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@corneredkitty
beware of the dog đžâ ď¸ 18+ mdni plzz
21. / lads centric writing side blog :Dd
cw 4 some dead dove & dark content / kink !
â tags i use below đŚ´
#kitty writes !! â all my own written stuff
#chewing on [ ] !! â for a specific character / ship
#kitty cat chit chat !! â yapping & shitpost
#kitty cat inbox !! â asks :3
#bites it !! â writing rb & fic praise
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#paws it !! â non writing rb

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Do Or Die!
SYNOPSIS. Caleb's been your best friend and long time crush forever, so when you find yourself trapped in this twisted, deadly game, it's only natural to think he's here to save you. Right?
FEAT. yandere!bestfriend!caleb x crushing!reader
A/N; yeah, this is actually kinda fucked up man... dunno what to say uhhhh... game is game lmaoooo. And yes, I was too lazy to proofread^^đˇď¸; @potania @applecaviar Enjoy and have a great night/day <333
TAGS. 4.7k. words. DARK/NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! saw like universe. Dubcon. they r both sick in the head. reader has a hugeee crush on caleb. possessive/yandere caleb. missionary. Fingering. virginity loss. pĂśrn with plot. killing game. dirty talk. corruption. heavyyy size k!nk. manipulation. dacryphilia. unprotected intercourse. pussydrunk caleb. breedin. caleb is sooo sick. friends to lovers (if u can even call it that).
SATRS K!NKTOBâŹR 2025!
Bzzz... Bzzzz... Bzzkkkk!
The buzzing, mechanical hum of a projector is what brings you back to your senses, heavy eyelids slowly lifting.
Goosebumps tickle you all over, a cold, metalic weight clinging to your skin, seated on a suspiciously neat and clean matress. The room is nothing but concrete walls, a rusted drain at the far, dark end, and a single light flickering right above your head.
That's when your nerves connect, a lightning rushing through your brain when you realize, you're not at home anymore. You're somewhere unknown.
Somewhere dangerous.
You bolt upright in panic, the fixed chain tethering you to a metal bar on your ankle, only worsening your rapidly beating heart.
"Pips'! Hey, hey, easyyy, now. It's okay, I'll get us outta here."
You'd recognize this voice anywhere.
Caleb?
Your head whips toward him and there he stands a few feet away, chained as well with no matress on his end, sitting against the opposite wall. His chestnut hair messy, broad chest rising and falling steadily, voice impressively calm.
"C-caleb? What the fuck is going on here?! Where are we?"
He shakes his head, running a hand over his jaw. "No clue. I woke up bare minutes earlier than ya' did. One second I was on my way home from your place, and thenâ" He trails off, frustratingly gesturing around the sketchy room, huffing out a breath.
Caleb.
Your best friend. The one who always stood between you and the world when it tried to hurt you. The one who carried your backpack when you were too tired, who patched you up after scraped knees, who fought off anyone who dared make you cry.
It's always been that way. Ever since you were kids.
Caleb, your best friend, your anchor in the storm.
And the one you've been hopelessly, stupidly in love with since forever.
You've buried it down deep, lived with it quietly, choosing your friendship over some risky confession. But it's always been there, even in a moment like this, making your chest ache, even in the middle of this waking nightmare.
But the weight of the unknown gnaws at you. Because if not even Caleb knows what's going on, then it's endgame.
Your eyes burn as you wrench at the chains biting into your ankle, skin raw beneath the iron grip. Just what in the hell is going on here? And why you both? And who wouldâ?!
Bzzzzâ CLICK!
The old TV in the center of the room sputters awake, its static filling the silence. A warped voice breaks through, echoing across the fractured concrete walls.
"Welcome, players. Tonight, a choice must be made. A choice that decides life or death. The rules are simple. To live, you two must participate in sexual intercourse."
Sexual... intercourse? What kind of sickshow is this?
"Refuse, and carbon monoxcide will fill this room, sealing your fatal fate. Your salvation lies on your shoulders. Act in union to earn your survival."
You laugh. Not out of comedic relief but rather because of the ton of fear flooding through you. It's ridiculous, so ridiculous in fact, that you're unsure if this is really a joke. What if it's real, and you two got kidnapped by some sadistic psycho, getting aroused by watching their victims fuck before killing them?
Your throat tightens, terror crawling up your spine. A prank? A sick reality-show stunt? Please, please let it be. You snap your head to Caleb, praying he'll smirk, roll his eyes, call it bullshit. But he doesn't. His eyes are locked on the screen, brows knit in grim concern.
Oh fuck.
"T-this must be some sick TV-prank. I'm sureâ" You try to make light of the situation, you really do. But then the voice continues.
"You have one hour. Fail, and your bodies will rot together in this tomb."
Bzzz... Krk!
Silence swallows the room as the tape cuts.
Your gaze flickers frantically around the room, catching the black eye of a camera in the corner, and the suspicious vents lining the ceiling. Vents that look perfectly capable of flooding this cell with poison.
No joke. No prank. You're fucked. Capital F.
Trembling, you're hugging your knees to your chest, causing Caleb to push straight off the wall, chains rattling as he shifts closer within his limited reach, sitting at the edge of the matress. His eyes lock on you, trying to calm and ground you in a comforting way that makes your racing heart ache even in this nightmare.
"Hey. Pips'. Look at me." And you do, glassy eyes starring up into his big ones, already feeling a little better. "We'll figure this out. Together. I'm not letting anything happen to ya', okay? Everything's gonna be alright."
You nod weakly, though your stomach flips like it's trying to claw its way out. Caleb has always been protective and caring over you. But right now? Right now that protection feels terrifyingly conditional.
"Stay with me. Breathe. In and outâ juuust like that."
You obey, shaky but steadying under his command, and of course he notices, praise slipping from his lips like a habit.
"Gooood." His voice dips lower now, and maybe it's just your nerves twisting things, but it lingers in your ears differently than it ever has before. The thought slips away the moment you meet his unyielding gaze, familiar protectivness gleeming behind his iris.
As always.
But your relief cracks the instant you remember what the rules demanded. It's right in your faceâ a giant clock counting down the hour, that is.
Seconds turn into minutes, minutes stretch like hours. And beneath the terror, the crush you've been carrying for years throbs intense inside your chest, more damning than that ticking clock.
Caleb keeps his breathing steady and calm, watching you with that familiar type of focus. But his gaze lingers a little too long, like he's waiting for something.
"I think they're serious." His voice is quiet though, careful, even. "We've seen shit like this in movies, right, pips'? Whoever's doing this, wants to watch us fall apart."
You shake your head furiously. "No. No, there's no way they canâthis can't be the only way. There's gotta be a door, orâ" rattling your chain frantically, but it's no use.
Caleb shifts forward on the matress to pull you into his space as far as the chain allows him to, hand settling on your thigh to calm you down.
"Pips'. Listen." His hand squeezes your thigh now to get your attention and, of course it does, "If it comes down to you dying or⌠well, doing what they want us to thenâshit. I'm not letting you die in here. You hear me?"
You nod quickly, too quickly, trying to hide how your pulse leaps just from his touch. And for the briefest moment, you could almost pretend this is another night with just the two of you, sitting a little too close on your couch after a movie, his hand brushing yours and making your heart skip a beat.
Except now there's no couch. Nor a movie.
For so long it's been second nature to bite your tongue, bury the longing under jokes and casual smiles. To swallow every flicker of heat when he'd nudge your shoulder, when his laugh spilled into your ear, when he'd throw that lopsided grin at you.
But here, sealed in these concrete walls with death ticking down on the wall, you're tempted. Tempted to spill the secret you've been trying so hard to take to the grave.
"Caleb, Iâ"
His thumb strokes along your thigh, his sharp, purple hues pinning you. "Yeah? Something on yer' mind? C'mon, tell me."
It's something, alright.
