#lnds

He's ruining you. Reshaping you. Your tight little hole wasn't built for this, wasn't made for a cock this fat, this long, this mean- and he can't decide if the thought makes him want to pull out and apologize or grab your hips and bury himself to the hilt just to watch you fall apart.

"Shh, shh, hey." His voice has dropped low, rougher than you've ever heard it, and there's something dark flickering in those usually playful eyes. That possessive edge he's hidden for years, now surfacing as he stares down at where his thick cockhead is trying desperately to sink into your fluttering hole, "I've waited so long for this, Pips... For you. We're going to make it fit, okay? I'll take care of you, just like i always have."

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. So gentle. So caring. So him.

And then his other hand pins your hip to the mattress as he snaps forward, burying every fat inch inside you in one brutal thrust.

"AHHH- CALEB!!" Your scream tears through his quiet apartment, back arching clean off the sheets as your cunt is forced to stretch around him, walls clenching and spasming helplessly against the intrusion.

It's too much -he's too much-, splitting you open on a cock that has no business being attached to a man who watches you like that. All soft, starving devotion. A loyal pup at the feet of its goddess, even while he wrecks you.

"Pips- oh, fuck, there we go," Caleb groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, those pretty eyes rolling back slightly as he bottoms out. His pelvis grinds against yours, the root of him stuffed so deep you can feel him in your goddamn stomach. "You're so tight- shit, is it always like this? Is this-"

"Y-you're my f-first too, you idiot," you sob, and something breaks in his expression.

First. I'm her first. She waited for me too.

"Oh, Pipsqueak," he breathes, and now both hands are cradling your face while his hips stay perfectly still to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside you, and you keen. "My sweet girl. I didn't know. I didn't-" He drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, "I thought- I would've been gentler, I would've-"

"N'just-" You gulp for air, body quaking, "just stay still. M'need to -hah- adjust"

He nods, pressing apologetic kisses all over your tear stained face while his massive length pulses inside your stretched out cunt. But even as he soothes you, that darker part of his mind is calculating.

If I keep her on my cock long enough... if I fuck her through it over and over... her body will learn. She'll mold to me. Only me. She won't be able to take anyone else after this...

Good.

And when your walls finally relax enough for him to move, rolling his hips in a slow, devastating grind that makes your eyes roll back... Caleb learns something else about himself that night...

He was never going to be satisfied with gentle.

You nod too fast, cheeks heating as you tug the blanket higher, squishing your thighs together, praying the movement looks causal.

“Are you sure? You’ve been… I dunno… weird tonight.”

“Weird?” you squeak. “What do you mean?”

Caleb turns fully toward you, and you stubbornly keep your gaze locked on the screen. Something shifts in the air under his attention, the room warming and suddenly shrinking two sizes too small. 

“Hey,” his voice is gentle. “Look at me.”

You swallow hard, finding your will, and turn your head. 

Caleb’s eyes are wide, but not with concern alone. They drift over the blanket wrapped around your body, then back to your face, soft but intent. 

“You don’t have to lie,” he murmurs. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not!” you defend quickly. “I could never be uncomfortable with you. I’m just… having one of those days…”

“Yeah?” His voice drops then, like he already knows. He shifts just an inch closer and it makes everything worse. “Y’know you don’t have to lie to me, pips.”

You close your eyes, exhaling. He’s not going to let it go.

“It’s just… that day during my cycle,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the blanket. “It… makes me all flustered and…” you trail off, never more embarrassed. 

“Can I help?”

Your eyes snap open. “W-What?”

“Can I help?” he repeats, already moving closer to crowd your space. Large arms brace on either side of your hips. His gaze goes hazy, hungry in a way you’ve never let yourself notice before. “Please?”

You choke on a gasp, the sound breaking into a needy whine. Your mind pulls in two opposite directions–your pussy throbbing helplessly at the offer while your heart twists at how much could change if you give in. 

The decision is made for you. Caleb sees the hesitation, but the desire in your eyes win. His lips crash onto yours.

You melt instantly. Of course you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him close while you pant into his mouth like you’ve been craving this for far longer than just tonight. 

Your heart pounds in time with the pulse between your thighs, completely soaking you through the dainty fabric. 

No more words. Caleb's hands do the talking, rough and impatient as they yank your shorts down your legs. His gaze immediately darts to your panties and he groans low in his throat. 

“Oh my… fuck…” he breaths, already shoving his sweats down. “Why didn’t you let me help you earlier?” 

“I–I was embarrassed.” You admit, failing against the cushions. 

“You never have to be embarrassed, baby…” the pet name curls around you, warm and possessive. “Never for this.” 

He settles over you, sweats pushed low but boxers still on. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself—just presses the thick length right against your soaked, cotton covered core. 

You gasp, the contact is electric, exactly what your pussy’s been begging for. Caleb dips down and captures your lips, the kiss turning messy almost instantly. You cling to each other, exhaling loud out of your noses to not separate. His hips drag, pulling sweet little whines from your throat.

Caleb’s lip part as a raw moan slips free, his lips still dragging wet kisses across yours. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and completely fixated, like he can’t believe this is real. The hard line in his boxers grinds against the thin cotton covering your heat again. 

Best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing this. But the forbidden edge tastes so sweet, and the simple, devastating fact that it’s him, only makes it more addictive.

You lift your hips aggressively, chasing friction when the head of his cock brushes your swollen clit through the layers. Your panties are drenched now, letting him slide easily, every drag spending sparks up your spine. The wrongness of it, the rightness of him, is intoxicating.

Your sweet, protective best friend, reduced to nothing but a man desperate for any form of contact from you.

“Pips…” he groans, pressing harder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

A wicked smirk curves your lips before you pull him back into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's full of a hunger neither of you wishes to hide. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, then your tongue soothes the sting. 

His large hands roam up from your hips to squeeze your breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you’d stolen tonight. You–all bare legs, skimpy panties, and his shirt–has him twitching in his boxers. 

“Fuck…” he pants, pulling back from the kiss, but never stilling his shallow thrusts. Conflict suddenly flashes in his eyes. “We…we shouldn’t be—ah!—doing this.”

You manage a sweet, dangerously innocent voice, slowly rocking your hips—just once, over his throbbing need. “W-Why not, Caleb? You’re just helping me. We’re…mmph…not doing anything wrong.”

He groans at the obvious lie, bracing himself on his forearms to suspend his weight over you. His muscles are wound tight, straining against his restraint, which crumbles with his next sentence.

“I need to… see you,” he grunts. “See what I’m doing to you, pretty girl.”

Before you can think, his trembling hand hooks your panties aside. The choked sound he makes at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy, goes straight to your core, then he’s slamming his still-clothed cock right over your directly exposed wetness.

His hips lose rhythm, jerking wildly in a desperate, uncoordinated rut. His cock throbs violently in his boxers, chasing a release he can’t hold back. The friction is filthy, intoxicating, your whimpers mixing with his wrecked moans. 

“So beautiful…” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.  “God, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The most captivating sounds spill from Caleb’s lungs, a mix of whimpers and guttural moans as a sudden warmth blooms and soaks the material of his boxers, seeping out onto your puffy core. He collapses forward, breathing ragged against your ear.

“Did you just–”

“Mhmm…” he hums, voice shaky but completely unashamed. “All in my boxers. I couldn’t help it.”

You huff a gentle laugh, still trembling with want, thighs slick and aching. “Wanna do it inside me now?” 

