kento’s kitty

“i didn’t realize you were into amateur adult films, sweetie.” he drawls nonchalantly, like his cock isn’t aching for your touch. but you can sense an edge that isn’t typically there. 

you stammer on an excuse, feeling your face burn in mortification at having been caught retweeting porn on your alt account. “i—it’s… well, i-it’s not what it looks like.”

“yeah? because it looks like you want to use me… just like this.” he stalks towards you and waves the phone in your face, a small smile pulling at his lips. “is that true? you want to tie me to a chair, blindfold me and have your way with me?”

you pull your lip between your teeth, gnawing at the flesh anxiously. you avert your eyes, staring at your sock clad feet before you feel his fingers tip your chin up and force you to look him in the eye. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ll tell me, won’t you?” he murmurs, thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. 

“yes,” you respond, throat dry and voice wavering in lack of confidence. “i want to have my way with you.”

he gives you a wolfish grin and all he says is, “okay then.”

—

you never thought you’d see sylus like this. in a chair with rope wrapped around his torso and one of his silk ties covering his eyes. there’s a permanent smirk plastered on his face and it makes you buzz with excitement. 

“don’t make me wait for so long, kitten.” he drawls, his cock bobbing up and down in dire need of attention. 

you grab his neck, tipping his face up and pressing your lips against his for a sloppy kiss. you push your tongue into his mouth, savoring the deep groan that rumbles in his throat. the kiss doesn’t last long—you pull away just as he starts to get needy, watching how he chases your lips with a growl.

your hand trails down his chest, squeezing at his peck before turning around, back facing him, and grabbing his cock. a small gasp of surprise fills the room right before it’s replaced with the sound of your paired moans as you sink onto his cock. 

“shit,” he curses, the word coming out breathless. his hands itch to grab you and they could if he really wanted to. he could break free from the lousy restraints, but he knows how much you want this and he wouldn’t dare rob you of this experience. 

and you take him like you were made from it, bouncing on his cock, your ass clapping with every thrust. you whine for him, testing his patience. “does it feel good, sy?”

another deep growl fills your ears and shoots straight to your core. “you know it does, sweetheart. what about you, hmm? does, hah fuck, does using my cock like this satisfy you?”

you choke out a sob, sitting on him completely and grinding your hips against him with vigor. “mmhm, you’re such a good boy, baby,” you moan out, feeling his cock throb at the praise. “b-but you know what would make me feel even better?” you ask, voice cracking. 

he tries to thrust into you, but you don’t give him a chance. he’s stuck in this chair with you on top of him so all he can do is pant out a strained, “what?”

“if you—mmm, if you came inside of me,” you whimper. “fuck, sy, please? please fill me up with your cum. want you to shoot it so deep inside of me, please please please?”

your pleas are so desperate, almost as if you aren’t already taking everything you want. as if you aren’t already making his cock twitch and his stomach tighten. as if you aren’t already milking him dry while he lets out a drawn out groan. 

a happy moan rips from your throat when you feel his cum spray inside you, filling you so deep just how you wanted. you let him empty himself, waiting till every drop of cum is spilled into you before pulling off his cock, grabbing a fistfull of his hair and bringing his face to your messy, filled cunt. 

his surprised moan is muffled by your pussy. you figured he’d rip through the rope and push you away, but he happily laps and sucks at your hole, licking up every bit of your mixed arousal that leaks out of you. 

you whine, heat flooding your body as you grind your ass against his face. “y-yeah, eat your cum out of me, just like that, sy,” 

“dirty girl,” he murmurs against your cunt before devouring you whole, the sounds of smacking and slurping and groaning resuming. 

your knees nearly give out, the only thing holding you up is the death grip you have on his silver locks. you jolt and tremble before him and he doesn’t need to see to know you’re close. 

all it takes is a raspy, “cum on my face, sweet girl,” for you to completely unravel, legs shaking uncontrollably as you paint his face in syrupy arousal. you’re reduced to whines and whimpers of his name and sylus just wishes he could see you. 

and his wish is granted mere seconds later when you’re weakly tugging the blindfold off of him, taking his gleaming face in your hand and pressing your lips to his to taste the two of you on him. 

he groans, passing the release into your mouth while pulling on the restraints in a need to grab you. 

“you did so well for me, sy.”

“mmm, thank you, sweetie. and,” his voice drops to a whisper. “next time you want to recreate something… just tell me.”

ᯓ 黎深 ⟢ ZAYNE ˖᯽ ݁˖ — meanie!bf makes you ask for permission to cum #spanking

zayne never uses social media. especially not twitter. but you convinced him to download it so you could send him funny tweets and cute cat videos. he shook his head and downloaded the app just to get you to shut up, but he never actually opened it. 

one rare and quiet day, with nothing on his schedule and you stuck at work, curiosity finally got the better of him. he made an account on a whim, and that’s when he saw it: suggested accounts. yours, right at the top, labeled as someone he “may know.” a small, fond smile curved his lips as he tapped on your profile, warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your cute icon staring back at him.

but that smile fell just as quick as it came when he scrolled a bit too far and found a quote retweet captioned, “does anyone wish their bf would do this to them too??? :((( being spanked then doted on… sigh.” 

he watched the video with a dry throat and widened eyes. the first thought that came to mind was that you posted this on your public profile—but then he noticed you only had 15 followers. still, he’ll have to remind you of your digital footprint. 

once the initial shock wore off… he watched the video again. is this what you wanted? to be ruthlessly fucked from the back and spanked… by him?

zayne closes the app, clears his throat and throws his head back against the couch he’s sitting on. he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a shaky exhale. 

if that’s what you want… then that’s what you’ll get. 

—

he waits patiently for you to trudge past the door, trying to keep himself busy with god knows what till he hears it. the sound of your keychains rattling and the click of the door as you unlock it and walk in. 

“hi, zaynie,” you breathe, skipping towards him and pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. one whiff of you and all he can think about is doing all the naughty things you’ve been secretly wanting. his cock aches. his blood thrums. he needs it now. 

“are you okay?” you pull back, concerned by his silence and even more deterred when you see his hardened face. 

when he speaks, it’s low and stern. a voice you’ve only heard a handful of times. “bedroom. now, please.”

you let out a confused chuckle. “what for?”

when he raises an eyebrow at you, you cower, nodding your head and scurrying to the bedroom like he asked. 

it’s nothing like what you expected. you didn’t expect zayne to walk in and strip you bare without a word, didn’t expect him to bend you over the bed and press himself into your tight, waiting warmth. and you definitely didn’t expect his hand to come down hard on your ass—the sharp, thunderous crack filling the room, followed instantly by your startled squeak.

“this is what you wanted, is it not?” he pants, fucking into you with vigor melting at the sound of your sweet, surprised moans. “this is what you were talking about on your twitter, right?” 

your voice comes watery, confused. “wh-what?” you ask, hands fisting at the sheets, your body jolting with every sharp, rough thrust. 

his hand comes down, your other cheek meeting the same fate and it has another desperate moan crawling out of you. “you wanted to, what was it? get spanked and doted on, huh?” 

and then it hits you suddenly—vividly. you remember the video. it was a faceless man taking a faceless girl from behind, ruthless, almost cruel in the way he fucked her. you remember the sharp smack of his hand against her skin, how badly you’d wished it were you and zayne instead. but what turned you on the most—what lodged itself deep inside your core—was the contrast of it all. the way the stranger’s rough, unyielding actions clashed with the softness of his words. the concept of being fucked like a slut while being praised like a good girl. it made you spin. 

it only made you think of zayne. zayne and his large, calloused hands. zayne and his sweet voice. zayne and his cock that stretched and fucked you so good that it makes you cry. 

and you’d be lying if you said the thought of him realizing this… realizing it’s what you’d wanted all along… didn’t make heat pool low in your stomach all over again.

you clench tightly around him, turning your heated face into the pillow that smelled just like him. this only makes him laugh, humorlessly. 

“yeah, you’re remembering now, aren’t you, my darling girl?” his throaty voice only turns you on further. you arch your back and wiggle your ass as an invitation. an invitation for him to give you more. to go hard. “that’s it. good girl.”

you shudder at the praise. “f-fuck,” the curse is whimpered against the silk fabric of his pillow. “fuck, zayne, it’s s-so—god! so deep. feels so good!” you feel him everywhere, but especially in your tightening stomach. you’re already at the precipice of an orgasm and it only makes zayne want to fuck you right to the finish line. 

zayne hums, spanking you again just to hear a giggly moan and it makes his heart want to beat out of his chest. “you’re so precious,” he whispers before his hand laces in your hair and pulls your face away from the pillow. “did you want me to find that tweet, sweetheart? so i could spank you and pull at your hair? so i could fuck you stupid on my cock?”

you don’t bother hiding it. you wanted this more than anything. you craved this more than anything. “yes, yes, yes! please!” 

“gooood girl,” he murmurs softly. it’s a perfect contradiction to the way his cock drives into you, the tip just barely brushing your cervix. it’s too much. you’re wound tight as hell, a dam on the brink of bursting, and zayne feels it instantly.

“you wanna cum?”

you can barely form the words, desperation breaking your voice as you beg, “can i…? please?”

“yes, baby. cum for me,” he grunts, fist tightening in your hair, pulling you into a deeper arch. “come on. cum all over me.”

you shatter almost instantly. your body trembles as you come apart on his cock, a needy, broken moan slipping free while the tight knot in your stomach unravels and you soak him completely.

he doesn’t stop—he only fucks you through it, steady and relentless, before pressing a gentle kiss to your spine. 

“you did so well,” you feel his lips curve into a smile as he murmurs against your slick, overheated skin, “he but we’re not done yet.”

ᯓ 夏以昼 ⟢ CALEB ˖᯽ ݁˖ — bf lets you sit on his pretty face #facesitting 

it was no secret that caleb kept tabs on you. he was very open about it—he has all your post notifications on, he knows where you are at all times, and he always knows what you’re up to. it didn’t bother you in the slightest, he’s always been protective of you—watching over you like it was his life’s purpose. 

but there’s one secret that you keep from caleb. and it’s nothing major, truly! it’s just… an alt twitter account you use to retweet your soft porn. while there’s no reason to keep this from your boyfriend, you don’t have the heart to show it to him. it’s the home of all your fantasies, more than anything, it’s embarrassing. 

even so, the last thing you want is for caleb to know. you’ve done everything in your power to keep this secret. you used an obscure email to create the account, a password with a series of random numbers and letters that he’d never be able to guess and an alias. it was practically impossible for him to trace it back to you. 

one day, you were scrolling on said account, thighs pressed together as you came across a video of a girl sitting on a guy's face, tugging at his hair while she glided across his mouth and nose. all you could think about is caleb—how good it would feel to fuck his face like you were in heat.

it was something you thought about often. you’ve had caleb eat you out before, yes, but you’ve never asked to try this in fear that you’d either A. suffocate him or B. he’d be turned off. 

so you do what you always do, quote retweeting it with a caption that read: “wanna sit on my bf’s pretty face just like this :,(” 

you shut out the app and flop back onto your bed, trying—failing—to chase the thoughts of him away. especially the image of him stretched out against these very pillows and you hovering over him while your arousal drenches his face. you lose yourself in the fantasy, hands sliding down your body in need.

but then your phone starts to blow up—message after message lighting the screen, all from your boyfriend:

caleb ♥︎: baby, are you serious?

caleb ♥︎: is that really what you want? 

caleb ♥︎: you wanna sit on my face?

caleb ♥︎: forget it, I’ll be there in an hour. we’ll talk about this when I see you.

your breath hitches and brows knit in confusion—then it clicks. your tweet. maybe you should’ve been more careful before hitting send. maybe the app glitched. either way, when you open the app again, dread crashes over you as you confirm that you’ve posted it from the wrong account—the account where caleb has your notifications on. meaning he saw it immediately. 

you delete it in a panic, humiliated, praying none of your other mutuals caught it in time. there’s nothing you can say or do to stop caleb from coming over. so you stand, pace, draw in a shaky breath and wait. 

—

caleb lets himself in, shuts the door, and locks it behind him. the talk he mentioned in his text never comes. no greeting. no anger. instead, he strips down to his boxers and climbs into your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you’re frozen where you stand, lip caught between your teeth, thighs pressed tightly together. when he settles against the pillows, he lifts his gaze to you so calm that it almost scares. he looks at you expectantly.

“well?” he starts. “what are you waiting for? i’m here. you wanted to sit on your boyfriend’s pretty face, did you not?”

you exhale a sharp, nervous laugh, “c-caleb, we don’t have to…” you let shyness take over. “i’ll—i’ll suffocate you. it probably won’t feel good for you either…”

he scoffs incredulously. “come sit on my face before i make you. you do remember my evol, don’t you?”

you barely have time to process it before you feel weightless, a surprised yelp slipping out as he drags you toward him with nothing more than a flick of his hand.

you give in instantly, nodding as you stumble, “okay okay!”

he lets go and watches with hungry, unblinking eyes as you push your shorts and panties down, letting them pool at your feet. you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him slowly until you’re hovering just above his throat, suspended in the tension and your own personal fear.

“caleb, are you sure i won’t be too heavy?” you whisper. 

“i’m sure, baby.” he says reassuringly, his hands grabbing your hips and lifting you till your cunt is just inches away from his face. “come on, sit. lemme taste you.”

you let out a shaky breath and start to lower yourself before you can talk yourself out of it, but his arms hook beneath your thighs and force you all the way down, drawing a satisfied moan from him and a startled gasp from you. your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the silky strands as you cling to him, grounding yourself before your strength gives out entirely.

you bite your lip, desperate to keep your moans quiet, but the drag of his nose against your clit paired with the warm suction of his mouth has your resolve shattering. it feels even better than you ever imagined. and when his hands come up to palm at your breasts? his fingers tweaking your nipples? you’re a goner.

“fuck,” you whimper, fingers tugging at his roots hard enough to draw a pained groan from him, though it barely registers. all you can focus on is the way he devours you like he’s starving, the vibration of his moans coursing through your body and lighting your nerves on fire, the relentless grind against your swollen, sensitive clit.

“caleb,” you cry, breathlessly, “ah! feels so good.”

“keep fuckin’ my face, pretty girl,” he moans, the words muffling into your cunt. “wanna taste you cummin’ all over me. you can do it.”

he pulls you onto him harder. like he wants to run out of oxygen. 

and you obey—even if you wanted to stop, you couldn’t. not when you’re this close—not when caleb wants this just as bad as you do. you hump his face desperately, like a woman depraved, chasing your orgasm. you let your moans out freely, high pitched and needy, letting them join the sounds of slurping and smacking.

your body trembles violently, fingers fisting in caleb’s hair as you shatter, a mix of arousal and slick cum painting his face while you squeal his name like a broken record. “caleb, caleb, caleb—” his name is all that exists—all you can cling to at the moment.

he groans into you, relentless, licking and sucking every last trace, his hips lifting off the bed with desperate urgency. his cock throbs in his boxers, twitching with need for a taste of your cunt. 

a sob tears from your chest when he doesn’t slow. “w-wait!” you gasp, legs shaking, body on the verge of giving out. “i’m s-sensitive, ca-caleb!”

“no, baby, please,” he whimpers, raw and earnest. “please let me keep going. you don’t know how bad i’ve wanted this.”

“w-what?” you breathe, dazed.

“for so long, pips,” he admits softly. “just sit there… let me do all the work. please?”

ᯓ 祁煜 ⟢ RAFAYEL ˖᯽ ݁˖ — crazy bf fucks you while you pretend to be asleep #somno

despite his bubbly, sassy exterior, rafayel carried his demons quietly. the kind that kept him watching you—both in real life and through the glow of a screen. the thought of losing you makes something dark twist in his chest. you’re his cutie, his heart, his muse, his entire world wrapped into one person.

he knows it’s wrong to have all your passwords. knows it crosses a line. so he tells himself he’s careful—only checks when he has to, when the ache gets too loud to ignore.

it’s been a while since he last logged into your account, but it’s also been days since he’s seen you. that has to count for something, right? just a quick look. just to scroll through what you’ve seen, what you’ve liked. just enough to feel close to you again.

a smile touches his lips when he sees all the silly tweets you’ve liked. 

but then he sees it. a tweet that looks so out of place in the midst of cute cat videos and senseless jokes. a tweet that reads “gf who pretends to be asleep x bf who was gonna fuck her either way,” along with a video of just that. the smile falls immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line while his brows furrow. 

his darkened gaze catches on the yellow bookmark, curiosity winning out before he can stop himself. the moment he opens your bookmarks aka the little trove of soft porn, his cock hardens. it’s all amateur and intimate, but worse, there’s a pattern. a theme. every two minute video was a girl getting fucked while she slept. fucked. bred. all while she laid pliant, eyes closed. 

rafayel’s eyes drag over the captions again and again, each one making his thoughts spin faster. he loses track of time, an entire hour slipping by as he clicks through every video, cock aching and heart racing, torn between guilt and the thrill curling tight in his chest.

he pictured you like that—lying awake at night, thoughts circling him…his cock… until you finally drifted asleep. he imagined the wetness that pooled in your panties when you drifted off, the way desire followed you even into your dreams. it made something deep in him ache.

how long had you wanted this? with the sheer number of tweets tucked away in your bookmarks, he can’t help but think this fantasy has lived with you for a long time now, growing quietly… patiently.

but why not make your fantasy a reality?

—

rafayel asked you to spend the night, and of course you said yes please. you’d been missing your boyfriend like crazy, and with work constantly getting in the way, time together had become frustratingly scarce.

when you arrived, he’d planned something sweet—movies, cuddling, takeout you both loved. an innocent night in. except you wanted more. every subtle advance you made was met with a gentle deflection. he ignored them all, letting the tension build until you were needy with it. you were wound tight, and he still refused to touch you the way you ached for.

by the end of the night, you felt coiled and restless, yet too perverted to voice what you wanted aloud, especially after being brushed off. so you climbed into his bed with a sulky “goodnight,” a pout tugging at your lips, and tried to will yourself to sleep.

it didn’t come easily. all you could think about was him. your eyes squeezed shut, brows knitting together as the ache lingered, basically impossible to ignore. you were wet beyond belief. and only after you felt slumber slowly pulling at you, you felt your boyfriend press against you.

you felt his hard cock through his pants as he slowly, subtly rocked himself against you with barely steady breaths. your heart raced, holding in the little gasp that’s threatening to spill out of you.

“i saw all the videos you’ve been watching on twitter, princess,” he whispers, rutting against you a little harder, the words hitting just as deep as the motion. “all those videos of girls getting fucked while they sleep… is that what you want?”

both your heart and your thoughts stutter at once. for a split second you think you’re dreaming—but you can feel him, and you can differentiate fantasy and reality. the truth finally settles in as his hand slides beneath your sleep shorts, drifting lower, touching you in a way that leaves no doubt at all. this is real. 

he hums when his fingers are immediately met with your slick arousal. “the idea of getting fucked while you’re unconciouis gets you this wet?”

you swallow the whimper trying to break free and let your deepest fantasy unfold. you force yourself to relax, to go pliant in the way you’ve always imagined this—but the moment rafayel circles your clit, your body betrays you, tensing on instinct.