Swallowing hard, you try to escape his piercing gaze. Tell him what? That you've wanted him for years? That the thought of dying in this shithole without feeling his kiss, or his touch on your naked body makes your chest ache worse than the fear itself?
Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you shake your head quickly, shrinking in on yourself, arms wrapping around your knees like a shield again. Your forehead drops against them, a wet sniffle slips out before you can hold it, echoing just enough in the silence that you know he heard.
"Nothing," you blurt out, voice muffled against your arms, "It's nothing."
Close. So fucking close.
He almost had you spilling the secret you've been choking on for years. He could see it in you, taste it, even. But no. You just have to fold back into yourself, too shy and too stubborn to finally admit the thing he's been waiting on for years.
Just like you always do.
"It's alright, pips'. We'll be alright."
Did you really think he never noticed the way your hands always shook when they brushed against his, the way you stared a little too long when you thought he wasn't?
Patience. He'd given you so much of it. Years of waiting, of letting you keep the secret he's known all along. He's counted on it, wanted you to be the one to take a step first, give you the space.
No. That shy act just wont do. He won't let you wiggle out this time. Not after he worked so fucking hard for this.
"I'll take care of you," his smooth tone reels you in, head lifting to lock onto his gaze, "If doing this is the only way out, then I'll make it as easy as I can for you."
Cheeks burning under his gaze, you force yourself to look away, because if you don't, he might see it. He might finally realize that him being your first is everything you've ever dreamed of.
But oh, you foolish girl. He already knows. Always has.
Because Caleb's been planningâ scheming, playing the role of the big protective best friend for years, scaring off every guy who so much as looked at you, weaving excuses, subtle threats, every trick he needed to keep you untouched. Safe.
Because you deserved so much better than those jerks. You deserve someone like him.
The weight of his words knots in your chest, suffocating almost, because you've never been with anyone, and he knows that.
You told him once, years ago, in a moment where both of you were high off the blunt, his comfortable presence making you feel a tad bit bold. And he's clutched it close ever since, like a secret talisman, guarding it, making sure no one else could ever claim you first.
And now the thought of your first time happening here, like this, under the eyes of some sick strangerâ
Tears sting at your lashline, a fat lump forming in your throat. You don't want this. Not like this. But the ticking clock's still lingering behind your thoughts.
You don't want to die here either.
Caleb's thumb traces slow, soothing circles into your thigh, hypnotic rhythm getting to you as your clenching thigh relaxes in his hold, "It doesn't have to be scary. You trust me, don'tcha?"
A sob catches before you can swallow it down, but you nod anyway. Because you do. You always have.
"Good girl."
Words sliding out of him like a sigh, almost too reliefed. Almost. His lips twitch into a fleeting smirk before settling back into his mask of calm reassurance.
But inside he's swelling with triumph. He's been waiting for this, for you to stop hiding behind shyness, stop pretending your best friend act and finally expose your secret crush.
Caleb's been watching it bloom in you for years, feeding it with subtle brushes of his thigh to yours, quick, seemingly innocent kisses to the cheek or even nicknames best friends shouldn't be calling eachother.
"You gotta say it, baby", his gaze locked to your lips, desperate and hungry to just devour you whole, "Say ya' trust me. Say it, and I'll take reallll good care of you."
And it's strange that you almost obey, because the red flag should've been raised here, but you open your mouth anyway, ready to finally dig out the burden you've been carrying for so long.
But before the words can leave you, the TV in the corner blinks to life again and the warped voice drones the same lines you've already heard, over and over again.
It's a loop.
Your stomach drops.
"âŚCaleb," you whisper, dread clawing through your veins as you stare at the screen, "It's a loop. They prerecorded everything."
He follows your gaze and for a beat, his face unreadable. Then he shrugs, too casual for your liking, "Maybe they didn't bother making it live."
Unease twists your gut. He's way too calm, way too composed. And just as you were about to look at him, you saw that menacing smirk for real this time. You know you did.
"How can you be so calm about this? We have to get going and look for a way out, Cay'. Let's start with these stupid chains."
Just as your hand wraps around the chain on your ankle, his firm hand abandons your thigh and clasps over yours to stop, hold too strong to be anything but suspicious.
"Pips', don't hurt'cha little head overthinking it."
Where is his sudden turn coming from? This is strange. Really fucking strange.
That's when you see that the chain around his leg isn't even locked. And it probably never was.
Your head whips toward him, but he's already watching you intently, eyes sharp and gleaming with odd possesiveness that you can't muster, his lips curling into an oddly soft smile that doesn't add up to his alarming gaze at all.
Caleb. It's him. He's behind all this.
Crawling from his grasp, your back hits the cold concrete as Caleb follows you suit, your hands digging into the matress below as you shake your head in disbelief.
"C-Caleb, don't tell me you're behind all this."
Would your Caleb, your best friend, the one you've loved and known for so long really go this far? Lock you up for his selfish gain?
No, you refuse to believe it.
"Shhhhh, it's alright, don't run from me, love." Tall frame hovering above you now, his knees dig into the matress as his palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing away tears you hadn't realized were spilling.
"You're not scared, are you? M' here, your Caleb's here. Nothing will happen to ya'â there's no real camera, no toxic gas. But you'll just have to trust me here, pips'."
"Trust you?" your voice breaks, "W-what are you on about? Please just tell me you have nothing to do with this. Please, Cay'."
He ignores your question, only leaning closer, commanding voice now in the familiar softness you've known to love, "Tell me ya' trust me, baby. Tell me, and I'll get ya' outta here."
Now it hits you like a fist to the gut.
"Get me out? So you've known how to get out of here all along and set up this fake killing game? You locked me up here, didn't you? This isâthis is insane! You'reâ"
The word sticks in your throat because you can't say it. You can't brand him a monster, call him a sick fuck for all of this despite the clear picture.
"Guess the game's up."
Your body goes weak, because every last bit of hope is shattered now. You've hoped for him to just deny it, explain himself and not prove your suspicions right.
"You really did this?", you whisper more to yourself than him, flinching as the now free man tip-toes his fingers along your arm, humming in agreement.
"Guiltyyy."
He eases back just enough to let his gaze wander over your shaking body, halting just a moment at your exposed shoulder, where the string of your top slid down your arm.
"Told you not to overthink it, but my girl can't help it, can she? Always trying to put the pieces together. That's what made me so obsessed with ya', my smart girl."
This can't be real.
"Caleb, this is wrongâ"
"Ya' know what's wrong?" Interrupting, his lashes lower as his gaze cuts into you, "That you kept me waiting all these years. That you hid how badly you wanted me when I was right there, ready to take care of you. Ready to love you. But no. You had to be stubborn and swallow it all down."
The TV clicks off, the countdown silenced with a flick of his wrist, "It's a shame, really. That I had to go this far."
And to your own shock, you feel oddly at ease. It isn't a real death game, thank the heavens. You're not going to die here.
But still, the reality still shocks you to the core.
"I was... scared."
"Scared of what? Rejection? " His scoff is bitter, but his hand softens where it rests on your arm, slightly squeezing it, "Tch. Yer' fucking kidding."
At his words memories surface, strange little things you always brushed off before. The way your best friend's jaw always clenched when another guy so much as looked at you. Or the half-joking, half-serious offer to 'help you get that first kiss out of the way.' You'd never pieced it together. Or maybe you had, but simply brushed it off as impossible. Because, what are the odds that your huge crush happend to be mutual?
You should be disgusted. Terrified, even. You should slap his hand away and try to get out of this insanity and far, far away from him. Instead, heat boils up in your stomach, the realization sickly making your heart flutter in a way that feels wrong.
He likes you. Wants you. And he's willing to⌠to be your first?
This must be a fever dream.
"CalebâŚ" Your body moves before your mind can catch up, crawling the tiny distance toward him, heart hammering as you close the gap until your face is just a breath away from his, tears still wet on your cheeks, but your gaze fixated on him. "I trust you."
