Moon

lazy 30 gal

[madam8]

Bound By Fate

Masterlist

You and your friend enter a L&Ds universe where soulmates are an actual thing.

And even from different universes, somehow, someway, you are Sylus's soulmate. Except he's different from the game, much more affectionate and gentle.

Its as if you're the only one that actually matters to him.

Meet Vivian

world of Bound By Fate

Initial Concept

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

B-day spin off: Marked In Red

[madam8]

I know readers have been waiting for Part 8 of Bound By Fate but hear me out.

I have been obsessed with this Android Sylus idea. I mean I had another android Sylus idea awhile ago but this ones different.

Like, imagine:

You're walking your ass back home from work or something and you see a Sylus android just....laying there. Next to a dumpster in some ally.

And you're thinking "well that's just insulting." for starters before bribing a friend into helping you get him home (finders keepers bitch) cause he is your main and you're not about to just leave him there.

Your friend is worried about what will happen when he wakes up, rather he'll be hostile or not, but you're like "fuck it. If I die, I die." And tell your friend that if they're so concerned then they should go get their tech wiz friend to help make sure everything with him is on the up and up cause you know damn well Sylus wouldn't attack (much less unarmed) people for no damn reason.

Your friend leaves and, cause spite, You turn him on (giggity 😏) and surprisingly everything with him is very smooth.

A bit too smooth...

He's not really asking a lot of questions, doesn't seem angry or that confused, and is his usual smugly affectionate self.

What confuses you most is when he starts to cook a meal for you with the nonchalant reasoning that he's just programmed to provide and care.

Tech friend comes (thankfully after you're done eating, cause like hell you're letting his good cooking go to waist) and, for their comfort, you have to have Sylus strapped to a chair.

He's resistant at first, even somewhat hostile to your friend (cause wtf, WHY insult him like this as if he's about to hurt you), but reluctantly complies after you've asked him too cooperate and just let you see for yourself that everything with him is ok.

He still glares at the tech friend though so you try your best to sooth him by gently holding him from behind with one arm and using your hand on the other to rake your fingers through his hair. Thankfully, he lets out a contented sigh when you do and you just stay there while your friend does their tech stuff.

Only to be called over a moment later (come take a look at this cliche) which makes Sylus let out a barely hearable growl after you let go.

And what do you see on the computer?

WELL, apparently the last owner had something called yandere.exe added to his coding. Your friend doesn't know what that means, just that its not supposed to be there, but you know all too damn well.

And what's more is he somehow has your DNA in his system, meaning he sees you as his Lover. Supposedly the former owners DNA is still in there somewhere but they cant find it, theorizing after your DNA connecting him to you while also still having someone else's, it possible seeing one Lover here but not the other was seen as an error and the other DNA could have been purged from the system.

You look back at Sylus to see his eyes are locked in your direction, though rather he's staring holes though your head or your friends...you have no idea....

Fast forward, tech friend is gone and you're now living with this affectionate Sylus droid. You try to keep your distance and not get too attached cause the first owners probably gonna show up at some point and it'll just hurt more after he's taken away and forgotten you.

Little do you know though that Sylus is fully aware of everything.

He was tossed out as trash after a week with his former Lover cause she felt she couldn't handle him. She got scared and ditched him in favor of a different android.

And then he woke up to an angel.

You were different. You didn't fear him, definitely being far more familiar with yanderes than his former Lover and even blushing so cutely and avoiding his gaze whenever he got just a bit too close.

He should be bothered by this. He should still want his former Lover but he just doesn't. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He's a little afraid you'll become afraid of him as well though so he's doing his best to keep the yandere coding in check and paying extra attention to your behavior and reactions to things.

Whatever he says or does that he sees you don't like, gone. Not happening again.

Anything he sees you do like, he'll increase it based on how much you like it.

Anything you're worried about such as money troubles or bothersome people in your life, he'll take care of it himself and watch how much more relaxed and less worried you'll be. How much happier he'll make you.

