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rafayel/caleb: you are PROTECTED and WATCHED. they get along annoyingly well and end up telling each other all their secrets, even the ones kept from you. they decide working together fully is in your best interest. feed into each other's yandere tendencies. lots of ribbons and blindfolds and manhandling when they fuck you. their shared cute aggression and inability to say no to you is your greatest weapon.
zayne/sylus: daddy duo. zayne is the strict one. you go to sylus when you want to go behind zayne's back to get your way. sometimes sylus betrays you and ties you to the bed posts and leaves you for zayne to find when he gets home. they both call you sweet girl, and when you are in public, they both have a hand on you somewhere at all times.
rafayel/zayne: work really well together when shit gets serious. teacher/student roleplay, often. they have very different worldviews and you are always trying to prompt philosophical discussions between them for your own entertainment. also work together well at night. rafayel holds you against his chest, entirely restrained, while zayne punishes you with his cock. very gentle thorough aftercare.
rafayel/sylus: they nearly kill each other a few times at the start. they are apparently accidents, but you have your doubts. especially when sylus calls raf kitten one day and gets a dagger in his shoulder as a consequence. they take you on exotic trips very often. you get fucked in each place. they keep track of these places on a map and challenge each other in various games to decide who gets to choose the next place to take you. they both love dressing you up all pretty, often in pink.
xavier/caleb: always competing for your attention. snarky. passive-aggressive jealous bickering. lock in together when you need protecting. no hand raised against you lives. every time caleb feeds you a perfectly cooked meal, xavier fucks you for desert to make sure he's keeping the balance. caleb banned him from the kitchen for your safety. xavier makes you call him gege sometimes just to piss him off.
xavier/zayne: you catch them in discussions sometimes that make your head spin. they respect each other a lot. zayne has an accident with his evol one night and needs distance from you, escaping out into the cold night. but before he can spiral into self-loathing, xavier follows him out and talks him out of it. he tells him he's the only one in the universe he trusts with your life.
rafayel/xavier: pure joy and fun with a side of murder. they don't get along at first. xavier doesn't like how involved you are with rafayel's revenge/rescue missions. but after insisting on coming along, he quickly gets on side. ends up completely dedicated to the cause, especially when he sees how it upsets you. you find them napping together sometimes, and rafayel calls xavier old and out of touch when he doesn't understand his art. you have baths together nearly every day, and at night they grab at you and tug you between them like two only children who've never had to share their favourite toy.
xavier/sylus: sylus scares children off as he stands at your side and xavier smiles from your other side and tells them he's not nearly as scary as he looks. sylus stirs up xavier's jealous tendencies on purpose just to fuck with him, and because he knows you like it. he'll sit you on his cock and ask who fills you better or challenge xavier to try and take what belongs to him. respect each other but bicker like they hate each other.
zayne/caleb: serious plotting and scheming. have the potential to take over planet earth. EVER is rubble in 4 business days. no matter how much you want to see them fight, they keep it out of your sight, even when you tease and incite jealousy as best you can. sometimes when you've been more trouble than usual, they punish you together for being a bad girl.
sylus/caleb: the most pampered spoiled princess known to mankind. wants for nothing. sleeps in between them every night and when one of them is gone the other cockwarms you to soothe you. potential for absolute evil to manifest between them as they feed into each other's all-consuming obsession and desire for you. have the potential to work together to destroy all life in the universe if it would make you just a little bit happier.
It was a lazy Sunday in which your days off had finally aligned. Zayne wasnât going to be called in and Jenna had practically begged you to take a break for your own health, so now you had the day all to yourselves. You stayed curled into zaynes side on the couch as you caught up about the little things you had experienced over the past few weeks. While you would text about it and talk a little at home, it was a bit hard with how busy you both were.
Somehow the conversation shifted to TMI things you knew about your coworkers bedroom lives. Things you had heard eavesdropping, or from Tara, who was even more of a gossip than you. Zayne would tsk and tell you itâs not any of your business and to respect their privacy. Despite this, he was still intently listening and asking about details. You knew deep down, heâs just as nosy as you are.
âFucking 3 strangers in one night is actually crazy though, donât you think? I mean, more power to him I guess, but thatâs so much sweat andâŚfluids of people you barely know. I couldnât understand, honestly.â
Zayne let out a quiet huff. âI wish the general populous were more worried about getting tests done before they engage in any sort of intimacy. Itâs troubling that STDâs arenât more of a concern.â You chuckled a little before speaking, âIf I remember correctly, you didnât have me take any sort of tests before the first time we made loveâŚâ You bit your lip, nudging him teasingly.
Zayne was unfazed. âI was willing to catch whatever disease you had.â
You gawked at him. âZayne Li, thatâs terrible!â
A small smirk then graced his lips. âI also have access to your medical records and would often request the labs to test you for a multitude of things, just to ensure you were healthy.â You blinked at him. ââŚis thatâŚethical?â Zayne only shrugged. âI donât particularly care whatâs ethical when it comes to your health.â
ââŚâ
You only let out an amused hm before continuing your chat.
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to đ˝ videos on X for visual examples on what was sent. đ MDNIđ
Sylus/Xavier/Rafayel/Zayne/Caleb
Yeah*sigh*I'm ovulating again. Enjoy đ
The blue light of your phone screen is the only thing cutting through the darkness of your bedroom. You really should have been asleep an hour ago, instead, youâre spiraling down a rabbit hole you didn't even know existed.
Size kink.
Youâd never really thought about it before, not until you started dating Sylus and tonight you were just scrolling, looking for something to satisfy the empty ache Sylus left all week.
This video is something you had never seen before or even thought was possible. You watch, mesmerized by the way the womanâs stomach subtly shifts a visible bulge as he stretches her out.
Heat pools instantly between your thighs, making your breath hitch and a dizzying sensation of fullness hit your gut. He's always so careful with you, so agonizingly gentle, as if youâre something precious he might break if he breathes too hard. But looking at this... a dark part of your brain wonders what it would feel like if he didn't hold back.
"Holy shit..." you whisper to the empty room.
Your hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding down to find slick heat. The video is playing on a loop. Bulge. Stretch. Deep. Repeat. You watch it while your imagination runs wild, replacing the stranger on the screen with the man who owns your heart. Youâre picturing his heavy weight pinning you down, his eyes blown wide, filling you until you canât even scream.
Youâre chasing a peak that feels miles away until, suddenly, it isn't. You hit your first orgasm with a stifled gasp, back arching off the mattress, only to find yourself immediately chasing the second one, body trembling and spent in the wake of the first.