Glee of joy behind his pupils as he catches your chin, eyes searching yours as his thumb drags across your bottom lip, pressing until you part for him, smashing his mouth onto yours. It's hungry in the way his tongue swrils into your mouth, kissing you like he's been holding himself back for years.
Which he has.
You don't even notice the faint click! as the chain around your ankle slackens, falling uselessly to the floor. And when he pulls back just enough to gawk at your dazed expression in awe, you catch the faint glint of a key between his fingers before he tosses it aside. He'd had it all along.
The taste of him makes your head spin. You moan right into his mouth as his other hand fists in your hair to hold you close.
"Finally, alllll mine now," he mumbles against your jaw now, trailing kisses down your throat, biting playfully. His hand drags down your front, slipping under your shirt, flicking your perked nipples, until his fingers tease the edge of your waistband. "Let me take care of ya', yeah?"
Your hips buck when his hand dips lower, sliding between your thighs, one finger pressing against your soaked panties, circling lazily patterns riiiight onto your clit and you squeak, hips twisting and turning.
And god, it feels so much better than all those nights you spent alone in your room, rubbing your needy little button under the covers, whispering his name into your pillow, imagining what his hands might feel like.
Well, now you know.
"That's it," Praise spilling as he sucks your collarbone, his voice dripping with pride, "My baby wants it bad, huh? Been holding out on me?"
"Mhmmm, wanted this for sooo long, Cay'." Your voice breaks as his fingers slip past the cotton, running through your slick folds before plunging one thick digit inside, stretch making your back arch off into his chest.
"Awww, tight lil' cunny," Kissing down your chest, he's mouthing over your shirt until he pushes it up right over your tits, groaning at the sight, "Gotta split you open, ya' hear? Make sure this perfect pussy cums 'round my fingers."
Another finger joins, curling until your hand shoots down, curling around his busy wrist as you feel him reach that sweet spot you've never got to grasp with your own small digits.
Your sniffles make his dick twitch in his pants, rutting his hips against the matress as he eagerly works you open, peppering kisses over your breasts, tongue flicking a nipple before he whines, sucking it hard into his mouth.
"So beautiful," he's pulling back just enough to see your tear-stained face, hips twitching as you chase every rub of his pads against that sweet, tender spot inside you, "Big girl's taking it soooo well."
You can barely breathe, hips rocking against his hand as you feel your stomach twist from the inside out, the praise sinking way deeper than the stretch.
Thighs quivering as you rock helplessly against his hand, walls fluttering around him as your hands grasp at his bicep, high-pitched cries of yours indicating that you'reâ
"Fuckkk, gonna cum 'round my fingers just like that, baby?"
"Y-yes, think m'â nghhh!"
Hands now clawing at his tensing biceps, other hand yanking his hair to earn a broken whimper in return, tension building tight in your belly until you can't take it anymore.
"Don't think about anything. Js' be a good girl f' me and cum, yeah?"
"Ohhh-kay! Hnghh! Cay'! Cay'!"
Your cum gushes all over his hand and shirt, pussy spasming and biting down hard on his finger, refusing to let go. It's all to much as his wrist wont stop slap slap slapping against you, heel of his palm smacking your clit so cruelly, tears begin to blur your vision, rolling down your cheeks as you ride out your violent orgasm.
You still cling to him, sniffing away as you watch him pull his fingers free, shining with your cum, smearing them over your clit, making you shriek, just to curl his mouth around them right after, humming in delight at your taste.
"F-fuckkk, wanna taste you more, butâ" he stops just to suckle the last remains of you right onto his greedy tastebuds, whining in impatience, "can't wait, I can'tâ"
Blurry eyes of yours observe him undoing his pants at damn near lightning speed, tugging his boxers down his massive imprint, and your eyes widen as his fat cock springs free, flushed tip slapping onto his abdomen, leaking pre.
Your thighs press together instinctively, because he's so much bigger than you imagined in your midnight fantasies. He just chuckles, firm hand clapping around your knee to spread your legs apart. "Ohhh, no, no, don't hide away now. Said you trusted me, so yer' gonna let me in, yeah?"
You nod, shy as you look up at him like a lost lamb, and it does his throbbing cock no good because now he holds it at the base, wildly jumping, turning painfully red.
"Wan' you, Cay'. P-please."
It's time, it's finally time. His excitement is etched across his face, every breath uneven, every muscle twitching impatiently. And it's evident with his hung cock.
"Yes, Yes. Gonna give it to ya' pips'â," blabbering and lining his flushed tip right at your drenched pussy, his head hangs low as he rubs the thick head round and 'round your hole, groaning as you clench right on his slit. "Gonna stretch your tiny pussy so gooood."
Staying true to his word he pushes in slooooowly, stopping once your stretched cunny clamps on his bulky head, making you gasp and claw at his shoulders instantly.
"Fuh-fuck! T-too big, Cay'! I c-can'tâ ouuhhh!" but he shushes you, kissing your tears away, murmuring praise against your lips as he forces your poor cunny to swallow him some inches deeper.
"You can, baby. I know ya' can. A-aaaalmost there, pips'â s-shittttt! Doin' perfect f' me."
Your body shudders as you take another inch, and he sinks even deeper until he's halfway in, your walls fluttering frantically around his massive girth. You're so damn full, stretched so wide, and he's not even all the way in yet.
You whine, huffing and puffing out breaths as your eyes scrunch shut, "Don't think I can take it, Cay'. T-too much."
"Relaxxx, baby. C'mon, lemme innnn," his voice is whiny, desperate to feel your impossible tight clench down to his base, his lip caged between his teeth, trying to hold himself back from slamming right into you.
Caleb cups the back of your knee now, pushing it higher, spreading you wider so he can force in another inch, burn flaring overwhelmingly inside you, the way his thick cock throbs inside you making your head spin.
"A-already halfwayâ h-hahhh!â in," he croons, though his voice breaks halfway, sweat beading on his temple as he fights to keep pushing in slowly. His free hand strokes over your belly, tapping right under your belly button, "G-gotta be right here, ya' see? Gonna plug my perfect girl up."
His jaw drops once your pussy stutters around him, your nails ranking down his slick back as he pushes deeper until you feel the blunt head nudge at your gummy sweet spot, his pre sticking to it like glue, filling you to the brim.
Trail of faint brown hair tickle you clit, your pussy now completely swallowing him to the base, head hanging low in your neck, biting down your shoulder to keep himself from moving.
"Goooood job, baby. Took all of me deep inside ya'," He kisses your cheek, hissing at another claw down his now red back, his hand pressing down firmly onto your belly, earning a loud wail from you.
"Told ya' m' gonna be right. here."
"O-oh god, Caleb! M' so fuckin' full! Soâ"
"Damn right."
Then he starts to move, dragging his cock out slowly until you desperatly cling to his tip, then pludges back in deep, each thrust wringing whimpers from your throat and pushing you further up the matress.
"F-fuck! Pussy 's squeezin' the life outta me," Caleb groans, voice damn near breaking, "Yer' mine. Your first a-and last, you hear?"
"M' yours! All yours, Cay'! Love you! S-so much!"
Every thrust gets dangerously close to your cervix, your body now on fire from the pool of pleasure sitting in your belly, his weight pinning you down, hips rolling with a rhythm that has you sniffing through tears of pleasure.
"Mhmmm, love ya' more than you can imagine, baby. Nobody else gets you like this," stealing another whimper from your lips he's quick to swallow with his mouth, his hips stutter, balls drawing up tight, "Just me. Lil' virgin cunny 's all stuffed with my cock now."
Stars explode behind your eyes as his tip tries to squeeze through the entrance of your womb, familiar tension in your belly coiling impossibly tight until you're sobbing into his shoulder.
"C-Calebâoh shiiiit!âit's so fuckin' good! So good! M' gonna cum again!"
"Uh huhhhh, you better."