✮⋆˙— sylus

Your bare feet pad into your shared bedroom, steam spilling out behind you and curling along the ceiling like a lingering sigh. Droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your throat and between your breasts before disappearing beneath the collar of your robe. You tug the fabric tighter, shifting your hips as the restless heat returns low in your belly.

The bath had meant to ease the tension that haunted you all day, yet all it’s done is make you more aware of it.

To your surprise, Sylus sits propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black pajama pants, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a book open in his hand. He must have returned home while you were submerged. 

The second you step into the room, his gaze lifts slowly and pins you in place. The pupils in his eyes widen, something soft but hungry in his gaze. 

He knows exactly what today is. 

“Come here,” he says sweetly, patting the mattress beside him.

You oblige without hesitation, climbing onto the bed and crawling up the sheets before flopping onto your stomach with a muffled groan. The cool fabric against your flushed skin makes you shiver. 

“You didn’t enjoy your bath?” he hums, palm gliding over your robe-clad back in slow, soothing passes that only only makes the ache worse. 

“No, I did,” you mumble into the pillow. “I’m just…” your voice trails off, embarrassment tangling your tongue. The words feel too exposed, even to your husband. 

“I know.” His tone drops, husky and threaded with quiet amusement. “You’re so warm.”

The mattress dips as he shifts to settle behind you. Strong fingers slip to your front to find the tie of your robe and loosen it, peeling the damp silk from your shoulders. His lips follow the path of exposed skin, pressing hot, lingering kisses along your shoulder blades. 

“You even smell sweet today,” he murmurs against your skin.

Heat floods all over again, a slick gush seeping from your sweet hole and onto the mattress. A quiet whimper slips free as you lift your hips, brushing your ass back against the firmness straining beneath his pajama bottoms. 

“Sylus…” you breathe. 

“Yes, kitten?” his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs kneading the soft skin. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind, letting you feel the heavy weight of him exactly where you’re aching most.

“I need you…” you whimper, voice small. 

Sylus smirks, peppering kisses just beneath your ear. “And why do you need me?”

You're grateful your face is buried in the mattress because your cheeks burn instantly. His teasing is gentle, but relentless–he wants to hear it.  

“Because…” you swallow. “you know… ‘m ovulating.”

Sylus groans as he presses his cock deeper against you. Your robe is peeled down your arms, the silk whispering against your skin as it gives way before it’s tossed aside. Cool air kisses your heated skin, replaced quickly by the warmth of his body hovering over yours.

“Is that so, kitten?” his hands trails down your bare back, fingers tracing every dip of your spine. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

“Please.”

A kiss is pressed to your head before he lifts himself long enough to push his pajamas down. You feel him a second later, the gentle tap of his cock once against your ass, a bead of precum smearing onto your skin. The sensation makes you shudder, hips instinctively pressing back for more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with admiration as his hands spread over your lower back, keeping you still. “You’re so wet for me.”

His cock drags slowly between your slick folds, the glide torturously slow. You can feel every vein, every pulse, your pussy clenching around nothing as he coats himself in your arousal. Praise falls from his lips in soft murmurs—good girl… so sweet… so ready for me—each word sending another wave of heat through you.

When he finally lines himself up and begins to push inside, it's agonizingly slow. Sylus wants you to feel every stretch until you’re gasping into the sheets, fingers curling into the favor. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip while his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.

At first, it’s gentle. Deep, steady thrusts rock your body forward, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. But your soft, broken mewls and the way you push back against him, smearing your slick heat across his abdomen, wears down that compose.

Fingers dig into your hips, tightening until you’re certain the marks will linger. The pace quickens, each thrust landing harder than the last, the quiet room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin and the desperate hitch of your cries. He has you exactly where he wants you. 

Well, almost. 

His arm snakes around your waist while his other hand splays possessively across the top of your spine. The weight of him forces your body into a deep, supplicating arch that maximizes the depth.

There.

He grunts a low, satisfied sound as your walls flutter around him in reply to the new angle. “You like that, sweetheart?”

A round of sharp, breathless inhales answers his question. “Y-yes–hicc–y-yes!”

His hips surge forward violently at the sweet sound, losing any remaining gentleness.

“I’m so deep like this, kitten,” he gasps, each word punctuated by the heavy slam of his cock driving into you again and again. “Could stuff you so full right now…”

A needy whine spills from you, drool dampening the pillow as pleasure muddles coherent thoughts. “C-Could you n-now?” The question tumbles out with a desperate sincerity between gasps.

Sylus leans forward, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I could. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A shudder runs down your spine as he pulls you upright against him, your back flushed to his chest. Your head falls onto his shoulder, baring your throat. He takes immediate advantage, slowing his frantic rhythm to deep, punishing thrusts that make your toes curl while his lips work at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking dark love bites onto the supple skin. 

“You’re already so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he drags himself out to the tip before slamming back in, forcing a sob from your lips. “Imagine how beautiful you’d be swollen with me right—”

His hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm spreading wide as his fingers splay possessively over the skin there.

“—here.”

Your eyes flutter shut as the image floods your mind—round and full of him. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, slickness leaking down his length in a fresh rush. 

“Oh, you’d let me, wouldn’t you, kitten?” His hand glides upward, fingers curling around your jaw, firm but tender as he tilts your face back towards his. He needs to see you, need to see the honesty in your eyes. “You’d let me fuck a baby into you?”

The words ignite something molten in your core, spewing a string of moans from your lips. Your gaze locks with his, and the seriousness in his expression steals what little breath you have left. 

His grip on your jaw tightens just enough to keep your focus as his thrusts pick up again. “Words. Use them.”

“Y-Yes,” you sputter.

“Yes what, sweetheart?”

“Yes I’d l-let you—hah!—fuck a b-baby into me, Sy!”

A strangled growl tears from his throat. Your answer unlocks something feral in him. His pace turns ruthless, ramming his cock into you with one intention.

“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie,” he promises hoarsely. “I’ll make sure it—nngh—takes.”

He’s already throbbing inside you, completely captivated by the sheer thought of getting you pregnant. His lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as his movements grow sloppy with need. With a groan that rumbles through both of you, his tip slams against your soft cervix, releasing hot pulses of his seed. He doesn’t stop, rolling his hips in slow thrusts to ensure it took. 

When he finally stills, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, a dazed smile tugging at his lips. 

“We have to ensure it takes, kitten,” in a smooth motion he flips you both, letting you sit atop him. “Show me how badly you want it.”  

✮⋆˙— zayne

You watch the clock tick past, the small hand resting on the hour, officially signaling that Zayne is off shift.

Unfortunately, he still won’t be home for at least another hour. Judging by his lack of reply to your texts, there’s probably mountains of paperwork, last-minute calls, and traffic standing between him and this house. You’ll be lucky if you see him before nightfall.

You groan, slumping against the edge of the bed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. The one day you really need Zayne, and he’s nowhere in sight.

Your body aches with need, each pulse a reminder that ovulation has turned you feral. Heat blooms in your lower belly, soaking your panties, and you can't stop pressing your thighs together to try and relieve it. 

Your gaze flicks to the mirror. Your reflection stares back with flushed cheeks. You bite your lip and glance at the clock again. There is a solution. 

Zayne will probably be exhausted when he gets home. If you take care of yourself now, you can tend to him later. 

Fuck it. 