“this slutty pussy wants me to fuck her, doesn’t she, baby? your body’s practically begging for me…” he groans into your ear, grinding deeper into you. “it would be so bad for me to fuck you while you sleep, though. i’d be such a bad boyfriend…”

you want to scream when he slows down. when he starts to retract his hand like it’s some bad idea. 

“i shouldn’t touch you while you’re trying to sleep.” he murmurs, a hint of amusement threading through his words. 

his hand nearly slips away from your shorts when a frayed plea falls from your lips. “please,” you whimper—and that’s really all the confirmation rafayel needs. he flips you onto your stomach and presses over you like a man starved.

your shorts are barely tugged down and his sweats are pushed just low enough for him to free himself. his hot, thick cock slaps against your bare skin and the contact makes you squeak. he pushes into you, filling you in one deep motion. gasps and moans spill from both of you in tandem, but he doesn’t give either of you time to settle. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging in as your flesh spills through the gaps all while he drives into you relentlessly.

“i knew you were pretending to sleep,” he grunts and it’s barely loud enough to be heard over the sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

you’re breathless when you manage to answer. “h-how?” the question breaks on a whine as his cock drives deeper with every hard thrust.

“i could hear how fast your heart was beating,” he chuckles darkly, never slowing, his pace mean. ruthless. “the way your breathing changed the second you felt me behind you.” his grip tightens as he leans in. “you were just waiting for me to take your clothes off and fuck you, weren’t you?”

you whimper, utterly exposed. “yes…”

“naughty, naughty girl.” he laughs. “should’ve told me you wanted to get fucked while you slept.”

you moan, clamping tightly around him and taking the painful stretch in stride. your back arches for more. like your body needs his cock or you’ll die. the knot in your stomach has been winding tighter all night, waiting for this exact moment, and you’re already embarrassingly close.

“no need to hold back,” he whispers. “soak my fucking cock like the slut you are.”

his sharp words tear a mewl from you, your walls clenching around his cock so tight it steals the breath from his lungs. you break as he drives into you without mercy. you fall apart around him with a beg, “please, please, please—” the word dissolving into a wrecked sob that fills the room.

“good girl,” he breathes. “now go back to sleep and let me have my fun, yeah?”

ᯓ 沈星回 ⟢ XAVIER ˖᯽ ݁˖ — dom!bf lets you edge him and begs you to cum #edging

tara is your best friend in the entire world. the kind of best friend who knows every corner of your life, including the private parts you don’t share with anyone else. especially when it comes to you and xavier.

at first, her curiosity overwhelmed you. her questions were invasive, relentless, sometimes overly embarrassing. but over time, you got used to it. more than that—you started to look forward to it. your weekly dates where you can rant about work at the association and the gory details of your relationship with xavier. 

telling tara everything became its own kind of thrill. the late night giggles when she’d come over, the hushed voices so he couldn’t hear anything while he lived in the apartment above you, the way she’d squeal or gasp at every insane detail. it felt good to have someone who wanted to hear it all.

you’d even told her about wanting to try something new with him—something you were pretty sure he’d never agree to. you wanted xavier to be the one begging you for once. he was always so dominant in bed that the idea of flipping the script… of him giving in and taking everything you had to offer, felt almost absurd… which was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

you remember when you saw the video of your ideal fantasy on twitter. a video of a guy being dominated by a girl. she made him beg for permission while she rode him and all you could think about was him. how cute he’d be with his blushy cheeks and the yearning look in his eyes. how pretty he’d sound whimpering out pleas and begs to cum inside of you. it shook you to your core. you saved the video to your bookmarks immediately and came back to it from time to time just to fantasize. 

the night after you told tara about said fantasy, you decided to send her a visual, just so she knew exactly what you wanted. it’s not like you wanted to tie him up, you just wanted to watch him break underneath you. 

@/starringmc: this is exactly what i want to do to xavier!!! 

you hadn’t heard anything from tara for a while. you half expected her to open your dm immediately. she’s basically chronically online whenever she’s not on a mission or training, but there was nothing. 

a knock at your door pulls you from your scrolling, brows knitting as you get up to answer it. when you swing the door open, your breath catches. xavier stands there, cheeks flushed, posture oddly sheepish.

“xavier? come in.” you step aside automatically, shutting the door behind him before turning back, confusion etched across your face. “what are you doing here? did we have plans?” worry slips into your voice.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he lifts his phone and turns the screen toward you—the twitter dm meant for tara, unmistakable.

your throat runs dry. heat rushes through you, mortification blooming in your chest, your face, the tips of your ears.

“i-i can…” you start, words tangling as his gaze pins you in place. “i can explain?”

he cocks his head to the side and asks. “so you don’t want to do this to me?”

“no! i mean—y-yes, but i… i just didn’t mean… i didn’t mean to send that to you.” you splutter. “this is not how i envisioned telling you that i wanted to try something like this. i’m sorry.”

“let’s do it.” he says, tossing his phone on your couch. “let’s recreate it—i want to.”

—

xavier sensed you were nervous. it took you a minute to fully get into it—the headspace, the dominance, but you eventually got there and he believes it’s the sexiest you’ve ever been. 

you sat on his cock, slowly grinding against him like you were trying to tease him. your hands gripped at his pecs, palming and squeezing them in a way that made him breathless. 

it was a struggle… to let his guard down, to let you dominate him. his hands were on your hips and he urged you to move faster. he wanted you to bounce on his cock till he came, but you said no. 

“beg for it.” you whisper. “i won’t move the way you want me to unless you beg.” 

he whimpers, the beg slipping past his lips all mumbly and cute—just the way you imagined they would. “please. please, go faster. i want you to go faster.”

you hum, delighted, your walls hugging him nice and tight as his words shoot straight to your core. you kindly oblige, lifting your hips and dropping them to which xavier lets out a blissed out moan. his brows knit in the utmost pleasure and his eyes flutter close. 

his hands slide up to your waist, gripping you tight and holding you in place while his cock rams in and out of you. you let out little squeaks with every thrust and it only makes his cock throb intensely, loud whimpers following your sounds in suit.

he tries to hold back. to not get so close, but he can’t help it. you look so pretty riding him with your tits bouncing in his face and your pussy tightening around him like a vice. it makes him twitch frantically. 

and you can feel it. the way he jerks and shakes—you know he’s close. you find it oddly endearing…how he’s been reduced to this, but you bite back the smile and school your features into something firm instead. “don’t cum,” you warn quietly. “you can’t cum… not yet.”

his hands still you, keeping you grounded and speared on his length as he begs for permission. “fuck, please—please let me cum.” he pleads, voice broken. 

“no, not yet.” and the sound it pulls from him makes your chest ache—the choked, desperate sob torn from his throat at the denial, raw enough to make your heart constrict. “keep fucking me, xavie.”

he shakes his head incessantly, “i c-can’t, baby—fuck, i’ll–i’ll cum!”

“you can hold it.” you say, breathlessly, resuming your wicked motions. “be good ‘n fuck me faster.” 

he clenches his teeth, pounding into you just the way you want. his hips snap against you with vigor while his cock helplessly throbs. he wants nothing more than to press deep inside and spill his load into you. 

“i wanna cum, please, please, please. baby, please—i’ll do anything.”

you can’t resist him… his pretty face, his sweet voice. you offer a saccharine smile, lean in so your lips ghost over his and whisper. “cum inside of me, xavie.” 

a loud, relieved groan slips out of him, his hands grip on you bruising as he pounds into you before he stills. his tip kisses your cervix before he’s pouring his hot, long awaited release into your cunt. 

he crashes his mouth against yours, allowing you to swallow his moans as his arms wrap tight around you. he pulls you flush to his chest before he rolls you beneath him, hard cock still pressed inside of you. you squeal into the kiss, breathless and startled as the world tilts.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, foreheads pressed against one another. you catch the darkness in his eyes, the heat flushing his cheeks, the way restraint is barely holding.

“can i make you beg now?” he whispers, voice low. then, softer… much more vulnerable, “please?”

you were in his shirt, one of his crisp button ups reaching your mid thigh and barely covering your soaked lace panties. he’s on his side of the bed, glasses on the tip of his nose, reading a book with his lips pressed into a flat line and he looked infuriatingly handsome. it only made you more wet.

you tried touching him, but he shrugged you off as if you were some pesky fly. you call his name just for him to hum, his eyes trained on literally anything but you. it’s torturous, but maybe you did deserve it for the way you acted out.

yet that doesn’t help the fact that your panties are glued to your core and you’re craving the delicious stretch of his cock. you need him… like water and air but the feeling obviously doesn’t seem mutual.

“zayne,” you whisper softly crawling into your side of the bed. nothing but another hum, to which you whine out his name again. “zayne… please. need you.”

he turns to you, eyes blank and coldly responds. “i’m right here.”

“n-need you inside me… please?” you whisper, the words rushing out of you in a pant. “your-your cock…”

he shrugs, head turning back to his book, mumbling out, “then take it, what do i care?”

you don’t wait for a response, jumping at the opportunity by climbing into his lap. you pull his semi-erect cock from his sweats, spit in your hand, and stroke him until he’s fully hard, yet he still continues to look at his book and act as if you weren’t even there. you pout a bit—surely there’s no way he can resist you when you’re stretching yourself open on his cock, right?

wrong. 

your panties are pushed to the side and you’re sinking down, feeling his length fill you to the brim and… still nothing. no groan, no hiss—he’s impressively focused on the book in his hands even with your incessant mewling and whining. 

you struggle to keep a steady pace while bouncing on him. it feels like it’s been hours and he continues to mindlessly flip through his book. you try to use him—try to get off, but you can’t. you need him… you always need him. 

“‘m sorry, zayne,” you whimper, words desperate and broken. “hngh, please—‘m sososo sorry, please just… just fuck me.”

and when he doesn’t reply, you snatch the book from his hands and toss it to the side and finally… finally he looks at you. "really? that's how you wanna play?"

your lip quivers and you respond, stumbling over your words while avoiding his mean glare. “i-i’m sorry, i just—”

he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his thumb and pointer fingers, effectively cutting you off. “just wanted some attention, huh? that’s why you’ve been acting like such a brat tonight?” he says, voice hushed and a miniscule smirk graces his features when you clamp around him. “you played with me all night because you wanted me to punish you, didn’t you?”

he doesn’t wait for your response, forcing you to nod your head and humming with a wicked smile tugging at his lips and arousal gushes out of you as you clench around his cock. his hands find purchase on your hips, grip tight like he wants to leave bruises in his wake and a little moan slips out at the pain.

then, without warning, he lifts your hips till you’re half way off his length and slams into you. your hands shoot to his shoulders to steady yourself as a shocked, strangled moan crawls out of you to his pleasure. and then another stroke. and another and another until he’s fully fucking into you with the vigor you’ve been waiting for all night. 

but when you’re close…when you warn him that you’re about to cum all over him, he just laughs breathily and shakes his head. “hold it.”

you whine in protest, “but—”

“you wanted to be punished, right?” he asks through a pant, thrusts never missing a beat, and sees you come to the realization of his words. your blissed out face morphs to one of fear and before you can beg him for mercy he whispers to you. 

“i’m giving you exactly what you begged for, my love. if you cum now, i’m not touching you for a week.”

秦彻 ⟢ #SYLUS

you’re spoiled rotten—there’s really no denying it. sylus takes pride in showering you with everything you could ever want, spending his hard earned money without a second thought. you’re his baby, after all. but even he has limits. as much as he hates denying you, sometimes he just has to, if only to remind you he’s your man, not your bank account.

“please?” you beg, crocodile tears in your eyes. you’re not sure why it’s taking so much for him to agree to this—he’s said yes to crazier things. “it’s limited edition—i mean look at it! it matches the dress you got me. i need it, sy, please?”

and sylus is patient with you—always gentle and composed. he’s never shown his anger or irritation to you. never loses his calm, collected edge, but even the most controlled people have their breaking points, and he’s teetering on his.

“for the last time, i said no, sweetheart.” his lips pull into a thin line and replace his usual smirk. his words are gentle but there’s a sharp edge that says he’s serious. “you are not spending 87 grand on an awful piece of gold that goes around your neck. drop it, please?”

your bottom lip juts out and you give him your pretty doe eyes—the ones he can never say no to—but, unfortunately for you, he can see right through your facade. “but it’s dolce…”

his eyes flash a dangerous shade of red, blood simmering just beneath his skin. a visible vein throbs at his temple, sharp and tense, before he finally speaks—his voice low, dark, enunciated he says, “no.”

the puppy dog look is wiped off your face almost instantly, replaced by rolled eyes and a glower. “what the hell, sylus? you can spend 5 million on a stupid protocore and now you want to start setting limits?” you spit, venomously without even thinking. “i fucking hate you sometimes.”

and he just… snaps. 

and now you're stretched open on his fat cock, drool seeping past your lips and he’s being so rough with you. the typical regard he holds for you when he’s fucking you has been replaced with unrestrained words and hands. 

“you hate me, huh? you fucking hate me?” his words come out through gritted teeth as he fists your hair, tugging at your scalp. “i don’t get you one thing and you fucking hate me, hmm?”

his cock ravages you, pummeling in and out of you, tip hitting your deepest, most sensitive spots. you can’t stop the mewls that erupt from deep inside of you. your body crumbles into nothing but a babbling, sloppy mess underneath him.

he laughs but it lacks all the warmth and humor that’s usually laced in the sweet sound. this laugh is near evil. the laugh of someone that’s going to ruin you. 

“aw, cat got your tongue? had a lot t’say when you were begging for my card all damn day—just needed some cock to shut you up, that right?” he releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to collapse onto his pillow, soaking the silk in your saliva. his hands find purchase on your hips, practically using you like you’re his own personal fleshlight. “c’mon, sweetie. speak up.”

“sy-hngh, f-fuck, sylus!” you sob out the syllables of all your words. “s– hah! ‘s too big, c-can’t take it.”

“aww, you can’t?” he coos mockingly, thrusts growing sloppy. “maybe you’ll remember this the next time you try to act like a fucking brat.” 

he groans when you clamp tightly around him almost like you’re…enjoying this.

“you’re tightening up, sweetie. you like it when i talk to you like this? when i put you in your place and treat you like a slut?”

you’d be lying if you denied it. denied the fact that you don’t absolutely love they way the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot and don’t love the way his vicious words make your head spin. 

you cry, arching your back, “‘m gonna… oh, god! sy–sylus, ‘m cumming!”

and he pulls out before the knot in your belly snaps, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping himself to the sound of your displeased moans and cries. he shoots his load onto your back and ass with a moan without a care in the world. 

your mewls and begs echo in the room as you push your ass back for something—anything—to fill you back up, but your feeble attempts prove to be futile when he moves away from you, leaving you high and dry. 

“bet you hate me even more now, don’t you sweetie?”

and even after the fact, sylus still grabs the laptop sitting on the nightstand with a scowl on his face. the screen is still open to the dolce & gabbana shopping cart and he presses purchase because, in all honesty, he could never ever deny you. 

he smiles when he turns back to your twitching figure lying on the bed, back dressed in his cum. 

“my spoiled little brat… you got your necklace, are you happy now?”

祁煜 ⟢ #RAFAYEL

you hadn’t meant to push rafayel so far, truly. your intentions were good… sure, you wanted to break him and make him cry for you. and yes, you did restrain him and shove your panties into his bratty, back-talking mouth. and, okay, maybe you did take it a little too far when you edged him three times in a row, but it was all in good fun! no one got hurt and you were both having a great time. 

well… maybe it was just you having a great time.

you were so lost in the pleasure, eyes rolled back as you rode him with your nails scraping over the planes of his chest,  that you hadn’t even noticed rafayel freeing himself from the restraints that had his arms suspended until you were flipped onto your back.

your shocked squeal made him smile, the corners of his lips pulling up into something sinister. you shuddered at the sight, stuttering over your words, but he wasn’t having it. no, rafayel was done—it’s your turn to shut up.

which is why the same panties he had in his mouth are now in yours. 

his voice is deep, breathy. it has a shiver running down your spine and your cunt squeezing him so tight you nearly cut off his circulation. “mmh, you’ve had your fun, princess. i think it’s my turn to show you how i deal with brats.” he leans in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. “that’s what you called me, right? a brat?”

you moan against the lace stuffed between your lips, the sound muffled and needy. he hums in approval, reaching over to the nightstand. your breath catches, eyes widening as he opens the drawer and pulls out a small bullet vibrator. you jolt when you hear the hum when he switches it on, panic flooding your being. 

and he feels it with the way your pussy won’t ease up, tightening further—as if you could get any tighter. a flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, warmth curling in his chest at the thought of you squirming for him—just like he did for you.

he presses it directly to your hardened clit, admiring your arching figure and the melodic moans that muffle out of you. then he moves with an experimental thrust, holding his own moan back as he feels the vibrations shoot through his cock. 

you writhe beneath him, and god, it’s such a pretty sight. he takes mental snapshots—your face scrunched in bliss, your body trembling from the fullness and the deep, pulsing vibration coursing through you. every quiver, every jolt, every broken whine—you’re a masterpiece, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, something no treasure in all the seven seas could compare to.

and when you cum without warning, body pulling taut before eventually falling limp, he chuckles. the sound comes out airy and breathless. “that’s one. we’re just getting started cutie… don’t tell me you’re tapping out? c’moooon, look alive.”

he turns the bullet’s vibrations to a higher setting, pushing it harder against your bud. all you can wonder is how a tiny little thing can hold so much power. you moan weakly through the soaked fabric and rafayel shows a little mercy, pulling it out and eyeing his drenched in both yours and his spit. 

you gasp, choking on your words. “r-raf, ugh, what—fuck, what are you doing?”

every thrust feels 10 times more intense with the little bullet. he knows they pull orgasms out of you twice as fast, but he also knows that they overstimulate you and your poor, poor body, so he only uses it on special occasions. 

occasions like when you push him past a point of no return, such as tonight. 

he bends down, eyes darkened as they bore into yours. “m-making you cum for every time edged me, princess. what’s it look like i’m, hah, doing?” his voice is hushed as he mutters the words against your heated skin. “since you wanted to act like you could be in charge… act like ‘m some weak toy at your disposal.”

your breaths are ragged as you feel another orgasm build inside of you. a broken, “‘m sorry,” comes out of your mouth and it’s so pathetic. “sh-shit, baby, sorry—‘m so sorry!”

and you’re coming undone again. unravelling quicker than you did for your first orgasm. 

“awww, there’s two…” rafayel croons. “one more, baby. let’s do it together, yeah?”

and rafayel coaxes it out of you with his sloppy, deep thrusts. his lips find yours and he swallows every moan and mewl that tries to leave your body. he rocks you harder and harder, your sensitive, overstimulated pussy stretched open to accommodate his aching cock. you’re both at your wits end. 

then you’re both falling apart in each other’s arms. rafayel abandons the mini bullet in favor of scooping you up and hugging you close while he spills his hot load into your spasming cunt. 

his breathing is labored, but he musters the strength to whisper, “you took me well, cutie.”