By the time the second wave of pleasure ebbs away, youâre a puddle of limbs and heavy eyelids. Youâre half conscious, drifting in that beautiful limbo between wakefulness and dreams. In a daze of post orgasmic euphoria, you squint at the screen, your thumb hovering over the comment section.
"How do I send him this without actually sending it to him đł"
You tap 'send' with a clumsy thumb. You meant to just post it as a thought, a digital scream into the void. But as your eyes flutter shut, your hand twitches a final, involuntary spasm of exhausted muscle. Your thumb slips. It slides across the 'Share' icon, hovers over the very first contact at the top of your recent list, and taps.
Sent.
You don't hear the subtle whoosh of the outgoing message. Delivered directly to the man who at this very moment is probably staring at a security feed or sipping red wine.
Sylus.
You just fall into a deep, blissful sleep, completely unaware that you've just lit a fuse.
âCome on, sweetie, donât give up on me now" Thrust. The impact is heavy, forcing a breathless gasp from your lungs. âYou can take it, canât you?â
He isn't being the gentle, careful man you know. Not today. His hand is hooked firmly behind your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, forcing you to watch the unmistakable, fat bulge stretching the skin of your lower abdomen, proof to just how deep heâs buried himself inside you.
âYou wanted this, now you have to take it and you are going to watch.â
And there it is. The reality of it. Itâs visceral. Itâs exactly what you saw in that video, but itâs a thousand times more intense because itâs him. Itâs real.
Your vision swima and just as the shock of it all starts to settle, he shifts. He changes the angle of his hips in a calculated move that hits your G spot dead on. An uninhibited scream tears from your throat, echoing through the room.
âI've been trying to behave,â he says, and the words come out rougher than he probably intended, an edge of frustration bleeding through his usual composure âBut you make it so difficult... fuck... by sending me your filthy little thoughts.â
His hand settles against your belly, firm and heavy, and the second he presses down, your body reacts with a sharp inhale. You tense instinctively, muscles coiling around him, but you don't pull away. You can't.
âCan you feel me here?â he asks, breath coming in uneven bursts. Heâs buried balls deep and for a split second, you see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. You make a face, a strange, overwhelmed expression of fullness, and he looks like he might actually pull back to give you a moment to breathe. He thinks heâs pushing too hard.
Heâs wrong.
Don't you dare.
Driven by a desperation you didn't know you possessed, you move your hips in a searching rhythm, pressing his hand down harder against your stomach. You want the pressure. You want to feel the exact point where he meets your skin from the inside.
He lets out a loud groan at the sensation. Your narrow walls clamp down on him, tighter than they've ever been. Every millimeter of space between you feels like itâs disappearing, leaving nothing but friction and heat.
You don't have the words to tell him that you never want him to stop, so your body does the talking. You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you there, keeping you exactly where you are until your breathing turns unsteady.
Until your body softens in momentary surrender and tightens again a second later, as if you're fighting a war with yourself, trying to decide whether to let go or to hold on tighter.
In the end, you don't choose. You do both.
The world dissolves into a hot haze of pleasure. It couldn't be called an orgasm because this feels like a total system failure. Youâre sobbing his name or maybe youâre just gasping for air, you canât tell anymore as waves of pleasure crash over you, violent and unrelenting. Your pussy seizes around him in long pulses, milking him, begging for the very thing thatâs pushing you past your limit.
He follows you a few seconds later, burying himself soooo deep you feel the hot rush of him filling you.
Slowly, the fog begins to lift, leaving you in a state of blissful, heavy lethargy. The hand that was just pressing so ruthlessly into your belly softens, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
"You really are a menace." he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
The shame you expected to feel, the embarrassment of that accidental video is nowhere to be found. Instead, there is only a sense of immense satisfaction.
"Next time," he whispers into your hair "don't bother sending a link. Just tell me. I'll give you everything you desire. Every single time."
The problem with being in love with a man like Xavier is that your brain is constantly a minefield of "what ifs."
Heâs incredible, truly, but youâve noticed the way he pulls back sometimes. When heâs brooding or when that possessive jealousy starts to prickle at him, he becomes almost too careful. Like heâs afraid he might actually break you if he lets go of that restraint.
So, naturally, youâve been doing a little "research" to keep the inspiration alive.
Now, youâre sitting on the edge of your bathtub, scrolling through your feed, a habit thatâs becoming a bit of a vice, when a video catches your eye. A girl pinned to a mattress, her head pressed down by her partner as he fucks her from behind. Hard. The sound of her moans echoes in your ears through your headphones and suddenly the bathroom feels about ten degrees too hot.
God, yes.
You quickly save the link to your "later" folder, a digital stash of things you want him to eventually try, and then scribble a quick, thirsty comment on the video "This but with my boyfriend dressed as Lumiere đ¤¤Â " and set your phone down.
Buzz. Buzz.
A notification lights up the screen. Itâs him.
[Xavier]:Â Found a new hot pot place. Apparently, the broth is spicy enough to kill a Wanderer. Want to go tonight? Please say yes so I can stop thinking about food and start thinking about you.
A soft laugh escapes you. Heâs so predictable, yet so devastatingly charming when he wants to be. Your answer is an immediate "sure" because youâd say yes to a lukewarm bowl of water if he was the one serving it.
But he always forgets to look at the menu and ends up ordering something way too spicy or something you're not in the mood for, so you look for the restaurant's menu.
You see the link. Tap it. Copy. Paste. Add "Look at the options! The spicy broth looks insane." Send.
Funny thing is, you don't actually copy the menu's URL, you just cut it. You don't even realize you just sent him the very un culinary link to the video you were just watching to fuel your own delusions.
Little typing bubbles appear. They dance for a long time. They disappear. They reappear.
"Lumiere?" the name sounds like a curse "You wanted Lumiere to pin you down?"
Your face is pressed so firmly into the mattress that the fabric feels like a part of your own skin, the scent of laundry detergent mixing with the heat of the moment. Every time he thrusts into you, the world tilts, your vision blurring into white light and dark shadows. The Xavier who kisses your forehead and cuddles with you is buried somewhere deep inside the man currently fucking you breathless.
"Xavie..." you try to speak, but his name dies in your throat as he shifts his weight.
"Tell me," he demands, losing the battle with his own restraint. He hits you hard, a deep, soul shaking thrust that forces a broken moan from your lips. "Tell me you don't need a costume to feel this."
You try to answer, to tell him he's being ridiculous...