With zero ceremony, you kick off your shorts, the fabric of your soaked panties clinging to your pussy. Your cheeks burn an even deeper crimson as you push them down, peeling away the damp material and leaving your lower half exposed to the reflective glass. 

Desperation makes your movements sloppy. Your fingers dip inside your dripping cunt, index and middle finger instantly slick with your need. You twitch as they withdraw, then drag up to twirl them in gentle circles over your swollen clit, shivering at the surge of pleasure. 

A tiny moan escapes your lips, high and breathless. It's been a while since you’ve touched yourself solo—because you usually have Zayne. But tonight, he’s just an image in your head, and that thought alone is enough to make you squirm. 

You mimic his touch, spreading your folds and teasing your swollen bud just like he would. Stop. Start. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the delicious burning building in your core. 

“Z-Zaynie…” you whimper to the air, eyes flicking to your reflection, watching your pussy flutter around what would be his cock if he were here. Your thighs threaten to slam together, but you force them apart. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of your fingers' newfound rhythm. Pressure builds, threatening to boil over the edge. Your breath catches, lips parting in moans that are muffled but urgent. 

And then—

Your eyes snap open and they aren’t just seeing you in the mirror. Zayne is in the doorway, tie loosened from work. His expression is unreadable, but dangerously hungry. His arms are crossed, like he’s trying to seem annoyed—but you know that look. He’s definitely turned on and fully amused by your shame. 

“Shit—mmgh—Zayne—!” you squeak, yanking your hand back and slamming your thighs together as if that could hide the evidence of your crime. 

He steps in slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glasses on the nightstand. 

“It’s not—” you start, then stop, as you realize it is. “I’m sorry, I just… ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning hotter than ever. 

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he says evenly, taking a single step in the room. “Continue.”

You glance at him, confused. “But Zayne—“

“Did I misspeak?” His voice is unnervingly calm. 

“N-No,” you stammer. “B-But I don’t understand. I only did it because you weren’t here, and now that you are—”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He interrupts, voice low and commanding. “You were doing it when I wasn’t here. You couldn’t wait. So go ahead. Finish without my help, just like you intended all along.”

A shiver runs through you. His words are cold, but utterly thrilling. You stare at him, searching for a crack in his expression that isn’t there. 

Swallowing your embarrassment, you part your thighs again and place your hand back between your legs. The time you look at him—not at the mirror—as your fingers slide inside yourself. Your slick folds glisten under the bedroom light, fully displayed for him, yet he doesn’t even look. Zayne moves around the room, loosening his cuffs, rolling his shoulders, and going about his normal post-shift like you’re not bare and dripping a few feet away. 

The normalcy of it makes your stomach twist. He’s doing it on purpose, and every second he doesn’t look is a silent command to keep going. 

So, you continue. The pressure builds, unbearable now, and you bite your cheek to hold back a moan. “Zayne…” you pant, eyes fluttering shut as you buck helplessly into your own hand.

Before you can register it, he’s crouched beside you. His presence is sudden, the faint scent of soap and hospital antiseptic clinging to his skin. When his voice comes, it’s soft, but firm. “Are you going to come?”

You nod, breath hitching, unable to answer. His hand darts out, cradling your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he tilts your face towards the mirror.

“Watch.”

You whimper, locking onto your reflection in the glass. Your fingers move of their own accord, gliding across your puffy clit as you push yourself over the edge. Your body trembles and tips sideways, instinctively leaning against him as the waves roll through you. 

But he isn’t done with you. 

You can’t even fully recover, because suddenly he’s pushing off his pants, his cock springing free before he’s settling in right behind you. One hand tugs greedily at your shirt, dragging the fabric up and off so your tits spring free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air at the heat of his stare in the mirror. 

“C’mon,” he orders quietly, fingers digging into your hips as he guides you back. “Ride me.” 

You flush as you move to hover over him, still sensitive from your release. The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your entrance, smearing the sticky precum as you line him up with shaky hands. 

“You get so needy when you’re ovulating,” he murmurs, amusement threading through the lust as he fixates where you will be joined. His hips raise once to poke your entrance in impatience. 

“H-How do you–”

He chuckles under his breath, nipping your shoulder. One hand slides up your side to pinch your perked nipple, then swipe the bud of his thumb over it to soothe the sting. “You think I don't know my sweet girl?” 

You whine and shake your head before you sink slowly onto his length, a lewd moan spilling free as the stretch makes your thighs tremble all over again.

But the pace is too slow for Zayne. His fingers flex, then grip your hips and pull you down until you're seated flush against him, his swollen tip nudging your cervix.

“Is it better than your fingers, love?” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your spine as his hand smooths up your back, pressing lazy kisses against the overheated skin. 

“Mmm, y-yes. F-Fuck, yes,” you whimper, rolling your hips while your eyes stay glued to the mirror. Your breasts bounce with every motion, your juices slicking his pelvis. The obscene intimacy of watching yourself take him making your stomach flutter. 

A breathy, almost strained groan slips from him. Zayne’s grip tightens, just shy of rough, as his thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your lower back.

“That’s it… look at you,” he mutters, voice dipping darker, a little mocking. His cock twitches inside you as he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “I love how you feel like this. When your body’s begging for me.”

You clench at the words and ride him harder, chasing the friction. The mirror shows everything—your flushed face, his hungry eyes, the way he watches you fall apart for him.

“Next time,” he groans, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, never once breaking eye contact with your reflection. “You’ll wait for me.” His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Or at least send me a picture. Understood?”

Your pussy throbs in time with your heart, moans punching out from each snap of your hips colliding. “Y-Yes! I understand—!” 

“Good. Now come for me again.” 

✮⋆˙— xavier

Your eyelids flutter to the barely-there presses of his lips. 

It starts on your cheek, then trails to your jaw. You keep your eyes closed as he buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent before peppering a few more kisses along the sensitive line beneath your ear. His breath is warm and uneven as he savors you before you fully wake. 

Your body reacts subconsciously, shifting closer to him and giving a tiny shiver at the affection so early in the morning. If you had to guess, the sun hasn’t even risen. The world feels dim and soft, wrapped in the stillness.

You’re aware you lie on your side. Of the weight of the comforter. Of the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back. 

You’re also aware of his stiffness pressing against you—but it floats through your mind like a distant thought, something you register without fully grasping. 

“Good morning, angel.” Xavier’s voice is a hoarse rasp near your ear, signaling that he too just woke. His hips subtly shift, pressing him more firmly against you before he exhales. “You can go back to sleep, lovely.” 

You hum in reply, still drifting. His hand glides down the curve of your waist, slow and absentminded at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of your curves. The touch keeps you suspended in the blissful space between dreaming and reality—where every sensation feels warmer, heavier, and sweeter. 

You almost sink back under. Until his kisses don't stop. 

They linger longer now, and his fingers toy with the hem of your waistband as if testing whether you’ll stir. You inhale softly, something incoherent slipping from your lips when his warm hand slips beneath the fabric, his palm settling on your abdomen. His thumb traces patterns that send quiet sparks up your spine, each pass making your thighs tighten just a fraction more. 

You should wake. You should turn and face him, acknowledge the warmth that you are suddenly very aware is pooling in your panties—and fast. But you're so comfortable, so pliant against him, letting his touch wander while your thoughts drift like mist. 

“Do you know what today is?” Xavier murmurs, breaking through the haze.

Your blink your eyes open slowly, the dim room slowly taking shape in blurred outlines. You search your memory, but nothing important surfaces. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his hand stills, waiting. 