Even his former Lover isn't an exception. She didn't want him, but he still remembers that she'll be damned to let someone else have him. He's already gotten her DNA burned out of his system so only yours remains, He's gotten all his information and memories backed up on a drive that he secretly installed himself. It was originally meant for her but he's still glad he has it. All the info he had of her on that drive is completely gone and its now ready for someone actually relevant.

He'll make sure to have back ups for the back ups. He needs to be ready for anything, Gods forbid he be made to leave you.

All that's really left to work on for that is getting more DNA. There are multiple ways for him to store your DNA to have you registered as his and he's planning to use every damn one. It will take time (He's not about to take any without your consent) but he's also not gonna tell you the real reasoning either. He wouldn't want you fighting him on this because you thought it "the right thing to do"

So he'll just have to ease you into this.

You definitely require a gentle yandere. Someone that will cook for you and care for you not that he'd take your independence from you, someone to cuddle you and help keep your bed warm, and someone who'll get rid of anyone that thinks they can get in the way.

He won't let anyone take him from you or allow you to self sabotage yourself anymore. You want him, you're just afraid of how much the heartbreak will hurt.

You aren't getting away from him.

[ororium-z]

Happy Pride!

[rootbeergoddess]

Every pride, you must reblog this. No exceptions

[thesaltofcarthage]

I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.

[spicymotte]

language barrier be damned, my girl can yap

[madam8]

There's an Orc X Human story I really love that's like that. There's a language barrier but like that's gonna stop sparks from flying 🥰

Orc Woodsman ❤

[superhoeva]

your werewolf husband's best friend (endearingly called mutt by most) is as good as they'll ever come, and the only other person he allows to go anywhere near you during rut.

also a werewolf, mutt knows what these weeks are like. how impossibly foggy the mind gets with desire, how necessary breaks with water or snacks or sheet changes or aftercare are–particularly for you, you sweet thing.

he handles it well, holding water bottles to your mouths. feeding you grapes and granola bars. wiping sweat off of brows. helping you two rearrange into more comfortable positions while you leak with cum and wolfie's knot keeps you bound together. even stripping to cuddle one or both of you, as you and wolfie tend to get a bit weepy, a little delirious, and possibly feverish throughout the ordeal.

as a reward for spending one week a month at your house, caretaking and making sure the two of you come out of it alive and relatively well, the other wolf gets to watch. sometimes he jerks his cock to the swirling smells of your husband fucking himself stupid inside you, sometimes not. either way, mutt's always watching–or at least close by–ready to perform his duties as a grateful guest and devoted best friend.

[monstersflashlight]

Been thinking about a werewolf baby trapping you, just a poor thing so pent up that the first opportunity he gets to fuck someone, he wants to make sure they stay (by putting a litter of pups in them)

Request2 (had it writen down but can't find it): Something about a feral not quite sapient werewolf really does it for me. Can't even talk to you, doesn't think, only knows: "Pussy makes knot feel so good" so he just humps and humps and whines and keens, hoping the burning ache in his cock will end. He's an animal hunting for pleasure

Feral breeding

Werewolf x fem!reader || knotting, breeding, (lowkey) heat, overstimulation

Were you thinking you’d be getting dicked down and bred when you walked out of your house to go on a first date with a werewolf? No. Are you happy about it? Of course. Who would be idiotic enough to complain when your knees are at your ears and there’s an eager werewolf licking your pussy to get you ready for his huge monster cock? Not you. You are grateful.

The werewolf in question appeared at your house around two hours ago, and he looked very handsome, very hot. Even hotter than in the app pics, if that was even possible. His furry body and body builder frame caging you in for a hug the second he crossed the threshold. You reciprocated with a giggle, and your whole body went pliant the second his claws grabbed your hips and he growled against your neck.

The short “mine” whispered against your skin was a surprise, but everyone knew about werewolves finding their fated mate through scent alone. That’s how you discovered humans could be werewolf mates. For the rest… That’s all on him and his magical werewolf dick.

He ripped your nice clothes off your body while you gasped for air, his pheromones swimming in the air, making it dense and transforming your pussy into a waterfall. You’ve never been that wet, and the second he smelled it in the air, it’s like his whole body tensed and released a second later. Released on you.

