am i the only one that actually likes being called good girl orr⊠anyways ill lock in n finish my reqs now since theres only three
thighs spread wide, your leaking hole was completely exposed, wrapped around and dripping all over kaiserâs dick. the mess soaked the sheets below as his thrusts came up, sharp and hard, strings of slick connecting your ass to his pelvis as his pace stayed steady.
his forearms had your knees pinned all the way to your chest, hands clutching your head and fixing your vision to your cunt, which was shamelessly wet with arousal. sweat was glossed over your entire body, tits squished together by the position and sticky from moisture. your eyes were concentrated on where your bodies were joined, loud slaps of skin sounding out with every harsh snap of his hips.
âhope your eyes arenât rolling too far back.â you heard kaiserâs laugh behind you, âbetter be watching how well i fuck you.â
ân-no, no iâm watching!â you tried to let the words out as a whimper, but they came out louder than expected, voice cracking and stuttering, overwhelmed by how amazing it felt.
and even if you wanted to look away, you couldnât. not just physically, because the position literally prevented you from doing so, but because you were hypnotised â the way his dick buried itself in your soaking pussy, length disappearing as he fucked into you. heâd pull out as far as possible, then ram every inch back into you, perfectly striking your sweet spot each time.
you were twitching at the feeling, nails scratching down his arms as your feet swung beside you. âyouâre, ohhâ so deep!â you gasped, watching his big dick getting slick with your juices. âi feel soo fucking full!â
âthis? deep?â he scoffed, leaning back and planting his feet down firmly, âdonât test me.â handling all your weight with ease, he was moving faster and harder â thighs slapping up against your skin and tip abusing your poor gspot, causing your thighs to shake in his hold.
âmmfphh oh shit!â you cried out at the shift, the slightest change bringing an intense wave of pleasure. you could hardly breathe, every muscle in your body crying out for relief but it was exactly how you liked it. âdonât stop please!â
âyeah? greedy fucking pussy wonât let me go.â his thrusts were merciless, not giving you a seconds rest. his hands gripped bruises into your neck and although you couldnât see him, you knew you had that familiar cocky grin slapped across his face.
he had wrecked you stupid in a matter of minutes, your tongue lolling out as drool spilt out the corners of your lips, adding to the mess heâd already made of you. your hands had given up on marking his skin, hanging limp by your sides.
âfucked dumb already?â he grinded into you, drawing a jolt from your aching body.
ângh nooo, noâŠâ
yeah, you were gone.
he was undoing his grip, pulling out momentarily while you, still in your blissed out state, let out a small whine. arms now fully hooked under your knees, they were still at your chest as he kept you folded in half on his lap.
âyouâre gonna cum on this dick, hear me?â
âmhmm.â
he was gathering all the slick on his tip, running it through your puffy folds and nudging your clit before pushing in. the stretch was still filling, even after the way he had just fucked you, cunt clenching tightly around the inches.
throwing your head back on his shoulder, his reaction was similar â groans coming out through gritted teeth, cursing at how you were already squeezing him when he had just bottomed out.
âshit i said it, your pussyâs greedy.â he hissed, âtrying to milk my dick already.â
hips beginning to move, he was fucking you just as deeply as before, rolling and coaxing over your favourite spot again and again, till only the whites of your eyes were visible.
the only thing coming out of you now were moans and whimpers, pretty to kaiserâs ears. your abdomen was hot and wrenching, orgasm beginning to approach and clit throbbing.
âtouch my clit please, please!â you begged, seeking the extra stimulation to reach your climax.
he did, surprisingly without mocking or teasing you, letting an hand lose to knead into the sensitive nub. your back arched off his chest instantly, orgasm getting closer and closer with each rub, legs shaking in his arms.
âi-iâm coming, oh my god!â you let out a high pitched moan, pressure in your stomach unwinding as your cunt clenched tight, spraying clear liquid and drenching the already damp sheets. your whole body felt lightweight, orgasm providing a much needed release after being agonisingly folded in half for ages.
âthere you go, good fucking girl.â he groaned, cock jerking in your heat. the fat of your ass jiggled as he pounded, his own orgasm nearing. âiâm gonna make you leak my cum.â his hands were forcing you back into full nelson, your calves burning and arms tired. âyou looking?â
âhaah, y-yes!â sight transfixed on the filth he was making of you, you watched as he came with a hoarse moan â legs twitching slightly and balls tensing, emptying out into you. he pulled out and you watched it drip, cunt creamy as his cum ran down like syrup, glistening under the lights.
âmm..â you muttered dazed, âs-so good.â
âyeah?â he was letting you go and massaging your tender joints, gathering your tired body up. heading towards the bathroom, he sounded so smug â he was the one that had done this to you and he loved it when you stroked his ego. âis my pretty girl satisfied?â
âdefinitelyâŠâ you were slurring, eyes fluttering shut.
alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:
1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..