But your body seems to know before your mind does. There's a heightened sensitivity humming under your skin, every brush of his fingers sending a ripple through you that feels unfairly intense for how half-asleep you still are. 

Oh.

“It’s a good thing,” he continues softly, his words threaded with a gentle hunger. He finds the hem of your panties, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re extra sweet today… softer. Smell so good…”

Heat creeps into your cheeks even in your drowsiness, and your legs part slightly without conscious thought. The small movement draws a low breath from him, a quiet surrender to how much he wants you. His forehead rests against your shoulder as his hand dips beneath your panties. 

He finds you wet and murmurs out grateful praises into your skin, kissing you again and again like he can't help himself. His fingers instantly begin a gentle dance against your clit, making you arch back into him with a soft, sleepy moan. 

“I saw the calendar… that cute little app,” he pinches your bud softly, soothing the action with slow passes of his fingertip. “So you’re super sensitive for me. Especially in the morning.” 

You whimper, clutching your pillow as you let breathless sounds slip free, your body melting into the pleasure despite how foggy your mind still feels. Even though his touch only abandons you for a second, a needy whine escapes your throat. He pushes your pants and panties down just enough, the material pooling at your ankles. 

“Just stay where you are, star,” he says softly as the warmth of his body leaves yours. 

Xavier trails a path of wet kiss along the back of your thighs, unhurried and worshipful. You shudder but stay curled like he asked, fingers tightening in the sheets. When he reaches your pussy, finding it dripping and open, he lets his warm breath ghost over you first, making your hips twitch.

He inhales deeply, his hips shifting mindlessly against the mattress at your sweet scent. He doesn’t wait another second before his mouth finds you.

You grasp a handful of blonde hair, whining as his tongue licks a stripe from your entrance upwards, then settles to circle your clit. He continues to lap at your heat, devouring how syrupy you are today, sucking you into his mouth and burying his face deep between your thighs like he never wants to come up for air. 

“Feels s-so good, Xavi…” you moan, trembling. 

Your orgasm is already hovering. He groans against you, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the skin encouragingly. Each swipe of his tongue is a silent plea.

Come for me. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good. 

You break seconds after, squirming against the sheets as pleasure takes over you in warm waves. Pants leave your lips as he doesn't let up, his mouth relentlessly working you through the euphoric waves, and long after they pass. His face is sticky with your cum, dripping down his chin, making him look as if he’s the one who just finished. 

“B-Babe–” you cry out, trying weakly to push his head back. “Honey… ‘s too much…”

He presses one last lingering kiss to your puffy pussy before finally lifting his head. His cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along your thigh. “I couldn’t help myself.”

His hands are gentle as they turn you from your side onto your back. Your gaze drifts downward, catching the darkened patch of precum blooming against the front of his tented sweatpants. The sight sends a fresh pulse of heat through your still-sensitive body. 

He follows your gaze before palming himself through the fabric. 

“Think you can handle a bit more for me?”

✮⋆˙— rafayel

The car ride was silent. 

You knew you’d pushed Rafayel’s buttons a little too far at his gala tonight. But honestly… could he even blame you? 

He’d shown up dressed like sin in one of his sharpest suits, hair styled to perfection, eyes gleaming the entire duration of the exhibit. And all of it—all of it—on the exact day you were ovulating. 

Of course you were going to touch him.

Of course you were going to kiss him. 

Of course you were going to corner him beside a marble sculpture and slide your hand a little too low.

“Raaffff,” you drawl into the thick quiet of the car, leaning over the console with a pout that’s half apology, half provocation. “C’mon. Please don’t be mad. I said I’m sorry!”

Rafayel’s brows turn downwards, but there's a sparkle behind the annoyance. “Sorry for kissing my neck while I was speaking to that artist,” he replies coolly, “or sorry for grabbing my dick before I had to greet the commissioner?”

You smirk, entirely unrepentant. “Both. And you liked it! You were hard when I touched you.”

He scoffs, but the sound melts into a quiet laugh under his breath. He isn’t mad, he never really is, and when you poke his side to confirm, he squirms just enough to betray himself. The twitch at the corner of his lips is your victory flag.

You think you’ve won.

That is, until you get home. 

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he moves. There's no warning. One second you’re toeing off your heels, the next his arms are around you, sweeping you up bridal-style. A startled laugh leaves you as he carries you down the hall, his hold possessive and unhurried. 

His lips find yours before you reach the bed, and they are soft but insistent, pulling quiet gasps from your chest. The heat that’s been simmering in your belly all day flares hotter, burning brighter. 

You land against the mattress with a muted thud, sheets cool beneath your back. “Undress,” he tells you, already slipping open the button of his shirt with graceful fingers. 

You obey immediately, giggling as you shimmy out of your dress, fabric clinging to your hips before you kick it away. Anticipation hums under your skin like static. 

Rafayel, meanwhile, is still mostly dressed. His shirt hangs open just enough to reveal his toned skin, a teasing glimpse of chest that makes your fingers itch for a touch. You reach for him instinctively, only for his hand to close around your wrist mid-air and guide it back to the mattress, pinning you there.  

“Raf–”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you have your way after tonight?” His voice is playful, smug, and dripping with amusement. The smirk he gives you is pure trouble. “You’re so cute.” 

You squirm, a fresh gush of warmth gathering between your thighs. “But… I said ‘m sorry.”

“Oh, I know you did, cutie,” he hums, leaning down to brush a single kiss against your cheek. Then your jaw. The column of your throat. Each one is soft and savoring.

“So then…” you mumble, tilting your neck to give him more space. “Why are you still dressed?”

His lips curve against your skin as he trails lower, the  gentle presses of his lips turning wetter, slower. Goosebumps rise across your body when his hands find your thighs, and ease them open for him. 

He pauses, eyes settling on the soaked material clinging to you. His thumb presses against it, just once. You squeak, and arch into his hand, sensitivity dialed painfully high today. He chuckles, rubbing your pussy through the panties in lazy strokes, up and down, just enough to make you ache. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” he coos, but his eyes are dark. “But you teased me all night… so I’m getting my revenge.”

You gasp when his thumb circles firm over your swollen clit through the fabric. The friction is electric and not enough all at once. 

“Raf… please, this isn’t fair,” you whine.

“Not fair?” he juts his lip in a mock pout. “I didn’t think it was very fair when you were handsy in public.”

Before you can argue, he hooks a finger under your panties and slides them aside, revealing your dripping cunt. He huffs in amusement, admiring the slick evidence of your arousal like its art he curated himself. (He did)

His finger drags through your folds, collecting the sticky mess. He spreads you open, glides over your clit, circles your entrance, but never lingers enough to satisfy. 

Your thighs twitch. Your hips lift. Your fingers clutch the comforter.

It’s torture. Sweet, earned, torture. 

And just as a complaint forms on your lips, his fingertip settles over your clit and begins slow, gentle circles. Pleasure sparks outward, instantly bowing your back and spewing moans from your lips. Every sensation feels amplified. 

“R-Raf… Raf, fuck—baby,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter. 

Rafayel laughs softly, continuing to play with your pussy, admiring how much more wetness gathers at his touch. “You close, cutie? Gonna come?” 

You nod in rapid succession. “Y-Yes…yeah ‘m gonna—“

His fingers stop. 

The sudden absence makes you gasp, blinking your eyes open “W-Why did you stop?”

