Karol's blog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mating press (He likes it hard and deep)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From behind (no explanation needed)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh God Xav, I’m about to…”

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

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

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

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

Lotus (He loves to keep you close)

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cutie, you feel so fucking good"

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

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

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

You freeze, eyes wide, stunned by the weight of his gaze and his words. His grip on you tightens— not painful, but unsettling, anchoring you in the moment like a tether. Confused, breath shallow, you nod slowly, once. "I see" you murmur, voice low, wary. "Is that all you did?"

"No, I also did worse over your underwear, I…" he sighs shakily, and looks down at your body "I rubbed my tip all over the slick fabric coating myself in your fluids, circling your clit, it made you moan so much I started thinking you were awake too and pretending, but no you weren't awake. I checked always."

Caleb pauses, his gaze faltering, unable to hold yours for more than a second. The alcohol has scrambled his thoughts into a tangle of half-confessions and regrets, and when his eyes finally find you again, they’re heavy—drenched in guilt. His voice cracks under the weight of it, shame dripping from every word.

"I'm disgusting, aren't I? You must hate me now. God—of course you do. I was awful to you. I was… horrible. Mei mei, I'm so sorry. Please—please forgive me."

His hands, trembling, drift up to your waist, bunching the fabric of your blouse like he’s clinging to it for absolution. The heat of his touch, the sharp blend of cologne clinging to his heated body, candy floss and alcohol on his breath—it all floods your senses until you can hardly think. Your heart races, panic and want colliding, and you push lightly against his biceps just to breathe.

Still, his words linger in your ears, unbearable in their rawness. All those years, all those moments he swallowed down, and you never saw it— not until now. Your pussy throbs, clenching at nothing as he admits all the depraved shit he did.

As if reading your mind, he pulls you closer, desperation leaking through his rapid words. His brow furrows, eyes wet with something that looks like guilt— but feels like a trap, a manipulation. You search his face, fingertips brushing his cheek in a strange gesture of comfort and interrogation.

"What else did you do to me, gege?" He flinches, a whine slips past his lips. The word hits him like a brick. His eyes squeeze shut whether in remorse or resistance, you can’t tell, his hands have moved to unclasp your jean skirt, fingers grazing your zipper directly, pulling, his hand slides inside, a moan slips past your lips when his fingers feel how soaked through you are.

That’s what finally pushes him over—the rot of his secrets, every depraved thought he’s buried, tumbling out in a drunken confession as if you were a shrine built only to witness his shame.

"I… stole your underwear. Your shampoos, lip balms—every piece of you I could get my hands on. I used them, touched myself with them. Your scent—it unravels me, drives me insane, it’s too good." His voice trembles, half-ashamed, half-delirious, a shudder crawling down his spine as if the admission itself brands him. He breathes you in again, greedy, like proof he isn’t lying. The bulge in his pants strains harder, pressing against the fabric as he moves his head lower, closer to your crotch.

Your fingers trace him with deliberate calm—along his cheek, the bow of his lips, down the line of his throat. He moans under the contact, brows furrowed, eyes fluttering as he leans helplessly into your hand like a repenting sinner aching for forgiveness. His hips grind into the air, restless, needy, every movement dripping with desperation he can’t swallow back.

"Hnn… I—hah… I used to go down on you almost every night. You’re such a deep sleeper, did ya' know? Watching you squirm, hearing those little noises… it was addictive. Sometimes you’d even have a wet dream. Was it me you were dreaming of?"

The words slam into you, shocking and filthy all at once. The twist of heat they spark makes it impossible to react coherently; your breath stutters, your body betrays you. Your back arches as his hands fumble at your skirt, tugging it down with a kind of desperate reverence, fingers unsteady as they try to drag your underwear with it.

"Ah! Wait, Caleb. Fuck, wait, what you're saying, it's...it's all real?" you grab his face holding his gaze.

Your cheeks burn, the truth hitting harder than you can process. All those nights of wet dreams, weeks of waking up flushed and aching, you never realized they were his doing. You never realized your sleep was that deep. Instinctively, you try to squeeze your thighs shut, but he’s already between them, your push only grazing his sides.

And god—every dream was of him. His hands. His mouth. His voice. Wanting him in ways you never should have. Was it really unconscious, or had your body been trained, molded, addicted to him without you knowing? Why did you prefer the latter.