2. x reader consumers getting WAY too entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that say "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.
at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.
i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READâŒïž
and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.
you'll never see it cumming ft. multiple blue lock men
ă»â„ă»what "unexpected" kinks do the blue lock men keep to themselves?
ft. sae, rin, kaiser, nagi, reo, isagi
itoshi sae
it's fair play to assume sae is a stone-cold dom who fucks like he plays, precise and efficient and completely without feeling. and whilst that's mostly true nobody sees the validation. the praise kink coming, specifically the way it's directed outward. he doesn't need to hear that he's good. he needs to hear that you are. he wants to watch you come apart while he tells you exactly how well you're taking him, and it's the closest thing to tenderness he lets himself have.
"good girl. just like that. you're doing so well." it comes out low and even, like he's narrating something clinical instead of fucking you senseless, but the words land differently coming from sae. he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean. when he calls you his good girl with his cock buried to the hilt and his thumb pressed flat against your clit, it hits like a reward you've been starving for without knowing it.
sae completely unravels if you run your fingers through his hair during sex. not pulling, not rough. just slow, gentle threading through those pink strands while he's stuffed between your thighs. the first time you did it without thinking, he went still for a full three seconds. then he pressed his face into your neck, hips stuttering and he ended up fucking you harder than he ever had before, without a single word of explanation.
he will never bring it up (god forbid his ego). if you mention it afterward he'll give you the most withering look in existence and leave the room. but the next time you're in bed together, his head will drift toward your hand automatically, like an orbit he can't help.
itoshi rin
rin's whole sex drive is built around eye contact. he cannot get off properly if you're looking away from him. it's not romantic, it's territorial. he wants to watch the exact moment your expression breaks, wants to see you go from composed to absolutely wrecked, wants that evidence pinned to him specifically. he will grip your jaw and tilt your face back toward his if you turn away.
"look at me." not a suggestion. never a suggestion with rin.
rin also has an obsession with your hands. the way they grip the sheets. the way they press against his chest when he's too deep. the way they shake when he's got you too close to the edge to think straight. he watches your hands like they're telling him everything you won't say out loud, and he'll pin them above your head not just to dominate you (that too though), but because he wants them where he can see them. he wants to know what your body is doing to cope with him.
if you scratch down his back he will make a feral sound. low and sharp and involuntary. it surprises him more than it surprises you, and he will absolutely punish you for it by slowing down to an agonising pace until you're begging and crying and promising things you're not sure you can actually deliver.
size fixation goes both ways with rin. he wants to feel how much bigger he is than you, wants to wrap his whole hand around your wrist and feel the overlap, wants to crowd you into a wall and notice how you have to tilt your head back just to see his face. but he also wants you to feel it. wants to hear you say it's too much. wants you gasping you're too big, rin, it's too much, i can't, because something feral in him responds to that confirmation.
"s'too much?" he'll ask, voice calm, jaw tight, hips not stopping. "you'll take it."
michael kaiser
this guy presents as the most obvious dom in any room he enters and that's exactly what he wants you to think. he is loud, he is dramatic, he loves performing power, and it's not a lie, he is dominant, but what you don't clock until you're actually in bed with him is the service kink buried underneath all of it.
he wants to wreck you so thoroughly that you are completely non-functional. that's the goal. your pleasure isn't a vehicle for his ego, it's the actual destination. he will spend 45 minutes between your thighs with his fingers and his mouth, cataloguing exactly what makes you sob, and he will look like he's winning a championship the entire time. chin wet. completely satisfied with himself in a way that has nothing to do with his own orgasm.
"you're close, aren't you, schatz. look at you. so desperate for it." smug as hell. when you finally cum he looks at you like he just scored a hat trick.
kaiser cannot handle silence. he needs noise, specifically your noise. moans, whimpers, broken little syllables of his name, even just the sound of you breathing too hard. if you go quiet while he's fucking you he will take it personally and do something about it immediately, angle differently, press his thumb somewhere devastating, lean down and talk filth directly into your ear just to pull a reaction out of you. silence feels like losing. he refuses to lose.
despite all the ego there's definitely an underlying praise kink. if you call him perfect at the right moment, if you look up at him with glossy eyes and say you feel so good, michael, you're perfect, something in his chest does something embarrassing and his thrusts go from controlled to desperate in about four seconds.
he will immediately do something to reset the power balance. but both of you definitely aint forgetting that.
seishiro nagi
nagi basically functions like a sleeper agent. you'll assume he's lazy in bed because he's lazy everywhere else. ironically bed is one of the few things in life that has managed to hold his genuine attention, and the calculation changes completely.
nagi has a breeding kink. not the performed, dirty-talk version. the quiet, unsettling, completely sincere version where he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and presses himself inside you slow and deep and tells you in that flat, half-asleep voice that you should stay just like this. something about the way he says it makes it clear he's not joking.