He lifts his gaze to yours, expression all polished mischief and arrogance. His thumb is still resting maddeningly close to where you’re throbbing. “Did you really think I was going to let you come?” 

Your frustrated whine only makes his smile widen. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, taunting kiss. 

“After the way you behaved tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re going to beg for it.”

His fingers return before you can even form a reply, and they're faster this time. The slick sounds of how wet you are fills the room. What started as gentle coaxing turns into purposeful rubbing that makes you fist the sheets and sob out. When your legs try to close, he simply prises them back open. 

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispers. “All worked up and needy… yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” His thumb presses just right, drawing a broken sound from your throat. 

“I do… f-fuck I really do…” you whimper, hips chasing him without shame. The pressure builds once again, and just as the waves begin to crest, he stops. 

The absence is devastating. His words following are cruel. 

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing his slick finger against your thigh. His cock strains against his pants, a visible twitch he pointedly ignores as he keeps his attention on you. “You’re soaking our sheets.” 

You lie there in the heat of it, trying to gather yourself. When your heartbeat finally slows enough to think, he starts over. Fingers dragging through your warmth, starting slow, then faster. Each time he brings you near the edge, letting desperate cries and whimpers that you’re close spill from your lips, he stops again.

By the fourth time, tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, pleas dissolving into half-formed syllables that barely resemble words.  

“R-Raf… p-plea–suh–ahh–” his fingers slide into your gummy walls. 

“Think you’ve been good enough?”

“Y-Yea–mmgh–yes–!” 

He exhales through his nose, finally satisfied. His fingers curl to your sweet spot, and this this they don’t pull away. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. “You can come.” 

ꪆৎ RAFAYEL

Your thighs are soaked and if you could, you'd feel embarrassed right now.

But that thought barely registers over the raw heat twisting in your belly. It's just the way Rafayel's broken moans and his hands trembling on your hips as you ride him that remind you just how much of a mess you are.

"Drippin' alllll over me, cutie," The wrecked gasp makes your pussy only embrace his cock in a snug hug, his grip on your hip tightening. "D-don't ya wanna take a lil break?— F-fuckkkk. M'—"

"N-nooooo, Raf'."

God, you're gonna be the death of him.

He's already at his wit's end, his spent cock barely holding onto the vicious grip of your greedy pussy. But once he heared your protesting whine over the obnonxious wet squelch squelch squelches of your sobbing cunt, he can feel his cock throbbing hard.

Your eyes meet the far back of your skull as you feel his girth swell, streeeetching your walls apart again so good.

"Don't wanna stop. Feels sooooo good, baby." The shy smile twitching up your plump lips is a stark contast to your ruthless hips slamming down onto his pelvis, and even though his dick is sweeling so angry he fears he might explode, he's still going to eat it up like he does every single time.

"Ohh-kay, cutie. G-gonna— gonna give my baby what she wants."

A strangled sound rips from his lungs as your walls clench around him again, cock twitching so frenzied inside you, glistening with your mixed juices, and so spent but still so ravenous to ram into you, deep.

He's flushed deep red now, your hands almost slipping from his sweat-slicked chest, coral locs sticking to his temple where he lies beneath you in a daze.

"Pretty." You spurt out, heat flooding your body as you take his face in hand, running your shaking flinger over his quivering, kiss-bitten lips. "You look so pretty Raf. Want— no need to—"

"F-fuck, baby, yer' gonna milk me dry," he chokes out, voice breaking on a whimper.

Oh, he's not lasting for long.

His eyes roll back as your walls clamp down on him again, fluttering so tight, so wet, it feels like your body's trying to wring every last drop out of him.

And you do.

Your hands slam down on his chest now, grinding down with reckless, mindless need. "Y-yes." you sweet growl, makes the hair on his neck stand up, teeth caging his lip. "Need you to fill me up, Raf. Need it sososo bad— hurts, it hurts!"

You bounce harder, thighs quivering, the obscene squelch of your slick echoing through the room with every punishing slam of your hips. His cock twitches inside you, overstimulated and swollen, flushed an angry red from how many times he's already shot his load into you, but your greedy cunt just won't let him go.

It’s damn near deafening—the relentless thwack, thwack, thwack of your ass slamming down onto his thighs.

The sound is soaked in slick, each impact wetter than the last. His spent, hot and thick cum already spilling out of you from your insatiable hunger, sticking messily to the insides of your thighs and the curve of your ass, smearing with every bounce, making everything sticky and so much worse.

“God, you're—fuck—you're making a mess of me, cutie," he gasps, clutching your waist like a lifeline, trying to slow you down, but your body has other plans. Your selfish walls tighten around him like a vice, milking his angry, flushed tip for every squirting spurt from his slit.

"I need you to cum again. Please," you cry out, grinding down deep, his cockhead kissing your cervix with each brutal drop of yours. "Wan' your cum, Raf! Need ya to fill me up again, wanna be stuffed, baby. Can't—nghhh!—can't stop until you breed me."

"Breed you?"

The sound he lets out is downright animalistic, his hips snapping up with brutal force, matching your pace with a ferocity that makes your eyes roll back. "Fuckin insatiable. Already dripping and it's still not enough, h-hahh?" He's fucking up into you now, ironclap grip on your hips surely leaving marks as your body jolts and falls ontop of his, your restless hips twisting and twitching against his brutal thrusts.

"G-gonna pump your greedy fucking pussy so full— o-ohhh, yeahhh."

You whimper is so high-pitched you barely recognize yourself anymore, body convulsing as your climax rips through you, and even in your haze you don't stop. You keep clenching, desperate to squeeze another load from his overstimulated, twitching cock.

He's babbling now, lost in it, eyes glazed and teeth clenched so tight he might break his jaw. "Ohhh, it's comin, m' cummin' take it take it take—"

"Mhmmm, give it ta me, Raf! Allll of it, one more, pleaseeee!"

At that, his slit spurts one last whispy load of cum into the depth of your pussy, and you grind happily down onto him to make it stay there, deep inside of you, humming in delight at the warmth flooding through you.

And as he feels your fluttering walls clench around him again, your hips slowly grinding down again, his head falls back against the sheets, a raw, desperate whimper escaping his throat.

Your walls clamp around him fiercely, squeezing so tight, demanding more.

He can't. He can't he can't he—

His hands dig into your ass, lifting you higher, up, up, up— until his cum seeps from your spent, dripping heat, a pleased sigh following suit.

But then your eyes meet his, wide and pleading, and your hands wrap around his slick, spent cock, fingers trembling as they stroke him, coated in his own mess.

Well, he can surely take—

"One more, please?"

Right?

ꪆৎ CALEB

Hot.

The only word to describe your feelings right now, because it has you wound up so tight, you're trembling. You think you might explode if you're sweet, teasing boyfriend won't fill you up this very moment.

But the way Caleb's looking at you in the mirror, he might beat you to it.

"You feel it too, don't you, Cay'?" you whisper, rocking your ass back against the bulge straining so painfully in his grey sweats.

They cling to him, snug and low on his hips, almost too tight. His bare chest is fully exposed, every cut of muscle gleaming under the low light of the room, your squirming shadow dancing over his skin and reflecting off the mirror.

His grin is sharp, eyes burning with hunger, preying over you through the mirror, a palm pressing to your lower belly, just below the waistband of your panties.

"Feel it? Baby, I smell it."

His voice is a growl against your skin, lips dragging slow and wet down the curve of your neck. He breathes you in, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from your neck all the way to the shell of your ear. "You're soaked."