Eyes wild, his rhythm falters as he pounds into your gushing pussy, pelvis slapping against your clit, one hand smacking your thigh with pure excitement, "Fuckin' cum on your cock. 'S alllll yours, baby. C'mon, make a mess f' me."
Just like that, you're gone.
The tight knot in your belly snaps with force, your whole body seizing around him as you scream without sound, cunt gripping him in desperate, milking spasms, soaking him in your essence as your hips buck up into his.
It's all too much for him.
Your tears, cries, and the way you viciously trap his cock drives him into insanity and right over the edge.
"Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck! Shiiiitâ Gonna shoot it right into ya'."
He's burried deep as his heavy balls shoot ropes after ropes of thick cum into you, overflowing your poor pussy.
"D-did so well, pips'. Love you so much, my perfect girl."
Chest still heaving, every nerve inside you is in shock, his cock pumping the last whisps of his whites into you. His groans fade into weak breaths, grip on your hips staying iron clad, terrified of the idea you'd slip away.
You don't know if it's the tears on your cheeks or the haze of pleasure fogging your head, but you dwell in the tender words he whispers.
That you're his perfect girl. That he loves you. That you're his now.
"My sweet, sweet, pips'. All mine."
And you don't flinch at the claim, melting under it as your lips curl into a weak smile, nudging your nose against his.
After all the years of longing, you finally have him. And he's got it all wrong. You're not his.
He's yours now.
"You'll stay with me forever now. Right, Cay'?"
"Mhmm. Forever, pipsqueak."
Calebâ your best friend. Anchor in the storm.
And now, your first. Forever yours.
'Till death do us part' they say, no?
Šď¸đđźđđđ đđĽđĽ đŤđ˘đ đĄđđŹ đŤđđŹđđŤđŻđđ. 2025.
Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!
âiâm doing kinktober this yearâ (hasnât posted anything at all) DONT LOOK AT ME IM ASHAMED
Hey hey uhhh zayne what the fuck was that genuinely i canât do this anymore ohmygoodhss Iâm so lucky i have more than enough saved because i just spent almost an hour freaking out over myth
Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men
Nope, I havenât vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support â seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writingâs slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And Iâm knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that oneâs cooking, I thought Iâd drop another batch of my random writer notes â all bundled up in one chaotic little post.
CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K
5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Calebâs Obsessed With You
1. You call another man âhandsomeâ â even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.
2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend â you asked Xavier. Caleb didnât say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.
3. You donât sit on his lap when thereâs clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. Heâs not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether youâve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.
4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Shouldâve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.
5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags heâs worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says âbelonging to Colonel Caleb.â Heâll never say a word. Heâll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.
5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You
1. âI donât care that she uses my toothbrush.âYou could take a fresh one. You donât. You reach for his, same as always â like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.
2. âShe can wear whatever she wants.âAnd you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is âpractical.â He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.
3. âI donât need her to text me when she gets home.âYouâre a grown woman. A Hunter. Youâve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say âDonât wait up.â He says âSure.â Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.
4. âItâs fine if she flirts. I know itâs harmless.âYouâre charming. Itâs part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, âSheâs always like that.â Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: âTry that again, and Iâll fuck you so hard next time you wonât remember anyone elseâs name.â
5. âShe doesnât need to say she loves me every day.âYou say it once. In passing. A low little âlove youâ as you walk away, like itâs nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesnât touch you, he might forget how to breathe.
5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You donât even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesnât say anything. Doesnât move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.
2. You chew on your thumb when youâre thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while youâre mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. Itâs nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet â he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.
3. You interrupt him when heâs cooking. Heâs focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldnât. Say âSmells good, chef,â with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinnerâs going to burn.
4. You try on his Fleet cap like itâs a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. âColonel,â you say. And heâs gone. He should laugh. He doesnât. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like heâs reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.
5. You say âIâm yoursâ. Not in bed. Not in public. Just⌠casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when somethingâs real. âIâm yours.âHe looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. Youâre the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet â youâre in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons youâre not supposed to touch. He doesnât stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, âSheâs my gravity.â End of discussion.
2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that â his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. Theyâve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.
3. Youâre the only person heâll interrupt a briefing for.Heâs mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name â and pauses. âGive me five,â he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was. He said, âThe only priority higher than this fleet.â No one asked again.
4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.Heâs in dress whites. Youâre in black. And the room â full of admirals, envoys, diplomats â parts like mist when you enter. He doesnât introduce you. He doesnât need to. Youâre not just his date. Youâre the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.
5. You donât need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. Heâs already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two? Itâs just muscle memory â built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.
5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasnât reading a life â just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, âI like knowing who wants whatâs mine.â And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.
2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didnât speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasnât optional anymore.
3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, âHey, what should I call you?â You started to answer. Then turned â and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.
4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like âGuess Iâll go find someone less intense.â And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didnât yell. Didnât argue. Just looked at you like youâd put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.
5. He called you âdangerousâ â and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: âYouâre dangerous.â But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like heâd already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if heâd have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.
5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayneâs Obsessed With You
1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: âTake it off. Iâm doing it properly.â  You didnât argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted. Zayne didnât say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didnât ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didnât blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. âActually,â he said, calm as glass, âshe prefers reds with less acidity. Iâll order.â You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didnât invite him to your morning training. Heâd had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast â and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to âlet him restâ again⌠your training starts later. And doesnât involve clothes. 5. You called another man âsmart.â It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. âWow. That was actually really smart.â Zayne didnât look up from his tablet. Didnât even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasnât that brilliant after all. You didnât argue. You just leaned closer. He didnât smirk, but you felt it anyway.
5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You
1. "Iâm just your cardiologist during exams." Itâs clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper â deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesnât flinch. Doesnât look. Doesnât feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same cafĂŠ. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table â emptier. He tells himself itâs fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesnât touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I donât need to pick you up." Itâs logical. Youâre a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable. He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "Iâm not checking. Iâm sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he âneeded waterâ or âhad a dream.â But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you havenât disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says theyâre impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, âYouâre not seventeen. Dress like it.â But the second no oneâs watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: âChecking for circulation.â Youâre not fooled. Heâs already failed the mission.
5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You straighten his tie. Youâre not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like itâs second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesnât. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office â and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You donât ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip â and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mindâs gone blank, and heâs halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor â with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. Itâs casual. Automatic. Youâre talking about your day, laughing, and then â One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. Youâre wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead â he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, âYou forgot the gloves.â 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. Youâre saying something about your neighborâs cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne â who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other â is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff canât even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didnât correct them.
2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: âIâd like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.âThen he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.
3. Youâre both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines âcombat-ready.â And when you walk together â sharp, silent, side by side â people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.
4. You donât argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first â clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened â while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.
5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like itâs instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just⌠precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like itâs always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? Sheâs still texting her group chat about âthe man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.â
5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunterâs Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. âJust in case,â he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When youâre injured. When you donât sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say âslow your breathingâ â you realized he wasnât tracking. He was watching over.
2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet â every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesnât argue. Doesnât protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, âItâs fine.â But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.
3. He freezes every time you say âI can handle it.âYou mean well. Youâre strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual âIâve got this,â he doesnât nod. Doesnât smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later â even fine â thereâs already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.
4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: âI miss you. A lot.â His read receipt appears. Then⌠nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral â he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: âSoon.â You hate how well it works.Â
5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didnât. He stepped in, shook the manâs hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didnât apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.
5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayelâs Obsessed With You
1. Someone comments âđĽâ under your photo â and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think itâs harmless. He thinks itâs appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. âOh, just honoring your admirersâ creative input.â
2. You linger too long in front of another artistâs painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, âCutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.â You're not sure if heâs joking. Youâre also not sure you want him to be.