Caleb sees it, the way your breath stutters, the way your gaze falters and his look is all wrong. Broken, twisted, desperate. "See?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to your hips like a penitent sinner and a man possessed all at once. "Even when you were asleep, your body called for me. You wanted me. You needed me."

"I started getting greedier, let my touch linger, kissing you near your lips, embracing you closer, it only got worse the more I saw you….." he bites his lips and averts his eyes towards your chest rising up and down. "Rubbed these when they started growing in too" moving hands to rub at your breasts.

You moan softly, eyes rolling back as he admits sin after sin, your sweet and careful gege was only a facade he had mastered. Your hands slide on his dark strands, caressing his head as he slowly goes down, breath brushing your slick folds. Your clit pulsing in want.

His hands have moved to your hips, hold a tight grip. "If only you could ensnare my heart with your hands mei mei, make it stop, end this torture." His tongue licks your slit, pushing his tongue in, like a starving man he sucks and keeps a pace that drives you to the edge dangerously close, moaning into your skin, the rutting of his hips faster.

"When…when did you start doing this? When…why ge..." the words slam out of you as he keeps fucking his tongue into you. You pull at his hair so he faces you.

Caleb groans as he faces up, your touch has his him pliant on his inebriated state, breathless as your fingers tug at the strands, fingers just shy of pulling till it hurts him. "Hah I... I think when… you!— oh God that feels good." Drool drips off the corner of his lips when you inevitably pull harder. "When you got…that cut in your leg from jumping a tree, I…I lost it, the blood" he moans softly, grinding down his hips onto the bed.

"The blood— you had asked me to help you clean the blood on your legs" Right, you remember that day. You had indeed asked for help after playing out with your friends, he had cleaned and disinfected everything so carefully, but his touch that day had felt different, his lingering looks. His touch had burned your skin for weeks, still you refused to admit what had caused it.

"Mei mei" he slurs, voice thick with arousal, guilt and liquor "I’m sorry. I wanted you so badly it broke something in me. You drive me insane, it’s your fault." Then, softer. "But it’s fine. I love you. I swear it’s not to hurt you. You know that right… right?"

His hips rut against you, jerky, uncoordinated, as if his body can’t quite catch up to his words. He whines into your thigh, cheek pressing to your skin, every shudder betraying the high claiming him. The heat, the desperation, the mess inside his pants— it all hangs there, suffocating.

"Please tell me you forgive me, please, please don't hate me, I— I love you so much" You listen to his begging, slurry and with a hint of a sob stuck on the back of his throat.

His hand rubs at your entrance, a single finger sinking in, obscenely wet sounds echo, deafening as your climax crashes into you, screaming his name when his lips wrap around your clit sucking, pleasure unravels inside you in waves that don't stop. You whine softly, hips shaking away in overstimulation.

You press your hands against his head not knowing whether to steady him or restrain yourself. Your heart hammers, mind scrambling, caught between alarm and a pulse of something darker, forbidden. Every tremor from him feels like it’s pulling at your own body, and yet you refuse to meet his gaze. You’re tethered to him in ways you can’t name, and the tension twists tighter, a coil you can’t unwind.

Caleb sits up, unsteady, eyes glassy, his chin and neck adorned with your essence. His fingers fumble with his phone on his back pocket before he turns the screen toward you. "You think it's not true right, holding onto hope I'm still your kind and caring ge."

Your chest tightens, every instinct screaming, but you say nothing. You freeze, watching as he hovers the phone over your face—pictures, dozens of them, videos too of you whispering his name in the dark, moaning softly in your sleep, every inch of you captured. Some shots soft, peaceful; others raw, depraved, undeniable evidence, shots of cum in your face, others of just your drenched panties. A gallery of sin he’s hoarded like treasure.

Your stomach twists—not in disgust, but in something more primal, slow, impossible to name. You reach for his hand, snatching the phone away, pressing him down with trembling fingers. Silence hangs, thick and heavy, the room pulsing with unspoken truths. He watches you, breath uneven, guilt and desire warring in his eyes, while you hold your own stillness like a fragile shield— neither conceding, neither retreating.

"I took them for you, I can delete them all for you too I dont have copies" he says, voice hoarse. "Took them to show you. Someday. I watch them almost every night." He swallows hard. "You’re the only one for me, mei mei. I can’t even look at anyone else. I've tried.. you’ve ruined me."