he doesn't dirty talk much but when he does it comes out calm and matter-of-fact in a way that is somehow ten times more devastating than if he'd shouted it. "you feel so good. want to stay inside you." said with the same energy as commenting on the weather.
he also has an oral fixation that extends to you specifically. he will put your fingers in his mouth, press his lips to your shoulder, the curve of your neck, the inside of your wrist. not aggressively, not biting hard, just, he likes having something in his mouth, and apparently that's you now. he'll suck lazy marks into your skin while you're trying to have a normal conversation and seem completely unbothered by your reaction.
during sex nagi goes slow and deep rather than fast. he grinds. slowly. absolutely maddening. and he watches your face with those heavy-lidded eyes like he has nowhere else to be and nowhere he'd rather look, and the combination of his total unhurried attention and how full you feel is enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
he will not stop until you've cum at least twice. not out of performance, not out of ego. purely because he finds your orgasms interesting and wants to keep watching them happen.
reo mikage
reo reads as soft and romantic and perfectly gentle, and he is genuinely all of those things, but underneath all the silk and decorum there is something that has been held tightly for too long, and the moment he's in private with someone he trusts, it needs to come loose.
reo responds to being edged like nothing else. if you bring him close and pull back, close and pull back, his composure cracks layer by layer in a way that is almost uncomfortable to witness. by the third time he's crying without meaning to, hands fisted in the sheets, his whole carefully constructed version of himself just gone.
"please." reo begging. reo, who has never needed anything in his material life, saying please with his face wet and his cock flushed and his whole body shaking. it does something irreversible to you.
reo loves scent. not in a strange way, in a completely obsessive territorial way. he wants to smell like you and he wants you to smell like him. he'll pull you against his chest after sex and press his face into your hair and just breathe, and if you're wearing a piece of his clothing he will short-circuit quietly in a way he is absolutely not equipped to put into words.
the caretaking runs both ways. he wants to take care of you, feed you, run your bath, wrap you in something warm. but he also crumbles if you take care of him. if you hold his face in your hands and tell him he's done enough, something that has been held very tightly for a very long time just lets go.
yoichi isagi
isagi's whole energy is earnest and trying-hard and slightly overwhelmed by his own feelings, and that carries into the bedroom in the most endearing and then immediately not-endearing way. he will look at you like you're a puzzle he is devoted to solving, and then solve it very, very thoroughly.
as we all know he has a thigh fixation and nobody quite clocks how specific it gets in practice. he will push your thighs together around his cock before he's even inside you and grind against the pressure with his eyes rolled back, one hand splayed across your hip to keep the angle, and the sounds he makes during this are the most embarrassing thing about him. entirely involuntary. no composure whatsoever.
if you're wearing shorts or a skirt he will lose track of what he was saying mid-sentence. he will put his hand on your thigh during completely non-sexual situations and have to excuse himself from the conversation.
isagi responds to being watched, not in a performative exhibitionist way, but specifically he wants you to watch his face. he wants to know you're paying attention to what he looks like when he lets go. he doesn't understand why this matters to him so much but if you cup his face in your hands while he's fucking you and just look at him, his thrusts go sloppy and his voice goes soft and he sounds genuinely wrecked in a way he never planned for.
"is it⊠does it feelâŠ" he'll ask, halfway through, needing the verbal confirmation that this is good, that you're here, that he's doing well. that you see him.
and then there's the competitive edge, which ironically isnt that surprising. if he thinks you're not fully undone yet he will take it as a personal challenge. eyes sharp, jaw set, the same expression he gets when he's losing a match and decides he's going to fix it. he will not stop. whatever you need to get there, he is committed.
an: first multi character post ts was so hard but also kinda fun idk man. uhh yeah thats all i got. PLEASE FLOOD MY INBOX </3
Imagine Sylus being so pussy drunk that he doesn't even process that he's overstimulating the life out of you?
You've already snapped your thighs shut around his head, one hand pushing desperately against his hair as if it will somehow detach him from your poor, throbbing clit.
Your entire body is writhing to get away from him.
But his hands are iron-clad in their grip on your skin. You're not going anywhere, even as you manage to fight through the overwhelming pleasure and twist your upper half. Grabbing at the pillows, the sheets, anything for leverage to pull yourself up the bed.
But, Sylus holds firm, mouth latched on to your slippery cunt. You're nearly begging, trying anything to somehow dislodge your beast of a lover from your cunt.
Imagine somehow being able to get yourself from your back to your hands and knees.
Trying so hard to crawl away on trembling legs but you just can't seem to make them move fast enough.
Not that Sylus is letting you get very far. Large arms encompass your lower half in a bear hug, and his face is smushing itself embarrassingly deep into your sloppy sex.
Succumbing to the fact that you're not escaping him, nor are you escaping his eager mouth. Melting into the pillows, slack jawed and watery eyed as you fully give in to the pleasure he's giving you.
Sylus isn't quite about it either, no, he's a loud eater.