夏以昼 ⟢ #CALEB

caleb had one, simple rule. do not touch. it was easy, in theory. you just had to keep your hands to yourself while he was at work, but… there were days, like today, where you just couldn’t wait for him to come home. 

blame it on ovulation or blame it on caleb who–surprisingly–hasn’t touched you in two whole days, whatever it was, you just couldn’t take it anymore. your skin was hot, your pussy was soaked and your head was filled with debauched images of caleb. caleb folding you in half, caleb fucking your face, caleb letting you fuck his face—it was all caleb, caleb, caleb.

and you knew he was watching. you knew about the not-so-hidden cameras scattered around the house. he knew you knew, but neither of you ever said a word. the silence made it hotter—knowing he was somewhere behind a screen, eyes on you while you wandered his home in nothing but his oversized shirts and your panties… waiting for him.

you’re very aware of caleb who’s watching you through his phone with dark violet eyes as you plunge your fingers into your cunt and moan out his name. you know his dick jumps at the sight of you blatantly disobeying his one and only rule. you know he’ll come home and put you in your place and it makes it all the more intense. 

you make yourself cum and it’s not earth-shattering the way it is when you're speared on his cock, but it satisfies some of the dull ache and heat in your cunt. then you go about your day—cleaning up and spending some time lounging in the living room, watching some show you’ve seen a hundred times.

but caleb comes home earlier than usual—hours earlier. there’s a sharp scowl carved into his face as he slams the front door shut, the sound echoing through the house before he twists the lock. moments later, he’s standing in front of you, the heat rolling off him in waves. you offer him a small, almost teasing smile, excitement already bubbling up inside you manifesting in the arousal that soaks through your second pair of panties of the day.

“bedroom.” is all he says in his stern voice. the voice you’ve only heard him use with the fleet.

but you stay unmoving, a smirk growing as you say, “make me.”

then, suddenly, you feel weightless—your body lifted effortlessly, following him as if pulled by an invisible force. you twist and struggle, but it’s useless. caleb’s already using his evol to bend gravity to his will, guiding you straight toward his bedroom. 

the smirk that used to play across your face has vanished. now your lips tremble, parted in uneven sobs that claw their way out of your throat. caleb’s hands have your wrists tied, held high above your head while he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. 

“you still think it’s fuckin’ funny?” he grunts, fucking into you with fervor. “think it’s sooo funny to go and do the one thing i told you not to do? huh?”

you don’t know how he does it—how he crashes into you so hard, so deep, yet so fast. every coherent thought scatters, leaving nothing behind but him. the only thing you can think about is the feeling of his thick, hard cock pounding into you. 

“caaaleb!” you sob, wrists straining, fingers twitching with the desperate need to grab him, but the bindings keep them helplessly stretched above your head. “caleb!”

he groans, thrusts faltering for just a second at the weak sound before he drives in harder. you sound too good, too small, and it only feeds his fury. the fury that has him mocking you, “caaaleb, caleb! ‘s that all you have to say?”

you’d be sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted—but you’re not, and it is. this? getting split open and fucked like a slut? it’s what you needed. still, the lie breaks free anyway, a wet, choked, “sorry,” falling from your drool-slick lips. he scoffs, disbelieving, the sound edged with a dark kind of amusement.

“you know,” he pants, slowing his thrusts to a languid pace. you think he’s showing you mercy, that he’s easing up on you, but if there’s anything you know about caleb, it’s that he wouldn’t let you off the hook until he knew you’d learned your lesson.

his lips ghost against your jawline and you can feel the smile on his lips against your flushed skin. he trails soft pecks till his lips brush against the shell of your ear and his hips have slowed. he’s pressed into you as far as he can go and then he when he finally speaks, it’s quiet enough to make your pulse trip over itself. “if you wanted to get fucked that badly, you could’ve told me… i would’ve come home. taken care of you like i always do.”

he hums at your little whimper and grinds against you, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that has you jolting in pain but simultaneously whining at the gratification. “but you knew that, didn’t you? knew i wouldn’t be this mean unless you slutted yourself out in my bed when you knew i was watching, right, silly girl?”

you struggle underneath him, begging. “caleb, oh fuck—oh g-god, please just move.”

“mmm, no. i don’t think i will now, baby.” he smiles but it lacks its usual warmth. it’s something menacing and you’d be lying if it didn’t turn you on further. 

“we have allll night, pretty girl. ‘m gonna make sure you learn your lesson.”

沈星回 ⟢ #XAVIER

jealousy runs deep in xavier. too deep. and you know this, it’s something that you caught onto early in your relationship. you saw it in the way his clenched jaw every time a man so much as looked at you. in the way he’d take you home, wrap you up in his arms and fuck you till you’re a drooling, babbling mess. in the way he’d explicitly tell you not to talk to other men because, “they’re not worthy of you.”

sometimes you hate it—how possessive he is, how his jaw tightens whenever you talk to other hunters. but you know it’s only because he loves you so vehemently, because the thought of losing you makes him unravel. imagining his life without you is the last thing he wants to do.

but sometimes… sometimes you love it. you love the way his presence feels like a claim, the way his intensity makes you feel seen—wanted in a way that’s almost terrifying.

and sometimes, you can use it against him so it’s in your favor. like nights where you’re out getting dinner with xavier’s best friend, jeremiah, and your pussy is craving the delicious stretch of his cock. 

you know it’s crazy. that you shouldn’t be shamelessly flirting with your boyfriend’s best friend in hopes said boyfriend will end the dinner early, take you home and fuck you, but if the way you’ve soaked through your panties says anything, it’s that you need it—need him. 

xavier notices immediately, his hand grips your thigh underneath the table and he squeezes you so tight, you let out a little whimper. his ears perk up at the noise, but he still doesn’t move. 

jeremiah shifts in his seat, uneasy. the tension between you and xavier is so thick it could suffocate a room—no blade sharp enough to cut through it. xavier’s scowl, your bitten lip, the untouched food cooling on the table… it’s enough to make jeremiah want to bolt, to leave you both to sort out whatever storm you’re caught in.

but xavier excuses the two of you before he gets the chance to flee. “we’ll be back.” xavier mumbles, pulling you up and dragging you to the bathroom. he doesn’t even care to be slick.

and then you’re in the bathroom, hands pressed against the wall while xavier fucks you from behind. He has one hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back so he can look you in the eye. his other hand rests on your lower abdomen while his fingers toy with your hardened clit.

“you did that on purpose,” he huffs, thrusts hard and rough. “you tried to rile me up so i would do this, i’m not stupid.”

you nod, an inhumane mewl coming out of you when you try to reply. “mmph! yeah, mmh, wanted to you to fuck me.” you admit brazenly. you weren’t expecting him to fuck you like this in such a public space… but you weren’t complaining. not even a little bit.

how could you with the way you’re arched for him? with the way your orgasm builds so quickly with his thrusts and the fat possibility of someone finding you two in such a compromising position? 

“i knew it,” he muttered, tightening the hand around your jugular. “acted like i wasn’t even there… flirted with that fucker just to piss me off, yeah? all so i would fuck this stupid cunt?” he spits. 

you know his malicious words are just those of anger, yet you can’t help the way your pussy strangles his cock like a vice. your tightening grip makes him chuckle darkly, pupils dilating as he stares into your crossing eyes. 

“he wasn’t worth all those little laughs…” he huffs, a thrust sharp hits that gummy spot. The spot that makes you melt and has your cunt drooling arousal all over his cock. a spot that only your beloved xavier can hit. “your pretty smiles…” another thrust. “you’re supposed to be all mine, angel. all of that is meant for me ‘n only me.”

you try to contain your whimpers, try not to let them mix with the acoustic echos of skin slapping against skin, but the way he repeatedly hits that special spot… his percision… his persistence? it’s damn near impossible. your breath catches, pulse racing, every nerve wound tight and ready to snap.

your hand flies to your mouth, desperate to smother the sound clawing its way out, but it only dulls your voice to a strained, muffled plea. “i-i’m gonna—fuck me, hah—baby, ‘m cumming!” 

it’s rare to hear xavier growl—he’s usually one to whimper, moan or let out hot, heavy breaths, but tonight? with his boiling blood and rough thrusts, he growls for you to cum. to let it all out all over his cock like the brat you are. 

and you spasm uncontrollably, gushing all over him while he follows in suit, filling you to the brim on a moan. all is forgotten as you bask in the aftershock of your orgasm… till you hear the jiggle of the door knob and a soft knock. 

“it’s occupied.” xavier pants out. he presses a kiss to your forehead and smiles wickedly.

“i’m not done with you yet.”

poor jeremiah. xavier will probably make him pay for the entire dinner, too.  

You were on all fours, or you had been, until your arms gave out and left you face down in the pillows, drool staining the sheets, your body limp but still trembling. Your thighs were sticky and slick with a sinful mix of spit, sweat, and so much cum. His cum—thick and hot and leaking out of your pussy with every thrust, only for him to fuck it right back in like he couldn’t stand the idea of you wasting a single drop.

And he wasn’t slowing down.

“Mydei—fuck—please, no more,” you whimper, voice shaking, ruined.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, your spine arching sharply against his strong chest as his other arm snakes around your neck and locks you in a chokehold. His bicep flexes against your cheek, his scent all around you—spicy, warm, suffocating. His. You’re wrapped in him, trapped in him, and you’ve never felt more claimed.

“No more?” he growls, lips brushing your ear. “You say that every time, little thing. And every fuckin’ time, this sweet cunt pulls me in tighter, like it can’t live without my cock inside it.”

You whimper again as he slams into you from behind, brutally deep, your pussy already so sore and swollen from the last few rounds that your body just twitches. Your eyes roll back. You’re not even sure if you’re moaning or sobbing at this point—maybe both.

His cock feels massive. Each thrust splits you open all over again, dragging along your walls with obscene wet noises, and when he reaches down and presses a possessive hand to your lower tummy, you nearly scream.

“Feel that?” he pants, rough and close. “That bulge right there? That’s me. That’s how deep I am in you. Stretchin’ out your guts so good, you can’t even talk straight anymore.”

He lets go of your neck only to shove you back down into the mattress, your face crushed to the sheets as he lifts your hips higher and pounds into you like he’s lost his fucking mind. You can hear him snarling behind you, feel the heavy slap of his hips against your ass, and worst of all—you love it.

Your pussy gushes around him, your body begging for more even as you cry into the pillows. Your thoughts are gone. All you know is him. His name, his cock, his cum—him.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, gripping your hips so tight you’ll bruise. “This pussy’s mine. I’m gonna fill you up again, stuff you until it’s leaking outta you for hours.”

“M-Mydei—‘m full—‘m too full, can’t—!”

He laughs, “You think I care? You think I give a fuck if you’re full? You’re gonna take every last drop. You’re gonna thank me for it.”

Your walls clamp down on him again, another orgasm wracking your body as his thrusts grow sloppy, rougher. You feel it—feel the twitch in his cock, the way his grip tightens as he grunts through gritted teeth.

And then he’s spilling inside you again, hot and thick, pumping rope after rope of cum deep into your womb like he’s trying to breed you.

You’re boneless, brainless, cock-drunk and twitching as he leans over your back, panting.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he stays there, buried deep, grinding slow and lazy like he’s still hungry.

And he is.

“Still not enough,” he whispers, voice full of dangerous need. “I want you dripping with me. I want your belly round with it. I want to fuck you until the only thing you know is me.”

You shiver.

You’re not sure how much more you can take.

But Mydei?

He’s just getting started.

Your body barely registers when he shifts you, arms sliding beneath your trembling thighs as he lifts you effortlessly into a new position—your back against the bed, legs bent, knees touching your chest. The way he folds you up so tightly leaves your soaked, ruined cunt wide open for him, still drooling his seed like your pussy’s forgotten how to close.

He stares.

Mydei kneels between your legs, his cock still rock hard, slick with the mess of your shared lust, twitching against your overstimulated folds. His eyes are dark—possessed. Hungry. Like he’s worshipping what he’s broken.

“Look at this perfect fuckhole,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, spreading it, watching the way your hole flutters and leaks. “So full of me… but not enough. Never enough.”

You can’t speak. All you can do is blink up at him, dazed and flushed, your hair a tangled halo, lips parted and damp with spit. He leans down slowly, pressing a single kiss to your stomach.

“Gonna fill this up, sweet thing,” he murmurs against your skin. “Make it swell. Gonna stuff you ‘til you can’t walk. ‘Til there’s no question who you belong to.”

And then he pushes in again.

You cry out, back arching, toes curling as his cock spears into your wrecked cunt, inch by thick inch, until he bottoms out once more. The stretch is brutal. Delicious. Your walls clamp around him helplessly, milking him like your body’s desperate for his seed, even if your mind is long gone.

He groans—deep. His hands grip your hips hard, dragging you down to meet each punishing thrust as he starts again, faster this time. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes in the room, wet and obscene, drowned only by the tiny, broken noises spilling from your throat.

“Take it. Take it all,” he snarls, voice feral. “This pretty little cunt’s mine. I’ll breed you until you're ruined.”

He leans forward, mouth brushing against your ear, and whispers, “What would you do if I knocked you up right now? Hm? Would you cry? Beg me not to do it again? Or would you spread your legs wider like a good slut and let me put another one in you?”

Your cunt spasms around him violently.

“Fuck—there it is,” he growls, slamming in harder. “You want it. You fucking love this.”

Tears prick your eyes, your body unable to stop responding. Your thighs shake around his waist, your nails dig into his back, and another orgasm rips through you, your pussy spasming around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

Mydei doesn’t let up. He grabs your hips and thrusts through it, like he’s trying to fuck your orgasm out of you and stuff another one in its place.

His voice is ragged, breathless. “I can feel your cunt begging me. You want me to breed you again? Say it.”

You sob, choking on your words. “Y-Yes—Mydei—want it—want you to—please—!”

That’s all he needs.

He grabs your thighs, pins them down as his thrusts become savage, reckless, and then he groans deep in his chest, spilling inside you again. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood your womb, and he keeps going, rutting through his release like he’s chasing another one. Your belly squishes under his weight, already bulging from how big he is, and he presses a palm to it possessively.

“Mine.” His voice is a whisper, trembling with obsession. “I’m gonna keep you like this. Round. Full. Dripping. You're not leaving this bed ‘til I’ve filled you enough to keep me in there for weeks.”

Your vision blurs. Your head lolls to the side. But your body? It clings to him, trembling and soaked, aching for more.

And Mydei?

He’s still hard.

★ PHAINON !

Your thighs are already trembling when Phainon lays you back down, his warm palms gliding along the curve of your waist with reverent care. His touch is gentle, but firm—deliberate. He spreads your legs with his knees, eyes drinking you in like you’re something holy.

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, voice low and smooth, “You’re shaking. Want me to stop?”

You shake your head instantly, breathless and already dazed. Your body’s sore, twitching, and filled with his cum from the last round, but the ache between your legs hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s only gotten worse with how slowly he moves, how softly he touches.

His lips curl into the faintest smile as he leans down, brushing a kiss over your breast, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into the heat of it, whimpering when his teeth graze you. One hand kneads your other breast, fingers gentle but possessive, tugging and pinching your nipple until you’re moaning softly beneath him.

“Such perfect tits,” he murmurs, voice low against your skin. “So soft—so full. I could spend hours here.”

You gasp when his hips shift forward, his cock sliding against your slick folds—already hard again, thick and heavy with need. He groans when he feels how soaked you still are.

“Still so wet for me… you really can’t get enough, can you?”

He lifts your hips gently and presses in slow, the stretch making your breath catch in your throat. He’s big—your walls part around him gradually, your body trembling as he sinks deeper and deeper. His forehead rests against yours as he pushes all the way in, and he moans your name softly when he bottoms out.

“There we go,” he breathes. “That’s it, darling. Taking me so well.”

You let out a soft cry as he begins to move—gentle rolls of his hips that press his cock deep, slow enough for you to feel every inch. Your body welcomes him eagerly, even through the soreness. You can feel the way you’re stretched around him, your body molded to him like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.

Then, without warning, his hand slides to your thigh and lifts your leg higher. He angles his hips slightly and spanks you—once, a soft, stinging slap to your ass cheek.

You gasp, blinking up at him, but he only smiles—gentle, sweet, but with a flash of something darker in his eyes.

“You like that,” he says, spanking you again. “I can feel your cunt squeezing me when I do it.”

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to thrust harder, faster—still controlled, still loving, but with a rhythm that speaks of deeper hunger.

He dips his head to your chest again, sucking one nipple into his mouth and groaning against it while his cock glides in and out of your soaked, fluttering heat. The squelch of it is wet, constant, obscene. You’re losing yourself to the pleasure again, walls spasming around him every time he rocks deep.

“I want to fill you up again,” he breathes against your skin. “Want to watch it spill out of you… want to know you’re carrying me.”

You sob softly, tears brimming as your body tightens again. “Please—please, Phainon—want it—want you to—”

“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he soothes, nuzzling your cheek. “You’ll get it. I’ll give you everything.”

He picks up the pace, hips smacking against your thighs as he fucks into you with loving urgency. His hand slips between your bodies to your lower belly, pressing down gently so he can feel himself moving inside you.

“Right there,” he pants. “Right there. That’s where I want it.”

Your walls flutter helplessly as your orgasm hits you, sudden and hot, your entire body arching as you moan his name over and over. Phainon groans deeply, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes in all the way and stills.

His cock twitches inside you as he cums—thick, hot ropes pouring into your already full pussy. His breath shakes as he holds you there, locked to your trembling body, letting every drop settle as deep as it can go.

“There we are,” he whispers, kissing your temple. “You’re mine now. Full of me. Just like I wanted.”

And as you tremble beneath him, dazed and stretched and leaking, Phainon only pulls you close and rocks his hips again—soft, steady, as if he has no intention of stopping.

★ ANAXAGORAS !

Your legs are trembling where they hang off the edge of the bed, your chest heaving, nipples still swollen from his mouth. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before Anaxa grabs your hips again, fingers sinking into your skin as he pulls you back toward him with a hungry, sharp thrust.

“Still not full enough,” he mutters, voice silk-wrapped steel. “You’re going to take every fucking drop I give you.”

He’s not rough—not brutal—but purposeful, bold. Every move calculated. He doesn’t lose control. He guides it.

His cock is buried deep inside you again, slender hips flush against your ass as he groans low in his throat. You’re soaked, throbbing, stretched from how many times he’s already filled you, but Anaxa just leans over you, mouth trailing along your collarbone, and coos, “You can handle more, can’t you? Don’t play shy now, not when your body’s begging like this.”

You moan, nearly sobbing when he rolls his hips, dragging the full length of his cock through your swollen cunt. Your walls tighten around him, still fluttering from the last time he came inside you.

“You want it,” he whispers against your ear, his slender fingers trailing up to toy with your sensitive nipples. “Want to be full of me, leaking down your thighs, marked so deep your body can’t forget me.”

You nod, frantic, keening when he pinches a nipple and rolls it between his fingers, sending another jolt through your core. He watches your face the whole time, pupils blown wide, breath hot against your cheek.

Then he pulls out, slow, letting your body feel the loss of him. You whimper—until you feel his fingers press against your ass, slick and confident.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I told you I wasn’t done.”