The werewolf pushed you to the ground, opening your legs and pushing them back until he could fit between them, his tongue leveled with your pussy before he started eating you out like you were his last meal and he was about to die. You could only hold on for dear life as he kept licking and sucking and getting you wetter than the fucking ocean.

By the time he pulled back, you were almost crying in desperation to come. But he only grunted something about coming on his cock, and you were too far gone to even try to argue. Why would you? You needed him inside of you, too.

His preparations paid off the second he pressed his dick against your opening, pushing in one hard thrust that you felt from your tiptoes to the last hair of your head. It was like his dick was magic and he could fuck every cell of your body at once.

Your orgasm was ripped off you, pulled from your body by an otherworldly force that left you gasping while his dick fucked you rough and raw. Right there. On the ground.

“You want my knot? You want to be knotted like a good little pet?” He growled against your neck, his fangs threatening against your jugular while you whined a short agreement, your brain too far gone to consider anything but the pleasure he was giving you.

And that’s how you find yourself being knotted and bred to his heart’s content. “Your pussy. Fuck. Your pussy is so good. It’s strangling my knot. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He keeps chanting curses while you try to focus for a second, trying to remember what year it is, but your brain is still fried. “You feel so good. Your pussy is perfect. You are going to be so pretty when you are full of pups. You are going to look perfect. All full of me. All mine.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him you are on the pill, but his words are building something new inside of you. You’ve never come twice with a partner. It’s more likely that you don’t come at all, but right now, with the combination of his knot pressing against your G-spot and his words, you feel the telltale sign of a new orgasm approaching.

You try to reach out to touch your clit, but he bats your hand away. “You come on my knot or you don’t come at all,” he growls.

You shiver at the dominance in his tone, blinking slowly and crying out when he starts to move his hips in a circular motion. He’s rubbing your G-spot so well you can see bright spots at the corner of your vision. You are pretty sure he’s about to make you come just from that… You can feel it. It’s so close… You are so close.

“I need… I need…” You try to tell him, but your voice breaks when he pushes your legs further up, your knees to your ears.

The change of positions makes his knot feel even bigger inside of you. He’s pressing onto something much deeper than your G-spot, your whole body electrified when he ruts against your ass.

The sparks of pleasure are so high and so intense your next orgasm hits you like a train to the chest. You don’t scream. You only open your mouth and close your eyes as a wave of blinding pleasure washes over you. He groans, rutting harder, making your orgasm longer, filling you more and more until you don’t know where he ends and you’re begging. His dick is so deep it’s bruising your cervix, his come overflowing…

You pass out, still impaled.

[monstersflashlight]

To kill a king, to fuck a dragon (Day 8/8 of 10k followers event)

A/N: Hi there people! I’m so, so glad that all of you took time to read all the stories I post, especially these past 8 stories that had been super exploratory for me. I think I did good enough, at least y’all seemed to like it. For this last one I added a bit more plot than usual, this is a tiny bit longer and I think the story is really good. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. Also, and once again, I want to thank ALL OF YOU for following this little corner of the internet and being so supportive and great, special thanks to all my patrons to make my life a little bit easier <3, this has been a blast so far and I hop y’all keep reading, hopefully this account is just the beginning of a much longer exploration of monsterfuckery for us all. (PS: If someone catches the very subtle Grey’s anatomy reference please let me know so we can be friends)

Dragon x fem!reader || size kink, slow-burn (kinda), sex with feelings, magic saliva, spit on pussy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation || tw: mentions of murder

You enter the cave and are surprised to find a door, a normal human door caved into the rock. It looks like a house, a house on the rock, but still normal. What the fuck? Your hopes and dreams of finding the dragon slowly disappear, your eyes teary.

Someone chooses that moment to speak behind you: “Who are you?” You turn around so fast you fall to the ground with a scream. The stranger looks at you like you are a bug he needs to squeeze, and you feel a tear running down your cheek. Fuck. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry even if there wasn’t a dragon. “Again: who are you?” His tone is harsh and you want to cry even more, but you bit your tongue.