3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited⌠without him.Youâre glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: âAnd did the sun taste the same without me there?â You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. âIâm just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we werenât together.â
4. You send him a photo â and thereâs someone elseâs hand in the frame.You didnât notice it. He did. He stares at the image like itâs a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: âBeautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist â whose is it?â You laugh. He doesnât.
5. You say some actor is âexactly your type.âHe doesnât flinch. Doesnât blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, âBefore or after makeup?â Later, you find your datapad background changed. Itâs him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: âStill unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. Youâll remember.â
5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You
1. âI didnât paint you. Itâs just resemblance.âHe insists itâs a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone â theyâre all yours. You ask, teasing: âIs that me?â He blinks. Smiles slowly. âCutie,â he says, âI wouldnât paint you without permission.â And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.
2. âI don't reread your old messages.âHeâs far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote âcome home soonâ like it meant more than time and place. He says itâs for âemotional reference.â He lies beautifully.
3. âI don't watch your mouth when you talk.âHeâs an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like heâs memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like heâs fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. Heâs listening.
4. âI havenât memorized your scent through every season.âHe claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you â soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version â leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesnât name them. Doesnât chase the memory. But when you walk past â his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like heâs gathering air before going under.
5. âI don't imagine your name with mine.âHeâs not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet â thereâs a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.
5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesnât. Heâs too busy wondering how itâs possible to be jealous of the fruit.
2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead â you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasnât affection. That was submission. And now heâs wondering just how far youâd let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask âYou think so?â like it means âprove it.â You laugh â not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches â looking like you belong there. Youâre humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: âI like this one.â He doesnât even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesnât touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say âmore.â In any context. âMore sugar.â âMore time.â âMore.â Thatâs all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it â but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. He painted a self-portrait â with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the galleryâs main hall, critics called it âa study in obsession.â He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said youâre the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first â gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, âHer.â The room stilled. âThe raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.â He didnât say your name. He didnât have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you werenât there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. âSheâs on the way,â he said. âShe had a prior engagement.â No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived â graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening â only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like theyâd been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: âIâm already spoken for. Permanently.â It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didnât pull away. Didnât react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it â quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: âPainted Between Her Breathing and Mine.â The crowd didnât know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands â he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.
5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He can disappear for three days and return with, âI just needed to stop being jealous.â No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in â composed, scented like night air and oil paint. âSorry,â he says softly. âI was being irrational. Had to⌠recalibrate.â You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like heâs home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo âpoorly lit.â It wasnât even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, âNo one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.â 3. He faked an illness so you wouldnât leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, âI needed one more night. Forgive the performance.â You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so youâd wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine â cold, damp, and useless â while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesnât deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, âYou donât hide anything from me. Thatâs why it doesnât count as intrusion.â And the worst part? Heâs right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.
5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavierâs Obsessed With You
1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just⌠not his. Youâre curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesnât wake you. Doesnât move you. But when you stir, thereâs a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket â tucked just a little tighter â like a quiet reminder that even when youâre here, somethingâs missing. Something heâs not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.
2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man â not him â at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesnât blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you donât forget me, even in sleep.
3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But itâs always near. He asks, once: âWhat is that?â You smile. âJust something from a long time ago.â He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.
4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said âsure, why not.â Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didnât notice. But when you left the cafĂŠ, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if itâs just in coffee.
5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.âJust a movie,â you say. Too quickly. He doesnât ask. Doesnât tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didnât notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame â teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesnât change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesnât speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you canât remember what the scene looked like â only what it felt like when it became real.
5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You
1. âIâm not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.âHe knows it doesnât matter. Itâs skill. Itâs history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself itâs irrelevant. But when he watches you move â precise, lethal, beautiful â something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didnât.
2. âItâs logical to sleep apart sometimes.â You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. Itâs healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say âIâll sleep in my own apartment,â the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he canât quantify. He tells himself itâs fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isnât there.
3. âIt doesnât bother me when you keep things to yourself.â Youâre independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say âIâm fineâ with a smile that doesnât reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesnât push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.
4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself heâs rational. Detached. If you chose something else â someone else â he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: heâs already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving⌠he wouldnât walk. Heâd stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.
5. "You wouldnât lie to protect me. Would you?" You say âit was nothing,â âIâm just tired,â âI handled it.â And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself youâd never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.
5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi. Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he canât look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment â only it's not danger heâs calculating. Itâs proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected⌠before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.
2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor. No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You donât even realize youâre doing it. But he does. Heâs counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, itâs because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth. Itâs efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before theyâre bare â Heâs staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesnât stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker. No explanation. No warning. Itâs not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But itâs there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesnât look at all â he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say âlaterâ when he leans in. Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing â just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do â he doesnât wait. He doesnât ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. You moved in perfect sync â without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didnât say a word â but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, âDo they rehearse this?â Someone else muttered, âNo. Thatâs just them.â And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him âtoo quiet.â You didnât let it slide. It was a throwaway comment ââHeâs so silent, itâs weird.â You didnât even look up from your drink. âThen youâve never heard him breathe next to you.â The room went still. Xavier didnât react. But you felt it â how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasnât romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way â because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didnât ask for his jacket. You didnât have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didnât. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. Thereâs a photo of you on his desk. Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.
5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He monitors your meals like itâs a clinical trial. âYou didnât eat enough protein today.â âThat pastry had no nutritional value.â âAre you hydrating?â He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet â youâve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, âThatâs different. Iâm used to operating under stress. Youâre not.â End of discussion.
2. He didnât argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didnât push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, âIf thatâs what you think.â Later, you realized the entire issue â schedule, person, condition â was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.
3. He never asked where youâd been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didnât accuse. Didnât guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.
4. He always calls via video when youâre in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it âgrounds him.â And maybe thatâs true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if thereâs movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, âIâm alone. Itâs quiet here.â Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.
5. You told him, âSometimes, you scare me.â He said, âGood.âIt slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation â just the truth. He didnât deny it. Didnât soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, âGood. Then youâll stay alert.â And for a moment, you werenât sure if he was warning you⌠or protecting you from something only he could see coming.
5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylusâs Obsessed With You
1. You didnât tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: âCorrection: mine.â It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.
2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didnât.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed â loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. âFor your last night in customer service,â he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.
3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.âHeâs just a friend,â you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. âIâm just a man with access to his tax history.âAnd that was the end of that conversation.
4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. âHis voice is kind of nice.â Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time â mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs â until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldnât take more.
5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didnât forget anything.It wasnât intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night â when you were breathless, undone, on your knees â he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.
5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You
1. âI didnât pick your outfit to match mine. Mustâve been the stylist.âIt was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused â like royalty had arrived. He didnât say a word. Just looked at you once. And didnât look away for the rest of the night.
2. âIâm not furious that I wasnât your first.âHe says it doesnât matter. Shrugs. âIâm not a teenager.â And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that wonât clear. He tells himself you chose him now â and thatâs what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one elseâs ever mattered.
3. âI donât answer your messages instantly. Iâm just always holding the phone.âHe just⌠saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war â to write: âBe safe.â You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.
4. âIâm not obsessed with the way you say my name when youâre annoyed.âYou do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, âWhat now, kitten?â But every time it happens â he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.
5. âI wouldnât beg. If it came to that. âŚBut only for you. And only once.âHeâs not that man. He doesnât plead. Doesnât bend. But when he thinks of you leaving â really leaving â something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself heâd let you go. That he wouldnât chase. But even in the lie⌠heâs already halfway down the hallway.
5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)
1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then donât wear anything underneath. Itâs casual. Innocent. âHelp me?â You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow â almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be⌠he doesnât finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, âYou came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.â 2. You say âdonât be gentleâ with a smile that promises youâll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words â something in him fractures. He doesnât ask if youâre sure. He doesnât give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank â he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say âyes, sirâ in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesnât argue. Doesnât smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, âKeep using that tone, kitten. Letâs see how long you last when I take it seriously.â You donât last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, âSo what does this buy me?â Itâs a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. âThat?â he says, stepping closer. âThat buys you a night where I donât stop until you forget your own name.â And just like that, you do.
5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)
1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic â until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didnât sigh. Didnât scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man whoâd moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions â tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. Heâs waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you donât recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You donât. Youâre too busy smiling. He says, âWelcome home.â And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand â then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct â numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didnât flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped â he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, âYou can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.â 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. âDealâs done,â he said. âYouâll take our terms.â And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted â was already drifting.
5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway
1. He knows whatâs in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something â clothes, tech, vitamins â itâs re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just⌠âverified.â You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said heâd put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what youâd eaten. You said, âDoes coffee count?â He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was âjoking.â Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadnât been since Academy. You didnât realize where you were â until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didnât need his money. You insisted on âindependence.â So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: âYou have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.â You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, âTook you long enough. Come yell at me. Iâll pour the wine.â

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if you see a 6ft4 white haired mafia boss being manhandled by a 5 ft something woman while she berates him about smth do NOT help him heâs exactly where he wants to be
nobody told me about xavierâs âtendernessâ secret times..,,, what the actual fuck was that
i need him in ways that are concerning to my wellbeing
Alternatively, Caleb getting all hot under the collar when you call him a pervert. He's pawing at you, panting in your ear.
"Yeah, and you're gonna let this dirty pervert fuck you, aren't you?"
frat boy caleb who is so so hard over you disciplining him like yeah make him take a shot and then slap him across the face
GIVE IT TO ME DADDY ! - LADS!MEN
âËęŠ.á : including â MDNI, fem!implied reader, condom breaking, p in v, raw f*ck, implied finishing inside in caleb's, dry humping implied in xaviers, dom!rafayel, caleb's not being the puppy/dog allegations bro, I think that's all lol. [๨ŕ§] synopsis: how the lads men react to you wanting them to take the condom off/leave it off! [âĄâË â]: her highness's decree: got tired halfway thru (strawberry fanta is better than coffee I'm telling yall) these are gonna be a littttleeee bit longer since I had some thoughts about this prompt lol, thank you all for waiting patiently!
SYLUS.
The sound of skin slapping and bed creaking fill Sylus's bedroom which is expected because he's so fucking big. Even after being stretched out by him time and time againâ you can never get used to the absolute monster in his pants.
It was a surprise the condoms could withstand him tooâwell until today.
Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the sheets, drool trickling down your chin as Sylus's balls slapped against your clit. Unashamed and loud moans fell past your lips, as he pounded into you.
Your head growing more fuzzy with each snap of his hips. The slick, wet friction, and the maddening stretch, until a sudden, sharp snap cut through the haze of sensation. Sylusâs hips faltered mid-thrust, a low, surprised groan rumbling from his chest as he realized what just happened.
You whimpered immediately, voice shaky and needy. âSy⌠please⌠just take it off⌠'n put it back inâŚâ Your words tumbled out between gasps, desperation dripping from every syllable as your walls clenched helplessly around him.
A low chuckle falls from Sylusâs lips, a sudden vibration against your sweat-damp skin as he dips forward, his chest pressing along your back. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, words a sinful purr. âSo needy tonight, begging me to take you raw now?â You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you shivered, "What happened to all the shyness you had earlier?"
You let out an embarrassed whine, trying to press back against him again, but he caught your hip in one massive hand, stilling you with ease. âShhâŚâ His ruby eyes glowed down at you, his voice dipping even lower, smooth and taunting. âIt's alright. Since you asked so nicelyâIâll take it off.â
Your heart stuttered, breath catching as you felt him peel out of you, the drag of his thick cock slipping free pulling a weak moan from your throat. The emptiness hit hard, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, your whole body twitching in anticipation.
âFuckâŚâ he groaned under his breath as he pulled back, the sound guttural, almost pained. The condom was flicked carelessly to the floor, and his big hand found your waist againâhot, groundingâhis thumb tracing lazy circles into the dip of your hip. The thick head of his cock, bare now, dragged through your slick folds, the contact alone making you whimper and rock back, desperate for more. âReady?â he murmured, voice rough, but edged with something almost tender.
Face pressed into the sheets, you nodded frantically, hips rocking for him, muffled pleas tumbling out. Sylus stilled, grip tightening. âUse your words .â
Your breath caught as you lifted your head slightly, eyes glassy. âIâI am,â you managed, broken and shaky.
âGood girl,â he purred, gliding the thick head of his cock against your folds once more, rubbing it over your soaked entrance until your thighs trembled. And then, with a smooth, deliberate push, he sank back insideâraw.
Your lips fell open in a choked cry, the sheer heat and size of him filling you up all over again, so much more overwhelming nowâskin to skin, no barrier left. The ridges of his cock more prominent, the heat of his shaft, the twitch of itâit was so hot.
Sylusâs groan rumbled low, satisfied and raw, his chest vibrating against your back as he buried himself to the hilt. âFuck,â he hissed, voice strained, âso much tighter without it⌠youâre gonna ruin me, baby.â
Your eyes rolled back with a broken moan as you pushed your hips back onto him, chasing the stretch. âS-So good, Sy! H-holy shitâpleaseâoh my god yes!â The plea barely left your lips before he drove into you with one deep, brutal thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs.
Your head dropped helplessly against the pillows, a loud cry spilling out as Sylusâs cock slammed in and out of your soaked cunt, each stroke pounding your thoughts into nothing but white-hot static.
This felt so much fucking betterâ why hadn't you done this before again?
Oh right you aren't on birth control nor do you take it.
Though at the moment, you were getting literally fucked dumb so maybe this wasn't the best time to remember this issue when you literally couldn't think.
The heat in your belly wound tighter with every thrust, your body already on the verge of snapping after only a few minutes. You could feel it building, unbearable and needy, and by the way Sylusâs groans were starting to deepen, you knew he was close too. Though instead of quickening, he slowedâhips dragging back torturously, only to slam forward harder, deeper. The sudden change pulling cry out from your chest.
Sylus's mouth brushed your ear, breath hot, teeth scraping as he growled, âGonna come already? Hm? Can feel you clenching, kittenâyouâre close, arenât you?â The taunt, his voice low and filthy, only further stoking the fire in your core.
Your moans broke down into desperate, messy pleas as you nodded. âP-please, Syâplease, more!â The words tumbled out unashamedly, a litany of begging that only made him chuckle darkly against your skin.
Then his cock drove deeper, the brutal pace faltering only to hammer harder, each thrust hitting so deep it left you shaking. You only needed a few more before your body gave in with a cry, walls fluttering and tightening around him as your orgasm slammed into you.
âShitââ Sylus hissed through clenched teeth at how tight you got, his own hips stuttering as the sensation ripped through him. His head dropped to your shoulder, breath ragged, as he groaned, âYouâre gonna kill me like this kitten.â
ZAYNE.
You whined upon feeling Zayne's thrusts slow, the pleasure that was the single reason that you were screaming like a banshee now died in your core.
"Nghhâwhy'd you stoppp? 'Said I was sorry." You whined with a pout, looking over your shoulder at your lover, who's chest was rising and falling as black hair fell over his eyes. The veins in his neck tight as he held himself over you. His shaft twitching deep inside you, but jaw locked as he breathed out a quiet, âThe condom broke.â
The words hung heavy between you, his voice low and ragged, thick with a need he was clearly struggling to keep contained. You bit your lip, eyes soft but pleading, shifting your hips back against him, trying to coax him into giving in. Fingers tangled in the sheets, trembling slightly as you exhaled in a shaky, sweet whine. âItâs okay, love⌠please, just take it off and come back inside,â you murmured, voice gentle but laced with a desperation that made your chest ache.