You always knew he was sick. But this— this confession, this raw exposure of his depravity only thrills you. You should be horrified, you should scream, run, condemn him. But all you can think is 'He feels it too.' The longing. The desire. A craving that chews through reason like rot. Even your scent is enough to break him.

"Say something to me baby" he's doing that face, the one where he looks sad and desperate.

Your hands grasp his shirt, clinging. His breath hitches as you straddle him. His eyes never leaving yours, shame and arousal painting his face red. It flatters you to think he gets this way because of you. Makes you cruel, he looks up at you like you’re God and sin at once. He wants forgiveness but he’s still hard for it, inside his boxers leaking under your leaking cunt.

You lean in, whispering on his ear "You’re disgusting a gross pervert Caleb." Hands undressing his lower part, pulling at his belt and zipper.

"Yeah" he breathes, eyes fluttering. "But only for you."

And you, you don’t want to forgive him. You want to keep him ruined. His chest rises and falls. So you kiss him deeply before a word comes out, he moans into your lips hips jerking up.

"You've been using me all this time, while I was sleeping" you pull at his pants and underwear, his hips raise to help you remove them. "Should I start using you too gege?" That pulls a whine out of him. So sweet and lewd it makes your insides flutter. "Should I fuck you as you sleep through your orgasms?" Whispering on his ear to make him shiver.

He groans deeply into his pillow as you start rubbing him, sliding your hand up to squeeze his tip, the other down teasing his balls. He's breathing faster now legs tense. "Wan—want my mei mei to use me, please" he murmurs your name, pulling at your blouse taking it off you.

"Caleb, the pictures…the videos" you keep talking between his moans and gasps "Dont delete them…" he looks at your eyes briefly, a moan rips through his lips strongly when your hand moves faster on his thick length. "I wanna see them again" your heavy breathing doing nothing to conceal how much you want him right now.

His answering grin is wicked, and for the first time that night he looks sober.

“Caleb, please… I'm tired… and sore…”

Your pathetic whines are lost to the lewd sounds of Caleb's insistent pounding practically knocking your poor cunt out of its frame.

How long has it been? How many orgasms had he given you? Snatched out of you? Demanded from you?

You lost track after the fourth maybe the fifth or sixth, his need to fuck you to finish over and over too insatiable to count anymore. The cycle is seemingly endless. He fucks you out of your own sense, meaningless babbling and drool dribbling from your swollen lips, gasps breaking into moans, into screams and cries.

His grin is sly and condensing as he holds your leg up, just so that he can drill his big, thick cock into your sweet spot just a little better. He's sliding in and out so easily, with your poor tired pussy somehow still gripping him enough to make him huff with pleasure.

“Mm, funny how none of those words are a safe one, pips” he says gruffly, his hands meeting your stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he tries his best to rearrange your insides, or at least the beautiful contorted expression on your face.

This was your punishment for being a brat today. All day whining and demanding, working his nerves just right. You topped it off with being overly friendly with the poor waiter at dinner, demanding Caleb let you leave a more than generous tip, too. He tried gently coaxing you out of the mood you were in, but when not a thing he tried had worked, Caleb knew what you needed. And now, he has every intention of giving it to you—over and over and over—until you couldn't ever forget who did.

Your head lolls back against the pillows, hair damp and sticking to your flushed skin. Every muscle trembles with exhaustion, but Caleb shows no mercy—his thrusts are brutal, perfectly measured to wring another shuddering climax out of you no matter how wrecked you are. The slick slap of his hips against yours drowns out your broken pleas, your body betraying you with every squeeze and flutter around his cock.

“C-Caleb! Ahh… please, I can’t—” your voice cracks into another cry, thighs twitching from overstimulation.

His hand tightens where it’s pressed against your stomach, thumb stroking deliberately over the outline of himself buried so deep inside you. His grin widens when your poor cunt's walls spasm around him, your body giving him away even as your words beg otherwise.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

“You can. And you will. Don’t tell me you’re too tired when your pussy is this greedy for me,” he growls.

He braids the words with the sharp snaps of his hips that have your back arching clean off the bed, your nails clawing into the sheets as another climax rushes over you, cruel in its intensity. Tears blur your vision, a mix of exhaustion, overwhelming pleasure, and the knowledge that he won’t stop—not until he’s wrung every ounce of fight and brat from you.

