The moonlight spills across the floor of Xavierâs apartment, illuminating the dust dancing in the quiet air. The front door clicks open, and Xavier steps inside, his shoulders slumped with the weight of a long day in the field. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy, half-lidded with the usual hazy sleepiness that clings to him.
He glances toward the bed, expecting to see you tucked under the covers. Instead, the mattress is empty.
A frantic, rhythmic thump-thump-thump draws his attention to the floor.
A small, round shapeâa light blue, gelatinous blobâcomes bouncing toward him with desperate energy. Itâs translucent, shimmering like the surface of a deep-sea Protocore. Xavier blinks, his hand instinctively twitching toward his weapon, thinking a stray wanderer or some weird mutation has breached his sanctuary. He raises a foot, ready to flick the creature away before it can touch his boots.
Then, he stops.
The blob turns, and nestled into its soft, blue back is a tiny, pristine white ribbon. Itâs tied in a perfect bow, the silk familiar and shimmering. He recognizes it instantlyâthe very first gift he gave you, a token from a time that feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago. You have dozens of ribbons now, but you always return to this one.
The sleepiness vanishes from his eyes like mist in the sun. He drops to one knee, his heart skipping a beat as he reaches out to scoop the small, squishy form into his palms.
"Is that... you?" he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.
He lifts you closer to his face. The blue surface of your new form ripples, and two tiny, shimmering droplets well up and roll down your sides. You are trembling in his hands, terrified and confused.
"Hey, hey," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the side of your head. "What happened? How did you get like this?"
You try to explainâhow you found that forgotten Protocore in your pocket, how the energy surged and swallowed you wholeâbut all that comes out is a high-pitched, heartbroken cry.
"Mii... Mii miii!"
The sound is so small and piteous that Xavierâs expression melts into pure tenderness. He holds you against his cheek for a moment, feeling the cool, soft texture of your skin.
"Don't cry," he whispers, his gaze locking onto the spot where your mouth should be. "I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."
He leans in, his movements slow and deliberate. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your tiny, blue lips.
Poof!
The air shimmers with a sudden burst of light blue light. The weight in his hands shifts instantly. In a blink, the small blob is gone, and you are sitting on the floor in front of him, back in your human skin, the white ribbon still tied perfectly in your hair.
You don't hesitate. You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a fierce, suffocating hug. You press kisses all over his faceâhis cheeks, his forehead, his noseâsobbing with relief.
Xavier lets out a soft, breathy laugh, his arms winding around your waist to pull you flush against him. He leans back, a playful, radiant smile breaking across his face as he brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
"I didn't realize life had become a fairy tale," he teases softly, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But apparently... you just needed a kiss from a prince to break the spell."
The sterile scent of disinfectant fills Zayneâs office at Akso Hospital, a cold backdrop to the frantic energy radiating from you. You are perched on the edge of his examination table, gesturing wildly toward your waist where a jagged, iridescent Protocore shard is embedded in your skin.
"Itâs not deep, but itâs pulsing," you say, your voice tight with discomfort.
Zayne doesn't look up immediately; his movements are methodical, his face a mask of professional calm. "Quiet. You should have come straight here instead of finishing the rounds."
He turns his back to you for a mere heartbeat, reaching into his medical cabinet to grab a specialized containment bag for the shard.
The room falls silent. Not a quiet silence, but a vacuum where your voice should be.
When Zayne turns back, the examination table is empty. His eyes narrow, scanning the floor, thinking youâve collapsed. Instead, sitting precisely where you were a second ago, is a small, shimmery white blob. It is soft and round, looking like a scoop of pristine snow that refuses to melt. Perched atop its head is a delicate jasmine flower pinâthe petals unnervingly familiar.
Zayne stares at the creature. The creature stares back with wide, watery eyes.
"Where did she..." He trails off, his brow furrowing. He reaches out, his large hand easily scooping up the white mass. "A pet? Someone must have lost their companion in the halls. You shouldn't be here; this is a sterile environment."
As he turns toward the door to remove the 'stray,' panic flares through your new, gelatinous body. Your temperature skyrockets. The white surface of the blob turns a scorched red, radiating a sudden, intense heat that mimics a fever.
"Tch." Zayne hisses, the heat stinging his palm. He almost drops you, but his reflexes are too disciplined.
You scramble out of his grip, bouncing off the sleek surface of the desk and landing hard against the wall mirror. In the reflection, you see it: a featureless, wobbly white sphere with a flower on top.
"Biii! Biii biii!" you scream, though the sound comes out as a high-pitched, melodic chirp.
Zayne freezes. He approaches the mirror, his gaze sharpening with the intensity of a surgeon performing a life-saving procedure. He takes you into his palm again, this time with a gentleness that borders on reverence. He tilts his head, observing the specific, deep hue of your eyesâa shade he knows better than his own. His eyes lock onto the jasmine flower pin. Itâs the same one he bought for you years ago, a small memento from your very first date.
His breath hitches. His cool composure shatters, leaving behind a rare, raw look of shock. "Y/N?"
He pulls you closer to his chest, his voice dropping an octave, thick with guilt. "I... I apologize. I didn't realize. I almost threw you out."
The weight of the transformation and the fear of being lost forever finally breaks you. You jump from his hand, landing squarely on top of his head, burying your soft, squishy body into the thick strands of his dark hair. You sob, your little form heaving.
Zayne stands perfectly still. He feels the warmth of your tears wetting his scalp, soaking through his hair. He raises a hand, his long fingers hovering before lightly, tentatively stroking your back to calm the tremors.
"Don't cry," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing vibration that echoes through your body. "Listen to me."
You finally stop chirping and hop back down into the cradle of his hands. He lifts you until you are at eye level, his expression solemn and fiercely determined.
"I will find a way to fix this," Zayne promises, his eyes burning with an unspoken vow. "And even if I cannot... I will stay with you. I will take care of you, exactly as you are, for as long as I live."
The sheer weight of his confessionâa proposal wrapped in a promise of devotionâsends a surge of warmth through you. Overcome, you lean forward and press your soft, rounded front against his lips in a desperate, tiny kiss.
Poof!
A flash of crystalline light erupts, smelling faintly of winter air and jasmine. When the light clears, the office is no longer empty. Zayne is sitting on his chair, and you are collapsed into his lap, your human arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He holds you with a strength that suggests heâs never letting go again, his face buried in your shoulder as he exhales a long, shaky breath of relief.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your waist. The Protocore shard is gone, vanished into the ether of the transformation, leaving only a clean, shallow mark.
Zayne reaches for his needle and thread, his professional mask sliding back into place, though a small, teasing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. As he begins to stitch the skin shut, he speaks in that dry, cool tone you love.
"To be honest," he says, his eyes focused on the stitches, "I was actually considering keeping you in my pocket for myself. But alas... I suppose Linkon needs its hunter back."
The air in the studio is thick with the scent of sea salt and expensive oil paints. Rafayelâs voice drifts from the next room, light and teasing. "Cutie~ thatâs not funny. Where are you hiding? If youâre under the sofa, Iâm not coming to fish you out this time!"
You aren't hiding. You are currently standing by his specialized workstation, the one cluttered with rare pigments and raw minerals. Your eyes are locked on a mysteriously glowing stoneâa raw, jagged Protocore pulsing with an ethereal, violet light. Temptation wins. The moment your fingertip brushes the cold surface, a surge of energy ripples through your veins. You glow, a blinding flash of neon pink, and the world suddenly expands.
The table leg becomes a towering pillar. The floor is a vast, polished plain. Panic sets in as you realize your limbs feel... bouncy. You don't run; you launch yourself in a series of frantic leaps, scrambling onto the marble surface of the bathroom vanity. You pull yourself up to the mirror and freeze.
A round, squishy pink blob stares back. Perched precariously on your head is the hibiscus flower you had tucked behind your ear just minutes ago.
"Buu! Buu buuu...!!" you wail, the sound coming out as a soft, squeaky chirp.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoes against the tiles. Rafayel bursts in, his golden eyes wide, scanning the room for a person. They land instead on the vibrant pink stowaway on his sink. He doesn't scream. He leans in, his gaze softening with a terrifyingly quick realization. He looks past the gelatinous form, locking onto the familiar spark of your soul.
"Well," he sighs, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he scoops you up into his palms. "This is certainly a bold new look for you."
You begin to tremble, tiny droplets of moisture beading on your pink surface as you let out a series of heartbroken coos. Youâre terrified youâll be stuck as a stress ball forever.
"Hey, hey... shhh," he murmurs, lifting his hands to bring you level with his face. He nuzzles his nose against your soft, squishy side. "Don't cry. Itâs going to be alright. To be honest, Iâd love you just the sameâmaybe even a little bit more. Think about it: I could keep you in my pocket all day. Youâd be mine and mine alone, and you couldn't run off to the Association for missions anymore."
Frustration boils over. You launch your small, rounded body into the air, 'kicking' him square in the cheek with a wet thud.
"Ow!" Rafayel staggers back, clutching his face with dramatic flair. "You hurt me, cutie! After I was so poetic about us? Fine. Itâs payback time."
Before you can bounce away, he catches you and showers your squishy form with a barrage of quick, peppering kisses. One lands squarely on your 'forehead' near the hibiscus.
Poof!
A cloud of pink erupts. The weight in his arms suddenly triples, and he grunts as you materialize back into your human form, nearly knocking him into the bathtub. You scramble for balance, your face flushed red with a mix of lingering embarrassment and pure rage.
"Rafayel! You idiot!" you yell, pointing a finger at the door. "Why do you have a volatile, body-morphing Protocore just sitting on your desk next to the lapis lazuli? I could have stayed like that forever!"
"Oh, please," he retorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink with an effortless pout. "Youâre the one who canât keep your hands off my materials. Curiosity killed the cat, but in your case, it just made you exceptionally... aerodynamic."
"I was not aerodynamic! I was a blob! A pink, chirping blob!"
"A very cute blob," he counters, stepping into your space.
"That's not the point! What if someone steps on me?"
The bickering continues, a rapid-fire exchange of dramatic gestures and indignant huffs, until Rafayel suddenly reaches out. He cups your cheeks in his paint-stained hands, silencing your next protest. He leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your lips that tastes like the ocean.
He pulls back just an inch, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Keep arguing if you want," he whispers, his voice dropping into that rare, sincere register that always makes your heart skip. "But remember this: no matter what shape you take, Iâd know your soul anywhere. Even if you were a pink blobâIâd still love you all the same."
The air in the private lounge is heavy with the scent of expensive leather and the sharp, metallic tang of Sylusâs energy. He sits reclined in his armchair, a glass of dark crimson liquid in one hand, his gaze fixed on a tablet. He doesnât look up, even as a frantic, rhythmic thud-thud-thud echoes against the marble floor.
You are no longer the Hunter he knows. You are a shimmery pink, gelatinous blob, soft and translucent, with two tiny, useless white wings fluttering pathetically from your sides. You launch yourself into the air, bouncing against his combat boots, trying to scale the heights of his legs to get his attention.
Sylus moves his foot just an inch, a deliberate, dismissive gesture that sends you rolling across the floor like a stray marble. He doesn't say a word, but the set of his jaw is rigid. Heâs furious. He told youâexplicitlyâthat the ring on his desk wasnât a toy or a gift, but a cursed artifact recovered from a high-level Flux zone. You had scoffed, waiting for his back to turn before your curiosity got the better of you. One touch, and poofâthe world became a forest of giant furniture.
You scramble back toward him, your tiny wings buzzing with anxiety. Youâre terrified; if Luke or Kieran walk in now and see a strange, squishy pink thing, theyâll likely use you for target practice or toss you back and forth across the training room.
You bounce higher, landing on the coffee table and vibrating with desperation. Sylus doesn't even blink. He simply flickers his fingers, his red Evol swirling like a serpent. The gravity shifts around you, a silent force lifting your squishy body and depositing you unceremoniously on the far end of the long leather sofa.
The rejection is too much. You flare a bright, neon pink, your little form heaving with silent sobs.
"Nyaaaaa...!!" you scream, the sound a high-pitched, melodic wail. You begin to roll back and forth across the sofa cushions, a frantic, squishy display of heartbreak and frustration.
A long, weary sigh escapes Sylus. He sets his glass down with a controlled clink. "Still as dramatic as ever, I see."
He stands, his shadow looming over you like a mountain. He reaches out, his large, scarred palm settling on the sofa. You hesitate for a second before jumping into the center of his hand. He lifts you to eye level, his crimson eyes narrowed, though a dangerous spark of amusement flickers within them.
"Youâve had your fun, haven't you?" he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shimmering, rounded side. "This is exactly why a certain naughty kitten get punished."
You freeze. The realization hits you like a physical weight. Your wings stop fluttering as you stare at him. He knew. From the very first second you started bouncing against his boot, he knew it was you, and he let you struggle just to watch you squirm. You vibrate with a sudden, indignant heat, your pink surface turning a darker shade of rose as you try to 'bite' his thumb.
"Of course I knew it was you," he counters, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Iâd recognize the core of your soul anywhere, no matter how ridiculous the vessel looks like."
He doesn't give you time to protest. He brings his hand closer, his face closing the distance until his lips press firmly against the center of your soft, shimmery form.
Poof!
A shockwave of red energy explodes through the room. The weight in his hand vanishes, replaced by the solid, warm weight of your human body falling against him. You materialize in a tangle of limbs, your breath hitching as you find yourself pinned between him and the back of the sofa.
Before you can even open your mouth to scream at him for his cruelty, Sylus reacts with speed. He catches both of your wrists in a single, iron-clad grip, pinning them high above your head against the leather.
He leans in, his chest pressing against yours, a slow, dark smirk spreading across his face as he watches the fire return to your eyes.
"Youâre not going anywhere, kitten," he whispers, his voice vibrating against your skin, "we haven't even started on the second part of that punishment.â
The scent of jet fuel and heavy metal clings to Calebâs uniform as he pushes open the door to the apartment. He rolls his shoulders, the tension of the day weighing him down like lead. All he wants is the sight of youâthat specific, bright smile that usually acts as a reset button for his brain after a grueling week at the fleet.
"Pips, Iâm home!" he calls out, tossing his keys onto the counter.
Silence meets him. The apartment is still, but the air feels charged, vibrating with a leftover hum of energy. He frowns, his gaze sweeping the living room. "Thatâs weird. Couldâve sworn I heard something."
He isn't wrong. Seconds ago, you were standing right there, reaching for the mysterious new Protocore youâd tucked away. The moment your skin brushed its jagged surface, a blinding light seared your vision. Now, the ceiling is a mile high, and the legs of the coffee table look like redwood trunks.
You try to take a step, but your legs are gone. You stumble, your new, squishy body rolling across the floor until you thud against the base of the full-body mirror on the wall. You look at the glass and try to scream, but the sound that leaves you is a soft, airy whistle.
"Pii!"
You catch your reflection: a round, bouncy yellow blob with a shimmering purple-pink sphere embedded on top of your head.
"Piiiiiiiiiii!"
Caleb turns at the sound, his reflexes sharp as you launch your gelatinous body through the air toward him. His hands move instinctively, cupping you mid-flight.
"Whoa! Hey!" He stumbles back a half-step, looking down at his palms with wide eyes. "A yellow blob? Whatcha doing here, little guy?"
Frustration boils over. You aren't a "little guy." You launch yourself from his palms, landing on his head and sinking your 'mouth' into his messy hair, pulling with all your might.
"Ow, ow! Hey! Leggo!" He laughs, a confused, rough sound, as he gently pries you off. He settles you on his shoulder, his head tilting as he catches a familiar scent. The sharp, crisp aroma of apple-mint shampoo wafts from your squishy form.
His movements go still. "Waitâno way. Are youâ"
He grabs you from his shoulder, holding you out so he can squint at your features. He looks past the yellow surface, focusing on the specific, stubborn shade of your eyes and the frantic, panicked expression heâs seen a thousand times when youâve lost your keys or burnt toast.
"...Pips?"
"Piii...!!" Your little form heaves, your eyes welling with shimmering droplets of moisture.
"Wait a secondâhow??" He lifts you closer, his thumb stroking your side. He watches as you jump and vibrate, pointing toward the spot where the Protocore used to be, trying to explain the surge of energy and the sudden shrinkage.
Caleb just shakes his head, a lopsided, boyish grin spreading across his face. "Sorry, Pips. Canât understand a thing youâre saying." He leans back, his eyes darkening with a playful, possessive spark as he watches you bounce. "I think I like you more like this, though. Easier to keep track of. Mine only." He lets out a low, rumbling laugh. "No one else gets to see you like this."