Smack!
The sting of his palm against your ass makes you gasp, your fingers clawing at the mattress for purchase.
"You sent it to me on purpose," he mutters as he leans down, his chest pressing hard against your back. "You wanted to see me like this, didn't you? You wanted to see if I could be as rough as him."
He doesn't want an answer. He doesn't wait for one. He just wants to hear you whimper his name when he hits that perfect spot.
His hand presses your face down even harder into the mattress, muffling your cries. It's everything you were craving when you were scrolling through your phone earlier, but the reality is a thousand times better.
You start to move, trying to meet him halfway, trying to grind back against him to find the friction that will push you over the edge.
"Faster..." you beg, trying to turn your head to tell him that there is no Lumiere, there is only him, but he just presses you back down, his thumb grazing your hip bone with trembling pressure.
"Shhhhhh, just a little bit more," he lets out a long groan, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck for a fleeting second before he surges upward again. "You should see the way your pussy is taking my cock right now, so greedy. Just for me."
His hand shifts. It leaves the back of your head to find the column of your throat. His thumb and middle finger curl around your neck not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he is in total control.
He stills for a heartbeat, his middle finger softly tapping the pulsing vein in your neck. "Every beat belongs to me tonight"
You just nod, a jerky movement, because you are standing on the very edge of a precipice, and the fall is coming. The tension in your lower belly is wound so tight itâs almost painful.
"Say it," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his words a warm, humid ghost of a sensation, his control fraying at the edges.
"Yours," you finally whisper, like secret youâve been holding in your lungs for far too long, finally allowed to breathe.
The moment the word leaves your lips, he loses the last of his mercy.
He pulls back almost entirely, leaving you aching and empty for a fraction of a second only to drive back in, bottomless and bruising. Itâs a cycle of withdrawal and overwhelming fullness that leaves you reeling.
"Give me what's mine" the command vibrates through your entire body.
The world dissolves into white light as your head falls forward, muscles spasming in the violent quake of your climax, but he catches your hair, tugging just enough to force your head up, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a hunger that could swallow the stars.
"Good girl," he whispers against your parted, trembling lips.
He thrusts one last time, deep and final, spilling molten heat as your name breaks from his lips, torn in half by bliss before he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. For now, the jealousy is gone. There is only the quiet, heavy reality of being his.
The video catches your eye instantly. The lighting is a soft purple, casting a surreal glow over the two people on screen. A girl is on top, her movements slow and agonizingly deliberate as she drags her pussy over her partners cock, the rhythm of it making your cunt clench.
Tonight you are in a "no filter" mood. You need to share this. You need to tell Tara.
With a smirk, you tap the share icon, copy the link, and switch over to your messages. You find Taraâs profile pic or so you think and start typing with the kind of unhinged energy only a best friend can appreciate.
You and Tara have long since abandoned the concept of "boundaries" when it comes to your filthy late night chats.
âOmg Tara, look at this. Rafâs cock is so pretty, I swear if heâd just let me do this to him, Iâd never leave the bedroom again đĽľđŚâ
You hit send with a satisfied whoosh and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Silence follows. For a few minutes you go back to scrolling, blissfully unaware that you have just dropped a digital bomb into the inbox of a man who is already struggling to maintain his composure.
Your phone vibrates.
Itâs not a "LOL" or a "Damn" from Tara.
Itâs a notification from Rafayel.
Rafayel:Â Is that so?
Your heart skips a beat. You frown, squinting at the name at the top of the chat.
Wait.
Your face goes from pale to a shade of red that would put a sunset to shame. You stare at the screen, wanting to physically crawl inside the phone and disappear forever. You want to delete it. You want to throw the phone out the window. You want to move to a different planet.
But then, the little typing bubbles appear again.
Rafayel:Â Don't just sit there blushing, cutie. I'm coming to your place and you are going to show me exactly what you want"
Youâve lost track of time. Your thighs are starting to ache, every muscle in your legs feels tight, strained from holding yourself upright, yet you keep moving. You have to. The friction is the only thing keeping you grounded.
Youâre straddling him, your knees digging into the soft linens, focused on the way your cunt drags over his cock. Slippery. Hot. Wet.
Every time you slide down, the underside of him, that thick ridge presses ruthlessly against your clit. You can feel the vein running along his length pulse in perfect synch with your clit.Â
Thump thump. Thump thump.Â
"Slow down..." he groans, gripping your hips "You're going to... fuuuuck... you're going to kill me"
The friction is creating a heat of its own, a sliding friction that makes your head spin. You watch slightly delirious, as the light from the moon filters through the window, catching the sheen of sweat on his pale skin and the way his hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks wrecked. He looks beautiful. He looks like he belongs entirely to you.
But his hands are far from weak. They are heavy weights anchored to your hips, and he uses them to sabotage you. Just when you think youâve found a rhythm that might actually save you, he tightens his grip, forcing your hips to slow, dragging the slide of your pussy out into a long, shallow glide.
Itâs cruel. A sadistic kind of torture, making the night feel endless, as if the clock has stopped just to watch you suffer.
He wants to stretch this out. He wants to milk every drop of anticipation from your veins until your entire body begins to tremble, not from pleasure, but from the weight of the climax that refuses to arrive. He wants to push you to that edge where even your silence sounds filthy, where the quiet between your breaths is thick with the unspoken things you want to do to him.
Once heâs satisfied with the slow pace, his hands begin to wander. They trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your breasts, learning your body the way a sinner learns to pray. Like hunger learning the art of restraint just long enough to make the eventual feast mean something.
You slide back just a fraction, settling the heat of your pussy directly over his balls and then you reach down.
Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, just like you saw in that video. You begin to stroke him while simultaneously rotating your hips in a circular grind over the heavy fullness of his balls.
The sound that tears from his throat is something unhuman, a vibration that feels like it's coming from the depths of the ocean.
Your name is caught between his teeth in a soft, sinful exhale. He sounds undone, completely unraveled by the sight of you taking exactly what you claimed you wanted in that accidental text.
Heâs right there, on the edge of an unravelling collapse.
And because you are just like him, a creature of beautiful, chaotic impulse, you don't let him have it. Not yet.
You release his cock, hand slipping away just as the tension reaches its peak, and drag your soaked cunt back up the entire length of him in one loooong slide.
It feels like a collision of two fires.
In your desperation to feel everything you let your entire weight drop. The clench of your pussy as you cum wraps around the underside of his cock, squeezing him with a force that leaves him absolutely helpless.
He has no choice but to follow you into the fire.