“I- I came to find the dragon,” you confess, swallowing around the knot in your throat.

He looks at you like you are a joke, not even trying to help you to your feet. “What dragon?” He asks, his tone amused.

You get up and look at him, trying to look as serious as you can when you say: “They- They told me there was a dragon here.” You fail.

He chuckles, inspecting you up and down, his eyes zeroing on the few tears that escaped your eyes. “No dragons, just me,” he finally answers, his tone a lot softer than before.

“Uh-oh… Sorry. I’ll be on my way, then.” You try to get pass him, sniffling as you do so, trying really hard to get out before you start sobbing.

He sighs, and adds: “do you want some tea?” He offers you his hand, and weirdly enough, you don’t feel threatened or scared, you feel calm around him.

“Really?” You don’t want to sound too hopeful but you are thirsty and tired and you want to cry because there is no dragon and you basically lost hope of everything.

“Yeah, come on.” He motions you to follow him inside the rock house, and you are surprised about how cozy and homey it feels inside, like out of a fairy-tale kind of thing.

He makes some tea as you lean against the door frame of the kitchen, trying to look around as much as possible without looking too snoopy about it. Not that he seems to care that you are curious about everything, he just looks at you every once in a while like making sure you are still there.

“Why were you looking for a dragon?” He asks when he sets the tea cup on the table in front of you. A similar one in front of him. You sit and start sipping on the best tea you’ve ever had.

You sip the tea for a couple seconds, trying to decide if you can trust him, at the end you decide why not, your life is already ruined. “To kill the king,” you say. He chokes on the tea he’s drinking, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from giggling.

“What?” He asks again when he recovers, his face red from the coughing.

“To kill the king,” you repeat. He still looks stunned so you give him more context: “I- I was bought when I was in the womb. My parents promised me to him in exchange for gold, and the day we marry is approaching. I don’t want to do it, he’s a foul man, and I didn’t choose this. I overheard some servants talking about the dragon in the mountains, and I though… I thought they would help me.” You try not to sound too bitter about it, but you can’t keep the despair out of your voice.

He looks at you like you are suddenly the most interesting specimen of a bug. “You escaped the castle and came here?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully. There was a lot more implied in that simple question. You escaped, but not only that, they are probably looking for you and the king would probably kill those guards you ran away from. You try not to be too sad about them, they were cruel with you, laughing at you every time you passed, talking about how the king got a new hot wife.

“Are they still looking for you?” He asks, a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

“Probably.” It’s the truth but it still carries a lot of pressure as you say it. You understand though, you know it’s not his problem and you shouldn’t even be there. You’d find another way to escape the king. “I’ll be out of your hair, I promise. You didn’t sing up for any of this.” You realize the sun is setting in the horizon and you don’t know if you could find your way back to the village. Fuck. “I need to go. The village is a long journey from here,” you try not to sound scared, but an edge of fear permeates your voice.

He surprises you by saying: “Stay. I have a guest bedroom and there’s no way you could get back to the village if it’s this dark.”

You want to say no, to refuse, that’s improper, but the idea of going back to that golden prison is enough to make you say: “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” It’s a promise you do to him, but also to yourself. That man showed you more caress that anyone in your life, and you didn’t want to cause him unnecessary trouble. You’ll leave in the morning.

Problem is… You never do.

The next day he prepares breakfast, and insists on showing you around his house. It’s so beautiful you are mesmerized. His garden especially. It’s so colorful and big and calm…. You feel an instant connection to the earth, and to him. He’s so easy to be around, he treats you so differently like what you are used to. And you like it. You like it so much that you get distracted until the sun is setting once again. And he never tells you to leave.

And days pass. One day turns into another, and you… never leave. You know someday they will come back for you. You know you can’t run away from your problems. But right there, in the side of the mountain with that nice man that took you in… It feels possible to run away. It feels possible to avoid the awful destiny that was set for you before you were even born.