He's moaning and groaning into your cunt, slobbering down your thighs, nuzzling his entire head into the warmth between them.
more thoughts with dragon!sylus and merman!rafayel...
â±â ââ nearly 2k of absolute monsterfucking filth
â±â ââ MDNI WARNINGS: pwp, cw monsterfucking, overstimulation, oral, uhh eggs mentioned, sylus (double d, marking, fighting as foreplay, freakishly long tongue,) rafayel (double d, thalassophobia, dubious consent, cw breeding). inspiration from this post by @mintmatcha, photo credit to @xxsyluslittlecrowxx
dragon!sylus
what is a dragon if not power incarnated? as such their mate needs to hold that same fire within them.
as it gets closer to the rare season when dragons can actually mate, you find that your little arguments and snappy comebacks make sylus pause, wings twitching as he simply watches you with a crooked, fanged smile. a worthy mate snarls, pushes back, bares their teeth despite knowing they are smaller. a good sign indeed.
sylus brings back larger and larger kills, watching you roast them over the fire as he looms behind you, purring in contentment when you lean back against him, nestled perfectly underneath his bulky, scaled form.Â
you have been saying yes for months. your raised chin. your easy sleep against his warmth. Your exposed throat, your racing pulse, the way you reach for him without thinking, the way your heart rate climbs in his presence and you do not run from it. he knows your body is not deceiving him, he knows that you are ready.
sylus doesnât want to scare his poor human mate, but if youâre to take his clutch and raise his brood, then youâll need to be prepped. no worries, heâs more than happy to make sure your body is able to withstand the mating ritual, even if you havenât realized what youâve agreed to. but surely you want this right? all of your preening, your increased heart rate around him, you willingness to show him your neck and exposed belly. you want this.
during the late hours of the night when youâre already half asleep youâll sometimes feel his fangs biteâever so gently, just enough to leave an indent for nowâinto the crook of your shoulder or plush of your hips or thighs, something deep and ancient rumbling in sylusâ chest as he pulls away, letting his rough, forked tongue lave over the raw marks.
not even a week after it turns possessive, sylus pinning your sleeping body to the floor of your shared nest as his massive wings surround the two of you, rutting the swollen heads of both his cocks between your ass as you whine in your sleep, unaware of the way sylus begins to lick and nip at the back of your neck, practically drooling at the thought of finally sinking his teeth there. soon.
heâs not as careful as he could have been, sloppy in his desperation, and one night you wake to him above you, his clawed hand pinning down the small of your back as the other is four knuckles deep in your soaked pussy.
âsy-â a moan, and you thrash despite yourself, completely immobile under his weight. âsylus, what the fuck are y-oooh- you doing?âÂ
youâre gasping, keening as youâre feeling yourself regain consciousness and rise towards another orgasm.Â
sylus doesnât even act like heâs noticed youâve awoken, narrow-slitted gaze completely focused on the stretch of your cunt as he forces his clawed thumb in as well, spreading you wide despite your protests.Â
god, you have no idea how long heâs been at this, but youâre soaked enough to have already cum twice, pussy throbbing and sore from his relentless ministrations.Â
in a flash of anger and embarrassment, you blindly kick out behind you. your heel strikes sylusâ shoulder, and he freezes with a low, thunderous growl, glowing red eyes locking with yours. he doesnt budge.
his tongue briefly flashes across the wide expanse of his fangs.
âagain.â
his nose drags along the back of your neck, inhaling deeply, the pinpricks of his teeth gliding against the delicate skin making your skin crawl. âmy feisty little human, always fighting back, always demanding.â
a pleased growl vibrates through him.
âgood mate.â
before you can even question what he means, his fingers pry you apart with more force than before, allowing your juices to trickle down his scaled arm as they stretch you out just enough so he can lean down, licking a long, wet strip up your pussy. Circling your clit once, twice, before dragging all the way up until his draconic tongue curls inside your cunt.Â
You buck against sylusâ face despite yourself, sleep drained from you as your back arches violently at the intrusion, screaming at the delicious press of the long, long muscle writhing against your gummy, sensitive walls. too much, too much!
too bad the sight of you fighting him only makes it worse.
the dragonâs instincts completely take over, and your refusal to take sylusâ eggs unless he proves himself worthy isn't the resistance you think it is. it speaks to the fire raging in every dragonâs heart, a wordless acceptance of his ritual as you challenge him, and you force him to show you he deserves it.
and he will show you.Â
sylusâ wings spread. his fanged smile does too.
the clawed apex of his wings comes to your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body against the floor as he drags your ass further up, giving him even easier access as he rips the rest of your nightgown, burying his face into your open, sloppy pussy. your struggle is futile against your dragon, and as soon as your whines turn into moans sylus knows you are ready.
his fingers thrust back in, careful so his claws don't scratch you even as all five spread you out, knuckle deep, tongue now flicking against the entrance of your cervix, leaving his saliva's natural relaxant until he feels your cunt loosen around him. your poor pussy is drooling around his tongue, sylus greedily swallowing everything he can as his claws force you into a deeper arch, tongue somehow getting longer as you babble incoherently into the floor.