You feel the tip of his cock nudge your other hole, and your body tenses instinctively. But Anaxa is patient, steady—he leans down, tongue flicking your nipple while his cock presses in slow, opening you up with agonizing precision.

Your breath catches, your fingers claw at the sheets as he stretches your ass wider, inch by inch, until he’s seated fully inside you. Your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing, twitching, as the new stretch sends sparks flying up your spine.

“You’re shaking,” he purrs, one hand sliding between your legs to press gently at your slick folds. “But look at you—still dripping. Even your cunt misses me.”

He starts moving.

Deep, grinding thrusts that force your body to take him fully, completely. The stretch is sharper, tighter, your whimpers high and breathy as he fucks your ass and plays with your clit, pinching and rubbing while his other hand twists your nipple again.

“I’ll fill every hole you have,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek. “You’ll be dripping from both, trembling and ruined. My perfect little thing.”

Your orgasm hits suddenly, violently. Your thighs spasm, your walls clench around empty air, and your cries are muffled by his shoulder as he keeps you steady. Then Anaxa groans low—deep, throaty—and slams in hard, staying there as he cums deep inside your ass, filling you with his seed like he owns you.

You’re gasping, twitching, drooling a little as he slowly pulls out, letting his cum spill down your thighs. But even then, he doesn’t stop.

He reaches between your legs again.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, gently easing his cock back into your raw, stretched pussy. “One more time, sweet thing. Gotta make sure it takes.”

And with a slow roll of his hips, Anaxa starts again.

★ AVENTURINE !

“Still with me, darling?”

Aventurine’s voice is velvety smooth, slick with charm and sharp as a dagger. His hand tilts your chin up so your dazed eyes meet his, the corners of his mouth curling when he sees how ruined you already are. Your thighs are trembling, skin marked by his touch, lips parted with soft, breathy gasps—but you nod, needy, desperate.

“Good. I’d hate to think I broke you this early,” he purrs, brushing his fingers down your cheek before sliding them along the curve of your breast.

You gasp when his palm cups it—warm, firm, deliberate. He thumbs your nipple, watching the way it stiffens beneath his touch, then leans down and presses a kiss to the other one, lips soft before he bites—just enough to make your hips buck. You arch into him, whimpering as he sucks, teeth grazing the swollen nub with just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ruin you like this,” he whispers, voice dipped in velvet. “All those little looks. All that shy squirming. You were practically begging for it.”

You try to speak, but your words melt into a moan when he pulls your nipple with his teeth, then releases it with a soft pop. His hands slide down to your hips—greedy, possessive—and he slots himself between your thighs again.

His cock presses to your entrance, and he lets it linger there, not moving. Just watching you squirm, watching your hole flutter and clench, your cunt slick and twitching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. Aventurine hums, amused, the sound low in his throat as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the mess that’s already dripping from you.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, dragging the swollen head over your clit in a slow circle before teasing your entrance again. “You want it that badly?”

You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him. He fists a hand in your hair and pulls—not too hard, but just enough to make your spine arch and your gasp catch in your throat.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk, voice dangerous in its playfulness. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your cock,” you whimper, dazed and desperate. “Please—put it in, I want it so bad—”

“See?” he coos, releasing your hair just to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good little thing. Always knew you’d beg beautifully.”

Then, with one firm thrust, he slides into you—slow, but unrelenting. You feel every inch as he fills you, stretching you around his thick length until he’s buried deep, his hips flush to yours. You cry out, gripping his arms, thighs trembling under the pressure of it.

Aventurine groans, low and heady, leaning in to bite at your neck while his cock pulses inside you.

“Fuck, you feel perfect. Like you were made for me.” He draws back just a bit, then rolls his hips in a grinding thrust that punches a whimper from your throat. “And this greedy little pussy? Already sucking me back in.”

He starts moving—slow, deep thrusts that make your breath hitch with every push. One hand stays on your hip, but the other slides up, tracing your breast again, toying with your sensitive nipple until you’re writhing beneath him. You’re dripping, squelching with every roll of his hips, the heat in your belly coiling tighter and tighter.

“I’m going to breed you,” he says casually, like it’s already decided. “Going to fuck it so deep into you, you’ll still be feeling me tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

You sob softly, overwhelmed, and that only makes him chuckle.

“Don’t go shy on me now. You were the one begging, weren’t you?” He leans close, lips brushing your ear. “You wanted to be full, didn’t you? To carry something of mine?”

He grabs your hair again, gently tugging so he can see your face—lips bitten, eyes glassy, tears catching on your lashes.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp. “Want it—want you to cum inside—please—”

He groans through gritted teeth and slams into you harder, his pace picking up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples raw from his touch, and he doesn’t stop playing with them, tugging and rolling until you’re crying out his name over and over.

“I’ll give it to you,” he pants. “I’ll fill this perfect little cunt, fuck it so deep you won’t be able to think about anything else—”

You unravel under him, body spasming around his cock as your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through your spine. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a broken moan, and your cunt clenches around him so tightly he falters for a second, groaning loud and deep from the sudden squeeze.

“Fuck—look at you,” Aventurine hisses, watching you come undone beneath him, his eyes drinking in every twitch and gasp. “So beautiful when you break like this.”

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he chases your high, fucking you through your climax with a determined rhythm, hand still tangled in your hair, the other returning to your breast to squeeze and tug with greedy precision. You’re shaking, body limp beneath him, but you don’t beg him to stop. You can’t. Not when every thrust makes you clench harder, makes more slick spill from your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re going to take every drop,” he pants, voice wrecked now, the usual composure slipping as he grinds into you, faster, rougher. “I want it dripping out of you. Down your thighs. On the sheets. You’ll smell like me for days.”

Your head rolls back with a sob as his hand slides down, fingers pressing against your clit in tight, perfect circles. He’s everywhere—filling you, touching you, whispering filth against your throat—and your overstimulated body just keeps responding, pleasure building again so fast it knocks the breath out of you.

“A-Aventurine—” you choke, voice shaking, but he cuts you off with a kiss—wet, hot, claiming.

“I know, baby. I know. Give me one more.”

With your cunt clenching desperately around him, he groans sharply and slams in one last time—deep, to the hilt—as his cock twitches violently. Heat floods your insides as he cums, spilling everything inside you in slow, pulsing waves. He stays there, hips pressed to yours, body shuddering through the pleasure as he groans into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he breathes, grinding his hips just once more, forcing his seed deeper. “That’s my good girl. Taking every last drop.”

You’re a mess beneath him—legs spread, skin flushed, cum already leaking from your stretched hole—but he’s still kissing your cheek, still stroking your hair like you’re a precious thing he just unwrapped.

And even as he pulls out, slow and careful, letting the mess between your thighs spill freely, he smirks down at you and whispers, “You’re not done, are you? Because I haven’t even started rolling the dice yet.”

★BLADE !

There’s a moment—silent, still—where Blade just looks at you, eyes narrowed, chest rising slow and deep. He’s already hard, cock flushed and twitching with restraint, but he doesn’t lunge at you like an animal. No. That’s not his way. Blade's discipline makes him more dangerous.

You're lying back, bare and breathless, skin flushed under his intense gaze. He kneels over you, cock in hand, dragging the leaking tip slowly up your chest until it rests right between your breasts.

“You’ll hold them,” he orders, voice low and cold like tempered steel. “Let me feel them wrap around me.”

You obey instantly, fingers trembling as you press your tits together. The second they close around him, Blade thrusts forward—slow at first, testing, watching the way your softness molds around his cock. His lips twitch upward, barely a smile, just a sign that he approves.

“So soft,” he mutters, moving again. His length glides easily through the valley of your chest, wet from precum and heat. “This is how a body should serve—warm, trembling, obedient.”

He keeps your head still with a sharp tug of your hair, making you look up at him while he fucks your tits in steady, calculated strokes. The head of his cock nudges your lips with each thrust, and when you open your mouth instinctively, he groans—low and guttural.

“Open wider.”

You do, and his cock pushes just past your lips on the next roll of his hips. Just the tip, just enough to taste him. He grunts in satisfaction, slowing down only to drag the head of his cock across your tongue before pulling away entirely.

“That’s enough. I need more from you now.”

He releases your hair and slides down your body, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them so wide your hips ache. His body presses against yours, and his cock lines up to your dripping hole, already fluttering and slick from the teasing. You feel the weight of him at your entrance, the girth, the heat—and your whole body tenses in anticipation.

Blade doesn’t warn you. He pushes in with a brutal snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. Your back arches off the sheets as you cry out, the stretch too much, too fast—and he just leans over you, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“Perfect,” he growls, voice rough and almost breathless. “You take me like you were made for it.”

He starts to move—deep, unforgiving thrusts that make your entire body jolt beneath him. His pace is sharp and relentless, his grip bruising as he pulls your hips up to meet every thrust. You’re already dripping around him, and the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room, loud and wet.

Your moans get louder—messier—especially when his mouth finds your breast, biting your nipple until you yelp. He soothes it with his tongue, only to tug it again between his teeth. You can’t think. You can barely breathe.

“Keep crying,” he snarls against your chest. “I want to hear everything.”

He shifts your legs higher over his shoulders and fucks down into you with cruel precision. Your body shakes with every thrust, heat building faster than you can control it.

“You want my cum?” he asks, cock grinding deep against your cervix. “Want me to ruin this pussy from the inside out?”

“Yes—yes, please—”

“Then take it.”

Blade grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. His other hand snakes into your hair again, tugging your head back so he can kiss you—claim you—while his cock slams into you faster. Your cunt flutters, tightens, and you scream against his lips as your orgasm hits, hard and shattering. You clamp down around him, sucking him in, and that’s what tears his restraint apart.

He groans—loud, rough, guttural—and slams in deep, hips pressed tight to yours as he cums hard. His cock throbs inside you, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum directly into your womb. He holds you like that, unmoving, his body shaking from the release, letting every last drop spill into you.

You whimper, feeling it flood you, fill you, drip down your thighs even while he’s still inside.

Blade doesn’t pull out immediately. He stays there, buried to the base, panting quietly against your neck, his long hair sticking to his face and chest.

“Good girl,” he finally murmurs. “Now keep it in.”

He pulls out slowly, watching with a hungry stare as his cum leaks from your ruined pussy. He runs two fingers through the mess and shoves it back inside you.

“We’re not finished,” he adds, voice low and final. “I’ll breed you again and again until your body knows nothing but me.”

God, the way he looked at you. Not angry. Not offended. Just… amused. Like a priest staring down a blasphemer before the altar.

Now?

Now your legs are trembling, pushed wide open, and you’re struggling to even blink. Phainon’s fingers are deep inside you — slow, deliberate, two of them hooked just right, pressing into the spot that’s got your mouth open and your brain melting.

“Small?” he murmurs, voice like velvet-wrapped gold. “And yet… you’re drooling all over my fingers. Can’t even hold yourself up.”

You want to talk. You can’t.

Every curl of his fingers pulls a moan from you like a prayer. He’s whispering again, lips brushing your ear.

“Nothing to say now? Hm? So quiet. So wet. Should I keep going until you forget your name?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it.

Your hips are grinding up against his palm now, chasing that edge he keeps pulling away from. Every time it builds, he slows down. Holds you there. Makes you feel it. The ache, the pressure, the bliss that never quite breaks. It’s maddening.

“You’re just being prepared,” he says gently, almost reverent, like this is sacred.

“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing. But by the time I do put it in, you’ll be so far gone you won’t even remember calling me small.”

“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing,” he purrs again, brushing his fingers from your soaked hole to the base of his cock. It’s heavy, flushed, leaking against your thigh now. Thick. Long. You didn’t even look at it properly—too far gone to notice while he was playing you open like a divine instrument.

“But now?” His hand wraps around the base, stroking once, slow. You see it now. And oh—he’s huge. It’s veiny, flushed deep pink at the tip, curved just enough to hit everything he was already teasing with his fingers. “Now you’re ready.”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a soft gasp and a nod that feels more like begging.

He moves between your legs, pushing them wider—wider—until you feel stretched out and helpless under him, like an offering. And he leans forward, pressing his cockhead against your entrance. It doesn’t even go in at first. He just grinds there. Spreads you open with slow circles, letting you feel the weight of it, the heat, the stretch that’s coming.

You choke on a sound. “Pha—Phainon—”

“Shhh,” he whispers, and he smiles. Soft. Like he’s about to baptize you in holy fire. “It’ll fit.”

He pushes in slow. Painfully slow. Not because he’s teasing, but because you physically can’t take it all at once. Your cunt clenches around the thick head, already trembling as he sinks in inch by inch, pulling a broken moan out of you each time your walls stretch around him.

You try to breathe. You can’t. His hand comes to your stomach—

—and when he’s halfway in, you see it.

“Look,” he breathes, pressing gently to the bulge forming just below your bellybutton. “That’s me.”

Your eyes roll back. “T-too big—”

“It fits,” he says again, firm this time. “You’re mine. I will fit.”

And with a slow, final push, he bottoms out.

You scream.

The stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him filling you completely—it’s too much. Too perfect. Your body tightens around him like it’s never going to let go. Like you were meant to take this cock. To take his.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, buried inside you, cock twitching, eyes fixed on your face and the outline in your stomach.

“Good,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re going to take all of it. Again. And again. Until I’m sure it takes.”

And then he moves.

Slow at first—long, deep strokes that drag against every sweet, ruined part of you. You’re already sensitive, overfucked from his fingers, but now? Now it’s bliss. Sacred. Your hips jerk every time he bottoms out. The bulge grows and disappears, over and over, with every thrust.

“Feel that?” he whispers, dragging his lips over your jaw. “That’s what happens when you insult something divine. Now you’re going to feel it in your stomach every time you breathe.”

Your legs are shaking. You’re moaning without meaning to, drooling, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain. From how good it is. How full.

He starts moving faster, his rhythm breaking, and his hand goes to your thigh, holding you down as your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Where are you going?” he growls, low and possessive now. “You asked for this.”

And then it hits. He slams in deep, grinds, and your vision whites out—back arching as you cum hard, squeezing around him, sobbing from the force of it. But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets rougher. Harsher. His breath ragged, his grip bruising.

He’s close.

And you know it.

“I’m going to fill you,” he grits out. “So full you’ll feel it dripping for days. You’ll smell like me.”

You whimper something incoherent, but your hips rock up to meet his thrusts. You want it. You need it. The sacred burn of him claiming every inch.

“I’ll breed you until your body forgets every cock before me. Until it only remembers mine.”

The moment it happens, he growls your name, slams in deep one last time—and stays there.

You feel the heat first. Then the stretch. Then the rush of cum flooding you.

He doesn’t pull out.

Not even a little.

He just groans, low and broken, pressing his forehead to yours as he pumps every last drop inside.

And your stomach swells just slightly more with the warmth.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

The room feels warm. Your body? Weak, trembling, leaking. You’re still stretched open around him, thighs twitching, mouth parted with soft gasps. His cum is still inside you—hot, heavy, pooling deep in your cunt, trickling down your inner thighs with every shift of your hips.

You should be done.

Any normal man would’ve pulled out, cleaned you up, let you come down from the high.

But Phainon? He never even left your body.

He’s still there.

Still inside.

Still hard.

And he’s watching you—blue eyes narrowing, one palm gently resting on the bulge in your stomach.

“You’re full,” he murmurs, brushing your sticky hair off your forehead. “But you’re not bred yet.”

You try to speak. You can’t. Your jaw slackens as he pulls back just slightly, just enough for your raw, fluttering walls to feel the drag of him.

And then—

He thrusts back in.

Hard.

You scream.

It’s not pain. It’s not even pleasure. It’s too much. Your body jerks, overwhelmed, the thick mess of cum inside you squelching as he slams back into your already-spoiled cunt. You cry out again, eyes wide and watery.

“Pha—Phainon, I—can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is calm, but low. Tight with restraint. “You’re made for this. I just have to remind you.”

His hips roll again, slow at first, but deeper. Hungrier. Every stroke pushes against that oversensitive spot inside, and with the way you’re already so full—so stretched—it feels like he’s everywhere at once. Your body tries to squirm away, but he pins your hips down with one hand and holds your thigh up with the other.

“You can take it,” he breathes. “You will take it. You said I was small, remember?”

His cock slams deep, knocking the air from your lungs. He starts rutting now—thrusts rhythmic, brutal, divine—every inch pounding up into your heat like a promise. The bulge in your stomach pulses with every push, getting more visible. He presses it as he fucks into you, and you sob.

“Look at this,” he whispers. “Look what I’m doing to you. That’s my cock inside your womb, my girl. Claiming every inch. You feel it?”

You nod. You don’t even mean to, but you’re nodding like a broken thing, tears down your cheeks, gasping his name over and over like a prayer.

Phainon groans—finally slipping. His breath hitches, rhythm growing faster, more desperate.

“I’ll fuck you stupid,” he growls. “Fill you until it’s leaking down your thighs for days. Until your stomach stays round even when I pull out.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He ravages you now. Your pussy is fluttering, clenching, spasming around him, soaking his cock with slick and leftover cum—and he fucks you through it. Like he’s not just fucking you, but teaching your body a lesson.

You cum again. You don’t even realize it until your vision goes white, and your body locks up, and your voice breaks into moans that don’t even sound human anymore. You’re shaking, body arching, drool on your lip—and he still doesn’t stop.

“You love it,” he says into your skin, his lips hot against your temple. “You love being ruined like this. You’ll remember this every time you try to walk.”

You’re crying. Whimpering. Nodding.

And then—his thrusts get sloppier.

You feel him swell.

You know it’s coming.

And he grips your hips and slams in—deep, to the hilt—and holds you there as he spills inside again.

This time? It’s worse.

There’s so much. You can feel it—thick, hot, and endless, rushing in and filling you again like your body was empty. Your belly feels heavier. Rounder. The bulge pulses with warmth as he unloads for the second time.

You can’t even make a sound. Just wide eyes and soft, shattered moans.

He stays there, cock buried inside, twitching, body trembling.

You’re limp. Your thighs are soaked. Your belly’s full. His seed’s dripping down your ass in thick, creamy strings—but he’s still there. Still holding you like something sacred and fragile.

And he leans down, kisses your lips gently, and whispers:

“Still think I’m small?”

You’re too ruined to answer.

But the mess between your legs answers for you.

★ MYDEIMOS :

“You’re small.”

You say it soft. Real soft. Barely a whisper in his ear while you lie under him, half-smirking. You think you’re being cute. Teasing. Stirring that man into a scoff.

But what you get isn’t a scoff or a groan

It’s silence.

Mydei just looks at you—no expression, just heat—and the next second?

He’s on you.

You’re grabbed, flipped, thrown down, and spread open in seconds—legs pinned back to your chest, his thick arms caging you in. You barely get a breath before he’s lining his cock up to your dripping pussy and slams it in.

No warning. No build-up. Just the wet, brutal sound of your cunt getting split open around cock that doesn’t fit but forces its way in anyway.

You scream.

It’s not pain—it’s your pussy trying to figure out how to swallow something that fucking thick. Your lips stretch wide, your walls clench down like they’re confused, stuffed past their limit, already leaking and sucking him in like they know who’s boss now.

He leans in close—chest pressed flat to yours, his full body on you. You can’t move. Can’t breathe. You’re folded up under him like you’re nothing but a fleshlight with a heartbeat, pinned so tight your legs tremble and twitch beside his ribs.

His cock’s balls deep inside.

His stomach presses down on yours.

You look down and see the shape of it—see the thick bulge of his cock pushing up against your belly like he’s trying to break through it.

“Small?” he finally grunts, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby? That’s my dick rearranging your insides.”

And then he starts thrusting into your already wet cunt.

The sound of skin smacking skin gets wetter every second, your pussy making those filthy, squelching noises with every bounce of his hips, juices spilling out everywhere, dripping off your ass and soaking the sheets.

You’re gasping. Whining. Eyes rolling back. You try to say something, maybe beg, maybe moan—but he just grabs your throat and slams in deeper.

You can’t move. You’re folded. Flattened under him. His thick body covers you, keeps you down, presses his weight into you like he’s trying to leave a permanent mark inside your guts.

He spits in your mouth.

“You wanna say that again?” he growls, snapping his hips. “Call me small now.”

You can’t. You’re just moaning, mouth open, drooling on yourself while your pussy flutters and twitches around his cock, slick and swollen from the constant stretch.

“God, you sound stupid,” he groans. “You are stupid now, huh? Just a dumb little hole to fuck. Nothin’ goin’ on in that brain except how deep this cock is.”

And it’s true.

You’re quiet. Brain blank. All you know is the drag and shove of that thick cock inside you, bruising your cunt, flattening your womb. You’re leaking all over his balls, slick sticking to his thighs, his dick punching your guts over and over.

He sits back—brings you with him—doesn’t pull out.

Now you’re in his lap, straddling him, but still bent back, your pussy still spread open, still stuffed with cock. He’s bouncing you now—your ass smacking down on his thighs, tits bouncing, cunt slapping messy around him with every brutal thrust.

You’re just moaning.

“My fuckin’ girl,” he pants. “You were made for this. Made to take all this cock. Gonna breed you right. Knock the last of your thoughts out with my load.”

Your tummy bulges again as he lifts you and slams you down harder.

He wraps one thick arm around your neck—tight headlock—and fucks you through it.

“Say it again,” he hisses in your ear. “Say I’m small while your pussy’s creaming on me like a bitch in heat.”

But you can’t speak. You’re gone.

You’re drooling, eyes crossed, pussy fluttering tight around his dick, holding him in like you’re scared he’ll pull out. You’re gushing—cum and slick squirting out around his cock, dripping mess all over the floor.

He moans. And he breaks.

He grabs your hips, slams you down to the base, and stays there—deep, buried, locked in place.

You feel his cock twitch.

Thick. Heavy. Flooding your cunt, stretching you with cum. You feel it pump into you in hot, heavy spurts, overflowing inside, leaking down your thighs. Your belly gets heavier with it. You swear your pussy’s too full to take more but he doesn’t stop—he keeps grinding.

You’re folded in his lap now, cock still buried so deep it feels like it’s in your throat, cum dripping down between your cheeks in fat, warm globs—and Mydei leans down and brushes your hair from your face like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.

He smirks, nuzzles your flushed cheek.

“Well?” he murmurs, hips slowly rolling again, so slow, just enough to make you feel every inch of him dragging against your raw, sensitive walls. “Still think I’m small?”

You whimper.

That’s all you can manage. Your voice is gone, fucked out of your throat. Your legs won’t stop shaking. Your pussy’s twitching around him like it’s begging for more even though it’s so overstretched, puffy and red from being used.

He hums.

“Didn’t think so.”

And then he kisses you.

Soft. Deep. One hand cupping the back of your head while his tongue lazily rolls against yours. His cock stays buried inside—warm, pulsing—but he’s not fucking you now. Not yet. He’s just holding you there, like he’s soaking in the mess he made.

You blink at him slowly, dazed, drooling, skin slick with sweat.

“Mydei…” you whine.

That’s it. Just his name. Barely even that.

He smiles.

Kisses you again. Starts rocking his hips in that gentle, sweet rhythm—like he’s in love with the way your pussy squeezes him, like he could spend all night just watching you fall apart again under him, all flushed and sore and needy.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmurs against your lips. “Can feel this little hole begging for it. She’s so greedy, baby.”

You nod. Eyes glassy.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He shifts—pulls out halfway, then slides back in slow, cock thick and veiny and still leaking cum. You moan. Loud. Body arching, hips rolling up to meet him like your pussy’s chasing him.

He watches your face. Watches your expression twist and tremble while he fucks you slow—tender, now, but deep. Deep enough to make your stomach bulge again. Deep enough to make your toes curl.

You look down and whine.

“Look at her,” he growls softly. “Still stretched open. Still dripping for me. You’re so fucking full, baby…”

He slides his hand down between your bodies—presses gently on your lower belly.

You squeal.

Because you feel it—his cock pressing from the inside, bulging your stomach, thick and firm. His thumb rubs circles there while his hips start rolling deeper again, gentle but intentional, grinding into the soft spot inside you like he knows exactly where to touch.

And of course he does.

He’s Mydei.

Your big, mean man. Who just turned into your soft, obsessed husband the second he dumped a load in you.

“Still got room in there,” he murmurs. “Don’t lie, I can feel it. Gonna fill you up again, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine again and again ‘til it’s dripping out of your belly button.”

You’re babbling now.

Begging. Sobbing.

Tears well up as the overstimulation kicks in—but it’s good. It’s so good. He’s so sweet with it, kissing your face, stroking your sides, murmuring filth right into your ear like it’s a love confession.

“You’re everything,” he says. “You hear me? . My pretty girl. I’d fuck you every hour of every day if I could. You were made to take this cock.”

You clench.

He groans.

He cums again.

Slower this time, but hotter somehow—he moans into your mouth, deep and low, hips locked against you as his cock throbs and spills another load inside you, thick and lazy and so much. You feel it pushing everything else out, dripping down your thighs again.

He doesn’t move. Just holds you there, cock deep, cum inside, lips on yours.

“Still small?” he whispers again.

You shake your head, dazed and full.

“No…”

His smirk is feral.

“Didn’t think so.”

★ AVENTURINE :

You’re smirking. Shouldn’t be, but you are.

He’s got you cornered, back against the sleek marble wall of your suite, his tie undone and sleeves rolled, chest warm against yours. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other gripping your chin, keeping your gaze locked with his like you’ve just handed him a challenge on a silver platter.

“Repeat it,” he says softly. Too softly. That smile on his face isn’t a smile , it’s a loaded weapon.

You raise your brows like you’re innocent. You’re not. You know exactly what you said.

“I said,” you purr, playing with the buttons on his shirt like you don’t feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest, “you’re a bit… small.”

There it is. That twitch in his jaw. That flash in his violet eyes like you just poked a sleeping god awake.

He laughs, low and rich, like you just handed him a glass of vintage wine and dared him to break it over your head.

“Small,” he echoes, tilting your face up further. “Interesting.”

You try to act bored. You’re so full of shit.

“Not small small,” you add with a shrug. “Just… not as big as you pretend to be.”

Silence.

Then his lips press against yours — hard. His tongue slides past your lips like he owns them, teeth catching your bottom lip in a cruel, teasing bite before he pulls back just enough to speak again.

“You’re gonna eat those words,” he murmurs, hot against your mouth. “Every single one.”

He takes his time getting you on the bed. Doesn’t throw you down—no, that’d be too easy. He leads you there, fingers on your chin, your throat, your wrist. Every step is deliberate. He pulls you into his lap, clothes still half-on, thighs spread, cock already hard under the slacks he hasn’t even taken off.

“Come on then,” he says, loosening his belt. “Climb on. Since you’re so confident.”

You crawl into his lap like the brat you are — like you’re still in control — grinding slow against the thick outline of his cock as you straddle him, smug smirk still on your face.

“Gonna prove me wrong, little man?” you whisper, voice sugar-sweet.

That earns you a slap.

Not on your face—no, Aventurine’s too elegant for that—but on your ass. Hard. Your body jerks forward, chest colliding with his, a sharp gasp punched from your throat.

“Wrong?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “Oh darling. I’m gonna ruin you so thoroughly, you’ll beg me to be smaller.”

He grabs your waist and flips you around, pulling you back into his lap so you’re facing away from him now, knees spread, his cock sliding free from his slacks and standing proud between your thighs.

You glance down and blink. …Oh. Okay. Maybe he’s not small. Maybe he’s the opposite of small. Maybe you’re very stupid.

Before you can recover, he spits into his palm and strokes himself once—twice— then presses the head against your entrance, one hand gripping your waist and the other trailing slowly, so slowly, down your front.

“Go on,” he whispers against your neck. “Show me how small it feels.”

You sink down.

Your mouth falls open. No words. Just a gasp—long, high, desperate, as his cock stretches you open, thick and hot, filling every inch with a pressure that borders on unbearable.

“Mm?” he purrs, hands gripping your hips as you struggle to take him. “Not speaking now? I thought you were feeling brave tonight.”

You whimper. He laughs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groans, sliding in deeper until your thighs are shaking. “This is barely halfway.”

You try to lift yourself off—you try—but he yanks you right back down with a smack to your ass, his cock punching so deep inside you your belly bulges just slightly, perfect and obscene.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the spot. “That little bump? That’s me. That’s how ‘small’ I am, hm?”

You’re shaking now. Gasping, drooling, grinding down on him with needy little movements you can’t even pretend are confident anymore.

He drags his lips along your shoulder, bites lightly at your neck, and then thrusts upward. Just once. Deep. Hard.

You sob.

“What was that?” he says sweetly. “Sounded like you were gonna apologize.”

You try—you try so hard—but all that comes out is a pathetic, broken moan.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, voice full of velvet cruelty. “You don’t get to apologize yet.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back so you’re arching beautifully in his lap, cock still snug and deep inside you. His other hand? Slipping down your front, fingers rubbing right over where you’re throbbing, making you jolt.

“You don’t apologize,” he hisses, “until your knees give out. Until you’re sobbing on my cock.”

You whimper again.

He slaps your thigh—once, twice—then grips your hips and starts fucking up into you, slow and deliberate at first, then faster. Harder. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your messy, choked cries and his deep, smug groans.

“You said I was small,” he pants, cock ramming into that spot that makes your eyes roll back. “Say it again.”

“N-no—”

“Say it.”

You try, you do—but all you can say is his name, over and over, like a prayer, like a surrender.

He laughs. Moans. Slaps your ass again and watches the ripple with admiration.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he says against your neck. “But don’t worry. You’ll get your words back.”

He pulls out, flips you around, and shoves you down to your knees.

His cock is flushed, slick and throbbing, still twitching from the tight heat of your cunt, and he grips it at the base with one hand while guiding your face forward with the other.

“Put that smart little mouth to work,” he growls. “Since you seem to like talking shit.”

You suck him in with shaking hands, lips stretched wide, eyes glassy. He watches you —loves watching you—as you gag and drool around him, your body still trembling from the wreckage he left in his wake.

“Mm, that’s it,” he groans, thrusting slow into your mouth. “Choke on it, baby. Just like you choked on your pride.”

You blink up at him—ruined, teary-eyed, mascara smudged, thighs shaking from being fucked half senseless—and he smiles down at you like the devil himself.

“Still think I’m small?” he whispers.

You shake your head.

“Mmm. Thought so.”

★ DR. RATIO :

You really thought you were funny.

Laid back against the library table, your skirt barely hiding the subtle shift of your thighs, you looked at him with that smug, syrupy smile. With a little shrug, you said it clearly,

“You don’t seem like much, Doctor. Bet you’d barely reach.”

The air went suddenly colder.

He didn’t even blink. Instead, he stared at you like you’d just insulted his entire intellect or knocked over his carefully brewed tea. His fingers twitched near his belt, then the sharp clack of his book closing echoed like a gunshot. He stood up.

“Is that so?” His voice was low, dry, and uninterested. That dangerous, mean little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — not amused, not flirtatious, just a condescending twist that made your stomach knot.

“Well. Let’s test your hypothesis, shall we?”

You should have run. But no. You bit your lip and smirked like the brat you were.

That was your first mistake.

He didn’t say a word as he reached out and flipped you over the desk like you weighed nothing, settling you down flat.

“Still think I’m small?” he gritted, voice low and sharp as his hips ground down hard against you. Your mouth fell open, no witty comeback ready — just the sharp, helpless squeal that escaped when you felt every inch of him.

He was not small. Far from it. He was massive, pressing into you relentlessly, while piles of research scattered beneath you like forgotten papers.

Your cheek stuck to parchment. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you still, while the other landed on your ass with a resounding smack that made the desk creak beneath you.

“Use your words, test subject.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, irritated and turned on. “You wanted a measurement, didn’t you? Want me to push deeper?”

You whimpered, your legs trembling. That wasn’t enough for him. His hand smacked your ass again, harder this time, then grabbed and spread you wider without shame. He watched you — how your body folded and shivered under his weight — your belly visibly bulging each time he thrust deep, as if your insides were made just for him.

“You’ll take it. That’s what happens when you provoke a man smarter than you.”

It was filthy. Your legs shook uncontrollably, thighs wobbling under the pressure, but he didn’t relent. His body was big, lean but solid — every breath sharp, every growl low and frustrated in your ear. He was not romantic. He was not gentle. He was merciless.

“You’re so full it’s pathetic,” he hissed, grinding his hips harder. “Still think I’m small? Look down. Look at what I’m doing to that belly.”

You did.

You shouldn’t have.

A big, round lump pushed out against your stomach, his cock deep enough to mark you completely.

“You’re drooling,” he sneered. “Still think I’m small?”

You couldn’t answer. You were gasping, nails scraping at the wood as he locked his arms tight around your waist — not letting you escape, not letting you think — mate pressing you until your toes curled and your moans came ragged and raw.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You didn’t.

So he spanked you again, harder this time, then slammed into you deeper until the wet squelching of your cunt echoed through the silent study.

You choked out something broken and breathless. He didn’t care.

“I’ll breed the arrogance out of you,” Ratio muttered under his breath, like your whining was just another tedious experiment. “Let’s see if a few loads fix your attitude.”

He gripped your waist tighter, his breath hot against your ear as his hips pressed deep and unrelenting. Every thrust carved into you, making that heavy bulge in your belly push out more, like you were stretched perfectly around him—no chance to hide it, no mercy given.

His hand found your ass again, slapping it hard, fingers kneading and holding you in place. “You think you’re so clever, talking shit. But look at you now—mine. All wrapped around me, dripping and desperate.”

Your breath hitched, body trembling as he kept pounding into you, the sound of your slick wetness mixing with the harsh smacks filling the quiet room.

“Say it,” he growled, voice low and rough. “Say you’re mine.”

Your voice broke, trembling out, “I’m yours.”

His grin was cruel and satisfied as he pulled you flush against him, mate pressing with all his weight, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. The fullness inside you stretched tighter, and he whispered, “You’re so full. Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You whimpered, head thrown back, utterly undone.

With a sharp slap to your ass, he pulled out just enough so you could feel the thick length twitching, then slammed back inside, his pace rougher, more demanding.

“I’m gonna breed that stubbornness right out of you,” he breathed, voice dark and possessed. “You’ll remember this every damn time you think you can test me.”

Your walls clenched hard around him, moans slipping free as he kept driving you into the desk, holding you down like you were his prize.

“Beg for it,” he said, dragging his hand up to grip your hair, tilting your face so you had no choice but to look at him.

You whimpered, “Please… don’t stop.”

His laugh was low and satisfied. “That’s my good girl.”

He pressed forward, hips snapping, every movement pounding deeper, stretching you full and making your belly roll with the pressure.

Your breath caught as he tensed, voice rough, “Say it. Say I’m the only one.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, trembling and undone.

With a final, heavy thrust, he claimed you fully, breath hitching as he spilled inside, filling you with everything he had.

He held you pressed tight as you trembled beneath him, hips still rolling lazily, possessive and relentless.

“I told you,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m never small.”

★ JING YUAN :

You really shouldn’t have said it.

You really shouldn’t have looked the General of the Cloud Knights in the eye—shirt tugged up, thighs bare and your panties already wet—and had the audacity to say:

“Tch. With all that confidence, your cock’s probably small anyway.”

The room went quiet for a second.

The kind of quiet where even the crickets were like oh no she didn’t.

Jing Yuan blinked.

Smiled.

Then laughed—that slow, deep, maddening chuckle that slithered straight down your spine like warm honey.

“Small, huh?” he repeated, stretching his arms behind his head like he wasn’t already rock hard in his robes. “Ah… You poor little thing.”

You weren’t prepared for how fast he moved.

One second you’re smug.

Next second your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, legs spread open like he owned them, your panties tugged to the side and his thumb lazily brushing over your soaked folds.

“Say that again.” His voice was low, a little breathy. He hadn’t even taken his robes off. “Let’s see how long you keep that mouth running.”

You gasped when he pulled it out.

Holy—

He knew. Oh, he knew exactly what kind of look crossed your face. The shock. The panic. The twitch of your thighs like they were second-guessing their own bravery.

“I think someone owes me an apology,” he murmured, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit like he was just casually testing the weather. “Or should I make you eat those words?”

Smug bastard. That slow, lazy smile. That thick, achingly hard cock.

You didn’t even have time to beg.

He grabbed you by the back of your head, tilted your jaw open, and fed it to you.

Slow. Deep. Sloppy.

“Mm— look at you now.” His hips rolled like he was half-asleep, voice curling with pure sin. “Choking on the small one, are we?”

You clawed at his thighs when he held you down, cock pressing heavy on your tongue, mocking your every breath. He groaned every time you gagged around him, every time you tried to glare up at him through teary eyes.

“Can’t talk back with your mouth full, hm?” Jing Yuan chuckled, cupping your cheek. “Maybe I’ll keep you like this for a while. Let that attitude melt off your tongue.”

When he finally let you breathe, you were wrecked.

Mascara smeared. Drool dripping down your chin. Knees trembling.

“Aw,” he cooed, petting your hair. “What happened to all that big talk?”

And then—he flipped you over.

One smooth motion, you were face-down, ass up, and his cock already nudging at your entrance.

“This might stretch a little,” he murmured, completely fake sweetness in his tone.

Liar.

You screamed when he pushed in. Inch by thick, punishing inch. Your pussy clenched like it was trying to reject him, but it only made him groan, hands gripping your hips like he was claiming them.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he growled into your ear, voice deeper now, panting against your neck. “Say it again. Say it’s small while it’s splitting you open.”

You tried.

You couldn’t.

Not when he started moving.

Lazy, powerful thrusts that made the bed shake and your legs wobble. He stayed buried deep, hips grinding in slow circles like he had all the time in the world. His hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit like he was spoiling you—just to drive you even crazier.

“Tell me how small I am while you’re dripping like this,” he teased, pinching your clit until you squealed. “Come on, sweetheart. Be brave again.”

All you could do was cry his name.

Over and over.

When you finally came, it was messy. Shaky. So tight around him he groaned into your skin, fucking you through it until your body gave up.

You collapsed, twitching.

And he?

He stayed inside you. Still hard. Still smug.

Leaning down, lips brushing your ear, he whispered:

“…Want to try that again?”

You don’t remember how you got here.

Well, actually—you do. It started with a smug smirk, your bratty mouth, and one too many giggles tossed at the general’s expense.

“With how lazy you are, your cock’s probably soft and small too.”

And now?

Now you’re stuffed full.

Flat on your back, legs trembling, and that massive cock buried so deep your belly’s showing a bulge.

You don’t even have the words anymore. Just little hiccuping moans, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth, and your fingers pressed against your lower belly in pure awe.

“Look at that.” Jing Yuan leans over you, lazy eyes glinting as he lays his palm right on the bulge in your tummy. He presses.

You squeal. Your legs twitch.

“You were running your mouth earlier,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing soft, slow circles over the swollen outline of his cock in your gut. “And now you’re just whining and taking it.”

He rolls his hips, and your back arches. Your soaked pussy clenches again like it can’t help it.

“Can feel me here, can’t you?” he purrs. “Might be small… but it’s so deep, baby.”

You try to speak—really—but all that comes out is a whimper, a little breathless sob of “Yuan—too much, I-I can’t—”

He smirks.

“Yes, you can.”

Then he pulls out—slow, dripping wet, your folds clinging to him—and slams right back in, thick and deep enough you swear you see stars.

You scream.

Your body jerks. Your brain just shorts out.

And he leans down, whispering filth into your ear:

“You don’t need to think. Just keep your legs open and take your stuffing like a good little pillow princess.”

You moan, dumb and needy. All that snark from earlier? Gone. Replaced with sniffles, tears, and broken hiccups as he pounds into you—slow, lazy, and endlessly smug.

“Fuck, gonna breed you,” Jing Yuan growls, fucking you deeper, slapping your thigh. “Gonna fill you so good you’ll be dripping my cum for days. Want that, huh? Want to get knocked up on a small cock?”

You nod.

You sob.

He groans when you clench down again, cock pulsing, hips slamming into your thighs as he spills inside you. Thick, messy ropes that flood your womb and drip out around his base—but he doesn’t stop.

“Stay still,” he pants, pinning you down. “You’re gonna take another one.”

And you do.

And another.

You don’t even realize he’s lying down beneath you until you’re shoved onto his face.

Your thighs shake. His tongue slides right up your slit and licks his own cum from your pussy.

Your moans are broken, hands digging into his messy blond hair as you grind down, riding his face like it’s the only way you remember how to breathe.

“That’s it,” he hums against your folds, voice muffled by your soaked pussy. “Sit on me. Get dumb on this tongue too.”

You do.

You lose your mind.

You cum. Again. And again. So messy, so overstimmed, your voice cracking into little sobs.

When you collapse off his face, ruined and twitching, he kisses your thigh.

And whispers—

“Still think it’s small?”

—

“Yeah, yes, ah— fuck— deeper—“

Always the same. The moans, sloppy noises and sounds of the naked bodies mixed together as he was railing those women like a crazy animal.

You worked for this movie company that was producing pornography films. The main star was this way older man Torger Christian Wolff. He was the best in the category of DILFs. His body tall and muscular, very handsome face, tight features that asserted dominance, he was the favourite actor in this industry.

You got this job by total coincidence, you needed to pay your student loans and debt on your apartment. At first you thought it was not a big deal but watching Toto taking woman after woman every day in every possible position made you shift in your own seat sooner or later.

You managed the catering for sets, chatting and joking around with other costar but Toto never spoke to you. He was so into himself that he was out the moment he was done with the filming.

—

The next set of the movie was about to be in Singapore. The luxurious hotel, city lights, humidity level high as hell.

You felt sweat forming on your forehead when you adjusted the water bottles on the desk in the back of the hotel room, the dim light bringing the intimate atmosphere of the space, nobody gave you any attention, you were just some sort of their servant. Camera guys and director went through the notes, preparing the equipment around the bed for the best possible angles, you sat in the corner as usual, watching them doing their work. Toto was clad in the tailored suit, talking with the actress with whom he was about to shoot the performance, she was all giggly and excited because not everyone could get a scene with him. He was exclusive in this field. So strict about actresses being clean and healthy.

He never looked into your direction, never acknowledged your presence, never ever.

But today. His gaze landed on you, taking you in from your feet to your eyes, staring into the darkest corners of your soul. You swallowed hard the lump in your throat, feeling like time stopped and it's just you two.

With a blink of an eye he averted his gaze at the camera crew, giving them a hint that he’s ready to start. And well, he was so ready.

The small whine escaped the actress’s throat when she pulled his erection out of his slacks and your mouth watered. Even though you saw this many times before, it didn’t stop to amaze you how blessed he was with the size of his dick.

Your gaze was lingering at how the woman took him in her mouth, devouring him, not breaking eye contact and you immediately imagined yourself in her place. Feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you sighed quietly, pursing your lips.

Then he took his time with her pussy. Your thighs were pressing together at how much you were aroused. What would you give to be eaten out like this. You couldn’t tell if she came for real or she faked it, but you wouldn’t fake it. You would give him your real you.

Toto was sitting on the edge of the bed while she rode him. Slowly and carefully at first, he made sure she adjusted to his girth, the stretch making her whine like a wounded animal. While you sat in your little chair, legs crossed, you were clenching at nothing, thinking about how he would make you see stars with his length. He was like a fever dream, the forbidden fruit you desired the most.

And finally, he came all over her face, smearing his seed over her lips, smacking his cock at her cheeks.

Your lips were swollen from the constant biting into them, your body trembling from the unsatisfied ache between your legs.

“Well done, Toto, that was incredible. That’s a wrap, we’ll meet at the party at the club nearby.” The director beamed happily.

Toto nodded, stroking his soft dick, foreskin wrapping around his tip, one last drop of his cum falling on the carpet and you swore you saw yourself lying there to catch it in your mouth.

Getting up from your seat, you grabbed the water bottle, your legs leading you to his naked figure. “I think you need to rehydrate yourself.” What was that? You just came to him and talked to him?

Toto raised his brows in amused surprise, taking the bottle from you, opening it and taking a swig. A few droplets fell on his toned chest and you couldn’t help but follow the trail of them with your mouth slightly open.

“You’re staring, liebes.” Toto leaned closer just to whisper and then he walked into the bathroom with a wide smirk plastered on his face. You never saw him smiling like that.

You would melt onto the carpet if it wasn’t for the other members of the crew demanding their snacks and coffee.

—

The party was wild, the club was thumping with the loud music. You weren’t the one for the parties, but you went anyway to not be rude to your work mates. Wearing some tight dress, you looked amazing, every man stealing a look at you and that actress from earlier joined you for a bit at the bar. She ordered drinks for you both.

“Sorry, but I don’t drink.” You insisted, not exactly comfortable with the idea of the alcohol. She shrugged, ordering you a bottle of Coca Cola. Surprised that she took it simply like that, you smiled and enjoyed the sugar sweet drink.

“So, I noticed how you’re eyeing our star.” She teased you while taking a sip of her drink. You shot her a look and your cheeks turned red.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. The way you ran to him today after we were done with the filming… you’re definitely into him. But be careful, he’s not the type of guy for a romance.” she looked at you with a warning look while you just rolled your eyes.

“I would never want a porn star.”

“We all were there one time.”

You grabbed your coke and walked around the club to find a spot to sit in. Stumbling into some guy, he grabbed you by your waist, alcohol reeking from his mouth. “Heyyyy, hottie. Looking for fun?”

You tried to push him away but he only tightened his grip on you. “Don’t fight me, princess, you look like you could use some help with that fierceness in you.”

You huffed, resisting him. “Fuck you. Let me go.”

“She’s with me, so get lost.” His deep voice rang through your ears, the overwhelming presence rising behind you.

The man lifted his gaze and his face turned pale, he quickly let go of you, taking a step back.

A strong arm slid down your waist, pulling you close to him. It was Toto. “Are you okay?” He whispered into your hair.

You nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”

He led you to the booth at the side, letting you sit first, while he sat beside you to shield you from the curious looks of the people in the club.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously, trying to hide that heated blush over your cheeks. Toto noticed that and he placed his hand over yours to stop you.

“Just breathe, darling. It’s okay. I’m not gonna bite you.”

With a breathy chuckle, you looked up at him. “Why don’t I believe that?”

Smirking, he looked into your eyes, leaning closer to your face, his breath fanning over it. “Let’s talk about how you’re worked up every time you’re around on the set.”

Breath hitched in your throat, you blinked twice. “I— I’m—“

“There’s no point in denying it. Are you curious?”

“Yes. Well— everybody is when it comes to you, obviously.” You tried to laugh it off.

He took a sip of his drink, savouring the taste, his tongue licking his lips and you swore you felt yourself cumming in your panties already.

“You know, this girl today, Sasha, always a pleasure to make a scene with because she’s skilled, playful and painfully tight that it’s so easy to come without any help from some supplements I’m taking sometimes.”

You listened to him, his voice sounded like the most beautiful lullaby.

“But something tells me that you are innocent and pure. You like to watch and touch yourself later, thinking about how I would stretch your pretty little pussy, am I right?” His smirk made you insane.

A soft shriek escaped your throat, your legs pressed together under the table. “Y-yes…”

“Do you want this night to be unforgettable? I can give you what you want, but only if you want it. If you say yes, I’m yours for the night.” He was serious.

You sighed dreamily. “Yes. I want it. Please.”

Your soft plea was enough to make his pants tighter than it already was and he grabbed your hand, gesturing for you to get up and leading you back to the hotel.

The elevator ride was quiet, his fingers tapping against the golden wall, standing a few inches from you, his gaze hungrily taking you in.

Your heart was beating with anticipation and excitement, you couldn’t believe that you were about to have sex with the most wanted porn star in the world, you were practically shaking.

Soft thud of the door was heard after he closed it behind him while you already stood in the hotel room, the space filled with his heavy cologne, he took a few quick steps to you, cupping your face and kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

“Tell me, are you a virgin or…?” He whispered against your lips between the feverish kisses.

“N-no. But— I was only with one man. One time.” You murmured, lips getting swollen.

He hummed, his hands travelling down your curves as if he was about to get your shape carved into his brain, his mouth moving down your jaw to your neck, biting you gently.

Moans filled the air, you couldn’t think straight, your hands trying to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Pushing you gently onto the bed, he looked at your body, his eyes darkening more as he caught a glimpse of your lacy underwear with your dress hoisted up. One skilled motion after, his shirt was on the floor, hands grabbing you by your ankle and he pressed a kiss on your calf. You were already gripping the sheets, senses overwhelmed just from the simple touch.

“If you’re like this just from this, I can’t imagine how crazy you get when I’m onto your cunt.” He smirked, kisses trailing further to your core, his body leaning on the bed, slowly getting between your legs.

Your gaze hazed by curiosity, you watched him taking off your tiny lacy panties, hearing his amused chuckle after he inspected the wet arousal literally dripping off them. Taking a look at your folds he almost whimpered at the sight.

“You’re like the most beautiful petal I have ever seen, liebes. And I’m about to ruin it.” And with that he bore into your depths, his tongue lapping at your clit and inner lips, sucking on each of them, prodding your hole until he was fucking you with it.

Your hands tugged on his hair, choked sounds leaving your throat while your back arched in the intense pleasure.

“So sweet.” His voice vibrated through your core, the warmth spreading through your hips down to your legs and you remembered how skilled he was in this and that maybe every orgasm of his co stars were real.

His strong hands held your hips, his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud, he looked up at you to see how you’re doing. You were so lost, trying to catch a breath, sweat forming on your face. After a while he slowly pushed his finger through your walls, swearing at the tightness, and you immediately clenched around him.

“Toto—“ you whined desperately, trying to say that you’re about to come, but the release took over you instantly and you came hard, body shifting violently and you screamed from the top of your lungs.

Toto smiled smugly, taking his finger out of you and gently teasing your other hole at your butt. That made you gasp, your hands fleeting to push him away.

“Easy, baby girl, I’m just teasing you. You’re not curious about your other hole?” His eyes were shining bright from the excitement, veins flooded with adrenaline, his mouth wet from you.

You were still feeling so high and you couldn’t answer straight. Of course you were, but it was so embarrassing.

“You can trust me, liebling.” He sounded so inviting, still rubbing your sacred hole.

“But— only one finger.” You breathed out, and his grin widened.

Pushing your thighs back against your abdomen, he finally saw your backside, licking it gently while he held you in your place. It felt so dirty but arousing at the same time.

Your juices were still gushing out of your pussy so it was easy to lube that hole for his finger to get in.

That feeling was absolutely worth your consent because once his finger slid in, you nearly came again from the overwhelming sensation your butthole shot through your core.

Thrusting gently in and out, he caught your gaze to see if you’re comfortable or not. But by the way you drooled in the pleasured haze, he could tell that you’re so fucking over yourself.

“Oh yes, baby, so fucking tight. Clenching me like you want to eat my finger.” His words weren’t making it easier.

“Fuck— Toto! That’s—“

“Tell me. Tell me how it feels, liebes.” He huffed, his finger in your butt and his thumb circling your swollen clit.

“So fucking good!” Your voice high pitched, eyes wide.

“Mmm… what about this.” He added a second finger in your tight hole and you yelped loudly, clenching again and again, agony overtaking your body.

“I said— fuck— oh god, god, I’m— gonna—“

Your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles went white, your eyes nearly popped out of your eye sockets, you wanted to scream but only choked breath came out when you climaxed again.

Watching your trembling body, he slid out of you, crawling to you, lying with his huge and heavy body between your legs on the top of you and claiming your lips in the hot kiss. You couldn’t even move, every bit of you being sensitive.

“So amazing, schatz. But I think you want more than this. You want my huge cock in that soft and warm mouth of yours, hm?” he patted your cheeks with his wet fingers, his smile soft.

You nodded without further thinking, because he was right. You spent so many nights thinking about sucking his godly dick that now it felt unreal.

He helped you on your feet, guiding you on your knees on the carpeted floor while he sat on the edge of the bed. Smirk spreading over his face, he was completely satisfied to see you in this position and his pants were off along with his underwear in a moment. Hard and heavy cock now free and pointed up to the ceiling, his tip already leaking. Veins swollen and visible, he was twitching and aching for release.

Breathless you watched the beauty in front of you, absolutely speechless. Toto gave himself a soft stroke, a quiet moan leaving his throat and you visibly drooled.

“Come on. Cuddle with it, play with it. It’s yours.”

The invitation you needed. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, he gasped in surprise, his hand running through your hair pushing you closer gently and you kissed his tip. Still in awe at his size you hesitantly opened your mouth, nearing him, wrapping your lips around him. It was a hard task, but you tried your best, tears welling in your eyes as you bobbed your head slowly.

It was painful for him to hold back, to not push your head down his length completely, he huffed through the sensation, horny twitches shooting through his erection and each of it making you whimper through his skin.

“Good, yeah, take it slow. Oh my— princess— yes. You can do it.” He encouraged you and you picked your pace a little when you felt sure at what you’re doing, he was now almost lying on the bed propped on his elbows, watching you with his brows knotted and face in absolute disbelief at how delicate and welcoming your mouth was.

“Liebes— I’m—“ he whined, your eyes darkening with mischief, your core shaking at how you were satisfied with yourself.

Suddenly he stopped you, his legs shaking, you let go of him with a soft pop, your face a mess.

“I don’t want to cum yet. I want to fuck that wonderful cunt of yours.” He chuckled, his cock still twitching as if he was luring you to sit on it.

And you almost did but Toto leaned over to the pocket of his pants to get a condom. Pulling the thin latex down his size, you straddled his lap, sliding your pussy over it.

“You’re so needy, baby. But safety first.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you’d fill me, Toto.” You blurted out and he gave you an unreadable smile.

“Not gonna happen, liebes.” His voice shaky when he guided your hips down his member, your tightness hugged him and he nearly passed out from how sensitive he was.

“Not gonna lie, I would die to breed this pussy.” He whispered through the gritted teeth and you giggled playfully, swaying your hips a little bit then you felt him stretching you out so much that you whined.

“Not so funny now, huh?” He mocked you, giving your ass a little smack.

“So big—“ you huffed, holding onto his shoulders to get some balance.

“If you were mine I would train you every day to get you used to my size. You’re so goddamn tight, almost untouched rose, fuck— you’d be so full of me every single night and day.”

Your mind was spinning, bouncing on his cock now fully adjusted to him. His tip was making love with your cervix, every thrust welcoming him more and more.

Holding your hips, his hands wandered to your bum, spreading your cheeks and his right hand got close to your butt hole to tease it again with his finger. You didn’t fully notice until he was in again, the sensation of having your both holes filled was almost unbearable.

“Take it, baby. You’re a slut for me, whoring yourself for a filthy man like me.” His lips kissed your chest, your breasts in his face as you worked your hips down his cock.

You couldn’t comprehend a single word, this was something you haven’t even dreamed about.

“You have perfect tits.”

Without any word he got you off him, lying you on your stomach, and you were again filled with his cock to the brim, the change of the position helping him to get even deeper.

“Oh god. I love how you’re so wet. So creamy.” He groaned, thrusting unrelentlessly into you, sloppy noises of your bodies from the sweat covering your skin.

Your moans muffled by the pillow, you were trying to move your hips to meet his pace but you failed miserably.

Smacking your ass, he grabbed you by your hair to pull your head slightly back to make you gasp for air.

“Who’s your daddy?” He growled.

“Y-you are.” You whispered.

“I can’t hear you, little one.”

“You’re my daddy.” You tried so hard to be loud.

“Good girl.”

Then he got off the bed, scooping you from it and carrying you to the huge window with a view over the city. Putting you on your feet, you facing the window, he was behind you, filling you again, pushing you against the cool glass.

Your legs trembling, nearly failing to hold you up, he kept your hips moving with his large hands, impaling you with his magnificent cock.

“Look at the city. Take in how beautiful it is. If only everybody could see what a beautiful slut you are. Fuck—“ his breath hitched, muscles in his stomach tightening, his balls throbbing with an urge to come.

You whined pathetically, hands pressed against the window along with your messy face, you were unable to speak, at how cock drunk you were.

Toto saw it, spanking your ass again, grunting and panting loudly like a hungry lion, desperate to chase his climax.

“Do you want your face covered in my seed, you little whore?” He huffed through his gritted teeth, on the verge of his own high. With a simple nod you moaned your “yes”.

Shoving you on your knees, you looked up at him, he took off the condom in hurry, stroking his dick wildly, and in a moment his cum was spraying your face in thick spurts, you gasped in surprise, some of it landing in your mouth.

Once he was done, he palmed the last drop onto your lips, a satisfied moan escaping his lips while he smeared himself over your pretty face.

”Fuck— liebes, you’re incredible.” He breathed out, his hand brushing through the mess on your face.

With a giggle you licked your lips to taste him, whimpering at the divine feeling.

“Come on. I’m gonna finger that pussy of yours and give you one last ride.” Pushing you back on the bed, you laid on your stomach and his two fingers were already deep inside you, curled and abusing your g spot while he ate out your ass.

If you thought you lost your mind in the process before it was nothing to this sensation, feeling his tongue delving into your tight hole, making you clench, absolutely fantastic.

“Mhm, a perfect ass. Go on, schatz. Give it to me.” Increasing his pace more and more, his mouth doing wonders on your butthole, you were screaming his name in no meantime, squirming underneath him.

Toto bit you gently to your ass cheek which made you yelp softly and he chuckled amused.

“I can’t describe how hot you’re right now.” He took in how ruined you looked, but that satisfied grin plastered on your face was a chef's kiss.

“I could get used to doing this every day.” You mumbled while sighing dreamily.

His smile softened and turned into something different. Something distant.

“Come here, we need to clean you up, liebes.” He scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. His touch was soft, enjoying every moment spent with your skin, cleaning every spot he filthied earlier before. Drying you with the fluffy towel and helping you into one of his shirts that was too big for you but you looked adorable.

When he tucked you in the bed, he laid beside you, watching you, his finger grazing your now freshly scented skin. You noticed his look, he looked conflicted and torn in his mind. As if he was fighting something.

“What’s wrong, Toto?” You decided to break the silence.

He took in a sharp breath and kissed your forehead. “Nothing. Just go to sleep.”

“No, something is troubling you, I can see it.”

“Don’t try to act like my therapist. I gave you what you wanted, now sleep and in the morning you can go.” He howled and turned around to turn off the small lamp on the bedside table.

His words hurt you. Even though you knew this was just fun, you may have clung to him more than you wanted to admit.

But you somehow fell asleep.

In the morning you woke up with the soreness in your body that you never experienced before. A soft groan escaped your lips, you stretched your arms only to find out that you’re in the bed alone.

Sitting up you took a look around the room, noticing that your dress was neatly folded on the chair at the window, everything was clean as if nobody ever was there. There wasn’t a single trace of Toto, his things gone, the scent of his cologne faded and you felt the empty ache in your chest.

This was something you didn’t want. You still dreamed about him being your prince and saving you from your daily life.

He wasn’t a prince. He was a complicated man with many demons.

Grabbing your phone, you called your boss only to be interrupted by his chaotic words of Toto quitting the job, and how he’s gonna pay for his bills now that his main star was gone.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do.

But you felt somehow good that he decided to end his career as a porn star.

Because he deserved to live a decent life without his dick being constantly in the spotlight.

After that night in Singapore, you found a better job, somewhere at the law firm, you were an assistant with a classic 9-5.

Without a look back to your past, you lived the best out of your life.

It was about a year later when you sat in the small cafe at the corner of the town you worked in, scribbling some notes on the paper while you sipped on your coffee.

Suddenly a deep voice interrupted your reel of thoughts only for you to lift your gaze to land on the tall figure in front of the table.

“Long time no see, liebes.”

—

© All stories and written content created by me is not allowed to be used without my permission. If you wish to share, quote, or use any portion of my stories, please contact me directly.

—

RENT-A-BOYFRIEND RULES.pdf

physical touch (e.g., kissing, hand-holding, hugging) between a client and employee is allowed; however, the boundaries must be stated during the sign-up process to avoid any breaches. in the case of a boundary breached by either client or employee, please contact rentaboyfriend.com/costumer_service for more details.  for each appointment availed, 100% of the payment must be paid on the date of booking. falling in love and experiencing jealousy with and over the employee is strictly prohibited. the employees are workers with personal lives outside a client’s slotted time, personal information and feelings are not part of the conduct.  sexual intercourse is strictly prohibited. any initiation reported to the head department will lead to a termination of either the client's or the employee’s rent-a-boyfriend profile.  the client or employee may reschedule their appointment one week before the date. 

by agreeing to our terms and services, you hereby acknowledge that the relationship you are pursuing with an employee from rent-a-boyriend is not real. at the end of the appointment, the experience you had is part of the service, and is by no means a real, love-fostering ‘date’. 

you: mother, i got a boyfriend.

you: :)

I. lights, camera, action.

you picture stelle’s raised brows and her trying to hold in her guttural laugh as she eggs you on, “wow (y/n), first date already and he’s in your apartment? Attagirl!” and in perfect sync with her would be march’s uncontrolled giggles as she childishly repeats the motion of her index finger going in and out of her other hand that has formed into a circle. “I never knew you had in you, (y/n)! Remember to practice safe sex, okay?” 

and for that ungodly made-up scenario in your head, you choose to omit this detail from your friends and instead claim that you’re meeting up with him in the nearby theme park. a white lie that they’ll forget about in a few week’s time. while you yourself would have greatly preferred that to be the truth, reality often comes barreling in to disrupt you. 

that is to say, the moment you sent the text message to your mother announcing your so-called relationship, she’s been spamming your phone day and night begging to meet him through video call. at first, you tried to calm her by lying about your boyfriend being terrified to meet her, only for it to completely backfire as she promised to be on her best behavior when meeting him. you still remember the embarrassment that coursed through your veins as you texted your rental boyfriend about the meeting place, and you know the embarrassment will stick to you for days to come. 

and while calling in a different place is not a bad idea either, you’d rather not be in a public space where the script that you generously printed out could be seen by passing bystanders. if you could, you’d outright tell him that you’re not luring him into your apartment to violate guidelines and that you are not a pervert by any means, but saying those words out loud would only worsen the situation. 

you can only hope that he trusts you when you said that this video call is a one-time thing. 

your mother’s visage loads into your laptop screen, smile lines present as she beams at you in utter delight. she’s in the living room, and you can even spot your grumpy senior cat lounging in the background. you bow your head in greeting before smiling at her, “good afternoon, mother.”

“hello, my darling!” she leans in close to the camera, no doubt peering in to survey your background for any signs of the aforementioned ‘boyfriend’. “and where is my future son-in-law?”

your face heats up, flustered at her bold choice of words, “mother! don’t refer to him as such. we’ve only been together for a week, you’ll scare him!”

she only throws her head back and laughs, askewing her glasses without care. in her moment of distraction, you discreetly pull out your phone from below to view your recent messages.

phainon: i’ll be there any minute now

phainon: again, so sorry! Traffic took a while :( 

you: it’s okay. Take care. 

you sigh, nerves beginning to fray. you resume your focus back to your mother, pointing at your phone in hand, “my boyfriend said he’ll be here soon. I will wait for him at the front door.”

your mother frantically nods, “of course! You lovebirds must be dying to see each other, haha!”

“i’ll be turning off my camera and mic for now. when he arrives, please do not call him son-in-law, mother.” you cringe, dreading to imagine the tense smile on your rented boyfriend’s face.

you pick up two folders from the other side of the room, plopping them down just beneath the coffee table where your laptop sits. while you’re confident in your date’s memorization abilities, you prefer to play it safe. And true to his words, he comes knocking on your apartment door a minute or two later. 

standing up, you feel your palms getting clammy as you rush to welcome him in. the oak door creaks open, revealing phainon in all his boyish charm’s glory. pristine white hair, sparkling blue eyes, and wearing a casual fit consisting of a white shirt and baggy jeans. rather than a ‘hi’ or a ‘i hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get here’, the first thing you say to him is, “do you have the script memorized?”

he chuckles at that, setting aside his shoes before stepping in. “of course, how could i not with the effort you put into it?”

the effort in question is the FAQ section you added to the several-page-long document you sent first thing after introductions. in generosity, you even added an alternate option wherein he tries his best to act like the shittiest guy in the world so that your mother will beg for you to break up with him. 

but he had kindly refused, stating that he didn’t want to be the subject of several aunties’ conversations for several years. you understand where he’s coming from. auntie gossip feels like its own curse. 

you smile, ushering him further into your apartment. “thank you for accepting my ludicrous offer, phainon. have you eaten yet?”

he shakes his head no, observing the trinkets and personalized furniture you have displayed, “it’s no problem to me, (y/n). in fact, i’m eager to play actor for your mom.”

stopping right outside of the living room door, you glance at him over your shoulder. “remember the script, okay? my mother is not a harsh person, quite the opposite, actually. but she’s intelligent and quick to pick up on any discrepancies. the moment she notices a fault and a lack of consistency in our stories, it’s over.”

“and there’s a printed-out script on the floor, but if you need to read it, signal it to me first.” 

he salutes you like a sergeant, back straightened and all. “got it! I’ll keep that in mind.”

you inhale, grabbing hold of the knob, “ready?”

phainon grins, “always.”

the script you created plays out like this: while studying for your first midterm, you resorted to a secluded library with a nearby cafe. amidst your dutiful reading, you felt hunger and went to the cafe for a quick snack. the person manning the counter during that time was phainon, and you immediately formed a crush on him, adding that place into a near-daily routine. after a month or two of ogling at him, you one day steeled your nerves and asked him for his number, which he dutifully complied with. you flirted with each other through text for a while before phainon decided to ask you to be his date for a nearby festival. and the rest is history.  

when you first presented this storyline to your two friends lucky enough to know you’re about to fake a relationship, they both wore faces of disgust, as if what you had shown them was human feces scooped up with your bare hands rather than a document.

“i thought i begged you to stop watching those romance dramas that sushang introduced you to?” stelle, the enabler for your whole scheme in the first place, crinkles her nose, swatting away your phone like it personally wronged her. 

“like come on, a person asking for a barista’s number would be reported asap! get real, (y/n). Are you just going to infodump that on your mom?” march squints her eyes shut, dramatically shivering. “you should just say that you met through AstralGram!”

“that’s objectively ten times worse. sit this one out, march.” you huff, shutting off your phone, “you both don’t get it. my mother adores this type of relationship. she’s a chronic xianzhou romance drama watcher with a premium subscription.”

“right. sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” stelle pulls out her phone, getting ready to gamble, “just remember to update us.”

assholes, the lot of them. out of pure spite, you won’t. after the success of fully making your mother believe that you are now in a committed relationship, you like to think that your two assholes of friends don’t deserve to know that. for now. wrapping up the plastic container in a cute, patterned cloth, you turn around to give it to an awaiting phainon on the living room couch.

“here, as a token of my gratitude,” his calloused hands reach out to accept, briefly brushing against yours. 

“you didn’t need to do this, (y/n). but still, thank you.” he cradles the clothed container to his abdomen, peering up at you in gratitude. 

“it’s the least i could do.” you give a thoughtful hum, looking at your cat-themed wall clock ticking away, “next week, we’ll meet in a restaurant as per my mother’s wish. i hope this is fine with you?”

“and you’ll send her pictures of us on the date, right?” phainon clarifies, stretching his body out. 

you nod. “of course, the date will be fully paid by me. should you lack formal attire, tell me now so I can transfer extra funds to your account.”

phainon gapes at you, blue eyes wide open, “...i’m deeply sorry if i’m just assuming things, but wow, you are loaded.” 

you look at him in confusion, “with the website’s payment rates to afford just one appointment, i would hope so.”

you stare at your phone, confusedly blinking at the 58th cat meme that phainon had sent you ever since he managed to pry out the name of your senior cat back home. the first time he had sent you a meme, you believed that it was an accident on his part. but now, it appears that his chattiness simply carries on over to texts, regardless of who he’s sending nonsensical clips to. so you give him another laughing emoji reaction rather than a reply, because the image did make you laugh. 

but he sends another meme just 10 seconds later, making you look at it in astonishment.

you: where do you get all these materials?

phainon: you finally responded!

you: ? 

you: I’ve been responding to each one of them?

phainon: laughing reacts don’t count

phainon: i thought you ghosted me :(((

you: phainon, that is not ghosting. and what would i gain from ghosting you? I need you. 

phainon: .

phainon: you need me????

you: yes, because i rent you to be my boyfriend?

he doesn’t grace you with a reply thereafter, so you shut off your phone and redirect your attention to a struggling march with calculus, back bent over the table as she tries her best to take in the formulas. beside her is a thriving stelle typing her way through a multi-paged essay, a perfect dichotomy to the pink-haired girl’s misery. and just across from you is dan heng,

who is already staring right at you, arms crossed.

you tilt your head, “is something wrong?”

“you have a boyfriend?” dan heng asks, brows furrowed, and you hope that the flinch you give doesn’t reveal your scheme. 

giving him a small smile, you nod, “...who told you that?”

march and stelle are quick to abandon their respective work in favor of listening in through side glances. you wish you could ask for their help, but alas, this is a battlefield you must fight alone. 

“i found out through auntie. hm, i was wondering who the guy entering your apartment a few days back was.”

of course he did, childhood friends be damned, dan heng lives just a few doors down the floor as your mother wanted him to live nearby to watch over you. just like when you were children.

“s- she told you?” you mentally curse out your stutter. if dan heng ever finds out that you were faking it, would he tell your mother? you shiver just from entertaining the thought. “are you… mad?”

dan heng sighs, a weary sound, as if his soul is thousands of years old, “no, not mad. just… disappointed, i suppose.”

chewing on your lip, you press further. “why?”

it takes him a moment to reply, and when he does, there is a strange note of melancholy in his voice, “it’s... nothing, don’t worry about it.”

II. my boyfriend is a fake one, but i care regardless. 

a cumulative 8 dates later, alternatively, two months, it is now a well-known fact around your circle of friends and acquaintances that you have a boyfriend, with march and stelle being the only exceptions to your lie. you never revealed his name, only giving a vague description of his appearance, in fear of someone finding out about the rental boyfriend site. and you substitute his name by simply just referring to him as your ‘boyfriend’ or ‘lover’. 

the false relationship begins to bleed through personal parts of your life in order to maintain the facade, trickling further day by day. your old lockscreen, a photo of your cat when she was still a kitten, has been swapped out for a selfie with phainon taken during a beach date, both smiling widely - your hair partially wet, and phainon’s abs peeking through his sheer shirt. his contact name on your phone has undergone changes, too. a formal 'phainon' transformed into a cringy, eye rolling, 'babe'.

you’re required to slip him into a conversation every now and then, lest people start to think that you broke up. if they start thinking that, then the news will get to dan heng, who will then report back to your mother over your failed relationship. it’s too early for separation. 

a topic about working out more will have you remarking, “oh! I believe that my boyfriend has a routine for the upper body, i can ask him for you if you’d like.”

your mother will send a picture of an item saying, “i think phainon would love this!” and you’ll reply through text with, “yes, i agree :)”

some random student hitting on you in the hallway gives you a valid reason to reject them, “sorry, i have a boyfriend.”

a conversation with your peer during free time in class leads to a topic about relationships, and they’ll complain about their significant other’s bad habit before asking about yours. with a practiced smile, you laugh, “he has none.”

you hold slight envy toward your rented boyfriend in times like these, while you’re here needing to mention him at least once per day, he’s free to live life as he pleases, not tied down to an obligated lie around others. you imagine then what it’d be like to be in his shoes, a rental boyfriend, taking pictures together as if you’re enjoying the time of your life with your client and appearing lovey-dovey to send it to her mother before going back home with a new check having just arrived in your bank account.

perhaps in an alternate reality, should such a thing exist, you’re the employee living a hassle-free life, attending dates almost daily. you laugh at the thought, finding it unfit for you. 

well, you’re happy that phainon is at least free from this mess outside the slotted date each week. 

still… you sneak a look over his side profile, dimly lit from the theater you’re currently in. perhaps once a week is too much for his schedule. he is, just like you, a college student with his own set of deadlines and classes struggling with. he may be paid, but is it at the cost of his academics, you wonder?

you can’t bring yourself to focus at the movie when phainon’s head is bobbling up and down while he tries to abate the sweet respite of sleep. you lean to whisper in his ear, “are you alright?”

he immediately shoots upright, casting you a wobbly smile and speaks in a reassured tone that, in fact, does not reassure you, “sorry, sorry! Just a little tired.”

you ponder to yourself if what you’re doing is meddling with the guidelines of your rental boyfriend when you ask, “what’s wrong? You don’t look too well.”

phainon pauses, head turned to you as he’s illuminated by the light coming from the screen. you see him visibly gulp, you spot his fingers twitch, and the askew strands of hair sticking out. he doesn’t look fine, probably hasn’t been for days now.

the decision is made then, you don’t wait for his reply when you tug at his wrist and point in the direction of the exit, “let’s get out of here, come on.”

his eyes widen, and he stutters (the first time you’ve heard it from him), refusing to stand up from his seat, “but what about the movie?”

you huff, tugging on his wrist harder despite knowing you have no physical strength against him, “it’s most likely some slop. I’m saving our time here, let’s go.” you give him a pleading look, bottom lip jutting out as you try to mirror his signature kicked puppy expression, “please, phainon?”

phainon closes his eyes and with a resigned sigh, mutters, “fine.”

phainon’s cheerful exterior leads to cracks of vulnerability harder to break through. as you sit with him inside a mostly empty diner, you start to think that he’ll never speak up about his recent troubles. nursing an iced tea, “this is fine, too. We can just sit here in silence until time is up,” you offer, gazing at his troubled eyes. this is a first for you, your friends easily trust you, so they spill out their darkest thoughts and troubles like waterfalls cascading, dan heng included. 

to see phainon so guarded… 

he hasn’t even touched the food you ordered for him. from what your memory recalled during past dates, he adores a classic burger with fries on the side. did he get sick of it? or is he craving something different today? you harshly chew on your bottom lip, worry gnawing away at your conscience. but if he doesn’t eat, would that not lead to even more lethargy? should he pass out here and then, do you even possess the strength to carry him to safety? maybe you should take his gym routi-

phainon reluctantly picks up a fry, his usually bright blue eyes downcast with dark bags beneath. and just like that, the dam breaks. shedding some of his bravado as he begins to speak of his life, of his experiences that shaped him - that clings to his skin every waking day.

you and him stay in that diner way past the agreed time slot you booked him for, but you couldn't care less when phainon is bearing his heart out to you. he paints himself in colors that, for once, don’t serve to make him shine brighter. a stroke of green, as he expresses envy toward his peers back in college that didn’t need to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to attend, you think he felt envious toward you at some point, too. a hurried gray while he recalls his family, whom he had lost to a wildfire when he was still scrawny and little. 

a beautiful purple, he tells you of how he grew up in an orphanage after, and how he had to take up odd jobs around the city to save up for a dream he wished to fulfill; leaving amphoreus to study in a place far away. a deafening black for when he discovered how to make easy money through the rental boyfriend website his college friend introduced him to, no more picking up odd jobs and heavy labour. 

a navy blue for he rebuilt himself from the ground, tweaking aspects of himself to parade around to be the general ideal type of man that most would flock to; up to date with trends, flirty but charming, good looking, and nice.

at the end of it all, his bright colors of sunny yellow, slate white, bright red, and teal are overshadowed by the neutral tones he reveals to you. You had been sorely mistaken, you realize, having assumed that he is what he portrays himself as rather than seeing what he actually is: a method actor called upon the stage the moment he enters one of his countless appointments, dedicated to his role of playing the picture-perfect boyfriend. 

your heart squeezes in pain, knowing that you’re part of his burdens, no matter if you’re just a speck. your eyes are peeled back, beginning to view him as less of a guy you just pay to pretend he’s your perfect lover, and more of a friend who deals with his own problems just like everyone else. pure ignorance on your part. 

he looks at you as he finishes his long-winded talk, searching for an inkling of annoyance or disgust in your eyes as you stare back at him. at that moment, you could only offer a classic, “I’m sorry.”

phainon shakes his head, defeated, “you have nothing to be sorry for, (y/n).”

you wish you could let him go right now, announcing to him that he’s free from you as a client to lessen his burden. someone else will be quick to replace you as his client, after all. but your mother’s approval weighs above all, even above your own priorities. your hands ache to reach across the table to hold him comfortingly, wishing that you can tell him it’ll only be 6 more months until he’s free. 

for now, your lips part to give him the barest minimum, “you can just play up the boyfriend act for the photos to send to my mother. everything else,” you smile, “just treat me like you would a friend. that’s the least i can gift you, phainon.”

his breath hitches. he pauses, wetting his lips before looking at you in earnest, eyes shining from unshed tears, “thank you.”

and if the scheduled date the following week takes place in a restaurant that specializes in serving dishes from amphoreus, if only to give him a crumb of home? you will turn a blind eye to phainon’s astonished face and pretend that you hadn’t known this would happen.

but as his fingers tenderly interlaced themselves with your own as he walked you to the parking lot, his gratitude was more than felt. 

“what? my mother’s number?” you frown, pausing mid-bite, “are you… hitting on my mother, phainon?”

phainon refutes the moment the accusatory words leave your mouth, hands forming an ‘X’ as he violently shakes his head from left to right, “what? no! it’s so i can talk to her through text!”

you merely raise a brow, not seeing where he’s going. it causes him to hurry his explanation.

“she’s been pestering you about another video call, right? I mean, i don’t mind…” he blushes, looking at you as a giddy smile forms on his lips, “but…! give me her number so i can earn brownie points and be the best boyfriend ever.”

ah. “so you’ll sacrifice your free time to distract her from bothering me? you see, she's a very talkative person.”

he nods, scarily resembling a happy puppy from his white tufts of hair and goofy smile, “yeah, your paper is due next week, right? Don’t worry, i’ll talk to her like a good son-in-law.”

you exhale at his jokingly proclaimed title, making you recall back to when your own mother referred to him as such. “sure, whatever floats your boat.”

III. an unscripted moment.

you wake with a blaring awareness that the mere act of swallowing hurts, and your entire body is burning up. your back feels sticky from dried sweat, and your body screams at you as you reach for your phone on the bedside table. It’s 11:34 AM, friday. no classes, but a date with phainon as per schedule.

you groan, eyes burning up the longer you stare at your screen. with sluggish movements, you quickly type up a message to send him before shutting your eyes once more, praying that slumber will quell your horrid fever. 

you: i'm cancelling the date today.

you: don't worry, you still keep the money.

the influx of notifications coming from your phone in relentless ‘ping’s are fruitless. 

the second time you blearily blink your eyes open, you hear the faint, yet never-ending, sound of knocking coming from your apartment door. body still burning up, you whimper in pain as you sit up, immediately feeling your skull going around in circles. it induces nausea in you. once more reaching your phone, you’re greeted by an onslaught of spam texts from phainon that are still ongoing.

- 11:34AM - 

you: i'm cancelling the date today.

you: don't worry, you still keep the money.

babe: woah? good morning to you too beautiful

babe: nice joke btw i laughed

- 11:40AM -

babe: i said i laughed at your joke

babe: so take back what you said :( 

babe: (y/n)?

- 11:55AM - 

babe: hey. are you mad at me?

babe: (y/n)???

babe: give me a laugh react and i’ll take that as no

babe: or at least read my message

- 12:10PM -

babe: whatever i did wrong im sorry

babe: so respond to me 

babe: please?

babe: or at least let this be a joke you’re just dragging on

babe: i won’t even be mad

babe: just

babe: happy 

- 12:31PM - 

babe: please answer me

babe: im starting to get worried

babe: are you in danger?

babe: or maybe you don’t want me around anymore

babe: haha

- 12:45PM -

missed call from babe.

missed call from babe.

babe: pick up

babe: im begging you

- 1:12PM - 

babe: i wish i could visit your apartment to check up on you

babe: but fuck. Would that be too much?

- 1:33PM - 

babe: i asked auntie if you were in your apartment

babe: told her you weren’t responding to me

babe: and she said you weren’t replying back to her either

babe: i’m sorry but i need to visit you

babe: i can’t you lose you like this.

- 2:00PM - 

babe: i’m at your front door

babe: answer me. Please?

- 2:22PM - 

babe: (y/n) i know you’re finally reading all these messages

babe: your reading receipts are turned on

you: i know, phainon.

you: i just woke up, i’m sorry for making you worry. 

you: hold on, i’ll unlock the door for you.

despite wanting to remain in the comfort of your bed, your sickness won’t quickly abate if you continue to rot here and allow your guest standing outside. with slow, measured steps, careful not to worsen your headache, you eventually reach the door to welcome phainon in.

blessed with looks he may be, right now, he looks like a mess. his usual part in his white hair is nowhere to be found, resembling a bird’s nest rather than a hairstyle. his eyes are shrouded in a mix of worry and devastation, and his usual stylish outfits are severely downgraded into a bright yellow hoodie and… purple pants?

you have always been one for honesty, ironic considering your relationship is a hoax, so you look at him and croak out, “you look like shit.”

your words are static noise with phainon’s worry worsening as he looks at you from head to toe, hand holding onto you like you’d wither without him, “have you eaten yet? your body is burning up.” to double-check, he presses his other hand up to your forehead, gasping in shock when he does so.

his lips wobble, acting like he’s in just as much pain as you. rather, seeing you in pain puts him in much worse agony, “lay down on your bed,” he ushers you further down the hall, “i’ll cook you something warm. did you finish all your backlogs yet? I can do them for you.”

weak hands try their best to pry off phainon’s steady grip on you as you sluggishly mutter, “it’s okay, phainon… you don’t have to be here.” a yawn, “i’ll be fine, i promise. the payment won’t be deducted from you.”

instead of a relieved expression you envisioned, phainon’s face sours, “it’s not about that,” he retorts, tone curt. “i want to take care of you, so please let me.”

with the firmer shove, yet still mindful of your weakened state, “go back to your room and rest. It’ll take a while for me to cook, okay?”

you sigh, feeling the room melting around your vision, “yeah, fine. whatever. don’t complain if you end up regretting this.”

his usual liveliness resumes when you hear him laugh, “i would never.”

you don’t resume sleep, having overslept more than enough for today. yet looking at your phone only irritates your headache further, leaving you no choice but to play background music while staring up at your ceiling, contemplating your past actions this week to see where you went wrong that led to you being bedridden. 

you hate getting sick. you try to prevent it as much as possible by eating your daily dose of greens, fruits, and protein, and you always make sure to bring an umbrella in case of an unexpected weather. you try your best not to stay up too late if preventable, and yet… 

phainon knocks twice before entering your room. his left hand carries a steaming bowl that, upon further inspection, is tomato soup. his hair pushed back using your headband, and he’s wearing the pink, glittery apron that march gifted you earlier this year. the hot pink layered on top of his yellow and purple combo fit makes you laugh, triggering a coughing fit. 

he hurries to set down the bowl and fishes his phone out of his pants before patting your back, “what’s wrong, are you okay?”

you let last few coughs before hoarsely replying, “i like your fit.” he looks down on himself like he hadn’t thought of what he was wearing prior, “oh.”

red dusts the tip of his ears as he pulls back, clearing his throat and hurrying out of the room, “anyways! i’ll go get the other bowl and cups, let’s eat together.” he’s gone before you can even laugh a second time. 

your focus is soon shifted when you spot his phone on the bedside table. He left it behind, the screen flashing open as a push notification came, briefly exposing his lockscreen. even in your fever-addled mind, you recognize the exact picture,

it’s the beach date picture, the same one set as your own lockscreen. 

you blink in wonder. it had only appeared on the screen for a split second. was that a product of your imaginative fever-induced mind? if not, why would he set that picture as his lockscreen?

IV. what to do if your rented boyfriend starts to act a little too seriously?

the first thing you had done after signing up for the rent-a-boyfriend website was to read their guidelines. you had incinerated each and every word into your retinas, ensuring that you wouldn’t forget a single thing, no matter how much time passed. among the guidelines that stuck with you the most was;

falling in love and experiencing jealousy with and over the employee is strictly prohibited. the employees are workers with personal lives outside a client’s slotted time, personal information and feelings are not part of the conduct. 

you kept this in mind from the moment you had chosen phainon to be the unfortunate victim to your false relationship. you even assured him through email that you’re not the type to fall in love so easily, especially not under a measly 8 months. 

this stands true even now.

falling in love and experiencing jealousy with and over the employee is strictly prohibited. the employees are workers with personal lives outside a client’s slotted time, personal information and feelings are not part of the conduct.

phainon is an amazing actor when he needs to play the boyfriend role. he deserves flowers for that. had he not been living under unfortunate circumstances, you’re sure you would’ve seen his handsome face playing as the male lead for one of the xianzhou romance dramas that your mother watches in the evening. he suits every romance trope, oddly enough.

falling in love and experiencing jealousy with and over the employee is strictly prohibited. the employees are workers with personal lives outside a client’s slotted time, personal information and feelings are not part of the conduct.

but even you cannot turn a blind eye to the gradual, sinking feeling that slowly began to accumulate in your stomach after your fever incident. you recall the rules inscribed upon the website, clients are strictly prohibited from falling in love with their rental boyfriends.

falling in love and experiencing jealousy with and over the employee is strictly prohibited. the employees are workers with personal lives outside a client’s slotted time, personal information and feelings are not part of the conduct. 

pray tell, what can you do if the rental boyfriend is the one in love with you?

days leading up to the long-awaited semester break, or alternatively, nearly 4 months into your rental boyfriend antics, your mother messaged you one late evening. you had been losing your mind over a stern professor, crying immaturely over the directions they had given for finals, or lack thereof, that had you losing days’ worth of sleep just to fulfill.

at that moment, the notification from her had brought salvation to your suffering, making you forget about such troubles, even if for a brief moment, just to see what she had to say. the content of her message, however, made you raise your brow. 

mother: semester break is soon, right?

you: yes, mother. :) 

mother: and you’re coming back home, right? ☺️

you: of course, mother.

mother: that’s wonderful!

mother: i’ve been thinking about it for quite a while

mother: and i was wondering

mother: maybe you should bring phainon with you!

mother: i can cook your favorite meal for him to taste

you: what

you: apologies for my abrupt reply. 

you: however, bringing my boyfriend along to meet the family… mother, is that not too soon?

you: phainon and i are barely hitting the four-month mark.

you: the last thing i want is to scare him away.

mother: oh, you’re overthinking this!

mother: phainon is a sweet boy! he’s been telling me that you’re under his loving care 💓

mother: he even sent me a picture of you when you caught that fever ;)

you: he truly is, yes. but…

you: give me more time to think about this, please.

you recount this situation to your date with phainon a few days later, deeply troubled at how you’re going to tell your mother that your rental boyfriend cannot, in fact, be brought back home. he has his own life, friends, and duties. he’s either going to stay in his own apartment here or visit amphoreus for the month of december.

phainon, in an ideal world, would have laughed at you and agreed that he wouldn’t be available for semester break. probably throw in a tease or two about company rules and whatnot. instead, the phainon in front of you merely sips his drink, blinking with no surprise or mortification whatsoever. “oh, i know. auntie told me yesterday. but don’t worry! i already told her i was coming.”

that’s not what you were… you inhaled sharply, “what? Wait.” you rubbed your temple, frustration reaching an all-time high, “that would be near impossible, phainon.”

“why so?” he prods, expertly dodging your swatting hands as he steals a fry from your meal. 

“because you need to book a flight? And there’s less than two weeks left for that?” you stress, “and what about amphoreus? your friends back there must be worried sick over you. you truly don’t need to sacrifice this much for me, phainon. i will tell my mother that yo-”

“you worry your pretty head too much,” his thumb tenderly rubs at the crease formed between your brows. he stares deep into your eyes, "relax, it’ll be fine. I want to be there, (y/n).”

“remember, don’t mention any unfavorable traits about either myself or you. they don’t know how i act outside our house, and they don’t know your work description. avoid speaking about our fabricated love story as much as possible so we can play safe,” you call out from behind phainon, worriedly looking over your childhood home just a few feet away. your hands itch to hold something, but phainon had already graciously carried your luggage for you.

he simply nods, focused on making that both your luggages don’t swerve in the other direction as he hoists it up the stairs. clearing your throat, you prepare yourself in front of the closed door, casting phainon a side glance as you caution him one last time, “let’s be on our best behavior.”

“just for you.” he winks, knocking on the door first before you could. you roll your eyes.

the muted clicks of heels fast approaching tenses you up, knowing that your mother will be opening the door for you and your boyfriend. you take a deep breath right as the entrance creaks open, displaying your mother in all her glory. her glasses perched on her nose bridge, wearing a black turtle neck, and a long skirt with red bottom heels. she gasps excitedly, eyes locked onto you before even taking a look at the man on your side. 

“hello, mother.” you give a tight smile whereas phainon does a perfect bow, “good evening, mrs. (l/n)!”

“welcome home, you two!” her hand eagerly reaches out to take care of all the luggage but phainon politely refuses as he hauls them all inside. stripping off your shoes, you take a look around your home, finding it strange how quickly it had become unfamiliar from the months you’d been away for college. while you had grown up vaguely aware that your family possessed, it had never truly sunk into your mind until you met march and stelle during the last year of high school. opulence bleeds through every corner of your spacious house, not blaringly so, but subtly, akin to a glimmering gem beneath light.

phainon’s hand quickly finds purchase in yours, happily swinging them back and forth while you follow closely behind your mother. he leans in to whisper into your ear, “you’re adorable.” you throw him an unamused look. he tilts his head, all coy, “what? Don’t tell me you’re not seeing the picture frames all over the walls?”

“not another word.” you whisper back, bumping his side into the hallway. 

your mother leads you to the dining room, a massive elongated table that makes your father feel like an emperor every time he sits at the head. an overkill purchase on his part, considering you only had one other sibling, but you suppose that man will buy anything for the sake of his ego. 

“phainon, you sit next to (y/n), of course.” she pulls out two seats, eyeing your interlocked fingers with twinkling eyes. “oh, and you’ll be staying here until the end of the month, yes?”

phainon eagerly nods, tugging you along to your designated seats, “yes, mrs. (l/n)!”

you hold back the urge to ram your face straight into the wall, already feeling drained as you wait for the long night ahead. 

late past midnight, there’s a knocking on your door that rouses you from your desk. having retired back to your childhood bedroom the moment family dinner was done, leaving phainon with your family downstairs with nothing but a withering glare on your face as warning. but he merely nodded, sending you kissy faces, before going back to arm wrestling with your father to prove that he was ‘worth your love’ while your sibling howls in laughter.

“who’s there?” you call out, staring at the door.

for a moment, the knocking stills, silence wafting in the air. 

then it picks up again.

you huff, now staring indignantly, “pardon me, i asked who’s there?”

silence. knocking.

nerves fully riled up, you throw your phone down before stomping over until you’re right in front of your door. “are you going to keep knocking or what?”

finally, “it’s me, phainon…” he twists the doorknob left and right, rattling it. 

you frown, noting the low volume of his voice and the slur in his words. “phainon?” you open the door, light from your bedroom pooling into the dark hallway as you stare up at your rental boyfriend’s face. “do you need something?”

you observe his features; flujshed cheeks, unfocused eyes, and fringe covering his other eye… there’s no doubt in your mind, phainon is at best, tipsy, and at worst, wasted. it must be from the rum that your father adores, you conclude, finger brushing his hair from his face. “hello? Are you still with me, phainon?”

he blinks slowly, eyes trying to focus on you but it’s a useless endeavor. “i…” he leans closer, towering over you and smelling like dark molasses, permeating through the air, “can we uh, talk? please?”

you pause. “why? about what?”

“just, i-” he fumbles with his words, inching closer and closer, “i wanna talk about something…”

“is it important? it’s,” you glance behind to look at the wall clock, “twelve-fifty in the morning, phainon.”

“yeah, it’s- it’s really important,” his foot wedges inside, like he’s scared you’d close it on him, “i promise.”

you open the door further, encouraging him inside. he follows through with swaying footsteps, blue eyes fixated on you. you sit him down on the edge of the bed, sitting right beside, “what is it?”

he doesn’t answer you right away, merely looking around your room with this awed look on his face. his gaze sifts through your old shelf filled with dolls and dollhouses, and just beside is a shelf dedicated to all the trophies and medals you acquired while studying. a little further left is the door entrance to your walk-in closet, where some of your clothes from kindergarten are still somewhere inside, buried beneath your newer, shinier clothes. 

phainon then sinks into your bed, back resting against the lush mattress of you beloved bed. you think you heard him inhale the bedsheets before speaking, “your mom…. she said that i’m your first boyfriend.”

he turns his head, red flush still present while beholding you, “is that.. Is that true?”

your lips purse, “well, that’s what they believe, yes.”

he inches closer until his bare forearm makes contact with your pajama-clad ones, “and your dad, he… welcomed me to the family. said that he always wanted you to be happy, you know? and.”

you stay silent, allowing him to continue. “your sibling, they congratulated me… joked about waiting for the wedding.”

your face sours, recoiling from guilt at the massive farce that you’ve been playing right in front of your family, “that’s…” you bite your lip, “it’s whatever. probably a result from the festive atmosphere, don’t let them get to you, phainon. this is just business at the end of the day.”

his face falls, a vacant look overtaking. 

“...is it really?”

“it is.” you reply, not missing a beat, finally catching up to what he’s here for. “phainon, don’t be ridiculous right now.”

“i’m not ridiculous, (y/n).” he softly chastises, sitting up as he corners you to the edge of your bed. “don’t tell me you’re not feeling what i’m feeling every time i see you. this feeling is mutual, isn’t it?” and you’re so dumbstruck at the entire situation that you can’t seem to formulate a response to his ludicrous actions.

phainon climbs on top of your body, calloused hands cradling you as if you were a star he bottled up with his own two hands. he leans in just mere centimeters away from your lips to whisper madness meant to be shared only with you, “i love you, i truly do. i want to be your real boyfriend. i want to go around my campus and yell out your name. i want to say your name every time someone asks me if i’m taken. it makes me want to crawl out of my skin when i go on a date with someone who isn’t you. i want to spend each and every morning until death in your arms. i want to graduate and get a job to provide for you. i love you so, so much (y/n), you’re all i ever wished for. i’m so tired of pretending to be this pristine guy i’m not.”

a heaving gasp, nails digging into his skin that only serves to make him groan out in pleasure, “phainon-”

he leans in to kiss you, sealing and tainting your first kiss with his filth. your childhood plushie resting on your desk being the sole witness.

years down the line, i will make you look back and say that you're glad you found me through that website. then your eyes will glisten in affection as you lean into my embrace and say, "i love you, phainon." as easily as breathing.

rent-a-bf phainon, if he was allowed to be absolutely manic: are you talking to other people be honest w me