, cocky and amused. “Maybe you’re the problem.”

You toss a kernel at his chest. He catches it midair — of course he does — and pops it into his mouth, smug as ever.

But then you fall quiet. The kind of silence that settles only when you feel safe. Known. Home.

Sylus must sense the shift, because he turns toward you more fully. “Kitten,” he says, softer now. “You okay?”

You nod, eyes on your lap. Then, without looking up, you speak.

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air. Gentle. Vulnerable. No grand theatrics. Just the truth, spoken like a heartbeat — small, steady, alive.

For once, Sylus doesn’t have a quip ready.

You look up, and his usual smirk has gone soft around the edges — like he’s not entirely sure he heard you right, or maybe like he did and it caught him off guard anyway.

“Oh?” he says after a beat, voice low, teasing — but his eyes say something else. Something tender. Wrecked, even.

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t start.”

He chuckles, and now the smirk returns — but it’s slower this time. Less about being smug and more about holding something sacred in his hands.

“I knew you did,” he says. “You’ve been looking at me like that for weeks.”

You laugh, half shy, half exasperated. “You knew?”

“I always know,” he says, leaning in closer, voice dropping to that husky whisper that always undoes you. “But hearing it… that’s something else.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he’s memorizing you in this moment. “Say it again.”

You breathe out, eyes never leaving his. “I love you.”

He kisses you then — not rough or rushed, not teasing. Just slow, deep, reverent. The kind of kiss that says, I’ve wanted this forever.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his voice is nothing but truth.

“I love you too,” he says, confident and sure. “I’ve been in love with you from the moment I first gazed upon you.”

You close your eyes, overwhelmed by how soft he is beneath all that sharpness. How lucky you are to be the one who gets to see it.

“Guess we’re both the problem,” you whisper

CALEB

Caleb’s lying on the floor, one leg propped up on the couch, surrounded by snack wrappers and a half-finished board game he insisted you two “absolutely had to master tonight.”

He’s telling some ridiculous story — something about a mission that ended with him accidentally setting off a glitter bomb in a debrief room. He’s laughing as he tells it, hands flying, eyes bright. You’ve heard him talk like this a hundred times, maybe more.

But something’s different tonight.

Maybe it’s the way he looked when he first walked in, face flushed from the cold, hoodie pulled over his messy hair. Maybe it’s the way his voice softened when he asked if you’d been sleeping enough, if you’d eaten. Maybe it’s the quiet underneath his laughter — like part of him is always reaching for light, even when it’s heavy.

Whatever it is, it’s sitting in your chest now. Heavy. Full.

You watch him laugh and think: I love you.

And then, before you can second-guess it, you say it out loud.

“I love you.”

The words drop into the room like a held breath finally released.

Caleb stops mid-sentence. He doesn’t freeze dramatically — doesn’t make a joke, or tease, or wiggle his eyebrows the way he usually does when you catch him off guard.

He just blinks up at you, surprised but... soft.

“You do?” he asks, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You nod. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out. It just… I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

He sits up, slow. Not panicked. Just careful. Like he’s holding something fragile in his hands.

“You know,” he says, with a little smile, “I always thought if this moment happened, I’d turn it into a bit. Say something cheesy, maybe faint for dramatic effect.”

You laugh under your breath. “You still can.”

“Mm… nah,” he murmurs. “Not this time.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His grin has faded into something deeper — the kind of expression he rarely lets anyone see. Not loud. Not showy. Just real.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a while,” he says. “But I didn’t want to say it first. Not because I didn’t mean it — I do — but because I thought if you didn’t feel the same, it’d… ruin everything.”

Your breath catches.

“I love you too,” he says, and it’s not flashy or dramatic. It’s soft and steady and full of feeling. “So much it makes everything else feel kind of ridiculous.”

He laughs then — not because it’s funny, but because he doesn’t know what else to do with the weight of how much he means it.

You crawl over, sitting beside him on the floor, and he leans into your side immediately. Warm. Familiar. His fingers brush yours and stay.

“Hey,” he says, nudging you with his shoulder. “Wanna do something crazy?”

You glance at him, amused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just thought I’d ask. But now that I’ve got you all flustered, I can say this instead—”

He turns to face you fully, eyes bright and earnest.

“Thank you,” he says. “For loving me first. That means more than I know how to say.”

You squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to. I already know.”

And somehow, sitting there in the mess of the evening, with half-eaten chips and game pieces between you, it feels like the most romantic thing in the world.

[boulevardofpizzadreams]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier lies on the couch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hoodie is slightly rumpled, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushions.

You approach quietly, drawn by an irresistible urge to feel his warmth. Without hesitation, you slide into the space beside him, immediately seeking the comfort only he can provide.

Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open briefly. For a moment, his expression shifts—the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—before his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice thick with slumber. “You’re here.”

You press closer, burying your face against the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling deeply. His scent envelops you completely—familiar and grounding.

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling the day’s tensions begin to dissolve. “I could stay like this forever.”

Your bodies fit together perfectly, the rise and fall of his chest gradually syncing with your own breathing. The world outside fades away as you focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I don’t mind if you do,” he replies quietly, his fingers finding their way to your hair.

His eyes close again, but that subtle smile remains—a sight that makes your heart flutter. Here, in the silence between you, words become unnecessary. When he adjusts his position, it’s only to draw you closer against him.

As consciousness begins to drift away, you tighten your hold slightly, unwilling to let go even in sleep. The last thing you register before falling asleep is Xavier pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his silent way of saying everything words could never quite capture, and his arms securing you against him—steady, reliable, exactly what you needed.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The sight of Zayne seated on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes but with his collar unbuttoned, sends a wave of longing through you. Your body aches with the need to be held—specifically by him.