“Caleb, baby…” you moan, desperate with pleasure and overstimulation.

“No, no, no... Uh-uh, don't ‘baby’ me now, pretty girl. I was ‘asshole’ earlier, remember? Was doing everything to please you, too. Shame.”

Caleb’s pace slows only to grind into you, dragging his cock along every aching, swollen nerve inside your cunt until you’re sobbing outright, your voice breaking into hiccupped whines. His free hand finds your jaw, tilting your face so you can’t hide from him. His eyes are dark, merciless, but there’s a glimmer of smug satisfaction at the way your lips tremble and part, too wrecked to form words.

“You wanted to push me today,” he rasps, rolling his hips so deliberately your body jerks with every stroke.

“Now look at you. All you can do is take it. That’s what I wanted—my perfect, ruined mess, dripping all over me. Soaked.”

He pulls your leg higher, folding you nearly in half, and slams back in so deep the bulge under his palm shifts with the motion. Your scream echoes off the walls, half-pleasure, half-desperation, your throat raw from the sounds he’s beaten out of you. Drool trickles down your chin as your body convulses, wrung out by yet another orgasm you didn’t ask for but couldn’t stop if you tried.

Caleb laughs low, pressing kisses along your damp cheek, almost tender in contrast to the relentless roll of his hips.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cry for me. Every single tear just proves you remember who you belong to.”

And still he doesn’t slow. Not when your thighs quake, not when your voice breaks into incoherent babbling, not even when your nails leave red trails across his shoulders. He’s determined, insatiable, pounding into your raw cunt like he has all the time in the world.

Your sweet punishment isn’t over, and it won't be. Not until you’re too far gone to even think of bratting again, at least for a while.

Caleb shifts suddenly, pulling out only long enough to flip you onto your stomach. Your body hits the sheets with a muffled gasp, legs trembling as he grabs your hips and drags you up onto your knees.

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s sliding back into you, the force of it punching another cry out of your throat. His grip is bruising on your waist, pulling you back to meet every ruthless snap of his hips.

“Let’s think back, hm?” His voice is rough, threaded with exertion but dripping with dark amusement.

“This morning—you whining because I wouldn’t let you stay in bed all day. Pouting like a spoiled little girl when I told you to get dressed.”

His hand cracks against your ass, the sting making you jolt and clench tight around him. He groans at the sudden squeeze but doesn’t stop, dragging his cock through your soaked, abused walls until you’re dizzy.

“And then lunch,” he continues, laughing under his breath.

“Complaining about the food, about the heat, about how slow I was to get what you asked for, about anything you could think of—just to see if you could get under my skin. Isn’t that right?”

He bends forward, pressing his chest to your back, his mouth brushing your ear.

“And then dinner… oh, that was my favorite part.”

His pace slows deliberately, grinding deep, making sure you feel every inch stretching you open. One hand slides down to press against your stomach again, his thumb circling over the bulge of himself lodged inside.

“Batting your lashes at that poor waiter like I wasn’t sitting right there. Smiling, laughing, pushing me to let you leave him a fat tip. Acting like some brat who didn’t already have my attention. You're lucky I didn't hurt him, aren't you? I know you wouldn't like that... or would you?”

He nips at your ear, growling, “You wanted me jealous. Admit it.”

You can barely form words, only sobs and garbled pleas falling from your lips. He chuckles, shaking his head, and slams back into you harder, setting a punishing rhythm that makes the bedframe rattle.

“You wanted my attention, pips? You’ve got it now. Every inch of me. Every drop. Until all you can think about is how stupid you were to tease me.”

He yanks you up by the hair, forcing your back against his chest, cock spearing even deeper from the new angle. His free hand finds your throat, not squeezing but holding, guiding your head back so you can’t hide your ruined expression.

“God, look at you. Drooling, crying, falling apart. This is what that little attitude earned you, huh?”

Your thighs quake violently, another orgasm barreling through you before you can stop it. Caleb groans at the way you flutter around him, hips slamming harder as he fucks you through it.

“That’s number… what? Seven? Eight? You’ve lost count, haven’t you?” His grin is sharp, cruelly satisfied.

“Good. You don’t need numbers anymore. All you need is me drilling the lesson into that stubborn little body of yours.”