"good girl," sylus purrs, the low sound humming from his lips and into you, deep and loud enough to echo up your spine as you sob from the vibrations. "good mate, accepting me. accepting my brood, my eggs."
you panic despite yourself, shaking your head and bucking your hips even though you could barely feel anything between your thighs except for overwhelming, numbing pleasure. "e-eggs? no, no..."
"shhh, fight and i'll make it hurt more than you want it to."
sylus' tongue finally curls out of you and you moan, the rough length tracing the sweat-slicked arch of your spine as he mounts you, wings cocooning the two of you in as you feel the unmistakable pressure of both his cock heads press against your numb entrance.
his fangs bite into the back of your neck, claiming you as he breaks skin, feeling the sweet scent of your blood coat his fangs as he purrs.
"you've fought well, now take everything I give you."
merman!rafayel
rafayel is the storm, all tempest and raging waters, ancient as the ocean itself, so his choice in bride is not one heâs taken lightly. after all, that would make you a goddess, and your heirs next to rule the sea.Â
heâs already brought you to lemuria in preparation for your betrothal ceremony, merfolk blessing this brave human vessel who will bear their future, all while you laughed and swam among them with a smile rafayel will paint again and again in reverence. the merfolk never ask if youâre staying. they ask what you need, what youâd like, as if the staying is already settled and only the comfort remains to be arranged.
thereâs no need to worry you with the specifics of the ceremony. after all, he is now your god, your mate, it is his duty to worry about the specifics of consummation while you simply enjoy connecting with his world, his people. your people now.Â
it complicates things when you begin asking to go back to the surface, but rafayel is always gentle with you, taking you back to your old world when you ask, never quite letting you out of his sight before coaxing you back into the ocean.Â
and when you hesitate? he sings. a siren song, his webbed hand outstretched as he draws you to the beach again, cold water splashing at your ankles but your body unaffected as the lullaby weaves into your brain, soothing, loving, drawing you closer and closer still. you walk into the water smiling and he is already there, waiting, like he knew the exact moment your feet would find the shore.
after all, rafayel canât have you running away again. you are lemuriaâs queen now. you were their goddess the moment he decided you were, which was long before this ceremony, which was perhaps before you were born, which is the sort of thing he will tell you gently, later, when the permanence of it has had time to feel like home.
you donât remember swimming out to the middle of the ocean. the waves are calm, a deep endless blue all around you as your kicking limbs all disappear into their depths. something brushes up against you. first, a scrape on your calf, circling you, but there is nowhere to hide. scales, rough and cold, wind against your legs, an even colder pair of arms wrapping around your waist as your body is completely ensnared in his tail. âshhh, I wonât hurt you cutie.â and then the song starts, and you forget once again.
you awake with sand under your skin and the soft lapping of waves, but there is no beach in sight.Â
no, it is just you and jagged rocks surrounding you. the waves are only the calm lapping of the pool in the center of the gilded cave, the one and only exit leading deep into the water, and lemurian territory.Â
your mating cove has been in preparation for months. the merfolk decorate it as they would a temple, soft things dragged in from shipwrecks, sea glass worn smooth, bioluminescent moss cultivated specifically for warmth and light. every piece chosen with the future queen in mind, and their future heirs. for your stay here is mandatory until the sea godâs brood takes. but surely you already knew this when you agreed to be his mate?
âwhat do you think, cutie?â a splash, and rafayel surfaces into your cove, razor-thin fangs gleaming up at you as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before the altar of his people. ânot bad for a species of artists.â
ârafayel,â your voice is trembling, and he immediately coos at you. âplease, take me back to shore. to land.â
you keep pleading, but the sea god ignores your cries. that isnât what you want anymore silly, canât you see? youâre the bride of the sea god, the next mother of tides, what your body and mind crave now is him. fully, completely. your poor human biology wants to stop you from fulfilling your role, but itâs okay. rafayel is more than happy to mate you as many times as you need for it to take.
he sings, hauling himself up to the sandy bank of the cave as his voice coaxes you into the water, bare legs splashing into the pool beside him as the first few feet of his enormous tail drag up onto the sand. soft, pillowy, a good bed to take you without risk of injury.Â
rafayel has done all your human rites of marriage, now it is time for you to do his.Â
once again you find yourself restrained underneath his powerful tail, your upper body still thankfully resting on the solid ground, but hips and under dragged into the pool as rafayel looms above you, squeezing and coiling his tail around your legs.
ât-tight, youâre squeezing me rafââ your legs thrash, however in doing so you only end up straddling the thick expanse of his tail, a low chirping sound echoing from deep within rafayelâs throat as he feels your wet, soft heat grind against him.Â
as soon as he feels you rub against the slit of his tail he keens, thrusting forward as the weight of all ten feet of him pins you down onto the sand.