His head tilted, dark eyes boring into yours, the stern edge softened by the heat glazing over him. His fingers dug tighter into your hip, grounding himself in your softness as if letting go even slightly would undo him completely. âYou donât mean that,â he murmured, quiet but firm, though his voice cracked under the strain. ââŚYou could get pregnant if I didnât stop in time.â
But his cock betrayed him, twitching inside you despite the warning. You shifted again, needy and whiny, rolling your hips back into him, a choked cry escaping as his length dragged along your swollen walls. âZaynee, pleaseâŚâ you whimpered, nails scoring half-moons into the sheets. Your voice was high, desperate, yet under the plea hummed something sharperâa secret, breathless anticipation that twisted with your nerves. The thought of him raw and unshielded made your chest tighten and your stomach flutter with anxious longing.
Zayne still didnât move, but the edges of his restraint were fraying, his jaw flexing as his forehead dipped to rest against the curve of your shoulder. âFuckâŚâ he hissed under his breath, dark heat flickering in his eyes as you dared to glance back at him, glossy, pleading, over your shoulder. The sight hollowed out the last of his composure.
âAre you sure?â he murmured, the question barely more than a whisper, equal parts warning and plea. His breath brushed hot across your cheek, lips hovering impossibly close, as if the slightest answer could shatter every ounce of his control.
âYes,â you breathed softly, voice trembling, barely audible.
Zayneâs chest rose and fell sharply, green eyes darkening as he whispered, âOkayâŚâ before finally giving in. With a low hiss, he unsheathed himself from your heat, the sudden emptiness making you whine and arch instinctively.
You felt the faint snap of latex as he slid the torn condom off, his movements quick, almost careless for once. It landed discarded somewhere in the trash bin with a soft flick of his wrist, his focus already entirely back on you. The sound of it hitting the ground only wound the knot in your stomach tighter.
Zayne leaned down, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. He paused for a moment, letting his eyes meet yours as he lined himself up once more, the blunt head of his cock resting right at your slick, swollen slit. âThis okay?â he murmured softly, voice thick with need and care. You nodded, breath hitching, and he let out a low curse under his breath. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed inside you, the first inch slipping in hot and tight, and you shivered at the sudden fullness.
Your mouth fell open in a whimper, the stretch hitting sharper and deeper without the barrier, your nails carving half-moons into the dark sheets. The sheer heat of him, bare and unshielded, made your vision spark, your toes curling helplessly as every inch of him sank into your gummy walls.
Zayneâs forehead dropped against your shoulder with a ragged groan, his breath hot and broken against your skin. He held still for a moment, buried to the hilt inside you, his chest rising and falling raggedly against your back. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, voice low and trembling with the weight of control he was already losing. âDo you⌠need a minute, love?â he asked, tender even through the strain in his tone.
Your lips parted to whisper a shaky 'no'âbut you couldn't even get the word out fully. In the very next breath Zayneâs hips snapped forward, the sudden forceful thrust slamming into you so hard your moan broke free in a sharp, surprised cry. The bedframe groaned beneath the impact, sheets twisting in your fists as his hips drove into you again, and again, pounding with an intensity that stole the air straight from your lungs.
All his careful restraint shattered, every thrust a deliberate, brutal push meant to remind you exactly who had you pinned beneath him. Your toes curled against the mattress as the rhythm picked up, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room.
âI'm sorryâhngh, couldnât wait another second,â he groaned through clenched teeth, voice rough with restraint snapping. His hand slid up your stomach, greedy and sure, before seizing your chest and hauling you tighter against him as he split you open on his cock. âYou feel too good like this.â
CALEB.
Clothes peeled away in a frantic, tangled mess, moans and gasps spilling between fevered kisses as your back slammed against the mattress. Calebâs hands were everywhereâgripping, tugging, sliding under fabric and skin like he couldnât decide where he wanted you most.
His lips smashed into yours as his big hands peeled away the last of your clothes, his weight settling over you like he was trying to pin you down, hold you there, keep you. Your moans melted into his mouth, the mattress groaning under the strain of your tangled bodies, his hips grinding against your bare heat through the thin barrier of his boxers. Strands of his hair clung damp to your temple, tickling as he pulled back just enough to drag in a breath, eyes blown wide and flicking from your lips back up to your face.
âFuckâpips, 'need a condom,â Caleb muttered, almost reluctant, his voice hoarse with restraint even as his mouth hovered over yours like he couldnât stand the distance. His hands flexed against your hips, his chest heaving against yours, and the desperation there made your belly twist.
You shook your head quickly, eyes flinting down to his lips. Refusing the space he gave, and dragged him back down into a kiss. âNot tonight,â you whispered against his lips, breathless, needy. âJust you.â
He groaned straight into your mouth, the sound raw and guttural, his body shuddering as he pressed down harder into you. The mattress creaked under his weight, every inch of him crowding you in. His forehead slid against yours when he finally broke the kiss, purple eyes blown wide, voice frayed but trying to steady into something firm.
âDonâtâdonât say that, pips,â he warned lowly, the rough edge of dominance undercut by how ragged he sounded. âYou know you do.â But his hips betrayed him, grinding deeper, slower, right where you ached for him most, like his resolve was already slipping through his fingers.
âDo I?â you breathed, testing him, eyes heavy-lidded as your nails scraped down his back. âWould it really be so bad just to do itâŚraw? Just for tonight?â you asked, hushed and sultry, the words dripping between bitten-back whimpers.
His chest rose and fell above you, jaw tight as he fought to stay in control. But your hands slid to the waistband of your panties, shimmying them down your thighs in slow, deliberate motions, every inch of the reveal locked with his gaze. The air between you thickened, heavy, as the flimsy fabric slid past your knees and somewhere forgotten onto the floor.
âFuck, pipsâŚâ he rasped, voice cracking with the strain, purple eyes flicking down your bareness, resolve wavering as his cock twitched in his boxers.
You reached up, cupping the back of his neck with trembling fingers, pulling him down until your lips brushed his, your breath mingling with his ragged gasps. âJust once." you whispered, needy and soft against his mouth. âplease leb?â
His forehead pressed to yours, a shaky exhale spilling out as he finally broke. âO-okay,â he whispered, voice breathless and wrecked. âIâll give it to you.â
â
The moment he freed himself, he was lining up against your dripping entrance, not giving either of you time to rethink it. He pushed in faster than youâd braced for, thick length spearing into your soaked heat. Your head slammed back into the pillow with a cry, nails sinking into the strong muscle of his back.
âF-Fuck, babyââ Caleb groaned, voice breaking, ragged with need as his hips jerked forward like instinct, your walls choking him down so tight he couldnât stop himself. His soft brown hair brushed your lashes, strands clinging to his damp forehead as his whole body shivered above you, trembling with restraint that was slipping fast.
âPlease, move,ââ you begged, voice cracking into breathless whimpers, legs quaking around his sides as you tried to pull him deeper. âI can take it, promiseâjust, please.â The desperation in your tone had your nails sinking into his back, your body arching under his as if every nerve was begging for him to give in.
And when he didâoh god, when he didâhis hips slammed down into you, filling you to the hilt and knocking a scream straight from your lungs. The bed creaked violently under the force of his thrusts, headboard hitting the wall in rhythm as he pounded into you with all the pent-up need heâd been holding back.
âJ-just like thatâyes, yes! S'big 'leb, so deep, luv it!" you babbled, words breaking apart into high, needy moans as your back arched beneath him. Every drag of his cock along your soaked walls made your body seize up, pulsing around him, clenching tight like you were desperate to wring him dry.
Caleb whimperedâa raw, boyish sound that cracked in your ear as his breath ghosted hot against your cheek. The frantic stream of praise pouring from your lips only made him twitch inside you, his voice rough with strain. âD-Donâtâfuckâdonât say shit like that, pips⌠yâgonna make me cum too quick,â he groaned, biting back another noise as his hips faltered for a split second, undone by the brutal grip of your cunt choking his girth down.