And he keeps going, shifting your hips just so, angling himself until he finds the spot that has you keening into the sheets. His voice stays in your ear, low and relentless, reminding you of every bratty word, every spoiled look, every push of defiance you showed him today. He’ll hammer each memory into you until nothing is left but obedience, until your mind is blank and your body is molded entirely to his will.

You don't use your safe word. You can't—not when despite your better judgement, you're still craving the relentless and brutal drag of his cock against your tender walls.

“Please…” you whine, knowing the words you say will only spur him on.

Caleb’s voice is low and ragged against your ear, each word punctuated by the steady, merciless slam of his hips into yours.

“I did this, didn't I,” he growls, almost proud, almost angry.

“I made you like this. My fault you can’t think straight without me splitting you open. My fault you whine for it, melt for it, beg for it until you can’t even breathe without cock in you.”

His hands frame your body like you’re a precious thing he’s destroying on purpose, dragging you back down onto him again and again until every sound out of your mouth is a broken gasp or moan.

“All your desires and whims, all the ways I spoiled you—look where it got us. You… playing me like a fiddle, batting those eyes, making me bend over backward to give you what you want.” He hisses through his teeth, slamming in deeper, forcing another sobbing sound from your throat.

“And I sang along. I fucking sang for you. Let you wind me up, let you take and take until you ended up like this—just what you wanted. Fucked out. Dumb. Mine.”

You can feel the evidence of him already on you, hot and messy, streaking your stomach, dripping down your ass where he’s already spilled and kept going like it meant nothing. His cock is still iron-hard, still ruthless, dragging against every aching, swollen inch inside you as though he’s determined to carve his name into the very shape of your cunt. Every thrust shoves the breath out of you, makes your legs tremble and your nails dig at anything you can hold on to.

“And still,” Caleb snarls, pressing his chest flush to your back, forcing you flat into the mattress as he grinds deeper, “still you take it. Beg for more. Can’t even stop me if you tried, can you? You don’t want to. You want me to keep ruining this perfect little pussy until it’s nothing but mine.”

His teeth close over the side of your neck, sharp enough to sting, and he groans like he can taste how far gone you are.

“Stupid little doll,” he whispers against your skin, hips never faltering, cum-slick cock pistoning in and out of you without mercy.

“You’ll let me break you again and again, won’t you? Until there’s nothing left but me inside you.”

And his pace only quickens, like he’s proving it with every brutal, unending stroke.

Your lips barely move, your answer spilling out in a broken, slurred whimper that sinks into the mattress beneath your cheek. Drool pools there, warm against your skin, proof of how far gone you are, how completely he’s stripped you down to raw need.

The moment you give that tiny, garbled yes, everything in him shifts. The relentless edge of his voice softens, still roughened by the exertion, but threaded now with sweetness.

“That’s it,” Caleb murmurs, pressing a kiss into your damp temple, his breath hot and unsteady. “My sweet girl. Knew you’d understand. Knew you’d let me take you this far.”

His thrusts don’t stop—they can’t, not when he’s buried so deep in the heat of you—but the rhythm changes. Less punishing, more deliberate, each stroke dragging out the way your walls flutter around him as if you’re still trying to hold him inside.

He smooths a hand over your hip, thumb circling into the soft flesh, grounding you while your body shudders and trembles.

“Look at you,” he whispers, and even though you can’t lift your head, you feel the warmth in his tone settle into your bones.

“Drooling into the sheets, can’t even form words, and still so perfect for me. You don’t need to think anymore. You just need me. Just need this.”

His chest presses against your back, his weight pinning you down, yet every word feels like a caress, wrapping around you as surely as his arms do when they slide forward to cradle your wrists.

Your muffled sounds of pleasure drag a low groan from his throat. He kisses the corner of your jaw, catching the sweat and spit smeared across your cheek, unbothered.

“Don't worry, baby. I’ll never stop spoiling you,” he murmurs.

“Even like this. You let me ruin you, let me empty myself into you again and again, and all you give me is trust. Do you know how much I love you for that?”

The words sink into the fog of your mind, curling warmly in your chest as his cock rocks deeper, slower, like he’s savoring every last spasm of your body. His hands stroke along your sides now, fingers drawing lazy paths over your sweat-slick skin, and his voice falls to a hushed, tender murmur.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. Always. No one else will ever touch you like this. No one else will ever know how good you are, how beautiful you sound when you fall apart for me.”