You whimper as he rolls his hips, grinding his aching cock into you, still hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. His other hand cups your throat from behind, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

"Look."

You do.

"O-oh."

It's fucking obscene.

Your panties are halfway down your thighs, your legs shaking as you brace yourself against the dresser, your boyfriend's bare chest pressed to your back, hand tightening against your throat, almost daring you to look away.

Burning. Every fieber of your being is burning up, screaming at every slight touch of him. The faintest brush of his fingers against your skin sends you twitching.

A needy whimper slips out as you feel the thick press of his bulge grinding against your ass. You arch and roll your hips back into him, shamelessly, pleading without words, silently begging him to do something— anything, to ease this ache between your thighs before you actually go insane.

"In all these years together," he murmurs against your ear, voice low and dangerous. "I've never seen you like this, pips'. What's got you so hot and bothered tonight?"

You meet his eyes in the mirror before tearing them down to his fingers tugging at the hem of your panties.

"It's y-your fault. All because of—"

"Me?" His grip tightens, voice a whisper against your ear in surprise.

"Mhmmm."

"Hm. Can't have my baby all pouty now, can I?"

He whirls you around in one fluid motion, effortlessly scooping you up and tossing you onto the bed

Fuck that damned mirror, he wants the real thing.

He rips your panties the rest of the way off, strong biceps pushing your legs apart, groaning low in his throat at the sight of your weeping cunny, screaming for his attention.

"Oh fuckkk," he mutters, eyes wild and flickering between your glisterning pussy up to your flustered face. "T-this is—" he pauses, finger swiping through your folds to collect your slick, dick jumping in his pants as he sees your hole clenching around nothing, juices dripping in the process, "—heaven."

You whimper as he dips down to lick a stripe up your inner thigh, hot breath ghosting over your pussy. You could damn near scream from his endles teasing, damn near crying as your hips buck up towards his face with a frustrated groan. "N-no teasin'! Please, pleasepleaseplease—"

"Hush, baby. It's her turn now."

Before you can even think of quirking your eyebrows in question he's already burying his face between your thighs, and you let out a scream.

His tongue is fucking relentless, flicking the muscle over your clit with cruel precision before loooong drags collect your juices, his adam's apple bobbing as he's slurping up every drop.

It's like he's starving, and well, maybe he actually is.

His hot tongue circles your puffy button slow just to watch you twitch, then sucks it between his lips with so much force that your legs threathen to clamp around his head.

Until you actually do.

Thighs locking his head in place, your hands scrambling through his hair. He groans against your pussy, the sound feral, almost a whimper, sending vibrations straight through your core. Your fingers scramble through his thick brown locs, tangling and twisting until you're yanking them hard from the roots.

"Yeahhh, use me, baby. C'mon."

His rambles dissapear into your pussy, responding moan so filthy and needy. He could get used to this new neediness of yours.

God, he loves this.

He wraps his arms tighter around your thighs, locking you in place, and whining into your pussy like he's gone mad.

"Just like that, Cay'! Nghhh! don't stop, soooo good!"

Yeah, he's gone mad.

And you? You're gone.

Drooling, rutting your hips into his mouth without a shred of shame. Your body moves on instinct now, so lost in the pleasure that your eyes flutter shut, tummy sucking in as you feel yourself nearing your release.

Slurp, slurp, slurps fill the room and it's so messy— your juices coating the lower half of his face, some bleeding into the sheets below.

He glances up, pulling back just enough, and fuck, what a sight.

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, wide and glassy pupils blown. A firm drip of drool escapes the corner of your mouth, tracing a long line down your chin. You sniffle softly, nose red and a thin sheen of sweat clings to your skin.

"My poor, poor baby."

The soft tone of his voice is a stark betrayal of what his mouth is doing to you.

His tongue is merciless, flicking and lapping at your folds with so much persicion, every lick calculated to push you further towards your limits.

He latches onto your clit with a groan, sucking hard, your thighs seizing up around his head in a headlock. Your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets, legs kicking, entire body coiled tight.

"G-god, Caleb! So good, don't stop, don't—"

Right then, your orgasm crashes over you with so much force, your head digs back into the matress. Your hips buck up wildly, unable to process the sudden pleasure washing over you, and your sweet, loving boyfriend licks you through it.

He just keeps going, keeps tasting you, even as your thighs shake and you try to twist away from from him, his wet hot tongue overwhelming you.

It's so much, too much, but still, you want—

"M-moreee! Wan' more! Need to—"

Smack!

The sharp sudden sting hits your soaked pussy before you can finish the sentence, palm cracking against your sensitive folds with a wet slap. You let out a loud, broken cry, your head twisting against the pillow as your thighs clamp together on instinct.

"No worries. Gonna give it to ya'."

Only then does he spread you open with both hands, thumbs dragging your slick folds apart to admire the way you twitch and throb. And only then does he finally pull back, tongue slipping out to taste you one last time, his chin and lips soaked, glistening with your juices.

He stays like that, lower face shining in your essance, to lazy to even bother wiping it away as his eyes lock onto you, pupils darkening.

And as he sees your hungry gaze he silently thanks the whole damn universe for your sudden neediness today.

Fucking finally a time for his inner freak to shine.

You're already moving before he says a word, scrambling weakly up onto your knees, hands clutching at his waistband like a woman possessed.

And maybe you are.

"Hurryyyyyy," you whimper, dragging the word out through a long sob. "P-please, baby! Pleaseeee, I want— Need you in me right now."

Oh, how impatient you are.

Eagerly, he shoves his sweats down and kicks them off, cock already flushed and leaking from the torture. He doesn't dare to tease, already climbing ontop of you to grab your hips, and drives into you in one deep thrust.

The stretch is so sharp and overwhelming that you scream out, white-hot blaze overcoming you.

Your walls clamp down around him so fiercely he groans, his pre squirting out with urgency, head falling back, eyes rolling shut.

He underestimated you.

"H-holy shit, baby—so damn tight— h-hahhh!"

You're already back into your drunken daze, meeting his thrusts as your heat-addled clit grinds against his faint brown trail of hair.

"Harder," you pant, nails clawing at his shoulders, his strong arms quick to lift your legs onto his shoulders, hitting your g-spot over and over again.

But it's not enough.

"I said hahhh-harder, Caleb—"

He growls, pushing your legs firmly against your shoulders, your legs dangling above your head as he slams into you faster now, rougher. Unrelenting. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, the new position causing your muscles to burn from the stretch, and every thrust hits you so deep, fat tip kissing your cervix, your vision blurs.

"Not gonna last," he blurts out, mouth covered in your slick now attacking yours, diving in as if your mouth would grant him air. "You're too fucking—shit! Toooo good—"

He's going to be the death of you.

"C-cum inside, baby." you moan, hands griping his shoulders, biceps, hips, anything to make him ram into your greddy cunny faster, longing for him to prod at your womb. "Need your cum, baby. F-fill me— uhhh! up!"

His balls tighten, almost painfully so, mouth hanging open as drool drips down, right into your awating mouth and he just know this isn't going to be the last load for him tonight.

He knocks the breath out of you with a brutal push of his hips, his girth hauling your walls further apart as his fat mushroomy head throbs, close, soooo close to fill you to the brim.

"A-alright, pips. Anything for my needy princess."

You're going to be the death of him.

ꪆৎ SYLUS

You're trembling, knees straddling Sylus's broad hips, riding him like your entire body burns with desperate need. His hands grip your thighs, trying to ground you, get you to slow down, but it's already to late.