“I need fifteen more minutes,” he states without looking up, somehow sensing your presence. “Twenty, at most.”

You retreat to the bedroom, arranging yourself among the pillows, the wait almost unbearable. Every minute crawls by as you imagine the feeling of being gathered against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. The pull toward him is almost physical, a tightening sensation that only his touch can release.

True to his word, exactly fourteen minutes later, the soft pad of slippers against hardwood signals his approach. Relief floods through you at the sound.

He appears in the doorway, and you extend your arms instinctively, the need for his closeness overwhelming all other thoughts.

“You’re early,” you note with grateful surprise.

“Apparently, I can do my tasks faster when I know you’re waiting,” Zayne replies.

The mattress dips as he slides in beside you, and you waste no time pressing yourself against his chest, your arms wrapping around him with desperate need. His body is warm against yours, and you sigh with contentment as his scent surrounds you.

“I’ve been needing this all day,” you confess against his shirt, feeling the tension finally release as his arms encircle you.

Zayne shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to study your face with the same intensity he gives his most complex cases. Whatever he finds makes him pull you closer, adjusting his position to maximize your comfort.

“Better now,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you before you feel him press a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The urge builds throughout the day—a growing, insistent need to feel Rafayel’s arms around you. You find him by the window, humming softly as sunlight bathes his figure. The sight of him—so vibrant and alive—only intensifies your craving for his touch.

“Rafayel,” you call softly, arms already half-raised in anticipation.

The moment he sees you, understanding dawns immediately. He spins toward you with a flourish, meeting your unspoken need without hesitation.

“Perfect timing. I was just thinking of you,” he says as he closes the distance between you in quick strides.

You collide with him halfway, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his chest. The contact sends immediate relief coursing through you—like cool water after a long thirst.

“You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

His arms encircle you completely, lifting you slightly as he backs toward the overstuffed couch in the corner, understanding your need without explanation.

“Then you shall have me,” he declares, falling backward onto the cushions and bringing you down with him in a tangle of limbs. “For as long as you need.”

You settle against him, fingers clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer still. He smells of turpentine and sea salt, of creativity and freedom. Your body relaxes completely for the first time all day, the desperate need that drove you to seek him out finally satisfied in his enthusiastic embrace.

You sigh contentedly, ear pressed against his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His fingers find their way to your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as your breathing synchronizes with his. Outside, seagulls call to each other, but neither of you makes any move to break the perfect connection.

“Stay just like this,” you whisper. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

His laugh bubbles up in response, the sound vibrating through his chest against your ear. “Then the rest can wait.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The longing strikes without warning—an intense need to be held in Sylus’s arms. Nothing else will satisfy this particular craving; only him.

You make your way to his room, the journey giving you time to acknowledge how completely this need has consumed you. You find him standing by the window, the city sprawled below.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he takes you in.

“Well,” he says, setting down a glass of wine, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

Words feel unnecessary as you approach him, arms already reaching for him, need written plainly across your face. You press yourself against him, inhaling his distinct scent, feeling your pulse steady at the contact.

“Don’t reschedule on my account,” you say, voice slightly muffled against his chest, though you make no move to pull away. “But I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Simply my company?” he murmurs against your hair, arms encircling you with practiced ease.

There’s something warm in his tone as he guides you to sit, arranging you both so you’re nestled against his chest, exactly as you’d been craving all day. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine, releasing tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“Tell me,” he says, tilting your chin up, eyes searching yours. “What brought on this sudden need for closeness? Not that I’m complaining.”

The city lights reflect in his eyes, catching on the edges of his features as he studies you with uncharacteristic patience.

You shake your head slightly, unable to articulate the bone-deep longing that drew you here. Words seem inadequate to explain how completely his embrace satisfies something essential within you.

“Just wanted to be close to you,” you answer simply, settling back against him, feeling the rightness of being exactly where you belong.

“Hmm… I wonder what you might demand next.” Yet his arms tighten around you. Outside, the city continues its evening pulse, but here, in this moment, his attention is focused solely on you, as though nothing beyond this room matters.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb tosses his uniform jacket over a chair, his face lighting up the moment he spots you lingering by the bedroom door. In an instant, his professional demeanor melts away completely.

“Caleb,” his name escapes your lips, arms already outstretched.

“There you are,” he says, voice warm with affection as he closes the distance between you in long, eager strides. “Best sight in the entire galaxy.”

His arms are around you before you can respond, lifting you slightly as he spins once, the movement playful despite the strength evident in his embrace. When he sets you down, he doesn’t let go, instead dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Please tell me you’re waiting for cuddles,” he breathes, already walking backward toward the bed, guiding you along. “Because after that strategy meeting, I’ve been thinking about holding you for approximately four hours and seventeen minutes.”

Your arms wrap around him eagerly, face pressed against his chest, breathing him in deeply. The contact sends immediate relief flooding through your system, like finding shelter in a storm.

“The entire room feels cold without you,” you confess, clinging to him. “Want cuddles.”

“Then you’re in luck,” he murmurs against your hair, already walking backward toward the bed, keeping you firmly in his embrace. “Because holding you happens to be my specialty.”

The back of his knees hit the mattress and you follow him down eagerly, arranging yourself against his chest, unwilling to allow even an inch of separation. His scent envelops you—warm and comforting.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he presses a kiss to your temple. Through the view beside the bed, stars streak by in ribbons of light, but his eyes remain fixed on you.

“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispers against your hair, his arms forming a protective circle around you.

In this moment, wrapped in Caleb’s arms, the rest of the universe fades away—leaving only the two of you, connected exactly as you needed to be.

Based on this request.