You vibrate with indignation, but Caleb doesn't give you a chance to 'kick' him. He brings you flush against his face, nuzzling his cheek against your soft, warm surface. As he shifts his hold, his lips accidentally graze against the lips of your blob form.
Poof!
A flash of golden light explodes in the kitchen. The weight in Calebâs hands changes instantly. In the blink of an eye, the blob is gone, and he is suddenly holding your full human weight. You materialize in his arms, your face inches from his, your expression twisted in a furious pout.
"You like me more like that?!" you yell, shoving against his chest. "I was terrified! I thought I was going to be a stress ball forever, and you're talking about 'mine only'â"
Caleb doesn't let you finish the sentence. He just laughs, that deep, grounding sound that always softens your edges. He pulls you back in, his arms locking around your waist as he lifts you off your feet, swinging you around once before capturing your lips in a firm, lingering kiss.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glowing with genuine relief and a hint of something much more heated.
"Now that you're back," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register as he starts walking toward the bedroom with you in his arms, "I need you to pamper me. On the bed. No more disappearing, Pips."
I still donât know what this is called. I donât think this is drabble but more like fluff? Haha I just wrote what I like! Hope you enjoy reading it đ€đ
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â primarily, gojo's love language is physical touch
â when gojo loves you, you'll know - and you'll know because he'll be continuously finding every single opportunity to touch you
â and i don't even mean this sexually like my man just has this innate need to have physical contact
â he needs to squeeze behind you? he's gently grabbing your waist to scooch past. you're sitting next to him on the couch? his hand is on your knee, drawing soft shapes into the side of it with his fingers. if you walk into a room together and there aren't enough seats, you don't even have to ask before he's offering you his lap (this is his dream come true.)
â you absolutely cannot walk side by side without holding hands, and even sitting at the dinner table with your friends his pinky will be intertwined with yours
â i wouldn't even put it past him to want to get naked with you purely to cuddle. in bed, under the duvet, skin-on-skin contact straight from heaven as you both lay in each other's arms and share soft kisses - it's so warm and intimate and loving, like he's the epitome of love (aftercare king btw)
â secondary love language of gift giving, because you know he's filthy rich and he absolutely wants to spoil you - on top of that, it's his way of showing you that he's been thinking about you even when you aren't together
â primarily, geto's love language is words of affirmation
â he's never been shy about his love for you, and he's secure in his masculinity, so why would he not use every opportunity to tell you how gorgeous you are and how lucky he is?
â his love may not be as clingy as others, but that doesn't mean it isn't there
â his love is in every comment section of your posts, reposting them and commenting with hearts and proud compliments. his love is in the way he'll kiss your cheek and tell you that you look beautiful today before you leave the house in your new outfit. his love is in the way he never makes you feel unloved after arguments - explicitly telling you that yes, he is mad, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less.
â secondary love language is quality time, because he could honestly spend a whole day just sitting in silence with you on the couch while you each do your own life admin work - organising calendars, appointments, work, etc
â it doesn't matter what he's doing with you, but just choosing to exist together makes him feel loved and connected x
â primarily, nanami's love language is acts of service
â you can trust that when you live with him you do not have to lift a finger around the house.
â he irons, he vacuums, he washes the dishes after he cooks you dinner, etc, everything is done nanami approved - and if you have to do too much to help him, he thinks he's failed
â he shows you his love through all the little things, because he literally breathes love for you, it's engrained in everything he does
â you'll come home from work only to find a warm bubble bath with your favourite scented candles around the bathroom all ready for you, and you're so exhausted that this literally brings tears to your eyes
â you never have to question if he loves you or not because nanami kento is the definition of 'if he wanted to, he would'
â secondary love language is words of affirmation, because he loves you and he's not going to be afraid to let you know it
â never finishes a conversation without saying 'i love you', and if you think you're going to prank him by hanging up the phone without saying it back, just know he won't stop calling you until he hears it
â primarily, sukuna's love language is acts of service
â while you're his partner, you should expect to be treated almost like royalty on his estate
â you do not cook for yourself, you do not clean after yourself, you do not need to worry your pretty little mind about anything - sukuna will have it all sorted for you x
â and by have it all sorted i mean he'll have uraume help him organise the staff around his estate and keep everything running smoothly
â you're his most treasured possession (not objectifying, ykwim), you deserve to be sitting calmly in a throne next to his and relaxing with him while the staff supply you with grapes and different cheeses
â so yes, he will make sure absolutely everything is taken care of so that you can just focus on living your life and shining like the star you are
â secondary love language is gift giving, because he's the king of curses and if you want something he can absolutely guarantee you will have it
â what use would his status be if the love of his life isn't able to have what she wants? he will make it happen, no matter how impossible + no matter how ridiculous
â sometimes you don't even have to ask him for things, he's always paying attention and he's always getting you things that remind you he's thinking of you
â primarily, toji's love language is quality time
â to be honest, he doesn't see the excitement around expensive, fancy dates in some tight-ass restaurant where the food portions are tiny and you're both squeezed into stiflingly posh clothes
â you're all the fancy he needs. he'd much rather go for a walk with you around the nearest park and watch the sunset, or cuddle up on the couch and watch the newest show you guys are binging
â as long as he's in your presence, he's a happy man - yes, under that tough exterior i do believe he has a romantic heart, sue me.
â even doing domestic things together such as grocery shopping, medical appointments, or cooking dinner (okay he might not be the best cook but at least you're doing it together) would satisfy him like going on a date
â secondary love language is acts of service, because even though he may not be good at saying pretty words to you all the time, he will make sure you don't feel as though you're living with a slop
â toji is a competent partner (hello, married twice), and he doesn't want to make you feel like he's with you for domestic labour. always cleans up after himself, would definitely run you a bath (together... wink wink...) after work, and anything else that makes your life a little bit easier x
â primarily, choso's love language is physical touch
â the absolute worst thing you can do to him is not let him touch you oh my god - 'clingy' and 'choso' both start with 'c' for a reason, let me put it that way
â one of the most attentive and outwardly affectionate boyfriends out of all the jjk men i fear, and it's all because he's never actually experienced the all-consuming love that you bring him - until you hug him for the first time
â you didn't even think too much of it because you're always hugging people, but to choso... he wouldn't even stop dreaming about it because the moment made its way that deep into his subconscious
â he'd slowly start finding ways to increase your physical affection towards each other, even settling for lingering high fives and sitting shoulder to shoulder
â but when he finally gets to cuddle with you... oh my he was in heaven so strong he could purr like a cat
â constantly seeks this feeling like there's no tomorrow. be prepared to never sleep separately ever again.
â secondary love language is words of affirmation, because he seriously cannot believe how he bagged an absolute goddess such as yourself (he doesn't see the appeal of himself like you do... good thing you're great at reminding him), and he will always tell you that directly
â has a limited filter but in the best way possible because he comes up with the most niche, amazing compliments ever - "your outfit is so sharp it could puncture an entire fleet of navy ships leaving thousands stranded at sea" core...
â primarily, yuuji's love language is words of affirmation
â this boy has endless amounts of beautiful things to say about you and is also a yapper so it works out that you hear it all the time !!
â definitely the type to write you little post-it notes of compliments and affirmations and stick them on your bathroom mirror - you are absolutely NOT allowed to harbour a single negative thought about yourself around yuuji.
â okay maybe i'm reaching on this one but he writes you love letters awughh
â like he just loves you so much and feels so much for you that he just has to get it out and has a chronological stash of them because at the start of your relationship he didn't want to scare you off or overwhelm you
â but after you discover them all at the bottom of one of his desk drawers, dated and sealed, and you spend the rest of the afternoon immediately crying to yuuji about it because you can't believe he would do that for you and you didn't even notice and you feel so LOVED
â now he just leaves them around as little gifts for you to find - and although they might not have the neatest handwriting or be completely aesthetically pleasing, they're straight from the heart and you love him
â secondary love language is physical touch, because PDA hates to see this guy coming
â please hold his hand - no matter the company, the situation, or the setting. please rest your head on his shoulder - even better if you're in a form of transport so you can nap like that. please literally find any excuse to sit close to him so you can nonchalantly and subtly (everyone can tell) have physical contact on any part of your bodies.
â primarily, megumi's love language is quality time
â while he's not the loudest, most expressive boy, just sitting with you will do it for him
â one of his most treasured core memories with you was when it was early, early morning and you were hanging out with megs in his dorm, but it had gotten to that time of night where both of you were so tired you were just laying on him
â you were both sharing a pair of earphones and listening to music together and were so warm and cozy that you just ended up falling asleep nestled into his side
â i think that's one of the times he's kind of felt like he had an out-of-body experience where all of a sudden it dawned on him that you chose him. you love him. you're curled up in his bed listening to music through his earphones.
â he's so lucky to be able to love you back and spend time in your presence like this. it's the quiet moments that make him feel the most loved.
â secondary love language is physical touch, because while he does loathe PDA (#1 hater), he can't deny that he doesn't like to leave your side when you two are alone
â tries to play it cool and tries to be nonchalant about it, but when you unwrap yourself from him in the middle of the night to go get a drink of water, he is instantly waking up and coming to find you and asking why you left him alone in bed
The click of the lock echoes in the silent apartment. You step inside, expecting the smell of whatever Xavier has started on the stove, but the air is still.
"Xavier?"
No answer. You check your watchâyouâre right on time for your dinner date. Setting the takeout bags on the counter, you wander into the living room. You expect to find him sprawled on the couch, one arm over his eyes, caught in his usual afternoon nap.
Instead, there is a... thing.
A round, lavender-hued blob sits right where his head usually rests. It looks somehow familiar, with a glossy, pearlescent sheen and a tiny yellow star bobbing on a springy antenna atop its head. A soft, pale yellow ring circles its middle like a miniature planet. It is slumped against the cushions in a way that looks suspiciously like a person who has just given up on the day.
"What even is this?" you mutter, leaning in. You reach out a finger and poke the side of it.
The blob shifts. A pair of sleepy, heavy-lidded blue eyes, blink open above a tiny, "w" shaped mouth. They are the exact shade of blue that usually greets you after a long mission.
"No way," you giggle, poking its squishy cheek. It doesn't react, it just looks at you with a familiar deadpan stare. "Youâre cute. Way cuter than Xavier. Heâs late, you know. The food is getting cold."
You slump onto the floor beside the couch, leaning your chin on the cushion. "I should just feed all of this to you instead. He doesn't deserve it if he's going to stand me up like this."
The blob doesn't argue. It just leans toward the scent of the food, the little star on its head swaying.
You open the container of his favorite braised meat and hold out a piece. A small opening appears on the blobâa mouth, more or lessâand it vacuums the food right up. You watch, mesmerized, as its round cheeks puff out, moving rhythmically as it eats.
"Oh my god, stop it," you whisper, heart melting. Without thinking, you lean forward and plant a firm kiss right on the shiny, purple side of its face.
Boing!
The blob launches itself three feet into the air, its yellow ring spinning wildly. In a split second, its cool lavender skin flushes into a deep, vibrating crimson. It hits the floor, bounces twice, and scrambles toward the open window with surprising agility.
"Wait! Come back!"
By the time you reach the window, the red streak is gone. The apartment feels twice as quiet as before. The adrenaline fades, replaced by the weight of a long day. You drag a blanket from the back of the couch, curl up on the rug, and drift off.
The soft thud of bare feet hits the floorboards.
Xavier, back in his human skin but looking thoroughly exhausted, looks down at your sleeping form. His face is still a little more pink than usual. He kneels, sliding his arms under you to lift you onto the cushions.
You don't know that just moments ago, he had stumbled in exhaustion from his mission, only for the unstable protocore he was carrying to explode right in his face, warping his form into something unexpected. Exhausted and unable to fight the change, he simply gave up and fell into a deep sleep the second he hit the cushions.
As he tucks the blanket around your chin, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.
"You're not getting away that easily," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep. "You've got to take responsibility for that kiss."
Snowyblobbu âïžđ
The door to the apartment swings open with a heavy creak. You stumble in, shoulders tight and eyes stinging from a grueling shift. You expect to see Zayneâs silhouette silhouetted by his desk lamp, his back straight and clinical as he pours over medical journals.
Instead, the living room is quiet, save for a rhythmic click-clack hitting the keys of your open laptop.
"Zayne?" you call out, but the apartment is empty of his usual towering presence.
You approach the desk and freeze. A small, frosty-blue sphere is bouncing purposefully across the keyboard, and it stops when youâre close. It looks exactly like Zayne if heâs a blob, complete with a tiny stethoscope draped around its round body and a delicate, shimmering snowflake perched atop its head like a crown. Its sharp, hazel eyes flicker up to meet yours with a serious, focused intensity.
You have no idea that this is Zayne, transformed after accidentally coming into contact with a volatile, microscopic protocore heâd extracted from a patient earlier that day.
"What are you? Youâre way too cute to be in this house," you murmur, reaching out to stroke its smooth, cold surface. "Youâre nothing like the actual doctor who lives here. Heâs so rigid, you know? Always working, always serious. I feel like I'm dating a glacier sometimes. He never just... stops. Never just spends a proper time with me."
As you complain, a wave of dizziness hits you. Your knees buckle slightly and you press a palm to your face. It feels like a furnace.
With a sudden boing, it leaps from the desk and lands right in the palms of your cupped hands. It feels incredibly coldârefreshing, like a soothing ice pack.
"Oh... you're so chilly," you whisper, leaning your head back against the chair.
The blob doesn't hesitate. It scurries up your arm and settles itself firmly against your burning forehead. The icy sensation is perfect. Itâs the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter shut and you succumb to the fever-induced exhaustion.
As your breathing evens out into a deep sleep, the air in the room begins to shimmer and crystallize. The small, round shape stretches and shifts, the stethoscope lengthening and the snowflake dissolving into the familiar scent of winter air.
Zayne, back in his human form, carefully adjusts his position so your head is resting against his chest instead of the hard chair. He looks down at your flushed face, his expression softening into something far from "rigid."
"I heard you," he whispers, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw as he begins to pull a blanket over you. "I'll reschedule everything tomorrow. From now on, Iâll make sure thereâs plenty of time for just us. But first, letâs get this fever down."
Artsyblobbu đđ
The heavy doors to the studio swing open. You brace yourself for Rafayelâs dramatic sigh and a lecture about being five minutes late, but the vast, sun-drenched room is quiet.
"Rafayel?"
You look down at your dress, smoothing the fabric. You really went all out todayâheels, perfect makeup, the works. Itâs date night, after all. You spot his phone lying abandoned on a stool next to a messy palette, but the artist himself is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, a bright pink streak launches itself from a pile of canvases. Splat. A cool, jelly-like weight hits your chest.
"Whoa!" You catch the creature before it slides off.
Itâs a vibrant, glossy pink blob wearing a tiny, tilted brown beret. One side of its body holds a miniature wooden palette. Just like Rafayel, it has a determined face with dark, expressive eyes that are currently narrowed in what looks like pure frustration.
You have no way of knowing that Rafayelâs "genius" idea to grind down a mysterious, glowing protocore for a new shade of magenta has literally backfired, turning him into this squishy masterpiece.
"What are you doing in here? Are you a new installation? That canât be?" you ask, walking over to the couch. The pink blob bounces frantically in your hands, squeaking and gesturing with its tiny palette.
You sigh, sinking into the cushions. "I guess he stood me up again. Figures." You poke the blob's soft, jelly-like side. "Rafayel is such a handful. Whenever he gets a spark of inspiration, he just... vanishes. Itâs like he forgets I even exist. Honestly, itâs pretty lonely. Sometimes I think heâll just wander off into one of his paintings and never come back."
The blob freezes. Its angry eyes soften instantly. With a sudden burst of energy, it leaps onto your shoulder. You feel a soft, wet thump against your cheekâit feels more like being hit by a lukewarm gummy bear than a kiss, but the intention is there.
"Hey! Watch the makeup," you laugh, though your heart feels a bit lighter.
Hours pass. The sunset fades into a deep violet, and the steady rhythm of the blobâs breathingâa tiny, rhythmic pulsingâlulls you into a nap right there on the couch.
The transition is gradual. The scent of sea salt and lemon fills the air as the pink jelly stretches and expands.