âimpatient,â rafayel laughs, and you tremble despite yourself at the sudden sharpness of his teeth. âdonât worry cutie, iâm impatient too.â
you feel it then, something protruding out from the slit as he continues to grind against you, the rhythm of the waves helping him forward and back, reaching a webbed hand down as you feel something curve and grow against the entire length of your stomach.Â
panic, red-hot and violent, seizes you as you look down to see his cock-no, two of them-lying side by side against your sternum, one already leaking copious amounts of slime-like substance on your skin while the other appears almost barbed, swollen and impossibly heavy at the shaft.Â
âshh, itâs okay.â rafayel is already soothing you, voice a melodic lullaby as he gently guides your chin up to look at him, just focus on him, donât worry your pretty little head about making them fit. thatâs his job. âthatâs it baby, relax. sweet thing, beautiful mate, youâll be the perfect host for my clutch, wonât you?â
you can only nod.Â
rafayel preps you for one at a time, his bigger cock already drooling relaxant all over your thighs and cunt as he grinds it over your little clit, allowing the head to hit it several times, your body becoming more and more pliant as he spreads the gentle venom. as soon as your soft breaths turn to moans he knows youâre ready, and drags you just a bit further into the water, enough so one powerful thrust is enough to have his first cock rammed right into your sweet spot.Â
itâs white-hot pleasure, your cries broken by a sob as rafayel speeds up, restless as he feels you tighten around him, cunt sucking him in further, accepting his first knot, driving him fucking insane with the way your moans sing to him like a mating song.
youâre perfect, already cumming around him as he feels his second knot swell, the pressure of his eggs rising as his instincts beg him to finish claiming you as his own. soon. soon, he canât rush your poor, delicate human body, he can't risk breaking you.
the slight prick of fangs against your nipple makes you arch off the sand. itâs all too much, the feeling of being so impossibly full, rafayelâs tongue laving and squeezing your chest, his fingers thumbing at your clit and prodding at your already-full entrance, it all has you dizzy with need.
âmore,â youâre begging in spite of yourself and your fear. âplease, more.â
of course your god will provide.Â
the muscle relaxant his first cock has been pumping out has swelled within you, and with his spare hand he can begin to finger you open alongside his knot, curling against all the spots he knows make you sing. he then lines his second cock up with your entrance, and begins to push.Â
you whine, fighting it, hips bucking wildly, but the sheer weight of his tail keeps you pinned. the second cock is thicker than the first, rigid as it catches onto your fluttering entrance and squeezes past the first knot, copious amounts of his relaxant and your juices squirting onto your thighs and into the ocean. rafayel hums sweet nothings, petting you to soothe you, lips going back to swirl and bite at your nipples as you cum for him once more. he squeezes your breasts and wonders if youâll still produce milk if you donât have human babies. he hopes you do.
âpretty mate,â a low clicking sound, almost like whalesong fills the cave. heâs close. âwife, all mine. mine, all mine again.â rafayel gasps as his cock bullies yet another inch in, his egg sack bloated and heavy, waiting to be given to a worthy mate, and yet stuck until he can force the last few inches of his knot inside you.Â
desperate, a powerful slap of his tail drives him forward, slamming his hips into yours as both knots force their way into your cunt. the waves roar, spraying against the cave's walls as your vision whites out.
the pressure and stretch are overwhelming as you sob into the sand, cries turning into moans as rafayelâs fingers never ease up on your clit, numbness seizing your lower half as rafayelâs entire body begins to convulse with the press of the first egg into your womb.Â
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to đœ 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 đ„”đŠâ
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:Â âI really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the startđąâ
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."
HIS NEW STRESS TOY â starring fire lord!zuko x concubine!reader
â sex deprived or simply stupid? you guess you're both when you decide to offer yourself to a stranger with a sexy voice through a glory hole!
ac: @zuunary dc: @/bronzewasp
was there a fate as frustrating as being the concubine for a man as cold as the fire lord?
perhaps cold wasn't the correct word. but considering he refused to so much as speak to the women of his court, you weren't sure how else to describe your nonexistent relationship when you doubted he even knew your name.
you knew you shouldn't complain.
compared to some girls from your tribe, being pampered and paraded around was a far better fate. at least you were fed.
the only issue was you still hadn't been fucked.
you overheard a few of the other concubines whispering in the garden about how he'd yet to spend the night with any of them, scoffing at his solemnly muttered refusals on the rare occasion one would dare approach him during the day.
acting as if he owed them sex just because of his position.
there was no safety in simply being a pretty face. no, they all wanted something more. the security of being a proper consort. having his heir.
sneering about his burns behind his back while they schemed up ways to sleep with him, unsatisfied to just live in luxury.
with power came pests, you supposed.