You pressed closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath hot against his skin. âItâs okay, I want it,â you murmured, your voice trembling as you traced soft, teasing circles along his jaw and neck. Tiny, needy moans slipped past your lips as you whispered filthy praise, each word a deliberate tease meant to unravel him faster. âYou feel so good 'leb. Donât hold back⌠I love it when you let go on meâŚâ
Your hands slid over his broad shoulders, tracing down his chest, gripping tight as your thighs clenched around him, urging him onward. âBe my good boy, okay? Can you do that f'me?â you breathed, voice trembling, rough and needy, each word a tether dragging him closer to the edge.
Calebâs lips parted in a shaky whine, his chest heaving, purple eyes glassy and desperate as he nodded frantically. "I'll be so good for you pips, I'll give you all of it p-promise!â His hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as his thrusts grew faster, harder, messier, each one sloppy with need. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, his groans ragged and boyish, colliding with your moans as he lost all restraint.
XAVIER.
You panted into the crook of Xavier's neck, the front of his boxers & your panties soaked and stained with your slick and his cum. The buzzing feeling of your orgasm still lingering, the feeling of his chest heaving against yours so hot yet intimateâyou wanted more.
The rom-com playing in the background long forgotten as your lips began their assault on Xavier's neck, a shaky gasp falling past his lips as your kisses trailed down the side. "Want you, Xavi," you whispered, hips starting up again against his bulge as you breathed, " 'want you insideâwanna feel you."
His hands, big and warm, slid slowly down your sides, fingertips skating the curve of your waist, your thighsâso soft, so deliberate it made your skin shiver under his touch. But even as his hips jerked up helplessly to meet your grind, his voice trembled, low and hushed in your ear. âStar⌠I donât have a condom on me.â
You only hummed, dragging your lips up the column of his throat, teeth scraping gently at the base of his jaw. âDonât need one,â you murmured between hot kisses, âIâll get off in time. Just wanna feel youâcmon, Xavi.â
His breath caught, chest rattling as he tried to summon resolve that wasnât there. âThat's notângh..a good ideaâŚâ The words carried no conviction, breaking into a groan when you rolled your hips down harder, grinding right against the thickness straining his boxers. His hand clutched at your thigh, betraying him, keeping you there when he shouldâve pulled you off.
You finally pulled from his neck, lips swollen and eyes glassy, and caught his mouth in a needy kiss. The sound of it was wet, desperate, your words spilling against him between each press. âPlease? Missed you all day.â
How could he ever say no to you?
He melted. You felt it in the way his jaw went slack, his breath stuttered, the way his lips grew hungrier against yours even as his hand tangled in your hair like he was already too far gone. Slowly, reluctantly, he whispered against your lips, âOkay⌠okay. As long as you promiseâŚâ
You only hummed in reply, a wordless sound swallowed by another kiss, too impatient to answer properly. Xavier shuddered, finally giving in as he pushed his boxers down, cock springing free, flushed and leaking. You yanked your soaked panties to the side with shaking fingers, spreading your hot slick for him, every motion dripping with need.
And then he was lining up, the heat of him pressed against your slit, both of you trembling from the anticipation. You sank down his shaft slow at first, walls stretching around his girth inch by inch until he was fully seated inside. Xavierâs head fell back against the couch cushions with a guttural groan, chest rising sharply as he muttered, almost reverent, âSo warmâŚâ
The raw fullness made you shiver, every thick inch stretching you wide, the heavy pulse of his cock throbbing deep inside and pulling a sharp, broken gasp from your lips. Your walls fluttered instinctively around him, clenching like your body couldnât decide whether to take him in or push him out. The ache was intoxicating, a perfect burn that had your thighs trembling against his hips.
You lingered there for a heartbeat, savoring the overwhelming pressure, the way he filled every empty space inside you. Then, slowly, you began to roll your hips in small, testing circlesâeach shift making him drag against your swollen walls, the ridges and veins catching deliciously as slick squelched between you. The friction sent sparks licking up your spine, and a shaky moan tumbled free, needy and shameless, as your body hungrily chased more of that stretch.
But the more that delicious heat built, the more frantic your movements became, chasing the bliss as you rode him faster, your body bouncing in his lap, breasts swaying with every desperate drop of your hips.
âFuckââ Xavier hissed, his restraint snapping. He surged up, strong arms locking around your waist as his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing every whimper. The kiss was sloppy, feverish, his lips dragging against yours even as he groaned, words spilling between your mouths, muffled and raw: âWanna do it raw everyâhahâtime with you now..feels so goodâŚâ
RAFAYEL
âYou donât⌠want one?â Rafayel asked slowly, his tone disbelieving, brows knitting just slightly as he hovered over you. His hands hovered near your hips, thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if testing your resolve.
You felt your cheeks heat up, eyes flicking to the ceiling, legs trembling a little as you curled them in the air. â..just wanted to see what it'd be like..,â you murmured, voice soft and hesitant, fingers fidgeting in the sheets. " I want you, Rafâbut I⌠I just thought⌠maybe we couldâŚ?â
His lips curved into that wicked half-smile, leaning down so his forehead brushed yours. âHmm⌠my shy little cutie,â he teased, voice low and teasing, but there was an unmistakable quiver of need under the words. "You've been thinking about this for a while haven't you?â
âShut up,â you murmured, cheeks heating as you turned your gaze away, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. Despite the fact you were already naked under him.
Rafayelâs pinkish eyes followed yours, and with a slow, deliberate movement, he cupped your jaw and gently turned your head back to meet his gaze. âIs this⌠what you want?â he asked, voice husky and teasing, almost daring you to answer. You opened your mouth to protest, to give some clever retort, but instead, a slow nod escaped, betraying every bit of your shyness and need.
A smirk curved over his lips, dark and teasing. âThen your wish,â he whispered, voice low and sultry, âis my command.â
And boy, did you wish youâd made this suggestion sooner, because you were seeing stars within minutes of Rafayel slipping inside your heat. The sounds that spilled from your lips werenât even yours anymoreâmoans and gasps spilling out like water with each deliberate thrust.
âMm, such a needy thing,â Rafayel murmured, voice low and teasing as he leaned closer, letting the tip of his nose brush your temple. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around him, and you whimpered, âShut upâŚâ
He cooed softly, the sound almost indulgent, tilting his finger under your chin to lift your gaze to his. âAww, don't be like that,â he whispered, lips brushing yours before pressing a soft, teasing yet deep kiss. One that made you lightheaded from a lack of oxygen before he pulled away.
Pinkish-blue eyes flicking over your blissful expression with a smile, âIt's not my fault you look so cute stuffed full so full of me.â
⥠princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !

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i think letting xavier watch while you masturbate would kinda break his brain like heâs genuinely getting dizzy from seeing you like that and not being the reason why + not being allowed to touch you
âĽď¸ Ý đ˛ thinking about caleb who, whenever finds youâre being a little too bratty, fucks you in a headlock where youâre unable to escape from his stern words and forceful thrusts, whining out his name instead of those bratty words from earlier. a breathy laugh falls from calebâs lips when he mutters against your ear, âyou just loooove testing my patience, donât you sweets?â
but with his arm completely having you in a still, all you can do is cry out with pathetic excuses while your pussy clenches over and over around the rim of his cock for dear life. itâs just a shame that caleb is having none of it today, his patience finally wearing thin and shaking his head with a laugh when he realises he has you exactly where he wants you, âyeah, just keep taking it like that, you fuckinâ brat.â
being weird about gege caleb today đźđź him teaching u how to kiss like a big girl..,,,
came home to me like a good boy â°(*´︜`*)âŻâĄ
uhh is caleb and xavier even a ship bcs im kind of one foot into a fic about them..,

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âpoor thingâ i exploded
THE SYLUS SOLO HJJEJEHHZHJZ AND I WAS GOING TO SAVE MAN ITS ALL MY WEAKNESSES SOFT SYLUS AND SICK TROPE :(((( we are so dying in his arms for his myth oh man