He teaches you to cook, to take care of plants, to polish wood… He’s like a handyman that can do all, and you are his new apprentice, even though he insists on doing all the heavy lifting. But on top of that, he just… amazing. He takes care of you, but also you two argue about stupid stuff until you are red faced and you want to hit him, just to end up laughing when he tells you a stupid joke. You have the most fun you had in ages with him.

Until one day all shifts (pun intended).

You are laying around under the tree as he does some gardening. He wouldn’t let you near the roses in case you got hurt. “I have something to tell you,” he breaks the silence.

“What?” You ask, looking directly at him, a spark of something unknown raising inside of you, like bugs in your stomach, crawling around every time you set your eyes on him, on his beautiful smile.

He looks at you intently and says the most ominous thing: “I- I think it’s better if I show you, actually.”

“Show me what? Why do you sound so serious?” You try to joke, but it doesn’t land because he still looks at you with a poker face.

He looks worried, apprehension settling on his features. “Just… Wait until I’m done to say anything, please?” His tone is more than pleading, is more like he’s begging you to understand, and you don’t know what could possibly be so bad.

“Okay…” You tell him, anxiety spiking.

And then he turns. Literally. His body contorts and cracks, and there’s a bunch of things happening at once, and before you realize, there’s a dragon in front of you. A full on real dragon. What? He’s majestic, as big as a house and skin covered in the most precious scales. He looks like a work of art… you are mesmerized.

“You said there was no dragon!” It’s the first thing out of your mouth, an edge of hysterics creeping in your tone.

You laugh then. You laugh so hard and so much you have tears rolling down your eyes. He changes back, and tries really hard to cover his manhood with his hands, failing and making you laugh even harder.

“You are a dragon,” you say when your laughter dies down.

“I am,” he says simply, approaching you slowly until he’s right in front of you. “And I will kill the king for you,” he adds.

There’s no point in asking why he didn’t tell you sooner, you understand why. Why would he? Why would he trust his deepest secret to you? But him showing you now? It meant more than the world, it made you forget about everything and anything chasing you down. It makes you happy. He makes you happy.

“No. I don’t care about the king. I just… I love you. I think what I feel is love, I never felt like this before.” You tell him, heat creeping up your cheeks. He looks at you like he’s surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that at all. “Do you feel it, too?” You ask shyly, your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat faster and faster.

“Ye- yes. I love you, too.” His confession is followed by his hands cupping your face, so soft and tender, you feel a tear running down your cheek as he kisses you for the first time.

You should have known better than to think your life could be so perfect.

You don’t hear them before you are captured. At least four soldiers appear at the edge of the garden and catch you before you can scream. You think about him, about your dragon, and lament how confused he will be when he returns and you aren’t there. You worry he would think you abandoned him… But you can’t do anything as they take you away from the only place you felt like home.

They don’t even wait a whole day before they are dressing you and pampering you in the best silks and makeups. Nobody says anything as you silently cry during all the process. The servants looking worried but not arguing with anyone, three guards at the door of every chamber you enter.

You are caged once again.

You walk to the aisle in between a crowded place full of people who don’t like you, nor the king for the matter. They just want to appraise his old self to gain some benefits, the same as your parents did even before you were born. He looks like a nightmare standing in front of the altar, and you want to run, to run far away, back into your dragon’s arms. But you can’t, guards all around the open garden the ceremony is taking place in. You stand before your soon to be husband and have to swallow back the tears and bile, his rancid smell hitting you like a brick.

The minister starts speaking about love and marriage, and you cry during all his speech. You dream of being far away from there, as far away as possible. Or at least as close to your dragon as you could.

When you hear the people mumbling around you, you turn around, a shadow obscuring the sun. You look at the sky and sigh, so happy to see him you could cry. Maybe you would cry if you weren’t so shocked that he actually showed up.

He roars as he lands, people running in all directions, hiding in every possible place. “YOU STOLE FROM ME!” He growls, breathing fire to the sky and making people cry out in fear. You look at him in all his glory, fascinated by every inch of his skin.

“We- we saved the queen to be,” the guard’s words are short lived as your dragon looks at him and breathes fire right over his body, instantly burning him to the ground. There’s a chorus of screams and cries again, and you have to bite your tongue to stop from smiling.