you didnât mind keeping to yourself, at least at first. preferred to be left to your own devices, chatting with the servants and finding company where to fill the time since the fire lord clearly held no interest in the concubines he housed. you'd never actually spoken to him yourself, no way to know if he was anything like the rumors they spread.
it was just that your fingers were having trouble soothing the heat between your thighs.
and the man who was causing it was too busy in his own world to ever notice what his presence did to you - or even care about soothing it.
your problem was yours alone.
and as long as your solution stayed a secret, everything could remain the same.
even if it did still feel shitty staring at him from afar, picking at your food while his political advisors prodded him for plans. watching your lord lean over out of earshot, his pretty lips parting, probably discussing business about the avatar or other things you weren't important enough to know.
his defined jaw clenching when his advisor replied, shaking his head all seriously as you spun your fork between your fingers.
excusing yourself was easy when no one cared where some measly concubine wandered off to. servants not even sparing you a glance as you slipped out into the bathhouses, confident that you wouldn't be interrupted at least when everyone was busy at his banquet.
you discovered it two months ago. you'd been bathing by yourself late one night, enjoying the steam and padding around barefoot as you tied a robe back over yourself. .
hidden in a little nook, away from the actual bath and near the changing rooms, someone had carved a hole in the wall that separated the men's bath from the women's. you had giggled at first, grinned at the realization someone must have made it for sex.
squatting down to squint through, not able to make out too much before sticking a single finger inside of it - only for someone to grab it.
"was this your doing?" a man grumbled, holding tight when you tried to pull it back.
"of course not," you huffed indignantly, scowling as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "what? were you waiting to be serviced?"
"of course not," he repeated, scoffing at you as if it was a ridiculous assumption to come to.
that should've been the end of it.
but you both kept coming back. week after week, making catty conversation between the wall as you both complained. he was sick of his responsibilities. his duties. overwhelmed by the weight of the work on his shoulders. you were sick of feeling unseen.
and even though he couldn't actually see you, it was nice to be heard.
you figured he must be a soldier. maybe a captain or lieutenant.
the bathhouse was indeed vacant when you strolled through it, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to your little hideaway.
excitement buzzing through your chest, heart thumping as you stopped just in front of it, getting down on its level to peek through as you hesitantly called out, "hello?"
no answer.
perhaps he'd been held up.
maybe he'd even been at the same banquet. right under your nose the entire time.
you waited, counting the seconds and biting your lip until you faintly heard approaching footsteps on the other side.
"are you there?" he spoke carefully, his voice low, soft, the kind that reverberated through you. you liked it.
him too.
"yes," you half-whispered back, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of your mouth. "i thought you might not come."
"my ah, well, colleagues were driving me insane. it's hard to get away from them," he muttered, irritation still dripping from his words as you listened intently. "did i make you wait long?"
"do i get anything if i say yes?" you affectionately hummed, a familiar feeling starting to burn in the bottom of your stomach as you fantasized about what the man on the other side might look like.
you doubted he'd be as handsome as zuko, but he still sounded attractive.
"i'm too tired to be teased tonight," he grunted, unamused by your light giggle.
"that's a shame," you replied, leaning against the wall. was he doing the same? pondering over your appearance and fighting the pull of his heart towards you? "i was looking forward to teasing you."
"are you trying to stress me out?" he sarcastically asked, a cute little husk to his voice that made your thighs reflexively squeeze.
"maybe a little," you answered honestly. "you sound cute when you're stressed."
it seemed like his permanent state of being.
"besides," you continued, getting closer to the edge of the hole. "you can just use me as stress relief."
wasn't that why you were both here?
fornicating with a fire lord's concubine with strictly forbidden.
but that was only if someone found out.
besides, as long as you didn't actually fuck him, wasn't it fine?
he didn't know what crime he was committing when he stuck his cock through the carved out-hole, the veins running across his thick shaft pulsing as you slid your stare over it.
getting down on your knees to wrap your mouth around it, feeling him throb against your tongue as you started sucking his cock. his filthy groan just spurring you on as you tried to take him as deep as possible.
if anyone caught either of you, there'd surely be hell to pay, but when he was bobbing into the back of your throat and murmuring how good you felt, it was hard to feel bad about it.
you didn't really mind being used when it was all you were made for. all you were using him for.
"fuck, your mouth is so warm," he moaned, and you wished you could see the way his face had to be scrunching up in pleasure while you tried to stroke what didn't fit.
humming against him as he chased his climax, your pulse pounding in your eardrums as you imagined what he'd do if he could see you.
would he grab your hair? use it to guide his cock in-and-out?
fuck your face until you were begging just to breathe?
you didn't even get to feel his abs tense when he was about to cum, his cock stalling mid-thrust just before warm ropes of cum spilled out, shooting down your throat as you struggled to swallow all of it.
"god, you're so good," he grunted, not pulling out as you licked up the last of it, dragging your tongue back over it until he was clean. "turn around."
he growled it like he was used to giving orders.
you pulled off of his cock, spit connecting your lips with his swollen tip as you watched it disappear back through the hole.
your turn.
it felt a little humiliating to pull up your skirts high enough, twisting around to angle yourself at the hole.
but the embarrassment morphed into enthrallment the moment his tongue was dragging over your slick entrance. pushing in and swirling it around with an intensity you hadn't quite been expecting.
trying to stretch you open with his that thick pink muscle of his, greedily eating you out like a starving man.
his tongue moved deftly, dragging inside you with expert strokes, painting patterns that left you stifling your moans into your palm. he felt like heaven, scratching that itch you couldn't satisfy yourself.
but just before the pressure could mount, he pulled his tongue out with an impatient huff.
"i would like to make love to you," he murmured, his voice half-slurred as he slurped you up. "in my chambers."
"i-i can't," you whimpered, regret burning almost as much as the need was. "i belong to someone else."
"who?"
his voice trembled, shaking with anger you'd never heard from him before.
"the fire lord," you half-whispered, breath catching in your throat as he let a low chuckle escape.
frenzied was the only word to describe his deep thrusts rendering you speechless and dizzy in the messy bed.
xavier is behind you, shirtless, with evidence of your bunny-like fucking plastered all over his chest and upper back, while his mouth and hips work in tandem to convert you into a dick drunk mess. his calloused hands hold open your ass to watch his cock, coated in your lewd cream push in deeply, to the point where his tip is making out with your cervix, only to retract where his rounded tip rests on your abused opening. the gaze of his darkened cerulean eyes is heavy as it travels all over your body, your back covered with sweat and hickeyâs, lower body stuffed full with him and singing him with sweet praises.
frenzied is the only word to describe xavier.
â if only you could see yourself, star. how do you expect me to be calm when you look and sound like this?â his rambling soon ends with a moan, driving his hips deeperâ with the goal to completely wreck you by the end of this night. his pointed ears pick up where your soft sounds lack, a key sign that heâs hitting that spot inside of you and you're close to coming for the nth time that night, which didnât look like it was close to ending, no matter how many times you paint the man and bed in your cum. â you went quiet⊠must feel good, huh? youâre a total mess for me.â
the intensity is too much for you to handle, too much for you to describe, falling somewhere in between primal and euphoriaâ youâd rather leave it there. sharp, intense waves of pleasure rack through your body in waves as the sloppy curve of his dick massages through each part of your whimpering walls, cutting off your prior thoughts and revolving them around him. â xavier! i c-canât take it, youâre too deeeep, please!â
â mmphâ no, get back here,â he raspily huffs, hands shooting out to firmly grasp your hips and shift you back into the position you were once in, ass up, where he delivers striking slaps to your skin while your face is pushed down into the sheets, causing you softly whimper at. a hand between your shoulder blades presses you firmly down as guides his dick back into your weeping pussy. groans mix in with your elongated moans as he breaks into your pussy, effortlessly finding your weak spots and pinpointing them until youâre back to being a broken mess. â donât run from me. shh, let me hear her, the only part of your body thatâs tellinâ me the truth right now.â
â still⊠canât take it,â glossed eyes roll back, lips breaking agape in a gasp. heâs just so long, too long for you to pathetically describe, and whatâs more better than a man who loves treating you as if you were unbreakableâ on the battlefield and on the bed. your puffy hole eagerly sucks in every inch that he gives you, contradicting yourself almost entirely. you swing your arm back, pawing at his lower stomach, a feeble attempt to control his overbearing thrusts.
â move your hand.â his verbal demand turns physical as the next thing you know your arms are pinned against your backâ giving him leverage to wreck you in further. your plan of escape soon benefits him by breaking you along the bed, it seems. every nth inch of xavierâs staggering size drills into your cunt deeply, causing your expression to furrow as only you can concentrate on him spending your body. your cunt is a drenched mess, clenching around his cock with each estimated thrust. no wonder why he refuses to listen to you. â gotta teach you some stamina, star. you can take it; do you hear how you suck me in, like my good girl?â
the air you share is indecent, he damn near folds you in like a pretzel as his orgasm ebbs. a thumb finds its way into your hot mouth, pressing down firmly on your tongue, ensuring you suckle the digit. you barely register heâs coming until his tip twitches a startling two times; a hefty load of his cum finds stability in your warm womb. â fuuuuuuck, good girl. such a fucking good girl for me, arenât you, star? mhm, take it alll for me.â
his rude hips continue to buck, confirming that every inch of cum is pumped into your walls, where he finally leaves you alone for the night.
â h-haaah, youâre so⊠nasty, xavier. i canât even feel my lower body.â
your back is greeted by the sheets, bleary eyes looking down at the silver haired man parting your thighs. he purses his lips, a fat glob of spit making contact with your pearly clit as the sensation rolls down to your gaping hole.
â who said âm done? i told you weâre working on your stamina, did i not?â
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