You wake up feeling a pair of strong arms tucking you more comfortably into the pillows. You blink, catching sight of Rafayelâs face hovering inches from yours. He looks perfectly human again, though heâs still wearing that ridiculous, bashful smirk.
"You really think Iâd just leave?" he murmurs, his voice vibrating with a gentle, teasing warmth as he brushes a stray hair from your face. "How could I ever bear to leave you? Youâre my only source of inspiration."
Fiendyblobbu đŠââŹâ€ïž
The iron gates of Sylusâs mansion hiss open, welcoming you into a silence that feels heavier than usual. Luke and Kieran are away on some errand, and the vast halls are eerily empty. You head upstairs to the master suite, hoping a long soak in the bath will chase away the day's fatigue.
Steam curls around the marble tub, but a faint rustling from the large decorative vase by the ledge catches your ear. You freeze, watching as a round, crimson shape wiggles out from behind the greenery.
"Oh my god," you squeal, leaning over the water. "You're so cute!"
The creature looks exactly like a small devilâ a glossy red blob with a pair of sharp black horns and a tuft of white fur on its head. Its tiny, narrowed eyesâsomewhat reminds you of Sylusâflicker with a look of pure offense at being called 'cute,' yet it doesn't pull away when you reach out to stroke its smooth, warm surface.
You try to balance the grumpy little thing on your shoulder or the top of your head, but it stubbornly slides down every time. It insists on sitting right beside you on the marble ledge, its gaze fixed on a delicate ring sitting nearby. A small, shimmering jewel rests atop the band, catching the light.
"Is that for me?" you whisper, your voice cracking. You reach for it, but the red blob immediately hops in the way, blocking your hand with its round body.
You let out a watery laugh. "What, do you know how much that's worth? Are you guarding the expensive stuff?"
But as you look at the ring, a thought takes hold. You imagine Sylus preparing this, a silent proposal waiting for you to find it. Your eyes grow teary at the thought of him being so sentimental. You don't realize the "jewel" is actually a rare, unstable protocore that Sylus touched just an hour ago, triggering his sudden, squishy transformation.
The blob lets out a heavy, vibrating sigh. He watches you through those tiny red eyes, relieved you haven't touched the gem yourself, but exasperated that youâve mistaken a dangerous artifact for a romantic gesture.
Later, wrapped in a robe and exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster, you fall into a deep sleep on the bed.
The air in the room begins to hum. The small red shape on the nightstand stretches, its horns lengthening and the crimson hue fading into the dark, tailored lines of a man. Sylus stands over you, back in his human form, watching your peaceful expression. He reaches out, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips as he lightly caresses your hair.
"I better pick the best ring soon," he murmurs, his voice low and rich. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you."
Pilotblobbu đđ
The laundry basket sits heavy on the floor, a chaotic mountain of fabrics you meant to sort hours ago. You step away for just a moment, unaware that Caleb has already started digging through the pile. His fingers brush against a cold, jagged edgeâa rogue, anomalous protocore you forgot to hand over to the association. As his skin makes contact, the room suddenly spins. A blinding white light erupts from the core, swallowing his vision and leaving his head throbbing with a sharp, dizzying hum.
When you return, Caleb is nowhere to be found. Instead, thereâs a frantic rustling coming from deep inside the pile of unwashed clothes.
An orange ball suddenly bursts through a pair of jeans, huffing and puffing as it finally gulps in the fresh air. Itâs a glossy, sunset-toned blob with a set of silver aviator goggles perched on its forehead and a blue propeller spinning lazily atop its head. Its tiny, determined eyesâjust like Calebâsâblink rapidly as it shakes off a stray sock.
"Did Caleb seriously ditch the laundry after telling me heâd help with chores?" you grumble, crossing your arms.
The blob immediately bounces in protest, its little propeller whirring with indignation. You lean in closer, squinting your eyes at the familiar way it tilts its "head." A bead of sweat seems to roll down its orange surface under your intense gaze. The tension breaks when you decide itâs just some bizarre, stray pet.
"You're actually kind of cute," you coo, picking it up and nuzzling your cheek against its smooth, warm side.
With no sign of Caleb, you spend the afternoon lounging on the bed, scrolling through your phone. The orange blob rolls around contentedly when you set him on your stomach. He eventually wiggles his way upward, squishing himself happily between your breasts. He looks utterly at peace, tucked into the soft warmth of the fabric.
"You look happy, huh?" You smile down at him.
The creature jolts, his little goggles sliding down slightly as if heâs been caught. You laugh softly, your eyes growing heavy until you eventually drift off into a light nap.
The air in the room warms and the weight on your chest shifts, growing heavier and more solid. You wake to the feeling of a head nuzzling firmly into the valley of your chest, followed by a deep, satisfied inhale.
Caleb is back in his human form, his arms wrapped loosely around you. He doesn't pull away when he realizes you're awake; instead, he just leans in closer, his voice a low, rumbling vibrate against your skin.
"No matter what," he murmurs, his breath warm through your shirt, "this spotâs definitely the best."
Ahhhh theyâre so cute I could melt!! Enjoy the small fluff after my series of rollercoaster and angst đ
Idk what is this type of writing? I only type what I like this time hehe Hope you like it! đ€đ
You found yourself inside the world of a game you love to play all the time⊠V2
Warning Tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, Isekai/transmigration, slight thriller, possible reverse harem, intimidation (WC: 2.8K) warning for future parts: polyamory/polycore
Part 1 | Part 2 | PLAYList
You know you played this game all the time. You walk inside the association, fight wanderers, and meet all the LIs separately. You memorize the skill buttons like the back of your hand and reply with the best answers whenever they chat or talk directly to you.
So why the heck am I inside the game?
The first thing you notice isn't the room, but the air. Itâs too clean, filtered to a clinical perfection that makes your lungs feel unnaturally light. The silence of the familiar but foreign apartment is heavy, expensive, and utterly wrong.
You scramble toward the mirror, your heart hammering against a ribcage that feels too sturdy, too athletic. The reflection staring back is a haunting masterpiece. It is the exact face and form you spent hours meticulously crafting on a glowing screenâthe "you" you had carefully curated to be the better version of yourself. You are looking at your own creation, but now, youâre trapped behind her eyes.
A panicked breath hitches in your chest, and before you can think, a scream tears through the stillnessâa sound that feels too resonant, too clear, echoing off walls that are far too perfect to be yours.
The scream is still vibrating in your throat when a crisp, melodic chime cuts through the noise. You spin around, looking for a phone, but thereâs nothing familiar. Instead, a thin pane of translucent glass, barely thicker than a credit card, is pulsing on the nightstand. It doesn't just ring; it projects a flickering, three-dimensional interface into the air, a piece of technology so advanced it makes your worldâs tech look like ancient history.
Floating in the center of the holographic light is a name that makes your blood run cold.
Xavier. He's upstairs. Ah⊠damn it, how does she usually speak?
You pondered a bit too long. The ringing stopped and he messaged you instead.
"What happened, Y/N? Should I go down?"
"Nothing happened! Just a cockroach in my bathroom! No need to come, I got it handled already!"
"Cockroach? You fight nastier wanderers, but you're screaming because of a cockroach...?"
You did not reply back. Your heart thumps so loud it might jump to your throat; even the watch gives you a warning that your vitals are going haywire. You know where you are: at her apartment, with the dolls you caught from the arcadeâthat's right. I did, not the Lls. They really suck at catching dolls. But that's not the point. This is inside your game. But why am I here? You still don't know. The last thing you remember in your world is eating half a cup of noodles, saving money for gems.
You immediately ask for sick leave, a week to adjust yourself before facing this world. Everyone knows she's a hardworking Hunter, soon after they catch words they all message you asking what is wrong and if there's anything they can do to help. You feel glad she has a better social life than you do in real life.
You scramble to manage the fallout, looking at her schedule, a nightmare of compartmentalization. Between Association missions, secret meetings with the Lumiere, and 'artistic sessions' with Rafayel, she had been running five separate lives that never touched. You don't know how she pulled off the act without them finding out about each other, but looking at the mountain of messages, you know one thing: you aren't that good of an actress.
Left with no choice but to adapt, you spend the first three days scavenging her apartment for clues. You are constantly startled by translucent holographic displays that bleed into the air whenever you brush against a sensorâinterfaces that make your worldâs tech look like ancient history. Everything in the space feels clinical and automated, a seamless machine that runs itself while you struggle just to belong.
You are deep in a digital deep-dive of her past when an insistent chime shatters the silence. Your heart plummets as you check the security feed. It is Zayne. Heâs standing there in a sharp white shirt, his expression as cool and unreadable as a frozen lake.
Damn it! Why did it have to be him? Of all the men to face first, it has to be the doctor, the one man whose entire profession is built on dissecting lies and noticing the smallest irregularities.
Ah, screw this. You open the door. There he is, in his neat white shirt, sleeves folded back to reveal strong, pale forearms. He walks inside, the scent of antiseptic and winter air clinging to his coat.
âUh, hi? Whatâs with the bag?â You cautiously scan the contents, your pulse already beginning to spike. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long sigh.
âDid you forget the mandatory examination? You were supposed to come to the hospital two days ago. I am here so I can file the report immediately.â He doesn't wait for an invitation. He swiftly sets his stethoscope on the table and unfolds a blood pressure monitor. âNow sit.â
You immediately obey, sinking into the chair and keeping your mouth shut to avoid a slip-up. You just need to survive this, to let him finish before he notices the 'you' behind her eyes. Eventually, you'll be caught, but at least let it not be now, while you still know almost nothing about this world.
He leans in, his face inches from yours as he wraps the cuff around your arm. You can see the faint gold flecks in his eyesâdetails that were just pixels before, now terrifyingly real. His fingers are cool as they press against your inner wrist, checking your pulse.
âYour heart is racing. Faster than usual.â He doesn't look up from his watch, his voice low and steady. âAre you stressed, or in pain?â
You jolt, then plaster on a sheepish smile. He narrows his eyes, his gaze lingering on the vein throbbing in your neck.
âI was just exercising before you came.â
âHuhâŠâ Zayne doesnât push further, but his silence is heavy. His hands work with practiced efficiency, but there is a new, lingering touch to his movements, as if heâs trying to memorize the texture of your skin. âIs there any discomfort? I remember you just came back from a grueling mission.â
No wonder your body aches. The original owner might be a seasoned Hunter, but your soul is used to a much softer life.
âIâm fine. Just a minor scratch or two. I have already treated them,â you reply, trying your best to mimic her usual independent tone.
He lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, finally stowing the stethoscope. He pulls up his laptop to enter the records, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his glasses. âYou should take care of your body better. It's the only one you have.â
He stands abruptly, his towering height casting a shadow over you. âIâm heading back. Want to meet up later tonight?â
âUh, I still need time studyingârecuperating. Maybe next week?â You grab your phone, pretending to be buried in your schedule.
He lifts an eyebrow, a flicker of somethingâdisappointment? Suspicion?âcrossing his face. âFine. We can talk about it later.â
"Thanks for coming, Zayne." You walk him to the door, desperate for the exit. But as he reaches the threshold, he turns. Before you can react, he leans down and presses a quick, firm kiss to your forehead. The skin where his lips touch feels like itâs burning.
âDonât think you can run for long, Y/N.â
The door clicks shut, leaving you stunned in the silence.
Wait-I didnât remember raising his affinity this high?!
You put your hands over your mouth and throw your own (her) body onto the bed, rolling around, holding back a scream from the embarrassment of that kiss.
The next day is worse. Rafayel comes in and brings a lot of food, saying his "cutie" needs more nourishment after battling such powerful wanderers by herself. None of them were your favorite. You hate everything he laid on the table.
"Cutie, why aren't you eating?" He props his face up with his hands on the table, glancing at you like a playful puppy. "You also canceled our date yesterday. Are you mad at me or something?"
"No? Why would I?" You feel confused about how to answer. You aren't ready to meet anyone. You thank your luck Zayne hadn't noticed how you acted differently yesterday, but with Rafayel? The artist with an eye of detail? You can only avoid his gaze every time he looks at you with concern. "I'm just not hungry, Raf.â
"But I bought all your favorites from that 5-star place you love! How can you say you're not hungry? You're definitely angry at me!" He huffs and pouts, his hands folded across his chest.
âI-I'll just take a bite, okay?" You scan the table, looking for the one dish you might actually tolerate amidst the heavy, clashing aromas. You settle on a spoonful of soup, the safest option, and struggle to keep it down the moment you swallow. Your eyes twitch involuntarily as the aftertaste lingers in your throat, but you force a bright smile. "It's yummy! Thank you, Raf!"
"I know you're hungry, eat some more!" He grins happily; you feel guilty.
He continues to ramble about a dozen different topics while you simply nod, finishing the rest of the soup while mentally cataloging every detail he reveals about her life. Then, without warning, he falls silent.
"You're really not in the mood for eating, huh..." he scratches his neck awkwardly. "Was it because of me?"
The words die in your throat as you catch his gaze. He isn't just looking at you; heâs searching you, his violet eyes tracking every micro-expression with a heavy, piercing focus. Itâs a look that shouldn't belong to a casual acquaintanceâa depth of intimacy that makes your skin crawl because you know you haven't earned it yet.
He reaches out, his fingers cool and slender as they slide around yours. Without a word, he draws your hand to his face, resting his cheek against your palm before leaning in to nuzzle against your skin. His skin feels like silk against your calloused fingertips, and you can feel the slight vibration of his breath against your wrist. Your hand goes rigid, every muscle locking into place as you struggle to find a response that won't give you away.
"Did you... hate what happened the day before you went on a mission?" What happened? This was already drifting way too far from the storyline I remembered.
He stops nuzzling, his eyes looking at yours with a hint of sadness. He moves toward you, his hands on your cheeks. He leans a bit closer, his lips almost touching yours. A hint of sea salt, lavender and cedarwood clears out the smell of food. You clench your eyes closed, waiting for his kiss. But after a moment later, nothing happens. You open an eye to see him smiling back like nothing happened.
"Juuust kidding!" He takes his hand away, raises them both up in the air as he giggles like what he did before was just a prank. Your mouth gape at his reaction.
"You-!" You want to get angry, but you freeze immediately. You don't know how she usually gets angry at him. You stop yourself before you make more mistakes, just shaking your head and sigh.
He stands and looms over you, both hands placed on the table around you with the same smile still plastered, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Your heart beats louder in the silence as he leans closer and whispers to your ear.
"I wasn't, though. I'll be waiting at my studio." The vibration sends signal to your spine. He chuckles again as he backs away, taking his clutch before walking to the door. "You better be ready, cutie."
You're speechless as he looks back and blinks an eye before leaving and closing the door shut.
"Warning! Abnormal vital signs detected!" Shit! You jump at the loud notification.
You know most of them are deeply interested in her. What makes you can't understand is how dense all of them are for not noticing how she could flirt with five men, which now may become your responsibilities to continue a relationship with, or to end them. The possibilities of having to continue having relationships with all five of them scares you.
Ah shit, what do I do?? You cover your face with both hands. It was a fun game, surrounded by five men who chased after you, but if you're really stuck here, you can't have them all. You sound like a jerk already, thinking about how to reject four of them at least.
Not to mention Tara and the whole association. They will know you're different the moment you enter battle. Her body has awesome reflexes, but it won't help you battle wanderers. You used to just press the buttons randomly when you were bored, but now? You're going to die if they assign you to a solo mission.
Your concentration snaps, you raise your head towards the sound of a window clacking. A crow is there, perched on the corner of the window, tapping the glass to be let in.
Mephisto. Has Sylus been looking at your apartment this whole time?
You open the window and it flaps its wings in. It perches on top of your table, eyeing the food.
"You can eat them. I don't like them anyway." You forgot the bird's half robot. You turn back to hear mephisto caw in protest. âShitââ
Another ring from your phone. You stopped moving. Sylus. He knows. Your hands tremble as you pressed the hovering screen, the tremor accidentally makes you push the wrong button. Shit!
"Iâm coming over tonight." The line goes dead.
Your knees buckle, the strength deserting your legs as you collapse onto the sofa. The crow flaps its wings to the window, looking at you like offering condolences before flying away. A cold, prickling sweat breaks out across your skin, your breath coming in shallow hitches. In the game, his ruthlessness was thrilling. Now, itâs a death sentence. Sylus doesn't deal in misunderstandings. If he realizes youâre an imposter in her skin, he won't just ask questions. Heâll dismantle you.