He kisses the crown of your head, the steady rhythm of his thrusts finally more of a lullaby than an assault, coaxing you to drift in that hazy space between exhaustion and bliss.

“Just stay with me, alright?” He breathes, lips brushing your ear as your lashes flutter, your body weak, still wanting and trembling beneath his.

“Just stay right here, n let me love you one of the best ways I know how. It's just what you wanted.”

Your throat is raw, every sound breaking into sobs and moans as Caleb drives into you with ruthless precision. Your body is a trembling, overstimulated mess, every nerve singing with fire. You try to hold on, to cling to the haze of bliss and punishment he’s wrapped you in. But you're so spent, your body is beyond tired, and it’s too much for you. Your chest heaves, your throat catches, and the word slips out, soft but urgent, coated in desperation.

“Apple.”

The air shifts instantly. Caleb stills mid-thrust, buried deep inside you, but no longer moving. The sharp edge in his eyes melts away the moment he hears it, replaced with something tender, protective. His chest heaves as he wrestles back the wild hunger driving him, a master of control, his jaw flexing before he presses a gentle kiss against your damp shoulder.

“Apple,” he repeats softly, grounding both of you in the word. His tone is calm, steady, doting. “Okay, baby. I hear you. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, carefully, he eases out of you, one hand on your hip as if afraid you’ll topple over without him holding you steady. You probably would.

You collapse against the sheets with a whimper, every muscle too weak to hold you up anymore, and immediately his arms are around you. He pulls you back against his chest, cocooning you in warmth, in the safety of his strong biceps.

“Shh… that’s it, sweetheart. It’s over. No more,” he murmurs into your hair, rocking you gently as though soothing a child from a nightmare. His lips brush over your temple, your cheek, damp strands of hair clinging to your flushed face as he peppers you with kisses.

Your body trembles, the aftershocks of too many orgasms rippling through you, but Caleb strokes slow, calming circles into your sides, coaxing you back into yourself.

“You did so good for me. So fucking good. I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, each word threaded with reverence.

When your shaky breaths hitch, he tilts your chin up with the softest touch, wiping the drool and tears from your mouth and cheeks with his thumbs. His gaze is nothing but love, nothing but adoration.

“Look at me, beautiful. Breathe with me, yeah? Just like this.” He inhales slowly, deeply, holding you close so you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back. You follow, ragged at first, but his steady rhythm guides you until your own breathing evens out.

Caleb shifts you onto your side, curling his body around yours like a shield. He reaches down for the blanket and drapes it over your shivering frame, tucking it around you with meticulous care. His hands linger, rubbing warmth back into your thighs and calves, smoothing over every quivering muscle as if to erase the ache he left behind.

“Do you need water, pips?” he asks softly, kissing the back of your neck.

“Or something sweet? I’ll get you anything you want. Just tell me. Don't hate me, I promise, I don't mean to hurt you, I'm not upset, you did so well.”

Your lips part, a broken little sound of exhaustion slipping free.

“Love you, Caleb, no hate.” His face breaks into a smile, and he doesn’t press you for any more words. He already knows.

He tightens his hold around you, murmuring, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Don’t move—I’ll take care of everything. Thank you.”

True to his promise, he slips away only long enough to grab a bottle of water and a cool, damp cloth. He returns quickly, like he can’t bear to be away from you, and coaxes you to sip while his other hand wipes the sweat from your forehead, your chest, the sticky mess between your thighs. His movements are slow and purposeful.

When you slump back against him, too tired to do more, he gathers you into his arms again, pressing your head to his chest. His heartbeat is steady, strong, a lullaby beneath your ear.

“You’re safe now. Always safe with me,” he whispers, stroking your hair until the strands untangle beneath his fingers. He hums softly, a low soothing sound, kissing your crown as you drift.

Every now and then, he reminds you in hushed tones of how much he cares.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you. Thank you for trusting me. You learn so well, you make me feel so lucky.”

Each affirmation melts into your bones, a blanket warmer than the one covering your body.

As your lashes flutter closed and exhaustion finally pulls you under, Caleb stays awake, holding you close, still murmuring his soft reassurances into the quiet of the room. Protective. Loving. Patient.

And when sleep takes you, it’s with the certainty that he will still be there, watching over you, the next time you open your eyes.