"Gods," he groans, voice hoarse, on the brink of cracking. His dark, ruby eyes in search of yours and you swear he grows even larger inside you as your eyes lock. "You're killing me here, sweetie."

"M' sorry, Sy. Can't stop, can't—"

His lips crash down onto yours, muffling your pleas with a desperate kiss. His strong hands tighten on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, every thrust deeper and more urgent than the last.

"You don't have to," he murmurs against your mouth, voice thick with lust, ruby eyes eating you alive. "Have me. Use me."

He's done it now.

You grind down harder, hips snapping desperately against him, breath uneven and broken. And every frantic roll of yours pulls a low growl from his throat, his girthy length pulsating inside your gooey walls.

His hefty cock draaags along every sensitive nerve inside you, thick and heavy, stretching your weeping walls to their limit and you swear he gets harder with every needy rut you throw at him.

"Honey, I don't think I can—"

His jaw clenches tightly, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he struggles to maintain his composure. His head sinks into the sheets, gray hair forming a halo around his head as cheery eyes flutter before snapping back to yours, pupils blown wide.

"Y-you're so— sooo"

"Hmm? M' what, Sy'?"

You whimper, grinding down until he's pressed so deep you can feel him bulging inside your lower belly, leaving a visible imprint of himself there.

And It's only driving you further into insanity.

"You're gonna ruin me," he pants, voice thick with lust, a slight crack audible. "Ohhh, gonna fucking ruin me, sweetie. L-look at you."

You press your forehead against his, panting, your walls clench so tight you feel every vein and even the slight right curve of his girth.

Sylus's hands travel up your sides, grip ironclad, his thumbs digging into your ribs. His control is slipping, obvious in the way his dark ruby eyes widen, groan rumbling in his chest when you shift your weight and rock your hips harder against him.

He oggles at your eyes rolling to the back of your head, gripping your nape and pulling you down until his mouth meets yours agar, slamming his mouth against yours with such force, teeth and tongues clash.

"You're everything," he mutters against your lips, saliva connecting you both, voice cracking under the pressure. "So fucking perfect."

Your nails dig into his shoulders, breath hitching in desperate gasps in rythm to the bed creaking under you both as his hips jerk, matching your frantic rhythm.

"Keep going, love." He breaks into a grunt as your head falls into the crook of his neck, painting his ivory skin with bubbling drool.

"Thaaat's my girl."

There's nothing else inside your fucked out mind except for him him and more him.

Sylus. Sylus. Sylus.

Feisty hips bouncing on him, desperate to feel every inch, every frantic pulse, your walls fluttering, dragging Sylus closer to the edge with every desperate thrust.

And you notice from his deep groan, his parted lips aswell as his hands sliding under your arms, pulling you impossibly closer. His breath fans across your skin, heavy and ragged.

"You're driving me mad." He's a drooling mess himself now, thighs clenching as his balls tighten up, so damn close to filling your eager cunt up.

You lift your head before pathetically falling against his lips, saliva messily smearing all across his lower face.

He growls, hips snapping up with brutal force, obscenely loud and wet plap plap plap echoing the room, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging in like you could dissapear if he ever dared to let go.

"I'm close" He moans shamelessly into your mouth now, burrying his cock deeper, reddened tip hitting your cervix with each of his bold jerks up into you. "So close."

"N-ghhh, me t-toooo!" you sob, words barely forming through your moans.

"Gonna cum! Gonna fucking cum, Sy! Pleaseee—"

Then he surges upright, wrapping one strong arm around your waist, the other sliding down to grip your ass with a loud smack! and slam you down on him, over and over until you're voice betrays you, wails and whimpers flooding out from your lips.

His cock drives up into you so deep your toes curl, hitting the same perfect spot again and again, robbing cries from your sobbing pussy.

Plap plap plap.

"Better hold on tight, sweetie."

He grabs your hips, slams up, and fucks you like he hates you. The bed shrieks, holding on for deat life as the headboard rattles against the walls and in these moments you're thankful you live in the N109-Zone with no neighbours.

"Yesyesyes! Js like that, Sy!"

There's a thick white ring of your slick forming at the base of his cock, clinging to him with every brutal thrust, and when he looks down and sees it, something snaps inside him.

He flips you onto your stomach, quickly slipping inside your addicting heat again, as if it pains him to not be inside your for any second longer. His cock slips back inside your dripping heat with a lewd twack! and the both of you groan, breath hitching in sync as he sinks in to the hilt for the nth time tonight.

Your back arches, panting against the pillow as your nails claw at the sheets, loud whail earning a breathless chuckle from man above.

"Please Sy! Need your cum s-so bad— need you to breed me."

He lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a growl before burying himself deep with one last snap of his hips.

His body stiffens as his cock twitches and pulses inside you, flooding you with wave after wave of hot white cum. You clench down hard, milking him for what he's worth, moaning his name as your own orgasm hits like a shockwave, body trembling beneath his.

He stays pressed against you, breath harsh against your neck, hand splayed across your lower back to keep you right where he wants you, lewd squelch from your stuffed cunny letting out a broken whine. You twitch under him, drooling into the pillow, body still shaking from how hard you came.

"This heat's not out of you yet, is it?"

You shake your head with a weak cry, drooling against the pillow.

"Then," he muses, kissing the shell of your ear, slow and almost sweet,

"Best start picking out a new bed you want, sweetie."

ꪆৎ XAVIER

"It's little moments like these,"

he pants against your ear, "that remind you just how much more my sweet princess can take."

You're out of breath, slick and shaking from everything he's already wrung out of you, but he couldn't care less. He doesn't even want you to recover and catch your breath.

And he sure as hell doesn't let you.

He spins you around like youre a mere feather-weight, palms branding into your hips as he manhandles you onto the bed, chest down and ass up.

Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers knotting into the sheets just as you feel the blunt heat of his hefty length press between your thighs again, his cock smearing pre over the curve of your ass, coating it in a shining glee.

"Could get used to you being like this, you know," he hums, one slender finger tracing up your stomach before resting on one of your breasts, giving it a tight squeeze, "you loooove getting all cockdrunk and dumb on me, huh?"

"Mhmm! Love you! Love your—"

"Say it right."

His words pierce through just like his dick through past your puffy folds, tip curving right against the spot that has you mewling out, almost like a button being pressed.

A sharp smack! to your ass follows his firm words, soon rubbing soothingly over the reddened globe as his cock slides out, leaving only his tip cramped in your hole.

"L-love it when you fuck me dumb, Xav'! Love getting drunk on your cock! But p-please..."

Your hips jerk back, earning a growl from his as he inspects your greedy pussy engulfing half of his length now, eager to suck him back in whole.

"... Still not enough. Need more."

Your pleading whimpers are muffled against the pillow face first as he fully rams into you again, body firmly pressed against yours. His throbbing girth is fully nestled inside you, his light chuckle hot against your ear.

"Talking outta that greedy pussy again."

You bite your lip in shame or amusement, you don't know. Desperate and wild grinds of your hips move back against his, rutting hard with every agonizingly slow drag of his hips.

He slides in and out of you like butter, your previous squirts of juices and his thick hot cum creating the perfect lubricant.

It's filthy— the kind of slick, nasty glide that sends sparks through your overstimulated nerves. Every time he pulls back, a string of mixed fluids clings between your swollen folds and his soaked cock, glistening, connecting you to him like a leash. The wet schlik schlik schlik of it echoes in the room, punctuated only by your choked moans and the brutal slap of skin on skin.