Your footsteps create a restless rhythm against the floorboards, back and forth, but your thoughts remain a tangled mess that no amount of pacing can unravel. To quiet the noise in your head, your hands move on instinctâscrubbing the remains of Rafayel's soup from the bowls and obsessively straightening the furniture. Youâre so lost in the mindless repetition of chores that you donât notice the warm afternoon glow bleeding into a bruised purple, then finally into black. When you finally look up, the apartment is draped in shadows, and the moonlight is the only thing illuminating your work.
So you turn the lights on, sitting, waiting for the inevitable to arrive. The silence is deafening, your heart already thrumming so hard it threatens to escape from your ribs.
A chime echoes through the room, but this time, the sleek, white lights of the apartment seem to dim instinctively, as if yielding to a more powerful shadow. You don't need to take a peek at the holographic display. You can feel him through the doorâa cold pressure that makes the hair on your arms stand up.
"Open up, Y/N.â
So you do. He is standing right in front of the door; you have to lift your head up to see his face, not used to his height. His eyes are looking at you, searching for something. He smells like leather and expensive wine, mixed with something deep and alluring that you can't name.
"Aren't you going to let me in?" His voice is a low vibration, more felt in your chest than heard in your ears. He doesn't smile. He simply looms, his presence a dark weight that makes the apartment behind you feel like itâs shrinking.
You immediately open the door wide, and he enters, sitting straight down on the sofa. He stretches one arm across the back of the couch.
"So, who are you?" He cut straight to the point. Shit.
"Wh-what do you mean, Sy...?" You squeeze the words out, trying to sound familiar, trying to sound her. But the nickname dies in the air between you, sounding like a rehearsal instead of a greeting. Youâre smiling, but your facial muscles feel stiff, uncoordinatedâa glitch in the system. The realization hits you like a physical weight in your gut: he isn't looking at your face, heâs looking at the fear bleeding through the gaps in your acting. Iâm so screwed.
"Don't lie to me. It's no use." He chuckles and shakes his head as he stands, walking slowly toward you. The closer he gets, the harder you feel your heart pounding. Itâs geting harder for you to breathe now.
"You might think you mimic her perfectly, but your movements are stiff, clumsy, different."
"So I ask you again," he corners you against the wall, both hands pinning you in until the world shrinks to the space between your chest and his. Your watch beeps again, a frantic rhythm that fills the silence, as his crimson eyes dissect your soul. âWho are you?â
I personally would run if Sylus ever interrogates me. Heâs handsome and nice to mc but to everyone else? I might confess every sin I committed if he asks. đ
Warning tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, Isekai/transmigration, noncon, dubcon, dark romance, smut, psychological, size difference, obsession, possession, pseudo-incst, mention of meimei, graphic sexual content, stalking/surveillance, violence, emotional trauma, reverse harem, mention of possible 3some (WC: 2.4K)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | PLAYList
Author note: you may want to read the first part first to fully enjoy the next part đ
âI really donât know what you mean, Sylus. Back off.â You donât look at him. Your tone is slightly threatening, but the faint tremble in your voice gives you away.
You can feel him staring intensely at you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. Youâre terrified to see the real himâthe one stripped of pretense, boiling with anger at the sight of his beloved changing overnight. You understand his pain to some extent, but you arenât ready for a confrontation. Being here wasnât your choice, either.
The air feels too thin to breathe, yet thick with tension. You flinch as you hear him growling, moving closer until his elbow brushes the wall. His hot breath caresses your cheek, trailing down to your neckâwhat?
âSylus!â You squirm away, but he doesn't let go. You shiver as his breath brushes behind your ear. Your heart thumps so loudly itâs as if itâs coming out to your ears. Shit. Have they already gone this far? Forget the affinity levels!
âLetâs go back to what happened last week.â What last week? I just woke up here few days agoâ
âAh!â In one swift move, he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom. He drops you onto the bed; you yelp as your back lands roughly on the mattress. You try to push yourself up, but he immediately lunges toward you, both hands pinning you in. His eyes glare into yours, trapping your gaze so you cannot look away.
Your heartbeat accelerates; you gasp for breath, your face flushed red as you remember the Night of Secrecy card. Your eyes drink in the sight of him, his slightly tanned collarbone peeking out from his dark collared hem, the way his arms tense as he holds his body hovering over yours. His frame is massive compared to your (her) body. Your eyes trail down slowly, seeing how the leather of his pants stretches, straining against his heat. Your face burns, remembering the countless fanfics you've read. Is it true heâs actually massive down there?
You forget reality for a moment until he slides his hand onto your skirt. You gasp, eyes wide as you look at his face and try to back away, but your waist is pinned by something heavy. You glance down to see black mist coiled around you. His Evol. He holds you down like a dragon pinning its prey. You eyes wide in panic as you look him in the eye; his face is terrifying when he isnât smiling. He looks at you through his lashes, lips parted, breath coming out heavy, before his lips clashed with yours.
You close your eyes, and suddenly the kiss feels deeper, overflowing with his yearning. He parts your lips, forcing his tongue inside to devour your soul. Suddenly, he winces and bites your lower lip, making you hiss. He pulls back, looking startled by his own behavior. He growls and presses you down until your back is flat against the bed.
âNo⊠SylusâŠ!â You squirm again to no avail. His hand grazes your lace, his thumb tracing your slit. Your breath hitches and your eyes grow teary as your core aches, suddenly slick with arousal. Your trembling hands try to pry him away. He quickens the pace of his stroking, playing with your hardening clit until itâs swollen and hurts from the sheer amount of moisture you're producing. âHah⊠pleaseâŠ!â
âLittle bird, why are you surprised? surely you remember our last time?â He finally smiles, but you catch the hint of sarcasm when he uses her nickname. It feels like you donât belong between them. And you donât, really. There is no romance in his touch; somehow, it feels like torture. His hands coldly demand a reaction, showing you exactly how furious he is. This is something far beyond the gameâs limitations, and it scares youâhow different the reality is from just imagining it.
His fingers stop moving; instead, he tugs your lace to the side, his breath hitching as he savors the sight of you drenched in arousal. You jolt as the cold air touch your exposed skin and clench inside, feeling even more of your slick escape as the cold air hits your heated skin. He grunts and slowly lowers his face between your thighs. His tongue strokes you slowly, gathering the fluids and swallowing, making your entire body vibrate.
âDonât, pleaseâŠ!â Your hands tremble as you reach down and grab his hair, trying to stop his tongue from stroking your slit. Both of his hands catch yours, locking them down. You canât move, and the sensation of his tongue slithering slowly inside makes you feel like you might lose control. Overwhelmed, warm tears slide down your cheeks. âI-itâs my firstâhicâjust stop!â
His movements stop instantly. He pulls his tongue back so quickly you gasp at the sudden emptiness. His eyes widen in shock at the sight of your tears. He doesnât like this one bitâin fact, he hates it. No matter how cruel he can be to others, he canât endure anything that makes you cry. It hurts him more knowing heâs hurting you.
He releases your numbing hands and reaches up to wipe your eyes, making you flinch again. He shakes his head, his eyes showing clear regret, and sighs as he releases his Evol. Finally freed, you immediately scramble away to the headboard. You huddle into yourself, knees pulled tight to your chest to create a wall that even his regretful gaze cannot penetrate, still sobbing.
âPlease leaveâŠâ
She would never speak to Sylus this way, but you donât care anymore. Even as your heart aches with the love you have for him inside the game, the sheer weight of what happened has triggered every survival instinct you own. You need silence to settle the trembling in your hands.
âY/NâŠâ
âLeaveâŠ!â
You clench your eyes shut, refusing to look at him. You don't know what expression heâs wearing, but thereâs a sting in his heart as you reject him, knowing full well you aren't her. Itâs like a command directly to his soul. You hear the sharp, shuddering intake of his breathâa jagged sound in the quiet room. Then comes the slow, heavy shift of the bed as he stands. The sound of his footsteps grows distant before the door finally clicks shut.
The blurred edges of the apartment come back into focus, confirming the hollow space where he once stood.
Cries break from you again. You donât know if itâs relief, or sadness because one of your favorite characters found out before you could gather yourself to confess, or because the apartment is empty and youâre finally freeâor simply the fact that you, someone who doesnât belong here, are all alone in this world.
You donât know when you fell asleep last night. Waking up with a sore body, you open the curtain manually since you still donât know how to navigate through the buttons. Your phone rings again. This time, itâs Caleb. You decline the call; he would know from your voice that you've been crying, and that would bring him here immediately. Your heart aches thinking of another favorite character looking at you with disbelief, or even hating you for taking his sisterâs body and living her life.
Hey, pips! Finally got a free schedule this weekend. Iâll be coming to your apartment tomorrow night. I know youâre busy, just letting you know Iâll be cooking your favorite food once I get there!
You just reply with an emoji, something the original owner of the body always did, which you know because she never deletes a chat. But mimicking Calebâs sister in a real conversation wonât be a walk in the park. Heâs known her since Gran adopted them both.
Heâll definitely notice. Iâm so deadâŠ
Five days have passed and you havenât gone outside yet. You need to know your surroundings. You try to find a comfy outfit, but there are almost none, since you were the one who only picked pretty clothes from events or chocolate exchanges. I shouldâve brought some comfy outfits. Who knew I would be the one wearing them?
You sigh in resignation, picking out a red tube top with a black cardigan and jeansâthe most basic and comfortable outfit you can find. Still, the feeling of exploring your favorite gameâs world makes you giddy with anticipation. You leave the apartment and step into the elevator.
âStarlight.â
Your heart skips a beatâbut not out of joy. You know that sleepy voiceâhow heâs already calling you Starlight. You want to get angry at her for being so promiscuous, but you were the one controlling her actions in the game. You feel like banging your head against the wall. This must be karma.
âHi, Xavi!â You beam a practiced smile. He smiles back warmly. âWhere are you going?â
âI want to go to that new hotpot restaurant. Care to join?â
âOh, I promised to meetââ You feel a sudden shift in his demeanor, but when you glance at him, he smiles as if nothing happened. You notice his eyes; the light in them is different than before. So he knows sheâs dating others too. I knew it was too good to be true. âItâs a high school reunion with my girlfriends. Maybe next time.â
You lie through your teeth; you need to wander alone. He breathes a small sigh of relief at your answer, a genuine smile spreading as he exits the elevator first. âOkay. Have fun, Y/N.â
You only wave and smile. Once heâs out of sight, you lean against the wall, exhaling a tired sigh. I canât handle another surprise meeting today.
As you walk, you pass cafes and even Jeremiahâs flower shop, which is closed. You walk further toward a less crowded street and stop at a small stall selling cute trinkets.
There are charms, talismans, and accessoriesâthe kind of random stuff youâd find in shops in your own world. It feels familiar, so you walk inside. You remember them all as your eyes catch keychains in many shapes, and you pick one for each LIs. Despite your confusion about this world, they used to be your solace. A small gesture like this canât repay their kindness, nor their future heartache, but you buy them anyway.
Youâre about to leave when you notice a peculiar keychain shaped like a fat black crow. You giggle slightly, reminded of Mephisto and his chattiness. You take two, even though you know Sylus likely won't accept them. You also take an apple-shaped keychain, but you smile sadly at the sudden thought of their rejection once they find out the truth. You don't expect to stay with them, but the feeling makes your chest tighten.
âPips? Why arenât you at work?â
Ah. Shit, Iâm not ready! You quickly look around to see him standing a few meters from you.
âCaleb! You said youâd be back tomorrow?â You plaster on that practiced grin, hands trembling behind your back as he waves too energetic, almost prancing to you. Thereâs a hint of disappointment leaking in your tone.
âWhy? Missed me that much?â He grins back happily, looking younger in casual clothes. He stops running and walks closer, the wind blows to him makes you smell him like baked apple pieâher brother. âI got away from work early to surprise you. I was on my way to shop for ingredients.â
âUh, okay. Iâll go back first, then.â You try to casually wave as you turn away, wanting to run. Please, please, pleaseâŠ!
âWaitâyouâre not going with me? Now that weâve run into each other?â He scoffs, one hand on his hip, head tilted in confusion. Shit.
âI-I gotta clean the apartment first. I was planning to do that tomorrow morning, but since you came earlyâŠâ If you could slap your own forehead for stuttering, you would. Except heâs watching you, now with wide eyes.
âCleaning? You? What happened, pips? Did you suddenly change into someone else?â He makes a joke, you feel punched in the gut. âYou know Iâll do the chores while Iâm here. Just come with meâwe can pick up your favorite snacks on the way.â
Following him feels like hell. He grins and talks about random things, catching up on everything since his last visit. You answer in short sentences to hide your lack of knowledge, pretending to be busy picking out sauces and snacks. He can feel the shift in your attitude, and it leaves him puzzled.
âPips, are you mad at me for not coming back sooner?â He sets the groceries on the counter, eyes searching yours sadly. You feel weak for his "puppy" face. âYouâve been so quiet and distant today.â
âI⊠Iâm sorry, I guess I am. But itâs not about you, Caleb, believe me.â Not just you. You wrap your arms around yourself, looking down so he won't see the signs of your turmoil within.
âItâs okay, Iâm your brother. You can talk to me. I promise Iâll make it up to you, baby.â He approaches and lifts your face to look at him. His eyes are full of longing and something else that makes your heart ache even more for lying to him. He stares a bit too long as if making sure of something you donât know. The air feels heavier makes you catch your breath, lips parted a bit, eyes glistening.
âGuhâŠ! Damn itâI canâtâŠ!â He sees the answer in your eyes and wincesâthen kisses you on the spot.
âMmâhmphâŠ!â You try to push him away, but his grip on your neck and waist is too strong. You have to get away and explain, but you're terrified heâll flip once he finds out you aren't her.
The kiss goes from soft to feralâhis tongue parts your lips, forcing its way in. Your teeth clash as his hands roam your body. You can barely breathe; he doesn't break the kiss even as he lifts you up. Your hands wrap around his neck for support. He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down gently before finally breaking the kiss. He looks at you darkly, chest heaving. FuckâIâm too weak for those eyes!
He stands tall at the edge of the bed, breath ragged as he pulls off his shirt to reveal defined abs. You would cry with happiness if it weren't for the fact that you aren't the one he wants. His eyes are deep with desire as he leans in, pinning you with both hands. You realize youâre in the same position as yesterday, but with a completely different feeling.
You like Sylus, too. He and Caleb are your favorites out of the five. But Sylus has already seen the truth, and you don't have it in your heart to lie to Caleb anymore. You swallow hard, steeling yourself.
âCaleb, thereâs something I have to tell you.â Your voice trembles; your cold fingertips touch his hot chest to stop him. He takes your hand and entwines his fingers with yours. There is sadness and a hidden intensity in his eyes.
âLater, baby. Iâll listen later.â He gives a thin smile before kissing you again, his tongue tasting yours with a strange melancholy. His other hand trails down, palm cupping the heat between your thighs before his fingers begin a rhythmic, punishing friction against your clothed clit. You gasp as the sensation jolts through you, your hips stuttering upward as you try to stop his hand, but heâs much stronger, pinning your wrists with ease.
âI miss you, meimei.â
You hiss and shiver at the low, vibrating whisper in your ear. He nips your earlobe, making your core throb and release a thick flood of heat that soaks your skin. His hard, calloused fingers slide your lace aside, slicking themselves in your nectar before sliding two fingers deep inside you. You startle and moan, your internal muscles clenching around him in a desperate reflex.
âAh⊠pleaseâŠ! Caleb, listen tââ Your back hits the bed as he slides your shirt up to expose your bra. He exhales a trembling, ragged breath at the sight of your chest heaving, and releases the front latch. Your breasts spill out, heavy and aching for his touch. Oh God, why did I choose to wear this one today?
âNo.â His fingers thrust with more intensity, bottoming out against your cervix before curling upward to hook against your G-spot. Your head snaps back, hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white as your hips rise and fall against his hand. You moan louder, gasping as he catches your hardened nipple between his teeth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. It feels foreign and frightening since itâs your first time being ravaged like this, but the pleasure is overwhelming because Caleb knows exactly how to make this body unravel.
âCaleb, pleaseâŠ!â You donât want to lie, but you canât stop the rush of ecstasy from his accurate, relentless thrusting. Something builds in your core, a tightening tension that suddenly snaps, causing your insides to clench uncontrollably as you're hit with a wave of release that leaves you gasping.
âFuck, babyâyouâre more sensitive today.â He breathes a dark laugh, pulling out his fingers, which are drenched and glistening with your arousal. He opens his pants with a swift motion, revealing his thick, pulsing length already slick with pre-cum. He takes your own fluids from his fingers and smears them along his shaft, the sight of his size sending a bolt of pure horror through you. How can something that big fit inside? Y/N, you fucking crazy bitch.
âLift your hips for me, meimei.â He pulls your underwear away, grabbing your trembling legs and draping them over his broad shoulders. He grins darkly as he settles between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing firmly against your drenched, swollen slit. âSo wet for me, my precious baby sister.â
âThatâs enough.â
A sharp sound cracks through the room as the window is thrown open so hard the glass shatters. Sylus stands on the balcony, his feet barely touching the ground. His Evol dances wildly around him, reflecting his fury. Caleb covers you from the shards while trying to push Sylus back with his own Evol, but Sylusâs energy blocks the attack. Both are locked in a stalemate.
âYou fuckerâyouâll hurt her!â Caleb shouts in a rage you've never seen from him.
âYou know sheâs not Y/N. I know you watched her from your secret feed. Why would you deny your instinct?â Sylus walks in, closing the distance. Your eyes go wide. What secret feed? How do they know each other?
âYou think I donât know that?!â Caleb stands, hand clenched over his chest. Youâre horrified. He knew. So whyâ
âI donât usually enjoy being proven wrong, but it seems I wasn't the only one losing my mind.â Sylus huffs, pulling his hair back in a rare display of frustration. He stops inches from Caleb, the air growing heavy as their eyes clash.
âI donât want to let her go.â Caleb shakes his head, glaring.
âI donât want to, either.â Sylus casually begins to unbutton his shirt. âI guess we just need to learn to share.â
A defiant Caleb, and a frustrated Sylus. A very steamy scene will be on the next part đ I had to rewrite some parts again and again because it didnât convey the messages as I want it to. I hope this part still connects from the first one. Hope you enjoy the story đ
Also, comment below if youâre interested in being tagged in this seriesâ future parts đ
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âShh, shh⊠Donât make a sound, pips. You'll wake him.â
Calebâs morning voice is raspy, a low whisper against your ear. Your eyes catching sight of Sylus still sleeping soundly in the bed, just a few feet away. âCan you feel how much harder mine gets for you in the morning?â
You can only let out a breathless moan. Your legs dangle around his waist as he slams your weight down onto him, fucking you wide awake while he stands. Your fingers have been clawing at his shoulders but he doesn't even break his rhythm, carrying you to the sofa while buried deep inside you, finally laying you down and gently sliding a pillow beneath your hips.
Yeah, keep telling yourself heâs being sweet. Every time he cushions your back means your legs are going to tremble like a newborn fawn for the rest of the day.
âNgh⊠damn, baby, youâre so tightâŠâ Calebâs jaw ticks, muscles flexing under his skin. His eyes look completely predatory.
He acts as if yesterday wasnât enough. Only a few hours have passed since the three of you finished, and you honestly canât handle both of them again this morning. You desperately need rest, even while your body craves every bit of the friction.
Caleb pounds harder. You feel a heavy tug every time his tip blunts against your sweet spotâthe kind of intense depth and pace that if continues will definitely leave your womb aching for days. But right now? You donât give a fuck.
âCum for me, baby. Let me hear you call my name.â
You exhale his name, a breathless prayer rather than a scream. Somehow, the soundless shape of his name on your lips drives him completely mad.
Caleb delivers one final slam, pinning you to the cushions as he cums deep inside you.
He leans down, kissing you with a tender softness that completely contradicts the brutal pacing from seconds ago. He lifts your trembling body back into his arms, his length finally slipping out of you as he carries you back to the bed, thick white liquid dripping down the floor.
He sets you down gently onto the mattress. But the moment your head hits the pillow, a faint, warm breath brushes your cheek.
You turn your head.
A pair of crimson eye stare back at you. A dark smile blooming on his lips.
Youâre screwed.
đđŠâ⏠AppleCrowArchives Masterlist
As always, comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated đđ§Ąâ€ïž
The night is long when both of them are trying to shareâŠđđŠââŹ
Warning Tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, isekai/transmigration, smut, dubcon to consent, use of Evol, applecrow x reader, 3sum, O and V DP, size difference, breeding, pseudo-incst, mentions of meimei, overstimulation, possessive, obsessive, dark romance, angst, jealousy, bruising, marking, maybe more (WC: 2.5K)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | PLAYList
Author note: you may want to read the first and second part first to fully enjoy the story đ
Blood drains from your face as you watch both men looming over you like predators. Their eyes are locked onto yours, and you find yourself retreating, shrinking under the weight of their heavy, calculating gazes.
âH-hey, you know already that Iâm not her,â you stammer, your voice trembling and eyes pleading. They look at each other, then back to you. Without a word, Sylus begins to remove his clothing with lethal precision. Iâm not ready yet! I meanânot just one, but two??
Your eyes dart between Caleb and Sylus, reveling in the sight of their toned abs and the shape of their groins, but what lies beneath is equally daunting. Both release their massive lengthsâSylusâs cock springs free, his length longer, while Calebâs is thicker with mapped veins and just as hard. Both are flushed a maddened red at the tips. You are aroused and horrified all at once. âPlease, letâs just talk first!â
âTalk?â Sylus scoffs, his tone slightly mocking. âI thought you didnât want to talk yesterday?â Well, you werenât exactly talking yesterday, damn it!
Sylus circles the bed, every step he takes like a bell tolling signaling your time, until he is beside you, knees dipping into the mattress. The scent of natural musk from his manhood inches from your face makes your breath hitch and drenches the sheets even more.
You try to scramble away, but it doesn't take much for him to seize you, forcing you back against his warm, bare chest. His hot hands begin kneading your plush breasts, and a breathless moan escapes your throat. His jaw shifts as he looks at your face, eyes glazed and aroused but still pleading for mercy. You donât know your expression only makes him want to ruin you. You want to run, if not for the fact they both use their Evol to lock you in place. Shit! Why do they have to get along at a time like this?!
âI do nowâI do! HahâPleaseâŠ!â You try to move his hands but you can't make him budgeâhe clicks his tongue instead. He growls as his hands playfully pinch and flick your nipples in turn, making your hips jolt each time he switches sides to bully the sensitive, pebbled peaks. Your hands claw his shoulders. âAhâSylusâŠ!â
âFocus on me too, baby.â Caleb grabs your face and forces his tongue into your mouth, dragging your tongue out to suck on it greedily. You feel your insides clench so hard that your arousal begins dripping onto the bed. He stopped moving to glance down, watching as your clear liquid wets his knee where it brushes your slit. You can feel his lips smiling against yours, his chest heaving.
Sylusâs eyes trail down following Calebâs eyes to the mess you are making. âDid you cum before we even penetrate you? Naughty kitten.â
Sylus grips your hair and pulls your head to the side, making you gasp and breaking the kiss. Caleb growls, chasing your lips to reclaim them, his fingers entering your cunt before thrusting again. Your gasps and moans muffled by his lips kissing you fervently. Sylus buries his face in your neck, leaving a trail of bite marks. His length presses hard against you from behind; you tremble at the thought of how it might reach your belly button if he shoved it in to the hilt. The sensation of both men stimulating you is too much. You feel intoxicated as your core pours out even more fluid.
Caleb releases his Evolâyour feet feel lighterâas he releases the kiss. He licks the arousal from his fingers, humming in approval before lowering his mouth to your dripping cunt. He gathers your arousal with his tongue and drinks you in, his face buried in your folds while his tongue darts inside, flicking your sensitive spots with devastating accuracy. âFuck, youâre so wet, baby.â
âMmhâŠ! Caleb!â The vibration from his low humming makes you jolt and arch your back. Sylus shifts back slightly while his hands guides your back so you can lie flat on the bed, his cock throbbing against your lips as he releases his Evol. Caleb raises your legs to fix the angle, his face still buried between your thighs, his hands gripping your legs so hard theyâll surely bruise.
âYou canât take us both yet, princess.â Sylus strokes his length, watching your face as you bite your lip to hold back the moans, eyes watering from the intensity of Calebâs tongue and the sight of Sylus towering above your head.
âDonât biteâthatâs our privilege.â He pushes his thumb into your mouth to part your lips gently. He plays with your tongue, coating his thumb in your spit until it glistens. He shudders at the sight of you beneath him, smirks as he thinks how Caleb missed out such view.
âYou gotta take her mouth.â Caleb finally lets go, licking your juices from his face as he raises his head, looking at you through his lashes. Youâre weak for that face, and he knows it. He smirks as he positions his hip closer between your thighs, placing his tip at your entrance. âIâm claiming this hole first.â
âWaitâCalebâŠ!â Your hands push against him, but he enters you slowly, unaffected by your resistance. His fat tip is a punishing stretch for your internal muscles. You grab the hands Sylus offers for support as Caleb goes deeper; not even half of him is in yet. âAahâŠ! Hahâplease, youâre stretching meâŠ!â
âFuckâŠ! Donât clench so hard, baby. Iâll stop moving until youâre ready.â Caleb grimaces, his nails digging into your hips to keep you from squirming. Sylus rubs circles on your lower abdomen, a mock attempt to soothe you that only stimulates you further as your G-spot is pressed hard against Calebâs angry tip. Your eyes drift from Sylusâs sweat-glistening abs to his length nestled right beside your face.
âOpen your mouth,â Sylus commands, straightening his back and nudging his hot, flushed tip against your lips.
Does it even fit? You open up anyway. Your tongue licking the beads of pre-cum at his tip. He shudders at the warmth of your mouth as he begins to slide inside. You can't breatheâyou have to stretch your jaw to its limit to accommodate his girth, tilting your head back as he pushes deep into your throat. Your eyes tear up; your trembling hands caress his thighs, signaling him to slow down.
âFuck.â He remembers how she used to take him, and she never had an expression like yours. He almost ejaculates as you whimper around him, but he grits his teeth and groans, his jaw clicking as he holds himself back. âDonât make such face, kitten.â
Suddenly, they both slam into your holes. You gag at the sudden dual thrust, your throat completely filled with Sylus while Caleb bottoms out inside you. Your hands flail around Sylusâs waist, asking for help. He notices your movements after his mind goes blank for a moment and pulls out, allowing you to cough and gasp for air. He hushes you while his hands stroke your hair damp with sweat.
âIâm sorry. I thought you could take me.â He has to remind himself you aren't her, or youâll withdraw from him againâsomething he can't have. He grabs your hand and guides you to stroke his length, already wet with your spit. You look at his face, his jaw tight and face contorted from holding back, his pupils blown wide, staring back at you.
âI guess heâs your favorite, huh.â Sarcasm drips from Calebâs lips as he slams into you again, burying his entire shaft. You let out a scream of combined pleasure and pain as he smothers your womb. âFuckkkâhahâyou feel so good.â
âI bet you wouldn't even see me if I hadn't come over. Youâre having so much fun with many men, even here in this apartment.â His fingers bruise your hips as he slams into you repeatedly. You let out loud, choking sounds at his merciless thrusts.
âCaleb, IâhicâI wouldn'tâagh!â Your hand stops shaking Sylusâs length as your focus shatters under Calebâs relentless assault. His grip is bruising as he lifts your hips to a better angle, ramming into you without mercy. Your eyes lock; his pupils almost devour what little purple is left in his eyes.
âHahâIâm so close! BabyâŠ!â
âDonât be selfish, Caleb.â Sylus flares his Evol, nearly choking Caleb as a warning. Caleb stops mid-thrust, shooting Sylus a terrifying glare. He glares back with equally terrifying red eyes. âYou already fucked her cunt. Stop hoarding her attention.â
âWill you both just listen!!â you scream, finally sick of their fighting. Your sudden outburst catches them off guard, freezing them mid-motion. âI've been in love with both of you for so long! And yes, Iâm ashamed of how easily Iâm giving in to thisâto both of youâbut please, just believe me when I say I want you! And stop fighting mid-sex! I canât switch between managing your tempers and receiving your huge cocks!â
The silence that follows is deafening. They stop moving entirely, their bodies locked in place as they stare into your eyes, their expressions unreadable and blank. You regret screaming. Oh shit, are they gonna get angry?
Itâs a sudden, violent throb to their systemsâa rush of raw validation they never realized they craved. With her, everything was a performance, a contest between men. But your anger? Your desperate, messy honesty? Itâs a soul-deep acknowledgement that they both wanted, and it shatters their last bit of restraint.
Both men tremble against you, their muscles coiling as they reach a breaking point. Calebâs knuckles go white as he delivers a few final, punishing thrusts, while Sylus forces your hand into a frantic rhythm on his length, his eyes locked on yours.
They break in unison. Caleb groans, a hot wave of release flooding you until it overflows and drenches your thighs. Simultaneously, Sylus splatters your face in thick streaks, his breath hitching into a dark growl.
You don't hesitate, licking the heat from your skin and swallowing every drop. The sight of you consuming his seeds destroys whatâs left of their composure; both men snap back to a heavy, aching hardness instantly, their gazes darkening with a brand-new hunger.
âWaitâWhy are you both getting hard again?!â
âItâs your fault, baby. Youâre a natural at this.â Caleb slicks his sweaty hair back, a dark grin plastered on his face. âI donât know about him, but once is not enough for me.â
âSince you already came inside, time to switch.â Sylus glares at him, a small warning.
Caleb groans as he pulls out, shifting to your head. Sylus positions himself in front of your thigh, then flips you onto your stomach, making you yelp as he raises your hips high.
âMy turn, princess.â He positions his throbbing length and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt. Your tilt back in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the sensation his tip hitting your core repeatedly. The dirty sound of skin slapping, mixed with the wet schlop of your overworked cunt, echoes through the room.
âHaaâahhâŠ! Not too deep! Sylus!â
His name escapes your mouth, making Calebâs brows furrow with jealousy. He raises your upper body with his Evol, knowing your hands are too weak to hold yourself up. He tilts your head upward, forcing you to look at him as he positions himself in front of you, his cum still leaking from his tip.
âClean it.â
A shiver races down your spine. You never realized it before, but commanding tones are definitely your kink. You grab his length and lick every inch of his long dick, your rhythm breaking every time Sylus slams your insides. He arches and throws his head back at the sensation of your breath and tongue on his length. âHahâfuckâeven your tongue feels perfect.â
You watched him shuddering, then take his fat tip in your small mouth in attempt to please him more. âShitâmeimei, Iâm gonna cum again if you look at me like that. Can I go a bit deeper?â
You nod, he gently put his length deeper. It wasnât until half that the edge of your lips start to tear, makes you whimper, eyes teary looking at him while pleading. His face contorts in pain as if heâs the one hurt, and pulls out. âOh, shit. Baby, are you ok?â
Sylus stops his movement, concerned about you. You nod in silence. Caleb pats your hair, fingers linger a bit long between the threads of your hair before he tilts your head up, licking the torn lips to soothe the pain, kissing you again. You close your eyes in the deep kiss.
âNow youâre not paying attention to me, kitten. How will you learn to share your affection?â He suddenly slams his length again.
âMmhâ! Sho-so sorry, Sy!â You raise your other hand to touch him, but he licks your palm instead before biting down. âAh!â
He hovers over you, his face close to your ear as he growls, his hand rubbing circles around your lower abdomen and whispers, âIâm going to fuck your womb. Youâre going to be a beautiful mother glowing with my babies inside your belly.â
A shiver runs down your spine as heat builds inside you. You love the idea of having their babies, with their eyes or their hair color, how they would be the hottest daddies ever. The thought slips out of your mouth. âY-yesâŠ! Yes, daddy, please put your seeds inside me!â
ââŠFuck!â Sylus shivers at the new nickname, thrusting faster and harder, before he push his tip so hard it enters your womb, making you scream in both pain and pleasure as you reach your climax while he release a flood of cum directly inside your core. He grins darkly when your insides clenching as they drink his cum. âMy love, you certainly know how to push my buttons.â
Sylus releases his length with a pop, and your cunt gushes with mixed fluids. He guides your trembling hand to stroke Calebâs length, while Caleb presses your cheek to open your mouth.
âDrink mine too.â
His tip is directed at your mouth, your tongue sticking out to receive his cum. He grunts before finally another spurt of cum comes out, right into your mouth. You drink the whole release in one gulp and lick his tip clean.
He releases his evol and you gasp for air as you collapse on the bed, unable to move from the intensity of what just happened. Sylus licks the liquid from your thighs, cleaning your swelling folds. Caleb caress your head and pats your back softly in an attempt to soothe you, until your breath is no longer ragged and light returned from your hazy eyes. You almost close your eyes drifting to sleep.
âYouâve done well taking us both, baby,â Caleb takes your hand and kiss the bite Sylus branded on your palm, âbut Iâm sorry.â
Huh� You blink.
âWeâre still not done.â Sylusâs voice rasp behind you, his thumb parting your swelling folds. You jolt again.
âI-I donât think I have energy leftâŠâ
âItâs okay, baby.â Caleb lift you up, then position you above his body as he leans on the bed.
Sylusâs hardened tip grazing your butt as he moves behind you. âYou donât need to move. We will manage the rest.â
By the third round, your voice was nearly gone. They still bicker throughout the night, yet manage to fuck you senseless, makes you cum for who knows how many times already, dragging you around using you like a doll until your mind goes blank.
âNnh!â You wake up to the sun glaring into your eyes. Oh my God, did I faint? Or was yesterday just a dream?
You look around. The window is already fixed, the glass clear and new. The broken glass is gone, as if it had never fallen at all.
You try to sit up, but the sharp pain in your back and the ache in your pussy and your legsâand apparently all over your body from being used all nightâconfirms reality.
âOw!â
You take your time gathering strength in your legs; even though you aren't moving, your legs are still trembling. You want to kill both of them for this.
A mixed flood of cum gushes out of you as you stand. You grab tissues before it stains the carpet. It stings again when you have to bend down to wipe the liquid running down your legs. You feel the urge to grab her gun and shoot someoneâor two. Donât let me see you when I recover, you sons ofâ
Your pace stops when you see the kitchen counter. It is beautifully laid out with handmade foods, lubricants and gels, pads, supplements, and branded gifts. Your eyes go straight to the food. The unholy activity of the night before has left you starving; you finish the still-warm soup in less than a minute.
But where are they? You notice two neatly folded slips of paper right beside the food.
Pips, gotta go first. Duty calls, but Iâll try my best to be back tomorrow. Donât forget to eat all of this, and keep it covered in the fridge. Donât leave it open or the whole fridge will smell!
You chuckle. Heâs still willing to be your brotherâand apparently your motherâeven after everything. You grab a sandwich and take a huge bite before opening the other note.
Love, Iâve left some items in the table to make you more comfortable. I had to leave for business in the Zone, but I will return soon so we can talk about our relationship.
One is from the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet and the other is from the Head of Onychinus. A sigh escapes you. What are the odds? In your original world, all LIs would clash one way or another. Itâs a miracle the two of them didnât shoot each other yesterday.
You sigh again. Things progressed too fast last night, you didn't even have a chance to talk about anything. Now they are gone, and your business with the other three men isn't finished. You hadn't even gone out properly when Caleb suddenly arrived and dragged you around. You figure you have to buy a token of apology for the rest of them, but your bodyâs too sore.
After a soak in the tub, you change into a white dress that barely covers all the bruises and bite marks on your neck and body before heading out.
The elevator is nearly full when you step in. Even through the crowd, Xavierâs light hair is unmistakable near the back. You press yourself into the corner, praying the back of someoneâs head keeps you hidden, planning to bolt the second the doors slide open at the lobby.
But you don't even make it past the elevator.
As the other passengers step out, a hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with startling strength and yanking you back into the car. The doors begin to groan shut, but your foot keeps them from closing.
âI smelled a cockroach, indeed. I can still smell him on you.â Xavier pins you against the mirrored wall. His eyes are burning with a cold fury that pins you in place more effectively than his hands. âYouâve been ignoring me, lying to me. I tried to be patient. I tried to understand. But don't you dare lie to me again, Starlight. Who was in your apartment last night?â
âLet her go.â
The temperature in the small space plummets instantly. Zayne stands in the hallway, his hand gripping the edge of the elevator door, preventing it from closing. He steps inside, his fingers locking around your other arm with a strong grip. The two men exchange a sharp glare before Xavierâs gaze snaps back to yours.
âWas it him?â Xavierâs voice is a low, dangerous growl. âIs he the one who made you scream until dawn?â
Zayneâs composure fractures for a fraction of a second. His eyes widen, a flash of genuine shock crossing his face before he composed himself. He doesn't look at Xavier. He looks directly at you, his voice like a scalpel.
âDid you finally fuck Caleb?â
Crap.
Looking at the state of your apartmentâespecially the bedâwould drive them insane. Instead, you find yourself sitting before them in the quiet of Xavierâs living room.
âSo youâre not her? Yet you occupy her body?â Zayneâs voice is a low vibration of skepticism. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a flicker of genuine frustration. âSupposing I entertain this claim... where is the woman we knew? And what makes this soul-swap happens?â
âI... I donât know. But I can't keep lying to you,â you murmur, fingers nervously picking at your cuticles. âCaleb and... someone else already knows a bit.â
âSo they were informed first. Caleb... and Sylus.â Zayneâs eyes narrow as he confirms the name. Your heart skips. Waitâhow did Zayne know about Sylus?
âHow do you know about Sylus? And how is it you two seem to know each other already?â
âAnswer me first.â Xavierâs voice cuts through the room, uncharacteristically sharp. He isn't looking at you; heâs staring at the floor, hands nearly covering his ears as if trying to block out a memory. âWho was in your bed yesterday?â
âXaviââ
âI heard it all,â he snaps, finally looking up. The usual warmth in his eyes has been replaced by a dark jealousy. âIt was a slow torture that lasted until dawn. How could you do that? Screaming for another man right beneath me, knowing I was just a floor away?â
âIâI didnât plan for it to happen, Xavier. I was about to explain everything when theyââ
âThey?â Xavierâs breath hitches. The shock on his face is quickly swallowed by a dark realization. You know youâre screwed.
âSo it was both of them?â Xavierâs voice drops to a dangerous whisper. He stands slowly, moving toward you with a predatorâs grace. He leans over you, pinning you against the back of the sofa. His pupils are blown wide, eclipsing the light in his eyes. âIs that why youâre choosing them? Because they give you more?â
âNo, youâre not listening! Iââ
âWhat part did I miss? The part where you spent the night with two men while I counted the hours?â
Desperate, you look toward Zayne, searching for a shred of his usual rationality. âPlease, Zayne. I was going to tell all of you eventually. I never intended to end up in bed with both of them.â
âIntention is irrelevant when the outcome is the same,â Zayne says. He remains seated, his posture perfect, but his gaze freezing. Heâs seething behind that calm. âYou did it anyway.â
âThatâs why I want to end this,â you say, your voice trembling. âItâs... itâs not right. I can't keep doing this to all of you.â
âEnd this? You think you can just cut ties like a ribbon at a ceremony?â Xavier shakes his head, his face inches from yours. âNot a chance, Starlight.â
âWhat I find most illogical,â Zayne sighs, his presence suddenly looming beside the sofa, âis my own inability to walk away, despite the absurdity of your confession."
He leans down, his voice dropping to a low, clinical chill. "Do not let guilt consume you. I was never under any illusions; I knew she was entertaining others behind my back long ago. I chose to stay regardless. If I could tolerate her lies, did you truly think I would leave nowâwhen you finally have the courage to be honest?â
âAnd why do they get special treatment?â Xavierâs thumb brushes your jaw, his touch feather-light, yet the way he tilts your head back is purely possessive. âIf you truly aren't her... then you're even more irresponsible than I thought. You came into this body, took her place, and made us feel all of thisâonly to think you could just walk away?â
He leans in, his breath warm against your lips, his gaze tracking the slight tremble of your mouth. âAfter everything Iâve endured to get back to you... donât you think itâs a bit cruel to leave? And whatâto stay with Caleb and Sylus? You should start being a bit more fair, donât you think?â
Zayne settles behind you as he steps into your personal space, his shadow stretching over your white dress.
âFairness is a concept you seem to have forgotten,â Zayne murmurs, his voice low, vibrating against your spine. âYou let those two claim your night, yet you expect us to be content with a mere confession?â
Zayneâs hand reaches for your nape, his fingers finding the hidden zipper of your high collar. âIf you could survive their lack of restraint, then you are more than capable of enduring our... precision.â
The slow, metal shhh of the zipper opening sounds like a trigger being pulled in the quiet room. Xavierâs eyes flash with hunger as he watches the white fabric begin to slip, exposing the marks left by the others.
âThey were just the beginning,â Xavier whispers, his lips touching yours as Zayne pulls the dress off your shoulders. âNow, letâs see how you handle us.â
I focused on depicting the contrast between Sylus and Caleb. Sylus might seem like a ruthless, calculating man but caring deep inside, while Caleb looks like a puppy but actually full of jealousy and dark thoughts. You bet next chapter will have some ice play. Iâm so excited! Tell me what you think about the story, Iâm so nervous omg! Hope you enjoy the story đđ
Also, comment below if youâre interested in being tagged in this seriesâ future parts đ
Five men claim your body, but only one remembers the name of your soul.
Warning Tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, smut, p in v, dubcon to consent, smut, graphic violence, threats, arson, psychological, body marking, existential crisis, mental breakdown, polyamory/polycore, dark characters, obsessive, possessive, praise/degradation, angst with happy ending? (No spoiler ok), etc. Please be kind (WC: 8.1K)
Part 1 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 đ| Part 5.5 | PLAYList
Authorâs Note: Please read from part 1 to fully enjoy the series đ
âWhere are you going, star?â
Xavier rubs at his leaden eyelid, limbs heavy with sleep as he struggles to surface. His gaze is hazy, unfocused as he tracks your silhouette. You pause and turn your head to look at his eyes, you feel a wave of panic. âIs your body alright?â
You lean over him. You catch the stubborn curve of his cowlick and press a kiss to his eyelid; the contact draws a vibrating hum of contentment from his chest. âI have something I have to do. I might not return to my apartment tonight.â
His eyes snap open, the softness vanishing instantly. An alarmed, sharp edge cuts through his expression as he watches you. âWhy?â
âIâI forgot about Rafayel. Iâll explain later.â You turn your back to go away, but before you can take a step, his hand catches your wrist with precise strength. He pulls you back onto the mattress, dragging you into the heat of his lap. His arms lock around you like iron bands, and he presses his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. A breathless moan escapes you. âXavi, I donât have time for thisâŠ!â
âWhy? Will you take another man in your arms?â He nips at your earlobe, a sharp sting that sends a jolt through your spine. Your hands instinctively find his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. âI donât like it. Is four men not enough for you?â
âNo, of course not! IâI just need to tell him that Iâm not the one heâs looking for.â You shake your head, âItâs not right to explain all of this in a text or call. I have to go there.â
âSo youâll reject him? Rafayel?â He licks the hollow behind your ear, his breath a scorching contrast to the chill of your skin. Your legs tremble as his palm grazes your inner thigh, moving with a terrifyingly slow deliberation. His voice is a soothing, honeyed lure. âDonât go. Stay, bunny. Even just for a little while.â
The longing in his eyes is a physical ache, a watery shine catching the light as his lashes flutter. You want to sink back into him, but the thought of Rafayel waiting is a cold weight in your gut. You turn around and cup his face, meeting that pained, desperate stare.
âIâm just going to talk, XaviâŠâ
He leans into your palm, nuzzling your skin as if trying to anchor you there. His forehead rests against yours, his hands clutching yours with a grip that suggests he already knows what you just said wonât happen.
âThen kiss me, like you love only me. Just this one time.â
His lips crash into yours. The wet of his silent tears brushes your cheek. If you could tear your heart out as an offering, you would. Your own tears blur your vision as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a desperate dance.
Suddenly, he pushes you away. You gasp, stumbling as you scramble to find your balance on the edge of the bed. He jerks his head to the side, his hand scrubbing harshly at his eyes before you can see the extent of his ruin. He takes a shuddering breath.
ââŠgo.â
Your heart clenches, a dull throb of agony. The manâs heartfelt kiss makes every instinct scream at you to stay, to fix the shattered expression on his face, but you force your legs to move. You steel yourself, turning away and fleeing into the hall.
The elevator chimes, the doors sliding shut. Your phone vibrates in your hand.
"The sun is already up, pips, and my monitors say your bed is still empty. Care to tell me whose floor you're standing on right now, or should I come find you myself?"
"Rafayelâs been callingâhe sounds spiraling. I need to go to the studio and calm him down before he does something reckless. I'll head home right after, alright?"
âPipââ
You kill the call before he can protest. The elevator drops, and you burst out into the warm air, scanning the street for a taxi.
A flashy sport car halts directly in your path, kicking up a fine mist of dust that catches the harsh midday glare. You recoil, heart hammering against your ribs. The door clicks open with a heavy, mechanical thud.
Sylus steps out, his towering frame cutting through the brilliant sunlight, casting a long, sharp shadow that stretches across the pavement to swallow you whole. His smile is smug as always, but even under the bright, unforgiving sky, his right eye flickers with a faint, ominous glow that the sun cannot drown out.
âGoing somewhere, kitten?â
âIâm going to Rafayelâs studio.â Before you can walk away, his hand seizes your arm, his grip unyielding as he tosses you into the plush leather of the passenger seat. âAck! Sylusââ
"You look tired. Hard night?" He shuts the door with a click that sounds final, his shadow swallowing you whole. "You've got exactly ten seconds to explain before I lose my patience. Start talking."
"I was with Xavier and Zayne last night. There's no point in hiding it, is there?" The words are a jagged whisper. You stand perfectly still, but inside, your heart is hammering against your ribs. A cold bead of sweat trickles down your temple, the only movement in the suffocating stillness of the room. âYou probably knew already. Isnât that why youâre here?â
"You said you love me and Caleb, kitten. I swallowed my pride for you. Now I find out youâre running a five-man rotation?â The engine roars to life with a rumble, the sudden acceleration slamming you back into the leather seat. âTell meâis your heart really that bottomless, or are you just trying to see how much Iâll endure before I break?"
The accusation stings. Why is everyone reaching the same conclusion? âOf course not! I just need toââ
"Talk. Isn't that the little performance you gave us before?"
The world outside the window blurs into streaks of distorted color. Your hands gripping the door handle and the seatbelt so hard your knuckles are white. Your breath trapped in your chest as he drives in silence before he jerks the car to the curb. The studio looms outside.
âTch. Look at where all that talk got you. Even now, youâre sitting in my car reeking of themâI can practically smell their filth dripping off you."
You gasp, the air leaving your lungs as if heâd struck you. You open your mouth to retaliate, but the raw, bleeding hurt in his eyes stops the words in your throat.
âI want you to have the world, sweetieâwhatever keeps that smile on your faceâbut don't mistake my patience for weakness. I have no intention of playing part in it. Dealing with Caleb is already enough for me to burn this city to the ground.â
âSylusââ
âWhat if I just slaughter them all? It would certainly save us some time. You can hate me all you want for it. Iâm a patient man, kitten; Iâm confident youâll find a way to forgive me eventually."
âSylus!!â
The horrified scream echoes in the cramped space of the car. His silence follows, heavy and suffocating.
"You think I'm enjoying this? Being some... greedy bitch taking all of you?" The dam finally bursts, and the tears are hot, blurring the sight of him looming over you. "I swear to God, I didn't want any of this!"
âKittenââ
âI wasn't trying to play with your hearts... if I had the choice, to come here before her relationships become tangled like this, I wouldn't have picked any of you!â
âY/Nââ
âBecause you're real. You aren't just pixels or a script on a screen anymoreâyou're actual people, and I'm drowning in a life that isn't mine!â
You bury your face in your hands, the sound of your sobbing filling the car. For a moment, there is only the hum of the engine before itâs turned off. You feel his fingersânot seizing you this time, but hooking under your wrists. He pulls your hands away with a slow, agonizing gentleness, forcing you to look at him.
The sight stops your breath. Sylus isn't looking at you with the rage of a zone leader; heâs looking at you with the hollowed-out stare of a man who has finally stopped fighting the inevitable. The raw, crimson fire in his eyes is clouded, a mirror of your own misery.
"Iâve known since the first night," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low vibration. "I felt the change. I saw the way your soul didn't quite fit the seams of her skin."
âWhatâŠ?â Your eyes widen, âif you know thenââ
âAnd yet, it feels like your soul coming back to the right place.â He doesn't reach for your tears. Instead, he leans back, his jaw tight enough to snap. "Your fate was a disaster of tangled threads long before you arrived in this body, kitten. Youâre just walking proof that time and souls don't always move in straight linesâand that Iâm cursed to want you even knowing youâre not her."
He looks at the device in your hand, a grimace of pure defeat flashing across his face. Heâs a man who takes what he wants, yet he finds himself letting you walk away. He snatches the phone, his fingers blurring as he whispers, reading familiar numbers from your phone, then returns the device back to your hands.
"Go on, then. Before I change my mind and decide that 'sharing' was a mistake."
The air inside is thick with the chemical tang of turpentine and the heavy, metallic scent of wet acrylic. It looks less like a sanctuary of art and more like a war zone. Ripped papers and scratched sketches litter the floor like fallen leaves. Canvases have been slashed open, their wooden frames splintered. Countless brushes lie snapped and strewn across the floorboards.
Paints are smeared across every surfaceâcrimson, violet, and abyssal blackâdripping down the walls like weeping wounds.
Rafayel stands in the center of the wreckage, a haunting silhouette. He is motionless. One hand clutches a crooked, paint-stained brush; the other carries a pail of red paint that slow-drips onto the floor with a rhythmic tap. He is facing a massive canvas, a sea of violent red that depicts a scene of such visceral horror it makes your skin crawl.
You call his name, once, twice, but he doesn't flinch. You reach out to turn him toward you, but his hand snaps up, stopping you mid-air.
When he finally turns, his eyes are calm. It is a terrifying, flat calm. There is no light reflecting in his pupils, just a hollow, violet depth that sends a chill down your spine. You take a step backâsomething is wrong.
âWhere are you going?â He tilts his head, a crooked, empty smile touching his lips. Itâs the look of a man who has spent all night talking to ghosts and finally found a living thing to break.
âRafayel, Iâm so sorry for not coming sooner. Something happenedââ
"Something happened," he repeats, his voice a soft, melodic hum that doesn't reach his hollow eyes. He steps closer, the red paint from his brush splattering onto your shoes. He doesn't hug you. Instead, he leans in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as if heâs trying to find a specific pigment in the air.
His breath hitches. The empty smile vanishes, replaced by a sneer of pure revulsion.
"The ocean air can't even mask it," he whispers, his voice suddenly sharp enough to draw blood. "You reek of themâof their touch, their heat, their pathetic attempts to claim you. Itâs sickening."
He gestures with the paint-dripping brush toward the ruined studio, then back at you. "Is this what you traded me for, Y/N? Did you sever our bond just so you could sink this low into their arms? Did you leave me to drown in this silence just so you could be marked by them?"
âI-I can explainâŠ!â The words tumble out, frantic and thin, as you struggle to find a logical thread in the chaos of your arrival. You tell him about the blur of the past week, about the disorientation of waking up in a body that feels like a stranger's, and the suffocating pressure of four other men who look at you with eyes full of a history you donât own.
He doesn't move. He listens in a silence so profound, so heavy, it pushes the oxygen out of the room. The pail of red paint in his hand tremors, a single crimson drop splattering against his boot like a stray heartbeat.
He isn't looking at your face. His gaze is fixed on the marks visible at the edge of your collar, tracing the evidence of another manâs touch with a terrifying, clinical stillness. You stop speaking when you realize he isn't hearing your excuses; he is looking at you the way a painter looks at a ruined canvas. The air between you grows cold, then suddenly, violently sharp, until finally, the âterrifying calmâ you saw earlier shatters.
âFour men?â His voice is a low, dangerous rasp. âIs that the price of changing souls? Youâve let four different sets of hands defiled the heart that was promised to the salt and the sea before their ancestors were even born.â
Rafayelâs laugh is a jagged, broken thing, devoid of its usual playifulness. He steps into your space, the smell of turpentine and sea salt rolling off him in waves. His eyes burn with a violet fire that feels like a physical weight against your chest, pinning you where you stand.
"Iâve spent an eternity waiting for you to come home," he whispers, his face inches from yours, his breath shaky with a mix of fury and heartbreak. "And you walk back into my studio wearing the scent of a whole city on your skin. Tell me... did you even think of me once while they were fucking you?"
You take a step back, but he matches you, closing the distance until you're backed against a splintered easel.
âYou yield to them, you cry for them... you let them ruin you until youâre a mess of their collective greed,â he whispers, his voice trembling with a terrifying fragility. âYet you still canât remember the name I gave your soul. Itâs a beautiful irony, isnât it? I called you Little Pearl because you were the heart of the sea I was meant to cherish. But while Iâve been drowning in my own devotion, youâve been busy being conquered by everyone but me.â
He catches your chin, his grip trembling with a mix of hunger and a raw hatred for the world that kept you from him.
âTell me... when theyâre inside you, when youâre screaming their names, do you feel that guilt? That hollow ache in your chest that no amount of their heat can fill?â He leans in, his eyes searching yours for a trace of the woman he lost. âThatâs me. Thatâs the ghost of a bond youâre trying to bury under the weight of four other men. You can give them your skin, you can give them your breath... but you will never be able to give them what youâve already forgotten you gave to me. You are mine, my Little Pearl.â
He seizes the back of your head, pulling you forward until your foreheads collide with a jarring thud. The faint, bioluminescent glow in his eyes flares, turning a blinding, abyssal gold.
Suddenly, the studio vanishes. The smell of turpentine is replaced by the crushing pressure of deep water. You are pulled down into a vision, the colors saturated and flickering like an old reel.
The waves of Lemuria were unusually quiet that night, glowing with a soft, bioluminescent pulse that mirrored the steady rhythm of your heartâas if the ocean itself was tuned to your breathing. Rafayel sat beside you on the edge of the white stone terrace, the heavy silk of his robes bleeding into the moonlight. For once, his restless energy had stilled into something profound and ancient. He was simply watching you, his gaze so fixed that it felt like he was memorizing the very way the air moved around you.
"From now on," he whispered, his voice barely rising above the rhythmic sigh of the tide, "I will call you Little Pearl."
You turned to him, blinking in confusion. The name felt heavy, rolling off his tongue with a reverence that made your skin tingle. "Little Pearl? Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. He reached out, his cool fingers tracing the line of your palm before he interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing gently. He looked down at your joined hands, his expression stripped of all masks.
"Itâs the soul formed in the lightless depthsâthe only treasure the sea ever truly creates." he explained, his voice thick with a quiet, shimmering emotion that felt as deep as the trenches.
You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips, trying to lighten the weight of his stare. "Is that how you see me? Just a piece of jewelry?"
"No," he corrected softly, finally meeting your eyes. The violet in his iris seemed to deepen, drowning in a sincerity that made your breath hitch. "A jewel is meant to be displayed, but you... you are meant to be kept. Deep within the shell of my heart, where no storm can reach you. To the world, a pearl is a luxury. To me, it is the only reason the ocean doesn't feel empty.â
He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the cool sea breeze, his breath warm against your lips.
"I call you Little Pearl because even if the sea were to dry up and Lemuria were to turn to dust, I would still be holding you. You are the only treasure I refuse to give back to the tide. You are the one I yield to. Always.â
The memory shatters like glass. The soft moonlight of Lemuria is replaced by the harsh, turpentine-scented air of the ruined studio. Rafayelâs grip on your chin tightens, his fingers trembling. His eyes are no longer soft; they are reflecting a thousand years of solitude.
"Do you remember now?" he rasps, his voice a distorted echo of that long-ago sweetness. "I stayed in the depths, waiting... guarding my heart and my sanity for your return."
He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his gaze burning through your frantic mask.
"Only to find you've tossed my treasure into the hands of other men," he sneers, the word surrender sounding like a curse. "Men who don't even know the name of the soul they're holding. Tell me, Little Pearlâwas I just the first thing you decided to throw into the void?"
He leans down, his lips ghosting over yoursânot in a kiss, but in a claim that feels like a brand.
âThey have held this body, and they have claimed your days. But I am the only one who truly knows the weight of your soul," he murmurs against your skin. "I am the only one who remembers the girlâthe one who exists behind those eyes, even if youâve forgotten the sound of her own name.â
âRaf, please⊠listen to me.â You find the courage to press your palm against his cheek, his skin hot and damp with exertion. He flinches at the contact, then nuzzles into your hand with a desperate, animalistic hunger, though his violet eyes remain locked on yours, unblinking.
âIâm not herâat least not the one you know.â The words feel like glass in your throat, but you force them out. âI woke up in this body a week ago... I am a stranger wearing the face of the woman you love. I didn't mean to sever your bondâI didn't even know it existed until now.â
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the sharp clack of a few more pearls hitting the floorâthe sound of his composure scattering. Rafayel didn't flinch at your confession. He didn't call you a liar. Instead, he just leaned into your palm, his eyes searching yours with an intensity so invasive it felt like he was trying to look through your skin to see the soul beneath.
âAlways an excuse,â he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous vibration. âEven now... youâre still itching to get away from me.â
Before you could pull your hand back, he seized your face. The kiss wasn't a movie moment; it was a collision of teeth and desperation. You winced as a sudden, forceful heat flooded your chestâa golden-violet surge that felt less like magic and more like a hook sinking deep into your ribs, tethering you to him.
âThere,â he whispered against your lips, his breath hitched and uneven. âIâve tied us back together. You donât get to escape me anymore. Not this time.â
He let go of your face so abruptly you stumbled. You took a staggering step back, your head spinning from the magical surge, but he kept coming. He moved toward you with a jagged, limping gaitâthe look of a man who had reached his breaking point and just kept walking.
âWhere are you going now?â His voice cracked on the last word. âBack to them? How many more times do I have to lose you? How many more lifetimes am I supposed to spend waiting while you... you treat your own body like a rental?â
âRafayel, stopâI-Iâm notâŠ!â You scrambled backward, your heel snapping a discarded paintbrush with a loud crack. âYouâre scaring me. Just... just breathe for a second so we can actually talk!â
The air in the room suddenly turned scorching, the temperature spiking until the oxygen felt like a heavy, liquid weightâlike breathing in molten lead. Rafayelâs Evol flaresâa violent, flickering crimson flame. The heat didn't just rise; it screamed, licking at the heavy curtains and charring the floorboards beneath his feet with a rhythmic, sickening hiss.
He didn't even flinch as the wood blackened. The smell of ozone and burning silk filled the space, a physical manifestation of a soul that had finally reached its breaking point.
He looked at you through the flickering haze of the heat. His eyes were no longer violet; the color had been burned away, leaving behind a molten, terrifying gold that seemed to glow from within. In that moment, the man you knew was gone. He was no longer the artist who painted pretty things; he was the God of Tides who had watched his ocean dry up, leaving behind nothing but salt and a thousand years of bitterness.
The studio, his sanctuary, is beginning to smoke, but his gaze never left yours. He looked like a man prepared to burn the whole world down just to make sure you couldn't run back into the arms of anyone else.
âDo you see this?â he whispers. His voice wasn't a shout, but a low-frequency tremor that vibrated in your very marrow. He gestures at the fire scaling the walls, sealing the exits in a cage of orange and black. âThe world is ending in this room, Little Pearl.â
He laughedâa jagged, hollow sound that made your blood run coldâand stepped into the heart of the heat. The heat began to singe the hem of your clothes, the scent of scorched fabric filling your nose.
He catches your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The heat is agonizing, yet he holds you with a crushing strength that says he will never let go, even if you both turn to ash.
âYouâve spent so much time being âaliveâ for them,â he rasps, his breath hot and ragged against your cheek. âGiving them your smiles, your touch... while I rotted in the cold dark. If I canât have you alive, then so be it. I will burn away the marks they left on you. I will burn away the memories of the doctor, the knight, and those criminals out of your skin until the only thing left of you is the soul that once belonged to me.â
The fire roars behind him, a wall of gold and red closing in like the jaws of a beast. He didn't blink. He looks at you with a gaze of pure, obsessive adoration, his fingers tangling in your hair to force your gaze toward the destruction heâd created.
âLet them try to find you in the soot. Let them try to claim a woman who has drifted beyond the reach of mortal hands.â
He leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tasted of smoke and desperation. He isnât trying to save you; he is claiming you in the most permanent way he knows how. As the ceiling begins to groan and the heat became unbearable, a dark, serene smile crossed his faceâthe look of a man who had finally found peace in total annihilation.
âDonât look so frightened, love,â he murmured, pulling you into one last, suffocating embrace as the world turned white with heat. âDying in each othersâ arms sounds romantic for an end, donât you think?â
âI wonât let you burn her.â
The voice is a blade of ice, cutting clean through the roar of the furnace. Zayne stands at the threshold, his silhouette a clinical, freezing shadow against the orange glare. As he steps inside, a sudden chill sweeps the room; frost races from the floor where he steps across the charred floorboards like a living thing, climbing the walls to meet the crimson flames. The fire doesn't just go outâit screams, hissing and dying under the weight of the cold until thick, white steam billows into the wreckage.
Rafayel screamsâa sound so raw and otherworldly it doesn't seem to belong to him.
The sudden drop in temperature and the sheer weight of your survival hit you all at once. The tension that had been holding your spine upright simply... evaporates. Your knees buckle, your body finally giving up on the fight to stay standing.
You don't hit the floor.
A hand catches yours, firm and familiar, and a strong arm hooks around your waist, pulling you upright before you can collapse. Caleb steadies you against him, his presence a grounded heat that replaces the terrifying fire you just escaped. âI got you, baby.â
âWhy⊠why are all of you here?â you gasp, your voice a thin, trembling thread.
âHeâs the scariest bastard out of all of us, sweetie,â Sylus remarks, his voice dry and dangerously calm despite the chaos. He steps into the clearing, his Evol sweeping the charred debris and shattered glass out of the way with a casual flick of his wrist. "I didn't think I'd be playing chauffeur for your other boyfriends, but the tracker on your phone started screaming 'combustionâ. Iâll hold off on the massacre until you're not standing in the middle of a furnace, kitten."
Rafayel buried his face in his hands, his head tilted back. When his hands finally dropped, his eyes were a total wreckageâa jagged landscape of hatred and raw, unadulterated grief. Pearls began to clatter onto the floor in a frantic rhythm, glowing with a ghostly light as they caught the fading embers of the dying fire.
âDid you come to laugh at me?!â he snarls, the words tearing at his throat. His gaze darts from Zayneâs cold resolve to Sylusâs smirk and Caleb and Xavierâs protective stance. Fire erupted againânot a wall this time, but concentrated spheres of molten heat hurtling toward the intruders. Zayne didn't flinch. He moved with the calm precision of a surgeon, meeting every fireball with a wall of impenetrable ice that hissed violently upon contact. The room filled with a blinding, suffocating fog of steam.
âRafayelâŠ!â you cried out, your heart fracturing as you watched him twist in a paroxysm of agony. The weight of his thousand-year wait finally crushed your resolve. âIâm sorryâI shouldâve come to you first! I shouldn't have left you alone!â
You wrenched yourself away from Caleb. He reached out to catch your arm, his fingers brushing your sleeve, but you were too fast, fueled by irrational desperation. You sprinted through the swirling steam and the puddles of melted ice, throwing your arms around Rafayel.
You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, ignoring the way his skin still radiated a fading heat.
âRafayel, pleaseâŠ! I canât bear to see you like thisâŠ!â You press your face into his chest. Fresh pearls strike your head like heavy raindropsâthe sound of his heart continuing to weep in the wreckage. Around him, the fire flickers dangerously, responding to the erratic beat of his pulse.
âY/N, itâs dangerous! Get back!â Xavierâs voice cuts through the haze, sharp with a rare, panicked edge. His hands glow with a blinding light as he searches for a gap in the crossfire of ice and flame.
âNo! Donât hurt him!â You scream from afar, and the light fade from his hand.
âPlease, Rafayel! Iâm still your bride!â The words feel like a gamble, a desperate lie or a half-remembered truth, but you throw them at him anyway with a sting of guilt. âDidnât you just stitch back our bond?!â
You reach up, seizing his face with both hands, forcing his molten-gold eyes to meet yours. You kiss him with everything you haveâa kiss that tastes of ash, salt, and a plea for his life.
He freezes. The flames don't just fade; they vanish instantly, leaving the room in a sudden gray. You pull back just an inch, your breath hitching as you look him straight in the eye. âAnd Iâll really die if something happens to you. To any of you. Stop⊠please.â
His strength leaves him all at once, as if youâve pulled the plug on his very existence. His knees hit the charred floor with a heavy thud. He stares blankly at the ground, his lips parted in a daze, the God replaced by a broken man. The only sound left in the room is the rhythmic, hollow clatter of pearls falling onto the floor.
You look back at the others, your eyes stinging from the smoke and the weight of your silent plea. They stand in the wreckageâSylus with his jaw set, Zayne with his hands still shimmering with frost, and Xavier, his worry slowly turning into a hard, complicated shadow.
They exchange looksâdark, heavy expressions that promise this conversation is far from over.
Zayne steps forward before retreating, his clinical gaze sweeping over you with practiced efficiency. He doesn't offer a comfort he doesn't feel, but his fingers graze your wrist for a brief second, checking the frantic gallop of your pulse against the cooling air of the room.
"Your vitals are stabilizing, though the adrenaline spike is significant," he notes, his voice a low, steady anchor amidst the wreckage. He shoots a sharp, warning look at Rafayelâone that promises professional consequences if the 'patient' is put in danger againâbefore adjusting his coat.
"The immediate threat has passed. I'll be within range if your condition changes." With that final, icy assurance, he turns to follow the others, trusting your word but keeping his guard up.
Caleb remains the most silent of the group, his presence a heavy, grounding weight that doesn't need words to be felt. As the others argue and retreat, he stays back, his sharp eyes meticulously scanning the scorched floorboards and the state of Rafayelâs mind.
He doesn't move until he is certain the fire won't reignite, offering you a single, grim nod of recognitionâa silent promise that he is yielding the space to you, but won't be far. He lingers by the doorframe for one last heartbeat, his hand resting briefly on the wood like a soldier marking a perimeter, before finally vanishing into the hallway shadows.
The silence stretches, thick with the smell of wet ash and ozone. It feels like an eternity passes before he finally shifts, his gaze lifting from the floor to meet yours.
âYou were about to throw me away, werenât you?â he asks. His voice is flat, stripped of the God-like resonance from before, leaving only the hollow ache of a man whoâs been rejected.
âIâm⊠sorry,â you whisper, your own voice cracking. âI was scared of the consequence of having⊠yâknow. But I didn't know it would make you⊠like this.â
âLike what? Drowning in despair?â He lets out a short scoff, the light finally returns to his eyes cooling back into a deep, bruised violetâthough they are clouded with shame. He glances toward the shadows where the others vanished. âWhat a shameful appearance... to let them see me like this.â
âYou donât have to mind them.â You take his hand, your fingers still trembling as you lean in to kiss the salt-stained tear tracks from his cheek. âI can arrange to⊠to meet separately. We donât have to do this.â
âAs if that makes it any better.â He gives a short, sarcastic laugh thatâs more of a sigh. But the bitterness doesn't last. He leans in, kissing you back with a sudden, profound reverence. His tongue gently traces the faint, torn spot on your lipâa tiny wound from days ago. ââŠIâm sorry. I guess Iâm no better than they are. Just as desperate. Just as pathetic. Maybe even worse.â
âYou were really scary just moments ago, you know,â you offer a weak, breathless laugh escaping you as he begins to press frantic, soft kisses all over your faceâa silent, desperate apology. âWere you really going to kill me, Raf?â
âOf course not!â He shouts, the dramatic disbelief returning to his voice, the most âRafayelâ thing about him finally resurfacing. âIâI justâI donât know what came over me. Seeing those marks... leaking from the edges of your dress. It felt like they were mocking me.â
âThen cover them. Mark me with yours instead.â
His breath hitches, the sound catching in the back of his throat. A sudden intensity flares in his gaze, but it isn't the fire of a God anymoreâitâs the hunger of a man who has finally been given permission to come home.
With a frantic, blurred motion, he unzips your dress, his own discarded clothes forgotten in the wreckage. He lifts you, settling himself between your thighs as the heat of his skin pressing against yours. His kisses become deeper, more desperate, as if heâs trying to swallow the very air in your lungs.
He doesn't stop. He carries you toward the stairs, away from the charred studio and the watching shadows, leading you into another painting room upstairsâthe one place where the only colors that matter are the ones he chooses for you.
The sky outside had begun to bruise, the vibrant blues of the day deepening into a heavy, melancholic violet. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a fading trail of burnt orange that barely touched the glass of the window. It was that fleeting, uncertain hour of twilightâthe transition between light and shadowâbut inside the painting room, the air is thick with a different, more suffocating heat.
Rafayel lowers you onto the oversized silk pillows, his movements stripped of their earlier violence and replaced by a trembling, desperate reverence. He discards the last of your clothes, exposing how your liquid arousal already glistens, leaking from your folds and slicking your thighs.
He draws a shaky, deep breath, reveling in how pliant you are, unfolding underneath him like a fresh canvas, before his gaze snags on a dark, blooming bruise on your chest. His jaw tightensâa jagged, broken breath catching in his throat.
He immediately distances himself, his eyes looking around as his hands sweep over the hundreds of glass bottles cluttered in the corner of the room.
âShit, where is itââ His jaw tightens, teeth gritting in a frantic search until his fingers lock around a small vial of pearlescent pigment.
"Look at this," he whispers, his voice a ghost of the playful artist you once knew. He holds the bottle up to the light, the iridescent liquid swirling like captured starlight. "It matches your skinâŠ"
He doesn't reach for a brush; he wants no barrier between his touch and your skin. He pours several pigments onto a porcelain plate and dips his fingers into the cool, viscous pool. When he first traces a line down your collarbone, the chill makes you joltâa sharp, electric contrast to the feverish warmth of the room and the heavy pulse between your legs.
With the devotion of a man reenacting a sacred rite, he begins to paint on you. His touch is microscopic in its detailâeach stroke and dab of his wet fingertips across your ribs and the swell of your breasts is slow and agonizingly intimate. He marks you with his colors, his breath hitching as his painted fingers reach the sensitive peaks of your nipples, circling them until they ache. The sensation is an overwhelming tide of damp, soft touches that leave your eyes swimming with tears.
As he works lower, his hand brushes against the soaking wetness of your cunt. He doesn't stop. He replaces the pigment with a heavy, pearl-infused lubricant that shimmers like liquid moonlight in his palm. He coats the soft skin of your inner thighs in the slick, iridescent liquid before his fingers finally find your clit. He groans at the contact, the lubricant acting as a cooling, viscous glide against your mounting heat.g
"I'm going to cover every inch of you," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your hip as he spreads your folds wide. His fingers, wet and glistening with the pearlescent lubricant, stretch your cunt open to coat the entrance of your canal in the shimmering, protective slick. "I'm going to mark you until there's no room left for their memories. Until you smell like me and shine like the sea."
âRafayel...â you gasp, your body arching in overstimulation as his slicked fingers glide back and forth against the soft heat of your trembling inner thighs. You try to squirm, to find some relief from the mounting tension, but his hands are firm, prying your knees open to reveal your most vulnerable curves to his obsessed gaze. âHah⊠ohâŠâ
âDonât.â He rasps as you try to shift, his eyes burning with a terrifying adoration. âYouâll ruin my masterpiece.â
He looks up at you, his chest heaving, before his hand finally slides deeper. He lets out a low, guttural sound as his fingers disappear into your heat, feeling the internal walls of your cunt clamping around him, testing your depth and the slickness of your insides. The sight of the pearlescent lubricant mixing with your own juices, dripping from his hand and staining the silk pillows, finally breaks the last of his restraint.
He pulls his hand back, watching the shimmering threads of your arousal snap between his fingers. He reaches for his trousers, his cock already strainingâthick, pulsing, and desperate to finally bury its full length in the only masterpiece that ever mattered.
He lifts your legs, his head bowed as he works to cover the marks of other men with his own presence. It is more than art, and more than just a cover for the bruisesâit is a reclamation of your soul. He pours every ounce of his millennia-old longing into the way he handles your body, until the sight of a black crow fluttering at the window breaks his trance.
"That crow is here again." The crow flinches as it senses Rafayelâs icy glare. "Should I burn it, or just let him watch?"
You immediately look at the window, then back at him, shaking your head. "Donât hurt Mephisto," you plead, your voice a mere thread.
"Tell your master to stop meddling. I wonât hurt her.â He turns back to you, his expression softening into something far tender than adoration it hurts to look at. âNever again."
He leans over you, treating your lips with the fragile kiss one would give a newborn. A single, heavy tear falls from his face, clattering onto the hardwood floor as a perfect, glowing pearl.
âI love you, Y/N. Little Pearl... and all the names you have in past lifetimes. Nothing will ever change the meaning of your name, not even the four of them.â He murmurs against your ear, before lifting himself to look you in the eye. âTo be yours... is the only victory I have ever desired. Donât tell me to go away, baby⊠Please, donât throw me away.â
The raw honesty in his plea shatters your last defenses. This is the price you have to pay for choosing everyoneâa beautiful, crushing guilt. You rise from the silk pillows, tangling your fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head and pulling him into a tear-stained embrace.
âNever againâhic,â you sob against his mouth, your breath hitching. âRafayel... I-Iâm so sorry.â
His knees slide between yours, parting your legs with a slow, deliberate strength until he settles flush against your folds. He begins to grind his length against your cunt, the friction of his thick, pulsing cock against your soaking cunt creating a rhythmic, agonizingly slow heat. Your eyes lock onto his, and in that shared gaze, the bond between you hums with an ancient, undeniable power that makes the world outside the painting room vanish.
Maybe itâs because of the bond, or maybe it's the weight of his confession, but this is the closest youâve ever felt to making love since the first time you woke up in this world. Your heart tugs at every flutter of his lashes; his breath gasps in the tiny spaces between your lips as his warm palms worship every curve and edge of your body. The slow, steady pressure of him rubbing against your clit makes your insides ache, a hollow, desperate throbbing that begs for him to finally enter.
âRafayelâŠâ you whisper, your voice a shuddering plea for the end of this distance. His eyes widen slightly, a mix of relief and surprise.
âY/N.â He nuzzles his cheek to yours, his voice a ragged breath in your ear. âMy sweet, sweet mate. You finally return to me.â
He glides his length slowly into your cunt. Your hips rise in tandem with every inch of his cock entering you, your folds stretching and weeping with iridescent lubricant and your own liquid arousal. You gasp his name as he sinks in to the hilt, the fullness of him claiming your body until you are completely occupied by his presence. He groans, his forehead dropping to yours as he feels the wet, tight grip of your muscles welcoming him home after a thousand years of solitude.
âCalm down, love, please⊠I wonât last,â he murmurs against your skin, his palm tracing the curve of your lower belly with a heavy, grounding pressure to soothe the tremors of your overstimulated body. âBreathe for me.â
âI-I canâtâŠ! Itâs too much at once, Rafayel, pleaseâŠ!â You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to anchor your soul as the sheer intensity of him threatens to shatter your mind.
He leans in, his lips a soft kiss against your eyelids. âOpen your eyes, Y/N. Iâm here. Let me see you, completely mine. Even for just this moment.â
You obey, blinking through a veil of tears to find his molten, gold-flecked gaze devouring you. He begins to moveâa slow, agonizing retreat that makes you whimper as the slick, heavy girth of his cock drags against your sensitive walls. Just as you feel the hollow ache of him leaving, he pushes back in with a deliberate, grounding force. You can feel the blunt tip of his length grazing every hidden, aching depth of your cunt, a beautiful claim that leaves you breathless and conquered.
âAhâŠ!â You clench around him, the sensation too much and yet not enough at once, your hands gripping his arms as you feel the frantic throb of his pulse within you. âRafayel, pleaseâŠ! Iâd rather have you fuck me until I canât think anymoreâŠ!â
âThe day is long, Y/N. At least let me savor this moment.â He murmurs, licking the column of your neck as if to memorize your flavor. âMy Little Pearl. If I could melt our souls together as one, I would die right here in your arms.â
He continues to call you by a litany of names, the syllables spilling from his lips in a variety of languages you donât recognizeâancient, melodic tongues that sound like the pull of a deep tide. Some of them that you do understand, are words of endearment that bloom in the air as raw love confessions, but itâs the way he says them that breaks you. He speaks each name one by one, his voice thick with the weight of the thousands of years he spent waiting in the dark for this exact moment. It is as if he is calling out to you through every separate lifetime he spent without you, searching for the one soul that could finally answer him.
Every slow, deep thrust stimulates you far more than any frantic pace could; the friction builds a tension inside you that feels like it might snap your very soul in two.
âHa-ahâŠ!â Finally, the inevitable occurs. Your body arches, nails clawing into his shoulders as your insides clench in a violent, beautiful release. Rafayel grunts, his eyes snapping shut as the same fire ignites within him.
âGhâŠ!â A ragged grunt escapes him as he feels the fierce, rhythmic pulse of your cunt drawing him under. He closes his eyes, his face a mask of beautiful agony, unable to contain the white-hot sensation of his own surrender.
âY/NâŠ!â He cries your name, his voice a raw, jagged plea that carries the weight of a millennium straight to your heart.
As the frantic waves finally subside, the air remains heavy with the scent of salt and oil. You remain locked in each otherâs gaze for an eternity, stripped of all secrets, before slowly closing your eyes. You lean in to kiss one anotherâa slow, deep, and hungry contact, as if you are trying to drink and devour the very essence of each otherâs souls to ensure you never have to be apart again.
As if to answer your desperate plea for more, his length hardens again within your wet heat, pulsing with a new, frantic urgency. You gasp against his lips, feeling the thick girth of his cock swell and stretch your sensitive walls to their absolute limit. Before you can even catch your breath from the first wave of pleasure, he shifts his rhythm. He paces himself faster now, the slow, agonizing worship of a God replaced by the violent, desperate thrusts of a man who is terrified of losing you again.
The sensitivity of your body after your release only seconds ago makes every impact feel like an electric shock. You cry out as he hammers into you, his cock bottoming out against your cervix with a heavy, wet thud. Rafayel is just as far gone as you are; his face is contorted in a mask of beautiful, raw pleasure, his eyes rolling back as the tight, rhythmic clenching of your cunt threatens to pull his soul right out through his skin.
âFuck, cutie⊠canât stop⊠hah⊠I canâtââ
His breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches. He reaches down, grabbing your painted, oil-slicked breast and kneading the soft flesh with a possessive strength that leaves marks in the pigment. He leans down and bites the peak of your nipple, hardâa sharp, stinging claim that sends a fresh bolt of lightning straight to your clit.
You climax again instantly at the sensation, your insides clamping around his length in a violent, milking rhythm.
âFuck, Rafââ you moan, your head tossing back against the silk pillows as your vision blurs with stars.
He doesn't slow down. If anything, your second release only fuels his hunger. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, prying you even wider, exposing your dripping, overstimulated folds to the cool air of the room before he plunges back in. He fucks you with intensity, his hips snapping against yours until the pearlescent lubricant and your own cream are sprayed across your stomach and the pillow.
Heâs marking you from the inside out, his cock dragging against your G-spot with every relentless, messy thrust. You are drowning in himâin the smell of salt, the taste of his frantic kisses, and the overwhelming weight of his love. Every time you think your body can't take another sensation, he finds a new way to break you, whispering your name in that melodic, forgotten tongue until your mind begins to fray at the edges.
Finally, with a guttural, soul-shattering cry, Rafayel thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as humanly possible as his own release finally erupts. He collapses against you, his heavy, pulsing length still twitching inside your soaking cunt, filling you to the brim with his heat.
The room is silent save for the sound of your shared, ragged breathing. He doesn't pull away; he stays anchored within you, his lips finding yours for one last, deep, and lingering kiss that tastes of exhaustion and peace.
But itâs too much. Between the emotional trauma of the fire, the shock of the five men facing off in the studio, and the sheer physical toll of Rafayelâs desperate reclamation, your body finally reaches its limit. The world begins to tilt. Moonlight fades into a soft, hazy gray. As your lips slowly part from his, the tension finally drains from your limbs.
In the safety of his arms, the darkness finally rises to claim you, and you black out into a dreamless, heavy sleep.
Pampering Raf in the end like heâs my mainâgaspâWHO SAID THAT?! Iâll have you know Iâm a faithful đđŠâ⏠supporter! đŠŸđ«
Jokes aside, Iâve been deleting and adding again and again until my head is dizzy. If there are inconsistencies forgive me this is the first time I made such a long story without anyoneâs help proofing. Please help me point them out if you see any so I can fix them immediately before more ppl read ahh so much anxiety! đ
The series are still going on! Well, not for much longer haha but there will be so much extras (I promise those will be sweet and no more angst đ)
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the rollercoaster of emotion in this series! đ€đ