Spurts of his cum paint the pale skin of his stomach, the liquid warmth spreading in thick, white streaks, pooling in his belly button.
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. There is only the sound of your breathing and the humid scent of your shared exhaustion.
âWas that pretty enough for you, cutie?â he teases, though his hand trembles slightly as he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek, like heâs constantly checking to make sure you haven't vanished into the night. "Or do we need to do it again?"
Itâs late, way past the time Zayne would usually be nudging you to sleep but heâs still tucked away in his office, probably buried under a mountain of medical charts or surgical reports.
Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, watching a VIDEO of a girl grinding against a manâs thigh, bodies pressed together, his hands steady even as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. The guy in the video is wearing pajamas that look disturbingly similar to the ones Zayne is wearing right now.
Suddenly, the empty space in your bed feels a little too vast, your mind drifting to the office down the hall, aching to be that girl, to climb onto his Zayne's lap while heâs buried in medical charts and just... fuck yourself stupid.
You want to reach down and touch yourself but youâre a loud sleeper and an even louder moaner. If you start now, thereâs no way he won't hear you through the walls, and you aren't quite ready for that kind of intimacy yet. So, you settle for a bit of digital venting. With a flushed face, you type out a quick comment on the video: "God, I wish I could do this while he's working..."
You go to save the link to your "Filthy Things" folder for a proper session tomorrow morning, but just as your thumb hovers over the screen, your phone starts vibrating. Itâs Simone. Sheâs calling, probably to gossip about something trivial. In your rush to swipe the call and answer her, your finger taps the wrong folder.
And because Zayne is a man who is always, always connected to his devices for work... heâs going to see the notification the exact second it pops up.
It didn't take long. After that little "digital accident," the silence between you two wasn't awkward so much as it was heavy. Charged. He didn't even tease you about the comment. He didn't even blush. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes, a tiny, knowing quirk at the corner of his mouth, and silently commanded you to come to him.
And now, here you are. Perched on his lap, doing the same thing you saw on that video. Your lower half is completely bare, your thighs hugging his muscular one as you press yourself flush against him.
The friction is driving you completely insane.
Zayne, however, is a man of terrifying discipline.
His left hand is braced on your lower back, while his right hand moves across his keyboard. Heâs actually working. Heâs reviewing files, typing out notes, behaving as if you aren't currently trying to melt into his lap. Every so often, heâll pause, not to stop you, but to lean in. His breath, cool and smelling faintly of mint, brushes against the shell of your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
"Ah... Zayne..." you whimper against his neck as you press yourself harder against him. The sound is loud, far too loud for his quiet office and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Hush now," he doesn't even look away from the monitor, though you notice the slight tightening of his jaw. "I need to focus. These reports won't write themselves."
Heâs being difficult. Heâs being a tease. And you love him for it.
You try to be "good." You force yourself to still when he has to write something long on his computer. You sit there, trembling slightly, waiting for him to acknowledge the havoc you're wreaking on his concentration.
A moment passes. The only sound is the soft click clack of the keyboard. Then, you feel his hand slide from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction of an inch closer, a subtle command for you to keep going.
"Good girl," he whispers, the words a warm caress against your ear.
His expression is completely professional, but the way his fingers linger on your skin tells a completely different story. Heâs still working, yes but heâs also letting you feel exactly how much of a distraction you really are.
Every time your thighs tense up, every time you desperately bite your lower lip to stifle a moan that threatens to shatter the silence, the air thickens with indecency.
Heâs struggling. You aren't blind. You can feel the insistent twitch of his cock beneath you, reacting to every open mouthed kiss you press against the pulse of his neck, the sharp line of his collarbone, and the smooth expanse of his Adam's apple. Heâs trying to maintain that surgeonâs calm, but his body is betraying him with every shuddering breath you take.
Youâre right on the edge. Your clit is catching perfectly against the fabric of his pajamas, the material already damp and clinging to you from the amount of arousal you're leaking.
"Look at me."
His voice cuts through the air, forcing your gaze up. He wants to see the exact moment your eyes glaze over, the moment your breath hitches and tells the truth that your lips are trying so hard to hide.
When his hand slides up to cup your jaw, it isn't the gentle, comforting touch you're used to during a quiet movie on the couch. It's different. It's possessive. Itâs a disciplined kind of dominance, a reminder that while he is the composed Zayne in the daylight, there is a much darker man caged behind that professional composure and you are the only one who knows how to let him out.
"You are close, aren't you, love?" he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath.
You can barely manage a nod, your lungs feeling too small for the air you're trying to pull in. You're breathing directly into his slightly parted mouth.
"Cum for me, then," he exhales, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks, betraying just how much this is affecting him too.
He shifts his thigh, bouncing it up and down in a rhythmic motion that catches your clit perfectly.
The world tilts. You feel your eyes lose focus and you can't tell if it's the shaking of your limbs or the pounding of your heart that's making you tremble so violently.
"Zaynie... Zayne..."
His name becomes your entire vocabulary, there are no words left, only the sound of his name on your lips and the crashing sensation of finally, finally letting go.
You are flicking through a never ending stream of mindless clips and memes. Itâs supposed to be a quiet afternoon, just a bit of scrolling to kill the time until Caleb comes back, but then there...
A VIDEO pops up. Itâs not your usual aesthetic travel vlog or a cooking hack.
You freeze, your heart doing a weird, little skip in your chest. You know you should probably swipe past it, but your eyes are glued to the screen. Itâs a girl, her lace panties completely drenched. The guy in the video isn't even taking them off, heâs just sliding the tip of his cock against her through the wet lace.
A sudden warmth blooms deep in your belly, spreading down until it feels like youâre melting into the cushions. God, youâve been craving that. The teasing, the slow, agonizing buildup. Youâve spent so much money on delicate, expensive little sets, thinking maybe Caleb would appreciate the way they look on you, but hes a fucking dog. He doesn't do "slow." He usually just rips them or tugs them off with impatience, going straight for the heat of you. You just want him to play with you like that. To linger.
Your inhibitions are a little frayed from the visual, and before your brain can catch up to your impulse, your thumbs are flying. You tap the comment section, the screen a mess of unhinged messages from strangers, and you add your own little confession: âI really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the startđ˘â
You hit send, a tiny, embarrassed flush creeping up your neck, and immediately swipe the video away, feeling a bit silly for being so vulnerable to a bunch of internet strangers.
You toss the phone onto the cushion next to you a second later, completely oblivious to one mortifying detail. Heâd logged into his account on your phone earlier when his own battery died, and you hadn't bothered to switch back.
In his office, the most dangerous man in Skyhaven is about to watch, in explicit detail, how you want to be ruined.
It turns out your assessment of him was spot on. The man is a fucking dog.
He hasn't taken your underwear off. Thatâs the part thatâs driving you absolutely insane. The delicate lace is currently soaked, clinging to your pussy like a second, translucent layer of skin. Heâs been working his tongue against the fabric, licks so long and heavy they feel like theyâre reaching deep inside you. Youâve already been hit by two earth shattering, toe curling orgasms, your vision blurring every time his mouth finds your clit through the damp cloth. He hasn't even slowed down. If anything, it's getting worse.
âThis is the reason I usually take off those pretty panties you wearâ he presses his face into you, his broad tongue sweeping up in one stroke against your entire slit. You let out a choked, broken sound, fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, trying to push him away just to catch your breath.
âYour scent is so fucking addictive,â he groans against your skin, âEspecially after wearing them all day... knowing you've been walking around, smelling like this, just waiting for me.â
Then, he says something that makes your heart skip a beat not out of fear, but out of pure shock.
âYou have no idea, do you?â he pants, nose brushing against your clit. âLast two years of High School... I spent them stroking my cock raw just to the smell of your panties. Thinking about you. Wishing you were right there."
Your vision blurs. Your hips jerk upward involuntarily as a third wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cum hard, your entire body shaking as you spill yourself directly onto his tongue, voice breaking into a high, desperate sob of his name.
He doesn't pull away. He just drinks you in, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tastes exactly what he's been craving.
The moment your legs stop trembling he hooks his fingers into the soaked gusset and drags it to the side, baring your swollen folds and your pulsing clit, sensitive from his relentless attention.
He doesn't thrust in. He doesn't go for the full stretch youâve been silently praying for. Instead, he slides the drooling tip of his cock over your slit. He isn't even entering you yet, he's just... slapping it against your clit, teasing the very edge of your tolerance.
You wanted the lace, the play, the slow burn... but God, you also wanted him to fuck you until you couldn't remember your name. You wanted the stretch.
But Caleb is a man who listens. Or rather, he's a man who has spent a lifetime studying every detail of your desires and right now he is giving you exactly what you asked for.
He leans down, his eyes dark, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure and frustration. He doesn't give you the release of a full thrust, he just feeds you the tip. He slides just the head of his cock into your pussy, a teasing invasion that barely makes a dent.
The reaction is instantaneous. Your walls react to him like a living thing, clenching around him, desperately trying to suck him deeper, to pull the rest of him in. The sensation is so perfectly matched that a synchronized moan breaks from both of you.
He pulls out just a fraction and then he thrusts the tip back in. Over and over again.
âPlease,â you whimper, the word sounding pathetic even to your own ears. âBaby, please...â
Youâre trying to force him to go deeper. But heâs in total control. His left hand is working the length of his cock, pumping with a desperate rhythm, while his right hand finds your clit.
His eyes are pinned to yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face as if heâs trying to memorize the way you fall apart.
And then, the teasing ends.
His mushroom tip, still nestled just inside your entrance, begins to pulse. Warm, thick spurts of cum hit your sensitive walls, flooding the tiny space heâs occupied.
Your pussy clenches around the tip of his cock, trying to suck every last drop out of him while his hand squeezes the rest of his length, forcing the remainder of his seed into you, filling you up until his cum starts to leak out.
He finally collapses against you, the weight of his body pressing you deep into the mattress.
"You're so loud when you're happy," he murmurs before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling his lips against yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and everything you are to him.
He pulls back just a bit, his gaze dropping to where the soaked lace of your panties still clings to your thighs, then back up to your eyes. Thereâs a flicker of that obsessive intensity returning to his expression.
"There isn't a single thing in this world you could ask for that wouldn't make me crawl to you. So don't hold back, Pips."
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you know full well that zayne plans ahead and is staggeringly meticulous about it. so a week ago, when your kisses grew hungrier and your hands almost undid his belt, he knew it wouldnt be long before you went all the way.
"do you enjoy this?" you scowl, and yet there's no sign of displeasure as your folds part around the smooth-shaved muscle of his thigh.
"I can't exactly say that i dont. but whether or not i do is irrelevant right now." he answers, trying too hard to hide his slipping composure behind a small smile. "it is more important that you're adequately prepared."
your hips rock with impatience, pussy pushing out more of your warm juices across his pale thigh. his hand comes to rest on your back, arching it so that your clit rubs against his flushed skin.
"hah! this-this is enough. i'm dripping, zayne." you insist. he hums in thought before reaching down to your quivering entrance. your hips lift involuntarily as he circles the slick smothered hole. "i can take you," you chase his withdrawing fingers. and then he pulls his hand away entirely.
"perhaps i should offer you a preview before you overestimate your body's abilities." his brows furrow in concern at you. zayne tugs the waistband of his underwear down to let his cock spring free, the elastic keeping his leaky pink tip pressed against his abs. your pussy twitches violently at the sight of him.
your hand shoots out to grip him before you can stop it. to feel the heavy weight of him in your palm. he's hot and throbbing in your fist.
"i-mmh-only wish for you to enjoy this." he murmurs as he pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. his fingers find your clit, rubbing soft circles on it while your pussy lips split around his thigh, hole clenching around nothing.
"so don't worry. i'll give you whatever you want." a broken moan escapes him as you give him a slow pump. he pulls away to look at you. and then at the obscene mess you've made on his thigh.
Who knew the Li's were closet freaks??
tags: married!zayne x reader + caleb. voyeurism. exhibitionism. unprotected sex. submissive puppyleb. use of 'good boy/good girl'.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble, and it turned into around 2.7k words of smut. whoops. i've been thinking about married!zaynemc asking the other love interests to be their third.
Caleb was the first to find out. Obviously. He had known you and Zayne for years- his entire life- there were no more secrets left to hide.
Not even this one.
Zayne was surprisingly very, publicly, physically affectionate with you. Small touches here and there on your little dates, or kisses goodbye when he had to leave for work. He minded less so when Caleb was around. And Caleb was always there, an inevitable constant, so it made sense if he was there for everything.
Which is why he is here, kneeling on the floor of your living room, watching Zayne fuck you like he has all the time left in the world.
Caleb grips at his jeans so tightly he thinks heâll rip right through them. He isnât allowed to touch, not yet. His eyes are trained on the way Zayne disappears into your dripping cunt over and over again, a slow, steady rhythm that keeps you wanting. He knows that Zayne is hitting you deep, by the way you moan his name every time he fills you.
Caleb doesnât know how it got to this point.
(A lie. He remembers the exact time and day he first caught the two of you fucking. In the kitchen, over burning eggs and spilled milk. His mechanically altered brain catalogued the memory into his hard drive after three weeks of jerking off to it every night.)
He thought you, the Liâs, would be more⌠coy about sex in general. Zayne used to burst into bright red flames if you even held his hand in front of Caleb, before you got married. The quiet, stern doctor couldnât handle a little bit of skin contact.
Now, Caleb thinks it mightâve been for a different reason altogether.
It just kept happeningâ âgetting caughtâ.
Innocent gestures at first. Kisses to your palm, and bounding hugs after a long day. Then it was making out in the car, Zayneâs hand under the table during a fancy dinner, you under his desk in the office during a lunch date. Caleb was there for all of it, when time would allow.
It reached a point where Caleb didnât mind it anymore (he doesnât think he was ever bothered by it, actually, which says more about his person than heâd like to think about.)
It was, probably, the insane level of attraction he had to the both of you. The closest people to his heart, together romantically and physically. It made sense to him that he would be turned on by the sight of you, instead of scared away.
The fact that you allowed him to be a part of it, only meant that you were all the same type of crazy.
He liked watching, and you and Zayne loved to be watched.
Fuck, his dick fucking hurts.
âZayne,â you cry again, a long, pitiful whine that sends a tingle down Calebâs spine. You bounce lightly on the manâs lap, energy running low as you get closer to your peak.
Zayne grips under your thighs, encouraging you to keep going, his own hips pushing up as he brings you down.
Both of you are still clothed, with only the buttons undone and belts unbuckled. The only article of clothing fully removed was your shirt, which is tossed onto the floor. Your pretty skirt is hiked up and panties pushed to the side, enough for Caleb to see.
Zayne checks to make sure, too, glasses askew as he peers over his shoulder to meet Calebâs watchful eye. The other man smirks, and it makes Caleb twitch in his jeans.
âWhatâs wrong, my love?â Zayne asks you. A rhetorical question. A mean question. He knows, always knows, when youâre close, and when to push you past your limits.
He holds you loft, until all thatâs left inside of you is the head of his cock. You try to push down, but Zayne stays firm, and you can only cry. âWanna come.â
âI know,â he whispers in your ear. He sounds apologetic, like he isnât the one keeping you from the very thing you want. âBut youâll have to be patient.â
Your arms wrap tightly around Zayneâs shoulders, a nonverbal plea to appeal to his soft side. It doesnât work. Zayneâs eyes never leave Caleb, and his smile grows. He knows that look, a mirror image of your own mischievous grin when you have a bad (or really, really good) idea.
âCaleb, youâve been a good boy.â
Caleb nods, not trusting himself to speak without stumbling over his words.
One of Zayneâs hands glides up to your ass, pulling at one cheek to expose you even further. Calebâs eyes widen, following the trail of juices that leak out of you and stain the seam of Zayneâs slacks. He slips out of you, heavy dick bobbing against his thigh, and you are left gaping. âI think you deserve a treat.â
Oh, all thoughts of anything else are dashed from his mind. Itâs only you and Zayne and all the fucking cum dripping onto the floor and he would lick every last drop off of the hardwood, if Zayne asked him to. His body moves before he can register, and his mouth dives deep into your waiting cunt.
âCaleb!â you gasp, and Zayne pinches the meat of your ass.
âThatâs not my name.â
Caleb groans, tongue gliding over your puffy folds, drinking up every sound that you make and heâs careful to remember not to touch himself. He drinks you up straight from the source, then follows the seam of your pussy down to your throbbing clit. He flattens his tongue over it, pulsing lightly, waiting for your moan of approval. You do your best to grind on his face, even though Zayne is still holding your hips up to keep you from coming too quickly for his liking.
Caleb couldnât pinpoint it until now, that he likes to be used. Or, more so, be useful, even in the bedroom. A plaything, a means to an end, for you, for Zayne, because he loves you both. You mean more to him than his own pleasure, and he wants to help his favorite people reach the end, even when itâs Zayneâs name you are calling in lieu of his own.
And you keep saying it, Zayne Zayne Zayne, until he lets your hips drop and Calebâs tongue sucks roughly at your clit, his nose buried so deep into you that he forgets to breathe, and your first orgasm of the night rushes through you like a tidal wave.
Your body shakes under the force of it while Zayne sings you praise and Caleb shoves two fingers into your fluttering hole, giving you something to clench around. When Caleb pulls his mouth away to watch all of your juices coat Zayneâs hardness, thumb replacing his hot tongue on the sensitive nub, he takes the opportunity to do what heâs meant toâ clean up the mess.
Caleb grabs the shaft with his other hand, more roughly than he should have (curse this prosthetic sometimes), and takes half in one fell swoop. He canât help it. Zayne is modestly big, curved up at the end, thick at the base. Picture perfect. He doesnât know how he can take so much into his throat at once- maybe itâs the adrenaline, the overwhelming lust, he doesnât fucking care, because Zayne moans so loud and you follow his lead, itâs like Calebâs own personal choir.
His hand strokes what his mouth canât reach yet, the head already pressing the soft spot in his throat. He times it so that he thrusts his fingers into you at the same time he pushes in with Zayne, and heâs a proxy for your two bodies to fuck through him.
His eyes fall shut as he loses himself to the motions, only feeling the two of you everywhere. The sounds you make, the pleasure you feel, is because of him, and it only encourages him to keep going.
You come again, not as intensely as the first, but it has you crying helplessly. You find the last of your strength to pull off of Caleb, lying heavily on top of your husband, body melting into his while you catch your breath. If Caleb looks up, he can see you kiss at Zayneâs face and neck, smearing spit into his exposed skin. Zayne strokes your thighs, then your hips, then finally wraps his arms around your waist, helping you come down with such a soft touch and that easy, proud smile.
âYouâre a good girl,â he says to you, sweet and slow as syrup. âYouâre so beautiful like this.â
You are completely entranced by him, only focused on him and his sugary words. You still blush at the sound of them, as if you didnât just come all over another manâs face, who is still kneeling under you. You havenât looked at Caleb once. Your back is to him while Zayne takes the credit, and itâs that thrill of faux jealousy that makes Caleb hump at the air.
Caleb wants to be acknowledged, too. He wants to be good, has been good all this time. Caleb wants to prove to Zayne just how good he is.
So he licks up the length of Zayneâs cock, following the vein on the under side to the bulbous tip. He sucks at the head with the same fervor he did with your clitâ it ilicits the same long moan but not enough to make him come like you. Caleb swirls his tongue around, poking at the slit, lips pursing like heâs making out with Zayneâs cock.
Fuck, he really wants to kiss you. And maybe heâs being greedy now, because he imagines you kneeling down here with him, and how pouty youâd be if Caleb was hogging your husbandâs heavy dick in his mouth while you run your spit down the shaft and meet his lips at the tip.
It only spurs him on. Calebâs favorite pastime is teasing the hell out of you, after all. He tries to work down as far as he can, inch after inch disappearing into his hot mouth, until Caleb can almost reach the base. His head bobs there for a long moment, just feeling the weight of him, the taste of you still on his tongue.
Zayne bucks up forcefully, suddenly, jostling Caleb and causing him to gag. He pulls off just in time to gasp a lungful of air.
âSorry, puppy,â Zayne says, a little shocked by himself. Caleb realizes that he made Zayne lose control, just for a second. The biggest compliment, according to you, is when Zayne canât help himself. Long fingers pet at his hair in apology. There is no need for one, Caleb thinks, he takes this as a success.
Instead, Caleb allows himself to rest a hand at the crest of your back, smooth and sweat-slicked. Your face remains tucked in the crook of Zayneâs neck, though youâre much more relaxed than before. He pumps his fist up Zayneâs cock a couple more times, before positioning it in front of your waiting hole.
âGood boy,â Zayne coos, once he realizes what Caleb is doing.
âThank you, puppy,â you chime in right after, and Caleb presses the head in, watching how you suck him in greedily. guiding you to sink down the entire length slowly. Itâs a slow crawl, because this is Calebâs reward for himself, your pussy stretches around Zayne like it was made for it. It is. Youâre perfect for each other in every way. Caleb can never get enough. Heâd do anything the two of you ask, as long as he can be with you, as long as he can witness the two of you sink into each other for the rest of his days.
Once you sit fully on Zayneâs weeping cock, a sigh of utter satisfaction leaves your lungs, and Zayne takes it into his with a whirlwind kiss.
Caleb stands on wobbly legs, the hand still on your back helping you rock your body back and forth over Zayne. From here, Caleb can see everything. Zayneâs iron grip around your waist, the hickies you left on his neck. Your tongues exploring each othersâ mouths unabashedly, the breaths you exchange in between them. Itâs you and Zayne written all over each othersâ bodies. Caleb wants to leave his mark, too.
âPlease,â he manages to eke out. He palms at the neglected bulge in his pants. Technically itâs not breaking the rules if thereâs a layer of clothes in the way, right? âZayne. Please, I want to-â
âGo ahead, puppy,â Zayne cuts him off, breathless from your kiss. âYou can touch yourself.â
And you are back on his lips the moment he finishes that sentence, starved for his attention.
Caleb unbuttons his pants and tugs himself out of his boxers, too impatient for anything else. He spits in one hand, not wanting to be selfish and ask you for yours. Heâs greedy, too, jerking himself in stuttering strokes, every pass of his hand like an electric shock of hot pleasure. He does his best to keep some semblance of a tempo, following the way your body lifts up, and smacks back down. Wet plaps echo through your living room, all three of your voices filling the space, and Caleb (almost, not really) feels bad for your neighbors.
Zayneâs cool hand lands on his, the one on your back, threading his fingers in a semi-awkward position, enough to loop the pinkies, but it grounds Caleb, an anchor in the rolling sea. At the same time, you reach a hand behind you, searching for a part of him to grab, landing on his wrist.
Zayne pulls you in tighter, whispering about how good you and Caleb are, how divine you feel, how kind Caleb is to let you come. His hips thrust up into you from below, faster and harder than the teasing pace from before. Your combined juices leave a nasty mix around Zayneâs cock, a frothy ring forming around your cunt.
Caleb can do nothing but whimper, guttural yelps forced from his gut with every pathetic word he cries. "Please, please, Pips. Please come."
He grips tightly around his base, so painfully hard that his skin is turning an angry red, to stop himself from busting too early, waiting for your permission. You turn your head, nodding in time with Zayneâs thrusts, and you must be getting close, too, by the way Caleb can see you squeeze around your husband. God, his resolve is breaking. He strokes his entire length, swiping over the head and gathering the pre-cum to jerk back down.
What breaks him is when your eyes finally meet, your pupils blown wide and empty, with a pleading furrow in your brow. He comes on your back, thick spurts painting your intertwined hands, with a loud drawn out groan.
It sets off a chain reaction, and Zayne releases inside you right after. It doesn't take you long to follow, not with Zayne's rough voice at your ear and Caleb massaging his cum over your skin.
He'll apologize for making such a mess later, but for now he is delighting in the sight. Zayne even has the audacity to untangle his cum-covered fingers and stick them into his mouth.
The three of you stay like this for a while, breathing heavy, relishing in the storm of sweet release.
Your hips twitch, riding the aftershocks, Zayneâs cum leaking from you steadily, still not ready to pull out.
âThank you,â Caleb manages after a while. âFor letting me watch.â
âOf course, puppy,â Zayne replies. âBut donât you want your reward?â
His ears perk up. Reward?
Caleb realizes that you never stopped looking at him. Not since you twisted your body around just to watch him bust a load all over your back.
You pop off of Zayneâs cock, cum spilling from your puffy cunt, and turn around so that youâre facing Caleb now. You position your knees outside of Zayneâs so that youâre properly on display for Calebâs hungry eyes. Zayneâs hands roam over you, showing off his prize. One tweaks at a hard nipple, while the other spreads your pussy lips wide. Zayne, on the other hand, is already half-hard, cock bobbing back to life between your legs.
âYou get to choose who fucks you first, puppy.â
Oh, fuck. The Liâs are going to be the death of him.
đ Ďą sum. nerd caleb stifles your sounds! cw : mdni, exhibitionist kink, stomach bulging, squirting, mean dom! caleb.
you werenât supposed to be doing thisâ hell, you were supposed to be doing everything else in the world rather than getting broken into by caleb. in a library of all places.
â f-fuuuck,â caleb swallows, making a point to quiet his moans, as the sheer volume would get you both banned from every library across the world. your sopping cunt slurps him in fully, with sultry sounds and your pleasure stricken face to top it all off. or maybe itâs how heâs taking you in a public area where anyone could walk in at any time; the sheer feeling of being outside and careless fills him with unexplainable glee. your fingers desperately hold onto the rocking table, legs spread open wide to fit his slim hips slamming into you, struggling to hold back every mewl of encouragement and his name. â youâre one nasty girl, seducinâ me just to get fucked out in the open, but you donât care, do you?â
the answer is evidently no.
you whined, hazy, glossed over eyes staring into his as your manicured nails pinched and pulled at your perked nipples. caleb was impressively thick, a fact that never failed to surprise you once you remembered he was a loser virgin before you who somehow adapted to what you liked, being able to fuck you into a speechless mess as of today. â haaaarder, caleb! need it to be meaner, please.â
â h-hah, would if i could, you know t-that. but weâre in a public space, or did that airy head of yours forget, huh?â he groans, pressing a hand to firmly push down on your bulging lower stomach, making you whine out. you feel so full, devastatingly so as the hand pressing you further into the rocking table makes you keenly aware that your walls are being stretched fully to accommodate the thick span of his staggering cock. you whine, legs squeezing around his hips, locking your ankles around his broad back to pull him in impossibly deeper, giving a cute, dick drunk giggle as caleb prays to every god there is to be quiet and not to cum quickly. â not a thought in your brain besides getting fucked and being a dirty mess for me, but you like it that way. just look at how yerâ squeezinâ me in.â
â i donât care whoâs around! want you to be mean, c-caleb. fuck! donât a-act like you donât want to be.â
caleb loved studying your facial expressions. the way your eyes would brighten with lewdness as the tip of his cock would bottom in your walls, or how you cutely scrunched your face when he hit your sweet spots with little to no effort. and he especially loved the sweet sounds youâd makeâ a gasp when he briefly brushed against your cervix, or the punctured out gasps that would leave your chest in hot heaves of air when he felt like being extra degrading and using your body until it was close to breaking beyond repair.
you open your mouth to voice another complaint, where a strong hand cuts you off, albeit rudely.
â nothing. donât say anything else. bite on my necklace ân keep your mouth shut, yeah?â he removes his hand, and you do what he demanded. your teeth bite down on the jiggling dog tags hovering above you, for which he rewards your obedience with firm swirls against your twitching clit. the indecent, sopping sounds filled in the environment where your usual moans lacked, continuing to keep teary eye contact with the man above you, making your senses surrender and fill with him. â goood girl, you can listen after all, hmm. from now on, your pussy âs doing all the talking.â
you moan, feeling his length buck into your pussy with animalistic thrusts, kiss-plumped lips turned into a teasing smirk, while his eyes intensely stare at yoursâ in fact, he reaches out his hand, entwining his long fingers with your strands, refusing to let you look away from his hypnotizing gaze. not even for a second.
calebâs thick cock broke into you with frightening velocity; seeing how you jerk with a shrill but quiet mewl, he knew that he had hit past your sweet spot and firmly against your sensitive cervix. the dog tags in your mouth are the only thing keeping you grounded, preventing you from slipping beyond a frenzied state as you slobber around the warming silver in your mouth.
â feel ya clenching around me, youâre close arenât you? mmph, you donât know it, but youâre way cuter when your mouth is full.â
unexpectedly, your orgasm crashes over you. the pressure builds and builds until youâre clenching desperately his cock, suffocating every length, including his thickened base, with juices squirting from your pussy. your back arches into a deep bend, as your nails dig into your palms, moaning around the intruder in your mouth as youâre still being fucked into the tableâ rocking the object obscenely against the floor.
â pussyâs so g-greedy, yknow how to take it all like a good girl.â his breath hitches in his throat, both hands are now littering your hips with deep, purple blooming bruises as youâre aware heâs keenly close to pumping you full of cum. his glasses sit crooked on his nose bridge, as sweat drips down his forehead and his neckâ despite that, he doesnât look close to tired, having the stamina of a pro it seemed like. his length drove into you so deeply, making your upper body push back into the rocking object beneath you, teeth still caught around his necklace, making his body follow where you tugged him. the action doing more to him than you realized as he came.
and fuck is it a lot.
filling every corner impossible inch of your pussy with lewd fluids, until most of it spills out onto the table. not that either one of you are present enough to care. â weâre making suchâa mess, pips. not that you care, fuck, think theyâre gonna check the cameras later?â
â what?â
â ah⌠i shouldâve stopped, but the library attendant definitely heard us, i bet sheâs still looking over here.â
â what!â you sit up with panic, completely ready to fly out the cursed library and somewhere to the nearest airport to move far away and change your identity, lust got in the way of all rationality once again.
â hah, made you look! i honestly didnât think youâd fall for it.â it doesnât matter where you are or how nasty you fuck, caleb is still a virgin loser.
I really think everyone needs to truly internalize this:
Fictional characters are objects.
They are not people. You cannot "objectify" them, because they have no personhood to be deprived of. They have no humanity to be erased. You cannot "disrespect" them, because they are not real.
I know this has good intentions, so I will just add the "how you treat them, even as objects of fiction, can speak about your own character, be careful out there"
Your addition is actually completely antithetical to my message. It is literally the opposite of what I am conveying.
Stop telling people to encourage the cop inside their head.
How you treat fictional characters, given they are entirely objects of fiction, does NOT necessarily speak to your own character, and you do not need to be "careful".
It is not dangerous to imagine dark things happening to fictional characters. It does not mean you are secretly a bad person. It does not mean you unconsciously want to hurt people in real life. It is not a "slippery slope" to doing bad things to people in real life. You cannot damage your brain or turn yourself into a bad person by consuming "dark" fanfic.
I can write tentacle noncon of my favorite character all day long and be a fierce anti-sexual assault advocate in real life because what I do in my head is not the same thing as what I do in real life.
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I got pretty fed up with looking for words to replace said because they werenât sorted in a way I could easily use/find them for the right time. So I did some myself.
I DONâT REALLY CARE BUT WHATEVER
Guessed
Ventured
IâM DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM
Hooted
Howled
Yowled
I WONDER
Pondered
Voiced
Wondered
OH, YEAH, WHOOPS
Recalled
Recited
Remembered
SURPRISE BITCH
Revealed
IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DONâT WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD
Scoffed
Snickered
Snorted
BITCHY
Tattled
Taunted
Teased
Edit: People, Iâm an English and creative writing double major in college; I understand that thereâs nothing wrong with simply using âsaid.â This was just for fun, and it comes in handy when I need to add pizzazz.Â
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