☆☆☆☆☆

Morning comes softly, sunlight spilling pale and golden across the sheets. Your body stirs, but the ache in your muscles is immediate. It's dull and deep, a reminder of just how far you’d been pushed, how much you took.

For a moment you tense, unsure, until you feel the familiar weight of Caleb’s arm draped over your waist, the warmth of his chest pressed to your back. He’s awake, you realize, the steady brush of his thumb over your hip bone proof that he’s been watching for any sign of discomfort.

“Easy, pips,” his voice is low, still rough with sleep but tender. He presses a kiss into your hair before you can even think of shifting.

“Don’t move too fast. Your body’s had a hell of a night.”

You relax back against him, your muscles too sore to do much else, and he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he teases gently, but he isn't smug or too unkind—his voice holds only total unfiltered affection. His fingers trace soothing patterns along your arm, grounding you in the slow, soft rhythm of his touch.

“Stay here,” he whispers after a moment, easing himself carefully out of the bed without disturbing you.

The absence of his warmth makes you whimper faintly, but he’s back soon enough, after fifteen or so minutes, setting a tray down on the nightstand. When he settles beside you again, he helps you sit up against the pillows, lifting you with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

The tray is simple but thoughtful: a glass of water, orange juice, pain medicine, fruit, and toast cut neatly into small halves with no crusts.

“Something light,” Caleb explains, placing the water into your hands first.

“You need fluids. And sugar. Don’t argue, just sip for me.”

He watches carefully as you drink, brushing a strand of hair away from your damp forehead, then easing the glass from your fingers when you’re done. Every motion is deliberate, patient, as though you’re fragile porcelain he’s determined not to crack.

“How’s your body?” he asks, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Sore? Cramping? Tell me everything.”

You murmur a weak, “Sore. Everywhere,” and he smiles, kissing your temple, then the bridge of your nose.

“Good. That means I didn’t imagine how incredible you were last night.” His words are soft, wrapped in unbridled joy and appreciation.

With steady care, his hands are already moving, reaching into the drawer for a bottle of lotion. He rubs it between his palms to warm it, then begins to massage your thighs, your calves, slow and steady. The ache eases little by little under his careful attention.

When you wince, he immediately softens his touch, murmuring, “Shh, I’ve got you. Just tell me where it’s too much. I’ll be gentle.”

The care stretches throughout the morning. He insists you stay in bed, fetching you ibuprofen when he notices the strain around your eyes, drawing the curtains to keep the room dim and restful. He changes the sheets while you lie curled in the blankets, making sure everything feels clean and fresh, then tucks you back in like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Every so often, he leans down to kiss you. Your forehead, your neck, your cheek, and your lips if you tilt your head to meet him. They’re slow kisses, grounding ones, nothing like the desperate, disciplinary claims of the night before.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells you quietly, brushing his thumb across your jaw.

“For using your word. For knowing your limit. That’s everything to me, pips. You are so good, so perfect.”

By midday, he’s coaxed you into a warm bath, carrying you when your legs shake too much to walk. He lowers you into the water as though you might break, then kneels beside the tub with a soft towel draped over his arm, content just to watch over you while the heat soothes your aching muscles. He washes your hair for you, careful fingers massaging your scalp until you hum softly in contentment.

“Ah~ You're the best, Caleb. Thank you.”

“Mm, I know, baby.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The rest of the day is spent in quiet comfort.

Caleb wrapping you in one of his shirts, carrying you back to bed, putting on a movie you barely pay attention to because you keep dozing against his chest. Each time you stir, he’s there, rubbing circles into your back, whispering reassurances you don’t even need to hear to believe.

And every moment, he treats you like something precious. To him, that trust you gave him is worth more than anything.

By nightfall, as he tucks you against his chest again and kisses the crown of your head, his voice is nothing but love.

“Sleep, pipsqueak. I’ll take care of you tomorrow, too. For as long as you need. Always.”

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

he’s yours. for crying out loud. he’s your boyfriend!

“i-i’d really like it if you called me that.”

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

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

oh.

“look at you, puppy. barely there ‘n i haven’t even kissed you yet."

now you’re his and you’re humping the print of his dick like your life is on the line — adrenaline guiding rapid rounds you grind your hips in. you belong to him and you’re clinging onto him like a life line, like he’s your last thread of sanity before you lose yourself completely — turning brainless, void of all thought whilst you look to caleb for all answers.