You're so swollen, so stretched, your body clutching at him like he's your prey.

"Tight fuckin' thing," he snarls, hands gripping your waist, forming half moons with his nails on your skin. "Keep moving those hips for me, angel— o-oh fuckkkk! Don't stop."

You don't. You can't. Rutting back with abandon, desperate and so greedy, your hips roll and slam into his with haste. You can feel every throb of his cock inside you, feel it twitch and pulse as his rhythm grows savage.

Fuck, you could die like this— pressed neatly against the sheets with your beloved boyfriend rutting you deeper into the matress for the nth time tonight.

His pace turns feral, brutal, the whaming of his hips against your ass growing harder, meaner.

"Y-yes! Yes, Xav! Gimmie more baby," you pant, hands reaching back to grip at his ass, thigh, anything to make him plug deeper into you, your stuffed cunny shrieking and squeking with every of his brutal thrusts, "m-more."

"My pillow princess can't even think straight now, hmm?. She's doing the talking for you now, huh?"

You grind faster, rubbing your clit against the curve of his pelvis, breath hitching in shaky gasps. The way he holds you, the weight of him pressing into your back, makes you lose yourself completely— heat spilling over, body shaking with need.

"Greedy little hole doesn't wanna let me go," he hisses, panting harder now, fucking you through the clench, feeling your now god-knows which-one-orgasm aproach. "A-ahhhh, hear that? Oh yeah, so fucking loud, begging me to fill her up again."

No answer, you're just cumming, squirting against the sheets, orgasm hitting you like a punch in the gut and fuck— he surely is digging in it.

His hand wretch your head up by your neck now, ocean eyes drinking up your agape mouth, lolling out tongue and your fluttering eyes, biting his lip to keep him from cummin in you right then and—

Shit.

Xavier's voice catches in his throat. His head tips back, throat bared. His hands try to grip your waist, then fall limp beside you helplessly, falling right ontop of you as now faint whisps of cum spurt out, meekly adding to the previous buckets of cum resting in your flodded pussy.

And he's still hard.

Well, you don't seem to be satisfied either. Not with your desperate arches, trying to get him to move even though he's fully laying ontop of you, barely leaving you air to breathe.

"O-one more." you purr, one hand trailing down to lock his fingers with yours.

He twitches inside you weakly, shaky sigh escaping him and glassy eyes snapping open.

You still want more?

"You're killing me, princess."

You giggle against the pillow, low lidded eyes shooting him a smug grin, spit painted mouth glisterning.

"Good."

ꪆৎ ZAYNE

In what world could he've known that his sweet little wife could get like this?

Sure, he's always pliant to your needs, always does his best to grant your every wish, make you happy. He'd kiss your ankles if you asked, worship the ground you walked on with no shame at all.

You're his wife, after all. His one and only.

But this? This has his mind fucking reeling.

He's never, not once, seen you like this—wild-eyed and sweat-slicked, mouth parted in shameless moans as you grind yourself up into him with no sign of stopping. Your nails drag hot down his spine, then grip tight around his ass, pulling him into you, holding him there like he might even think to leave.

Like he could.

Zayne groans, loud and ragged, hips stuttering as your soaked, greedy cunt sucks him right back in every time he tries to pull out. You're milking him, clenching down; your body refusing to give him a moment's rest—and it's driving him insane.

"Not e-enough," you gasp, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice so wrecked it makes his cock twitch inside you. "Need more. Wanna feel your cock deeeeep inside."

Well, he can't complain, to be honest.

"More?" he pants, almost incredulous. But the way he smiles, like he's so far gone on you it hurts says everything needed to be said. "Already fucked my darling wife dumb. Doesn't even know what nasty of a mouth she's got on her now."

You just moan, nodding that fucked-out little head of yours frantically, lips dragging across his throat as you rock your hips up again, taking him even deeper. He moans, losing his rhythm completely, slamming back into you with a helpless sound that borders on a whimper.

Your light chuckle sweels his heart—and cock. You kiss his cheek, sweet and breathless. "Yours, Zayne. All yours. Now give it ta' me."

You've done it now. You broke your poor husband's brain.

Before you can blink, he's flipped you over, your knees pressed into the mattress, arms trembling under your weight. You barely register the movement before his leaking tip is already forcing its way back in, sliding through your slick pussy.

He spanks you. Hard.

"You want more?"

"Oh fuckkk yes, I—!"

But he's not talking to you. His gazes falls directly down to your greedy cunny sucking him in, examining the mess that drip drip drips down your legs and onto the sheets.

"Want me to ruin my pretty wife, huh?"

He snarls at your snug cunny and takes the loud squelch! as an answer, bracing his hands on both of your ass cheeks, spreading you wiiiide to get a better view.

"Alright. Then take it, you nasty girl."

Skin slapping skin, his hips driving forward in brutal, punishing thrusts, fucking you with none of that usual sweetness of his. Just raw, filthy. You cry out, over and over, face buried in the sheets, hands clawing for purchase, head spinning with dizziness.

God, you're husband's out of this world. You're not even sure what you did to deserve a man like him.

"I'll take it, all of it!" you sob, hips pushing back to meet his every thrust. "Want it all, Zayne! W-wanna feel all hot and full inside—!"

He actually growls like some beast, ramming his cock damn near into your poor womb, and you scream when his hand snakes down and smacks your clit, a wet slap! followed by furious circles that make your thighs quake.

"You like that, don't you?" he growls, head falling to the crook of your neck to sink his teeth into your shoulder, earning a shriek. "Like me pounding you stupid while your pretty little cunt begs for more?"

You nod frantically, sobbing, helpless to the way your orgasm starts to crest, so tight and fast, your walls spasming around him, trying to milk him again.

"My wife's talking outta her pussy again, huh?" he huffs, snapping his hips harder, tip forming a deep buldge in your tummy. "Sloppy little hole just keeps begging. She's so loud, baby."

Your orgasm slams into you like a wave, shattering you completely. Your arms give out under the weight of it, body collapsing onto the soaked sheets as your cunt gushes around him, spraying down your thighs in a messy rush, soaking his cock and making a lewd, slick sound as he fucks you through it. And he doesn't even slow down, just drives in harder, chasing his own end with vicious rams.

"Want more, Zayne... please,"

Voice wrecked and slurred, your body's still trembling from the last orgasm. You're soaked, dripping, stretched and raw, but that greedy little pulse in your cunt won't stop—you're still needy, still aching.

Zayne's panting above you, face flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He’s still buried to the hilt inside you, cock twitching, cum leaking out around the base with every tiny clench of your slick walls.

"W-what about a quick break, darling? Promise I'll—"

"N-noooo," you whine, lip wobbling, eyes stinging as water builds at your lash line, hipsalready back to rutting and arching back into him, his fresh seed spilling from your overflowed hole. “Pleaseee, baby. Want more, my husband's fucking me soooo good."

"Alright then."

His voice is wrecked, but the second he sees the tears in your eyes and the desperate grind of your hips against his, he snaps. Whatever doubt or exhaustion he had left is gone.

He leans in close, presses wet kisses to your cheek as his thrusts get messier and more frantic. "Happy wife," his cock twitches deep inside you, mushroomy head pulsating with fatigue, spurting the last remnats of his whispy cum,

"happy fucking life."

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets?