I GOT HIS CARD IN 20 PULLS NOBODY TALK TO ME RN IM SO AHAHAHAJAJJAKAA Odds On Me Getting To Fully Rank

hes so husband

i'd like to offer to you the idea of zayne who stays in the bathroom to wash his hands a little longer than what's usual inside the confinement of one's home, the habit of scrubbing in staying with him even outside the walls of the hospital. one day after you two return home from an outing, you've long patted your hands dry, but he's still standing in front of the sink. thick foam of soap covering his dextrous fingers, spreading all the way up his forearms, ending slightly below his elbows. his moves are thorough and practiced. scrub the nails in a back-and-forth motion approximately 30 times. 10 strokes across the surface of the palm. divide your forearm into thirds, scrub each third 10 times. once you scrub an area do not go back, he recounts internally, the words of instruction replaying in his mind with enough familiarity that he doesn't really notice them anymore, nor the way that his hands are following them, even though the sink in front of him belongs to your bathroom, not to the hospital.

the fact that he never noticed this habit before only occurs to him when you mention it, leaning against the doorway, watching him as patiently as he washed his hands. "your hand soap certainly smells more pleasant than chlorhexidine," zayne notes in response as he passes by you on his way out, pressing an amused kiss to the crown of your head.

yum yum yum

SERVE!

caleb [夏以昼] + female reader + zayne [黎深]

synopsis. who were the cute boys watching your tennis match today? you planned to find out.

genre. 18+! MDNI! tennis player!zayne, tennis player!caleb, tennis player!reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (giving), cumshot, unprotected p in v, nipple play, soft dom!caleb, soft sub!zayne, nasty 3some, pull out, slapping, fingering, slight dirty talk, a lil mxm if you squint, what else to say… wc; 4.5k+

author's note. this came from me listening to the challengers soundtrack… i have no excuse i just wanted to write a smutty zayne and caleb fic (even though this just kept getting longer the more i revised) … enjoy <3

“Holy shit.”

The two men had been sitting on the bleachers for almost two hours, completely enthralled by the girl who was on the tennis court. They really had only intended to pass by after training, maybe stay for a few plays.

It was hard to ignore the whispers throughout the Linkon Tennis Club, of a girl who was only on a path to surpass everyone here. Of course, they had been curious to see who she was, maybe skeptical of all the talk surrounding her. But nothing compared to watching her up close.

She was unrelenting, hard-hitting and implacable.

Even as her opponent continued to fall far behind in points, she showed no signs of backing down. It was only until the last set that she let their serve fall on her side, not even attempting to hit the ball with her racket. As if she wanted to taunt him. 

It’s only then that they take note of the man stomping off the court, someone who up until now, had been considered undefeated in their club.

Caleb swears he sees a smirk appear on her face as she walks off the court.

“That was…” Zayne starts, but it seems he’s unable to find the words to describe what he’s feeling right now.

“Fucking hot.” Caleb finishes, eyes still locked onto the girl as she uses a towel to wipe her glistening skin.

Zayne clears his throat, standing up suddenly as if snapping out of a trance. Up until then, he had been aware of the setting sun. “We need to go.” 

Caleb doesn’t notice he’s walking down the bleachers until the girl is out of sight. He grabs his bag, almost stumbling down the steps as he catches up to Zayne.

He whistles lowly.

“You ever see anyone play like that?” Caleb brings his hand under his chin, unable to shake the image of her on the court. Or, unable to shake the image of her completely. He wanted to know more about her. No, needed.

“No.” It was true. Zayne found himself adjusting his shirt collar nervously. Suddenly the heat of the sun was heavy on his skin. He wouldn’t admit that watching her play like that was enough to have an effect on him.

“You think she’s coming to the party tonight?” Caleb ponders out loud, more to himself. He finds himself hoping to catch sight of her again as they exit the court and enter the parking lot, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Why does it matter?” Zayne responds, tossing his bag onto the top of his car's hood, searching for his keys.

Caleb leans onto the hood, hands coming up under his chin as he eyes Zayne. “Maybe because that was one of the best matches I’ve ever seen, and it wasn’t even a serious one. You’re not just a little curious to see what she’s like?”

Zayne fishes his keys out, pointing his gaze at Caleb’s puppy eyes. “Oh, so it has nothing to do with the fact that you find her attractive?”

“Do you not?” Caleb takes note of the way Zayne avoids his question.

Zayne looks away, unlocking his car door and throwing his bag to the backseat.

“At least I'm not afraid to admit when I like a woman…” Caleb mumbles, hoping it's low enough that Zayne doesn't hear.

He does.

And he locks the car just as Caleb tries to open the passenger door.

He bangs his hand against the window, and Zayne can’t deny he finds his pouting a bit amusing. 

“Zayne!”

He plasters his face against the window. “Open the door?” 

Zayne pretends to not hear him, turning the car’s ignition on.

“Please?”

The doors unlock, a shit eating grin spreading onto Caleb’s face.

“Someone can’t get enough of you.”

Your friend Tara is giggling as she hands you a towel. You take it, wiping your face but not before rolling your eyes.

You knew exactly who she was talking about. It wasn’t unusual for you to gain a bit of an audience when you played, even if it was just a match for fun like this one. But those two had showed up early and stayed throughout the whole thing.

Watching you. And only you.

It was hard to ignore the way their eyes watched your every move.

“They’re not exactly trying to hide it,” you quip, a bit harsh. But maybe you didn’t want to admit the effect the two very attractive men had on you.

Tara seems to see right through you, a coy smile on her face as she throws you a water bottle.

You chug it, ignoring her as you gather your things, tossing your bag over your shoulder. She walks alongside you as you exit the court.

“You know, they’ll probably be at the party tonight.” she sing-songs, skipping to catch up to your brisk pace. You were desperate for a cold shower and your bed.

“Good for them,” she rolls her eyes at your feigned nonchalance. You use both of your hands to scour your bag, scowling when you come up empty handed.

Tara clears her throat and you look up, narrowing your eyes at her. She dangles your keys in front of you, the tiny tennis racquet clinking.

As you reach out to take them, she pulls back. “Tell me you’re going tonight…”

“I can’t. I have practice early tomorrow.”

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes at the weak excuse. She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes as if to say ‘I don’t believe you’.

“I vividly recall you promising me this would be your one night out.” 

You do remember. A promise that came from being tired from practice and Tara continuously pestering you about it. You’d argue it was more like she forced you until you said yes.

Tara twirls the keys around her finger, “I’ll stand here all day…”

Despite her playful tone, you knew better than anyone she would definitely stay here until you said yes. Your mind drifts back to the two boys sitting at the bleachers, the way you might have intentionally played up your skills. The way you felt your body heat rise, not just from your running back and forth.

This was not the first time you had seen them around. A glance of them on the courts, in the dining hall, at tournaments. The two were joined at the hip. It seemed as though they were always together. Practicing together, walking together, hell, they probably slept together.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a tiny bit curious to know more about them.

With a resigned sigh, “Fine,” you say, and her face looks as if she was just handed a brand new puppy. “But I'm taking clothes out of your closet.”

She throws you the keys, already on a tangent about what alcohol to pregame with. But as you enter your car and drive off, there’s only one thought on your mind.

You would make it your mission to get to know them tonight.

To no one’s surprise, Caleb is able to drag Zayne out to the party. He hated coming to any type of social gathering, but maybe the possibility of catching a glimpse of you was enough to get him out the door this time.

Zayne is embarrassed to admit how many times he changed his shirt.

They’re leaning against one the tables, beers in hand as they lazily watch the partygoers. The night was warm, a dampness kissing their skin. As entertaining as watching their drunk tennis club fall onto the grass was, they were really only here for one reason.

You.

However, as the night sky continued to darken, their hopes of seeing you began to diminish with the setting sun.

One beer turns into two, three, four, until their table is littered with empty bottles. Their faces were flushed, and the stars seemed a bit brighter now. Caleb has a permanent pout on his face, gaze on the beer cap he was flipping in between his fingers.

It was unlike him to be so affected by anyone, much less a stranger. He was a bit of a playboy back in the early days of his tennis career, a womanizer as Zayne would call him. Though it was far behind him, now, it was a bit humiliating for him to be so bent over a girl.

Zayne, on the other hand, stayed back for the most part. Not that he didn’t have many opportunities, trust that he had many. But Zayne was never one for no strings attached hookups. A hopeless romantic, Caleb would say to tease him. Though, he had no shame in his beliefs around love.

It was no wonder why he was so infatuated by you.

There’s an eruption of cheers from where people have made a makeshift dance floor, and Caleb lazily turns. His head shoots up, body turning at whiplash speed, causing a few bottles to fall to the ground.

“Hey—!”

Zayne furrows his brows, looking at Caleb for an explanation to his sudden movements. His eyes are wide, unblinking as if he’s afraid to miss whatever he’s watching.

He follows his gaze, and it lands on you.

In the middle of the crowd, there you are, dancing without a care in the world.

They stare dumbfoundedly at your figure, clad in a mini skirt and strappy top. You turn towards them, undoubtedly staring at both of them. Your eyes dart between them, an inviting smile on your face. Maybe the alcohol was making them hallucinate.

Zayne flushes, looking to the side and clearing his throat.

Without a second to think, Caleb is standing up and walking towards you.

“Caleb!” but it’s futile. All Zayne can do is standby and watch as Caleb works his infuriating charm on you, hands coming to sit on your waist with ease.

He hates to admit it, but somewhere in his heart he feels a twinge of envy.

The party is in full swing when you arrive. 

You're surprised to see how crowded it is, almost everyone from the tennis club was here and then some. Almost as soon as you arrive, Tara pulls you to the dance floor (that was more just a patch of shorter grass closer to the music). 

You can’t help the way your eyes scan the room, searching for those two inseparable figures. 

As you let the alcohol flow through your veins, dancing to the music, you find exactly who you’re looking for. 

Sitting perfectly in your line of sight, is the brown haired boy who couldn't keep his eyes off of you earlier. Even now, he’s staring straight at you, and you don't even try to hide the shiver it sends down your spine.

Next to him is his inseparable half, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyes say everything you can’t. An invitation. 

A fishing line thrown into the water.

The brown haired man is up before you can process, making a beeline for you.

“Hey,” he says, unabashedly checking you out with his iris colored eyes. You tilt your head, smiling. 

“I’m Caleb.”

“Hi, Caleb.”

The fish bites, you pull back.

You hold out your hand as an offer. An offer for what, you weren’t so sure yourself.

But he takes it, with almost no hesitation.

You guide his hand to your waist, letting him take control. He sways with you, following the beat of the music effortlessly. When he asks for your name, you tell him with a bite of your lip.

It was unlike you to be so forward, but there was no refusing it now.

You wanted him tonight, badly.

“I saw you playing today,” he leans down to say it, eyes hovering over your ear. The feeling makes you hot, not just from the lingering heat of the night.

“I know,” you breathe “I saw you, too.”

Caleb smirks, eyes lighting with a fire. “You’re amazing.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes. While you (usually) were not one to brag, it was something you were used to hearing. Hearing him say it, though, had a different type of effect on you.

You turn around, grinding against him as the music becomes more sensual. His hands grip your waist, and you swear you hear a low grunt. This was definitely having as much affect as it was on you. Your arms come around his neck.

“Who’s your friend?” You can’t help but ask as you eye the almost sulking man who was still at the table.

You see the way he’s eyeing you, a type of intensity you couldn’t describe. 

Tall, dark hair, chiseled features, and carrying an air of aloofness.

God, he was sexy too.

“Zayne?” he questions, a bit strained but you choose to ignore it. The man rocking his hips behind you, the one in front practically eye-fucking you, it was too much to handle.

Zayne and Caleb.

Was it crazy to want them both?

You twirl to face Caleb, not surprised to see his eyes have darkened into a deep hue of purple. It only encourages you further. “Why don’t we go back to your place?”

It’s bold, you’re well aware. It makes his eyes widen for a second, before a smug smirk appears on his face.

“Your friend’s invited too.”

Zayne and Caleb are very still. 

With bated breath, afraid to make any sudden movements.

The walk to their apartment was a blur, filled with gentle caresses and prying eyes. Caleb was almost seeing stars from the anticipation of getting to have you so close. Though, they were both unsure of what to expect, even through their beer-induced haze.

Sitting across from you, in their shared apartment, they were feeling completely sober now. 

They watch you carefully as your hand comes down to the beer bottle in the middle, using your fingers to spin it. Yeah, it might have been a juvenile game, but you seemed to have something up your sleeve when you suggested it.

And who were they to deny the girl that had them wrapped around her fingers?

Their eyes are glued to the spinning bottle as it slows down, landing…

Right in between Zayne and Caleb.

Their heads whip up to face you, and there’s a sly smile growing onto your face. You stand from the floor, walking to the couch behind you.

You plant yourself in the middle, leaning back on the palms of your hands.

“Come here,” you beckon with a jerk of your head.

Their eyes go wide, and Caleb glances at Zayne, whose face is impossibly red.

“Which one—?” Zayne starts, but Caleb is scrambling off the floor to sit next to you. As if a switch is flipped, he stumbles to follow, sitting on your left.

The air is still, the music that had been playing from somewhere in the room fading into the background. You lean your head back, biting your lip as your eyes dart between them both.

“Kiss me.”

The universe was surely on your side tonight. 

That was the only explanation for the position you were in.

You’re sandwiched by both men, and your biggest problem right now is choosing who to look at.

Two gorgeous, panty-dropping men, in the palm of your hands.

Two men who were staring at you like they wanted to devour you whole.

Caleb bites first, hand coming up to hold your face. His grip is firm, unwilling to let your gaze wander elsewhere. “Are you sure about this, baby?”

The pet name comes out too easily, but it makes you lean into him. You stare into his eyes, unyielding.

“Yes.”

“Both… of us?” Zayne asks, voice low.

“Yes.”

It’s firm. 

And it's all Caleb needs to crash his lips into yours. Behind you, Zayne’s hands wander up your thighs, slipping under your skirt as he attacks your neck, leaving a trail of saliva as he sloppily sucks on your skin.

You moan softly, and the sound makes Caleb's grip on your jaw tighten. He’s shoving his tongue down your throat, uncaring of the way you struggle to breathe.

He relents, letting go of your face. You turn to Zayne, whose face is flushed a sweet pink. He looks completely undone, and you haven’t even touched him. You work to unbutton his shirt, trailing kisses on his deliciously taut chest. As soon as it's off, you trail up his jaw until your tongue is slipping past his lips.

He kisses slowly, gentle with intention. Zayne lets you take the lead, and your nails trail over his exposed biceps. Tiny crescent moons bloom as your nails dig into his skin. He deepens the kiss.

There’s a smack on your ass, and you pull away to face Caleb once again.

“C’mere,” it's a demand. You crawl onto his lap facing away from the couch, back pressed tightly against his clothes chest. Zayne stands, moving to position himself in front of you. From here, you have a perfect view of the prominent erection growing under his shorts.

Caleb pulls your top off in one swift motion and you gasp as your nipples hit the air. His fingers brush over them, teasing and pulling before they trail down. Your skirt is pushed up past your hips, pink lace panties on full display for both of them.

“Fuck, baby,” Caleb moans as his fingers hover over your clothed pussy. “I can feel how wet you are already. I’ve barely even touched you.”

You whine, throwing your head back onto his shoulders. Zayne is watching you through heavy lidded eyes, palming his cock. As sexy as he looked like this, you wanted to put your hands all over him.

“Let me help you,” you stare up at him through your lashes. 

Zayne walks closer, watching your fingers make work of his waistband. You almost gasp when you pull his cock out, flushed a bright red and dripping at the tip. It was big, to say the least. You wondered how much of it could fit in your mouth.

Caleb’s slender fingers slip into your slick folds and you whine, hand faltering on Zayne’s length. It earns you a slap on your thigh.

“Don’t leave him waiting, baby,” his voice is low, and you'd give anything to be able to see his face right now. “Show him what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

His words are enough to bring your mouth to Zayne’s tip. You slip him into your mouth, taking him until he hits the back of your throat. He throws his head back, groaning as his hand comes up to grip the back of your head.

He wasn’t even in all the way.

Your skin is hot to the touch, cunt dripping as Caleb continues to work you expertly. Moaning around his cock, you can’t keep your eyes off Zayne’s face twisted in pleasure. It was obvious he was attempting to hold back his noises, lips held tightly under his teeth. 

It only makes you want to hear him more, so you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length. With every stroke, his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“Oh, fuck,” Zayne groans as he brings his other hand to your head, hips sloppily thrusting against your mouth. His whimpers are like angels singing. Spit is dripping out of your mouth, your eyes are welling with tears, but you don’t care. How could you deny him such pleasure?

Caleb slips another finger in you, stretching your pussy with every hit against your walls. You moan as his other hand comes to pinch your nipple. 

“Mm, baby,” you grind into his hand, feeling his hard cock against your ass. His breath is heavy against your ear. His fingers seem to know exactly what spots to hit, your unending moans muffled around Zayne's length.

“You feel so good around me.” Your sounds get higher, walls squelching against Caleb’s fingers. That familiar feeling starts to pool at your belly, and he knows you're close.

“You gonna cum for me?” His voice is gruff, laced with desire as he works to push you over the edge. The coil tightens, but you make sure to keep Zayne’s cock in your mouth. 

“Mmmph!” you whine as you feel your liquid fight against Caleb’s fingers, soaking them completely. His eyes are blown wide as he watches your fluids shoot out of your pulsing hole.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers softly, taking his glistening fingers out and bringing them to his face. He can’t help himself, putting them into his mouth. Your taste almost makes him combust right then and there.

“Alright,” he says, looking at Zayne’s disheveled appearance with a smug smirk. “Let me have a turn, baby.”

With a pop! Zayne slips out of your mouth. Caleb stands, pulling you with him. He twirls you to face him now. His hand comes to your ass, slapping it hard enough to leave a mark. You moan, chasing his lips.

He lets you catch him, a gentle kiss compared to the way he just defiled your pussy.

“Bend over,” he says, and you do.

Zayne’s hands come to your waist, holding you in place. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation as you watch Caleb get rid of the clothing covering his hard cock.

And of course, he’s big.

Big and thick.

Enough to stretch your mouth completely.

Caleb slaps his cock against your cheek as he looks at Zayne.

“Why don’t you stretch her out a little more for me?”

The grin on his face says it all as he watches Zayne align himself with your wet cunt. You sigh, feeling his tip gliding against your lips before he slowly opens you wide. The fit is incredibly tight, and you can feel every single inch of his length as he slowly slides in.

Zayne is putty in your hands. The way you’re tightening around him is almost enough to drive him over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips.

Caleb brings his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up. He glides his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs softly, bringing his tip to your lips.

“Go on, baby.”

That’s enough for the both of you.

Zayne brings his hips back, tip just at the entrance before he slams back into you.

You take Caleb into your salivating mouth, until your nose almost hits his skin. With every thrust against your walls, you slide your mouth up and down Caleb’s throbbing cock.

Your moans mix together sweetly, breaths mingling with the hot bedroom air. They’re unrelenting against your gaping holes, and you can feel the sweat dripping from their bodies onto you. A sheen layer of sweat covers them, almost glowing under the low light.

You’re a mess, moaning around Caleb’s cock as he uses your mouth to pleasure himself. 

Zayne’s head is spinning, drunk off the way your pussy felt around him. His hand comes up to pull your hair back, admiring the way your back arches. Every bounce of your ass against him got him closer and closer to the edge.

God, he was insatiable. 

Caleb was no better, unable to keep his eyes off your pretty face. Cheeks hollow, taking him so fucking well. He couldn’t believe how he had you. He was desperate to carve every line and curve of your figure into his mind, afraid that if he blinks you’ll disappear.

He hoped when morning came he’d still be able to see you.

“Fuck, baby,” Caleb moans, “I’m so fucking close.”

He looks over to Zayne, taking in the pink hue that trailed from his cheeks to his ears. His brows were furrowed, tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth.

Yeah, he was definitely close, too.

“Can I cum on that pretty face, baby?” you moan, trying to nod your head against his merciless throat-fucking.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” is all you can muster.

Zayne’s hip thrusts were getting sloppier, and you tightened around him, wanting to make sure he came too.

Something about being completely covered in their seed made you lose all sense of self.

Caleb grunts as he pulls out of your mouth, spurts of cum shooting onto your face, dripping down your cheek. You stick your tongue out, hoping to catch some to taste.

Zayne follows soon after, pulling out of you to cum on your back. It’s warm, endless globs of his cum enveloping your back, falling down your waist. He pumps his cock gently, making sure to leave every last drop to you.

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on the small of your back.

Their chests are still rapidly rising and descending as they try to catch their breath. In the post orgasm clarity, you can’t help but laugh at your situation.

Never did you think you would have ended up here tonight.

Though, you definitely weren’t complaining.

Caleb falls onto the couch, gaze still on you as he chuckles breathlessly. A mixture of disbelief and incredulousness on his face.

“Stay there,” You hear Zayne move behind you, walking into the bathroom and turning the faucet on. He comes back, gently holding you as he brings a wet towel to your skin. You gasp softly at the sudden contact, but you let him wipe your back down.

The gesture almost makes your heart swell.

Caleb looks at you with indiscernible emotions swimming in his eyes. He takes the towel from Zayne, wiping at your face with the most sedulous care. It’s so sweet, the way they handle you. You’d never think they’d be capable of all the sinful things you just witnessed.

Trying to ignore the way your face heats up as Caleb holds your face, you look away from his soft puppy eyes.

You stand up straight, slipping your skirt and ruined panties. With a flirtatious smile, you start walking to the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Feel free to join me.”

Caleb and Zayne look at each other before scrambling to follow behind.

You awake to two pairs of arms enveloping you, the first signs of dawn peeking through the window. It takes all your energy to quietly slip out of their grip. The two men are too deep in their dreams to notice as you collect your scattered clothes.

You sigh as you hold the skirt Tara let you borrow in front of you. It was ruined completely. She was definitely going to kill you. And maybe congratulate you after she hears of your night.

Clad in a too-big Linkon Tennis Club hoodie and sweats, you’re about to slip out of the room when you look back to the bed.

Gorgeous, even with their tousled hair and soft snores.

Gently, closing the door, you fish your forgotten phone out of your purse. You glance at the time as you walk down the hallway, sighing when you realize you had enough time to make it to practice.

Hopefully they’d come to your next match.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

hes so delicious i cannot

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ୨୧‧₊˚✧ seething flames

cws: written with god of tides raf in mind, kind of cult leader raf, dom raf, wanted him to be scary like he is in seething flames, mentioned public sex, breeding, doggy style, using master as a pet name, humiliation, degradation, worship

a/n: first fic under the new @ and i will never change it again oh my god it took me like 8 hours update all these stupid links and I actually quit in the middle of it so get used to this user T_T

taglist: @m00nchildwrites, @venussakura, @hys-hyangshine, @i-messed-up-big-time, @yourlocalcatscammer, @sayoko-ou, @umamaki @bimbohkitty taglist application

rafayel breathes heavily into your ear, each thrust angry and delivered with enough force to knock the wind out of you. the brown tiles of the desert's altar darken with your tears, sand turning to wet golden specs to be washed into the ocean nearby. you want to beg for your God to let you cum. only the man you worship could reduce you down to someone pathetic enough to beg for pleasure. you keep your mouth shut tight though, never daring to speak out of turn. "ah~" you moan when he begins to suckle at your neck, hands roaming your body wherever they please.

"my sweet disciple," he moans as he fucks you hard from behind on the steps of his altar, using you however he pleases. "i'm going to feed you full of me until you turn into nothing but a stain on the bricks of my altar, to join the rest." he whispers this in your ear as his thrusts begin to pick up, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh mingling in with the ambience of the waves crashing around the two of you. you feel eyes all over you but you can't concentrate on exactly how exposed you are with the God of the Sea working you over.

still, you derive more pleasure than you probably should knowing that he's summoned an audience of creatures and merfolk alike to witness him breed you on every inch of the altar. "that's what you are. that's all you are, will ever be." he growls, biting into the tender flesh of your shoulder. "a disciple. meant for me to breed. born to worship me."

you whimper under the diminishing words and claw at the brick, arching even further into him as if it'll help you take more of his inches. everyone hears how he turns you into a mere hole for his own pleasure. but more than that, everyone hears how badly you want more of it. everyone sees how you dare to retch your hips back to meet his thrusts eagerly. and you both get off on it. "does serving me please you that much?" you can hear the smile in his question and maybe you should be humiliated. maybe you are. but you want more. you nod stupidly as you take the God's rapid thrusts, clenching and unclenching around him. "use your words, mortal." he growls behind you.

you yelp when he delivers the command along with a sharp strike to your plush cheeks, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. "yes!"

"tell me then," he doesn't let up, even going as far to play with your clit from behind, torturing you in front of an audience as if it's something that he does everyday. he rules every inch of the ocean. he's got more power than he knows that to do with. rafayel does do this every day.

"it's all i w-want!" you scramble to collect your words, despite being fucked stupid. "just want to make you ha-happy, m-master!" you're provided with a hum of approval as you huff the pitiful words out and cum after a few generously aimed thrusts are given to you. the mess that you make is washed down the ancient steps with the tide, mixing in with the salt water that he comes from and, as much as you should be humiliated, you find that your tears aren't just coming from pleasure. you feel honored.

₊ . ݁˖ ‧ ୨୧ if you enjoyed my content, pls consider reblogging ୨୧ . ݁˖

Caleb boobs lover allegations RISEEE

Imagine this but with Zayne.

meOW

a closer look

synopsis: every time you try to take your relationship to the next level, you always shy away at the last second. lucky for you, dr. zayne has a solution!

tags: inexperienced reader & zayne, soft dom zayne, reader fears penetration at first, zayne sets up a surgical camera so she can watch him finger her, vaginal fingering (duh), “anatomy” “lesson,” praise, “good girl,” improper use of hospital assets  pairing: zayne x fem reader word count: 2.3k

a/n: this came to me in a dream. enjoy

“Have I given you reason to be afraid of me?” Zayne asks you softly, attentive gaze trailing down your stiff body.

“N-no!” you blurt, thrusting your hands out in mortification. “You haven’t, I swear you haven’t. This is just…new to me.”

“Me as well,” he retreats from above you, moving back on the sofa to give you breathing room.

Just moments ago, you’d been writhing under him needily, his tongue plunging into your eager mouth as you groped each other with abandon. Spurred on by your initial pleas, he’d dared to take it further this time—further than either of you had ever been. But as his hand had traveled down your body, dipping just the slightest bit inside your panties, you’d gone rigid. Zayne, ever aware of your reactions, had stopped his movements immediately, looking seekingly into your eyes for answers. Unfortunately for him, once that cautious hazel gaze had found yours, you’d squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. 

“It’s nothing that you did, Zayne,” you sigh as you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I know you’d never hurt me. I’m just…scared.” 

“Of?” he asks softly, and the way his kind face is void of any judgment makes you want to extract your brain and beat it for denying you the chance to feel him. 

Another sigh escapes you as you gather your thoughts. “What if it hurts?” you wonder shyly, fiddling with your clammy hands. “I always imagined it’d hurt. And there’s never…been…anything there, outside of medical stuff. That’s the only thing I have to compare it to.”

Nodding along patiently, Zayne extends a hand to you, pulling you to him when you accept it gratefully. “I’m sorry that you’re frightened, but I understand your hesitation. I’m content to just hold you in my arms, if you’ll let me. As long as it takes, I’ll wait for you.”

“No, I-I want to. With you, soon. That’s the problem—I’ll think I’m ready, but then the second we get close, I freeze up. I just don’t know what to expect, and that scares me.” 

Humming contemplatively, Zayne laces your fingers together. “I think I can help with that.” 

The usually bustling corridors of Akso Hospital are eerily quiet at night. 

Hurrying through them as if a ghost will jump out at any second, you scour the door plaques for room 429. 

I’ll be finishing up early today. If you’re able, can you meet me at the hospital this evening? Room 429, Zayne had messaged you hours ago. And with no other plans and a lingering sense of guilt that you know he’d disapprove of, you’d agreed almost instantly.

Combating pangs of confusion—he never asked you here at night, outside of official events—you don’t realize you’ve scurried past the door until the room numbers grow too high. Backtracking briskly, you tap the wood with two soft knocks before a calm “Come in!” beckons you inside. 

Room 429 is a standard hospital room—a large examination table, a sink and cabinets, and two simple chairs. At the small table near the back of the room—much humbler than the sleek standing desk in his office, you note perplexedly—Zayne sits, pen in hand, leafing through an endless stack of paperwork. Why did he move his office here for the night? 

“Great, you’re here,” he says, setting his pen atop a thick packet. “Take a seat.” 

“Um, okay,” you mumble obediently, heading toward one of the navy guest chairs. 

“Not there,” he calls. 

Turning to face him, you catch the way his eyes shift to the examination table. “Is this some kind of impromptu appointment?” you ask, his secrecy filling you with stubbornness. 

Zayne rises from the rolling chair that’s too small for him, crossing the room in measured strides. “Not a sanctioned one.” 

Before you can ask what he means, his hands are wrapping around your waist, lifting you up to deposit you on the soft table padding. 

“Hey!” you squeak, surprised but not fighting him. “What is all this? I had my annual checkup a couple weeks ago, I’ll have you know. And I won’t be your guinea pig, either.”

Zayne tsks with amusement. As he presses a button, a large black mount lowers from the ceiling, its sturdy hooks securing a small silver device. Another button, and the device’s tiny red light flicks on. 

And suddenly, your reflection stares back at you from a monitor on the opposite wall. 

Anticipating your interrogation, Zayne speaks before you can. “This is a high-definition surgical instrument. It’s used to help us see the body during minor procedures.”

You blink at him quizzically. “So…a camera?” 

“Yes. A camera. Repurposed for…recreational matters,” he quips with a slight upturn of his lips.

“You should know your own body,” he continues gently. “Exploring yourself—whether with or without me—is your right. And after last night, I figured…perhaps being able to see my actions as they happen would assuage some of your fears.” 

“You…when did you have time to…?” you trail off, staring up at him in wonder. 

“I believe I told you I finished my work early today. This was the reason,” he reveals. Even with you perched on the examination table, Zayne’s imposing height exceeds yours. His assurance is a warm blanket as he stands beside you, resting a large palm on your bent knee. “I’d like to help you explore yourself now. Will you allow me to?”

With a heavy gulp—more from anticipation than nerves, you realize—you nod your consent meekly.

“I don’t know what that means, darling. Can you give me words?”

“Yes,” you exhale shakily. “Help me. Please.”

Smiling softly, pride flashing across his face, he leans in to kiss you sweetly. Then, reaching up to bring the camera closer, he angles it toward your lower body. On the far wall, the feed is dangerously close to revealing what lies beneath your skirt. 

“I’ll raise this,” he says, lifting the fabric with care. “And these…will need to come off,” he eyes you, gesturing to your thin cotton panties. 

For a moment, you debate removing them yourself. But if this was about overcoming fears….

“Can you do it, Dr. Zayne? I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” you whisper coyly. 

His eyes widen as he pauses. Then, collecting himself, he inches his hands forward to tug at the sides of your panties, sliding them down with precision. “Of course,” he says softly. “I’ll take care of you.” 

As he sets his eyes on your naked cunt for the first time, Zayne shows admirable restraint, looking away after only a few tense seconds. Some hypocritical, eager-to-please part of you would almost be offended, if not for his tells: his quickened blinks, heavy breaths, and fidgeting fingers. 

“I’ll get started now,” he exhales, voice husky with veiled desire. “You’re free to stop me at any time.”

And as you gaze at him with trust and only a little bit of fear, Zayne begins. 

“This is your pelvic bone,” he gestures slowly. “It supports your body weight.” 

The warmth of someone else’s hand on your bare hip is a foreign feeling. Foreign, but not bad, you decide, relaxing under his touch. 

“The mons pubis,” he continues, hands ghosting over the mound beneath your belly. 

“And this,” he murmurs, spreading your folds carefully, “is your pretty little pussy.” 

The word—in here, from him, in reference to you—is so scandalous it makes you gasp. You try desperately to avoid his gaze, eyes flitting across the room in panicked arousal, but you don’t find the reprieve you’re looking for. 

Because on that far wall, looking back at you tauntingly, is the velvety skin of your most private part, glistening with your growing desire. 

Snapping you out of your staring contest, Zayne taps the flesh of your thigh twice. “Open, please. Wider.” 

Swallowing thickly, you oblige.  

“Good,” he praises, tracing your exposed entrance with an elongated index finger. “This is where I’ll touch you. Is that alright?”

Through heavy drags of air, you forget his earlier instructions, nodding quickly as your answer. When all he does is lift a brow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, you hazily remember his request. “Yes,” you whimper apologetically. “It’s alright.”

“Well, then. Suck,” he orders simply, holding his finger to your mouth. 

The command startles you at first. But as you look between the man beside you and the far wall, recalling how frustrated you’d been with your fears last night, you part your lips slightly. Just enough for him to enter. 

Timidly, you circle your tongue around him, coating his finger in your saliva. Once he deems it wet enough, he taps your thigh again, and you release him with a soft pop. 

With half-lidded eyes, Zayne hums his approval, pushing closer to you to angle the digit at your entrance. “Hold onto me if you need to,” he whispers, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder.

And then, his finger sinks inside you. 

It’s one thing to feel the tension. To clench as a light, unfamiliar pressure pushes firmly inside your heat, claiming the untraversed territory with every inch. 

But as the discomfort subsides and you open your eyes, seeing it unfold is something else entirely. 

On the large screen, Zayne’s slender finger pumps in and out of you slowly, impactfully. With every exit, your pulsing pink walls hug his retreating digit, begging him to stay. And when he grants their request, every thrust back inside has them clamping around his finger, as if barring him from leaving them lonely. 

Watching with rapt attention, Zayne splits his focus between the monitor and you, gauging your expression for signs of discomfort.

But as your body melts with newfound pleasure, you sigh softly along to the rhythm of his pumps, eyeing the way he breaches your wetness with wanton intrigue. 

The way he disappears inside you, giving his body to yours…you want to kiss him. You need to kiss him. But the moment you lift your gaze to his lips, licking your own as you lean in, Zayne moves his face just out of reach.

“No,” he murmurs his denial, stroking your walls with added vigor as he turns your face back toward the screen. “Don’t get distracted.”

Grumbling your disappointment, you allow his hypnotic movements to recapture your attention. But before long, you’re curling into his touch. “Can you…m-more?” you pant, risking a longing glance up at him. 

“More?” Zayne repeats, slowing his pace to a deep probe that makes you writhe in impatience. “Is that something you can handle?” 

“Yes,” you cry, clutching his pristine lab coat. “Can handle it, if it’s you.” 

He hums contentedly. And a split second later, another long finger joins the first. 

Eyes glued to the screen, you see the intrusion before you feel it: his thick, united digits headed straight for your core. As he prods at the small opening, advances met with quivering resistance, you almost think you’ve asked for more than you can take. But as slick dribbles out of your squelching hole to welcome him, the fluid dulls the stretching sensation, and your fluttering cunt sucks him in greedily.

A loud, lewd moan has you arching erratically, and Zayne wraps a strong arm around your lower back to support you. 

“How does it feel?” he murmurs between steady pumps. “Are you still frightened?” 

“No,” you mewl ardently. “It’s good. You’re good. But I…” you pause, racking your fuzzy brain for the right words. 

“You what, my love?” 

“I can’t…I don’t think I can…like this…” you trail off with an embarrassed whine, hoping he understands your babbling. 

“Mm,” he nods sympathetically. “It’s natural that you can’t come from this alone. What a good girl you are for telling me.” 

With his free hand, Zayne leans forward to adjust the camera, centering it over your glistening cunt. Once satisfied, he flexes his thumb to rest gently on the twitching bundle above your entrance. “You know what this is, don’t you, darling?”

“Clit,” you breathe, the word leaving you in a garbled gasp thanks to the shocks of his feather-light touch. 

“That’s right,” he praises, kissing your temple while his fingers scissor lazily inside you. “This is how you’ll finish.” 

As your voices fade, room filling with the wet sploshes of your tightening walls, the force of his thumb grows heavier on your clit. You almost squeal as the pressure increases, instinctively lifting your hips out of the camera frame—to which Zayne firmly pushes you back down. 

“Watch,” he commands sternly. “So you’ll know how to do the same when I’m away.” 

Curling his other fingers inside you, Zayne rolls his thumb in devastating circles, grinding so deeply against your nub that it greets you with spasmic, greedy twitches on the monitor. For a moment, his movements are mesmerizing, his thumb drawing patterns on your clit in time with his measured pumps. But as he slips out his index finger to pinch your aching bud, the gushing slick heralding your release is the last thing you see before your eyes screw shut from ecstasy. 

As you writhe against him with thankful sobs, Zayne’s movements slow before stopping altogether. “It’s alright,” he shushes you. “Let it take you. You look beautiful like this.” 

And in the comfort of his reassurance, those sobs turn into quiet, blissful moans. 

You’re not sure how he does it—the sink and paper towels are on the other side of the room—but when you open your eyes, Zayne’s hands are clean. 

“I’m very proud of you,” he says gently, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you mumble, nuzzling into his palm. “You were right. Seeing it, knowing what you were doing…it did help,” you finish shyly.

“I’m glad. And in that case,” he adds, tapping the camera appreciatively, “I’ll ask around about the cost of installation in my home office.”

no one will know which one it is.

please universe🙏🏽

we're gaming full on x

late night rafayel thoughts

if you are someone who likes tattoos, rafayel would insist on designing them for you. the idea of his art permanently etched onto your skin, tying you both together, would drive him feral. but the thought of another artist getting the honour of inking you, and touching you is enough to sour his mood, he would definitely be sitting in on your session scrutinizing every move of the tattooist, his eyes darkening with irritation every time the artist's touch lingers a second longer than it has to. if he had it his way, he would be the one holding the needle, marking you himself (which he would be doing in a different way later that night).