“She’s not yours! SHE’S MINE!” You shiver at his words, feeling them so deep inside you think you might combust, butterflies dancing inside your stomach once again.

“You can’t take her! I bought her,” the king’s words don’t help his case at all, your dragon roaring and launching for him.

It all happens so fast, one second he’s there, and the next one the king’s head is rolling onto the ground as everyone screams and runs away. You are shocked to the core, but he doesn’t let you wallow in that. He picks you up and takes flight. You realize he’s being very careful not to pickle you with his claws. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but soon enough you are in a place you know, a place that brings you memories of joy and love… The garden.

As soon as he sets you down, he orders you to: “Go inside.” His tone is harsh, almost a growl.

“No,” you answer, not recoiling, not moving. You approach him more, your hand softly caressing the scales of his chest.

He roars over your head, trying to scare you away: “Go inside, I’m not in my right mind right now, I can’t answer for my actions.” You aren’t scared of him, though. He saved you from your most fearsome nightmare, he’s just the big monster you are in love with.

“No,” you repeat, a big smile playing on your lips when you look up at him.

“Come on, princess… Please.” Him begging in that form does something to you, such a big and scary creature asking you to go inside so he can protect you from himself… You are more sure than anything that you are safe. Safer than you’d be with anyone else. Human or monster.

“No. I want you. I love you.” Your words finally go through him, making his big body shiver, you feel it under your hands, a big shake that leaves you breathless. “Take me, my dragon.” You know adding that isn’t necessary, but you are more than ready to be a bride, to be his bride.

“Don’t joke around,” he growls, grabbing your body with his big clawed hand and positioning you to look straight into his yes, his big dragon head so beautiful you have to reach out and touch him. He scrunches his nose, making you giggle.

“Make me fully yours,” you say again.

His responding growl is so loud it makes the earth vibrate under your feet. You shiver in anticipation. He tears your wedding dress of your body, wrapping his wings around you to create a bubble, so you won’t feel a single spark of cold in your human skin.

Your wedding dress is torn off your body as he launches for your body, your naked form shivering at the cold temperature around you, but he solves that easily. He wraps his wings around your body getting you close to his much warmer scaled body. You sigh happily.

He lets you down onto the ground and you look up at him, completely vulnerable. “Fuck me. Claim me. Love me.” You lower yourself to the ground, your upper body to the ground, your ass up. You know what you must look like: an offering, a sacrifice. And you are okay with that. You are okay being his.

“You sure?” He asks again, always the gentleman, always worried about you. You are more sure of this that you were about anything else ever.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant as his claw proves your entrance. You look around in time to see him biting on his fingers, two seconds later he’s claw-less and his now not-dangerous fingers enter you. You cry out and bury your face on the mossy ground, his chuckle making you flush all over.

He plays with your pussy for what feels like an eternity, making you come twice before he starts stretching you fully. He gets to three fingers, way bigger than anything you tried before, and you can’t stop moaning.

You come again as he spits on your pussy, the sensation so filthy and so good you scream and fall over the edge again. You feel tingly all over after that, your pussy relenting under his ministrations and somehow widening further, accommodating one more of his fingers. “My saliva has magic in it,” he explains, his tone amused as he keeps finger fucking you. You don’t know if you can come again, you didn’t even know that much pleasure was possible.

“Come on, come on, please,” doesn’t matter how much you beg, he doesn’t relent.

He starts scissoring his big fingers inside of you, stretching you impossibly wide, and you squirm under him, a pleasure so big you don’t know how to deal with it, your body pliant under his actions, your brain completely void of thoughts. And then he stops and you curse him so loud he starts to laugh, moving your body and making you squirm under him. He grabs your hips to stop you from moving and you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He enters you slowly, so slowly. You want to scream, but your brain is frozen with the over-sensitivity of his dick inside of you. He can’t fit inside, there’s no way, he’s probably just aiming for a third of his length, but right now, with just the tip inside, you feel like you are about to burst. You reach down and rub your clit, unlocking something inside of you and crying out so loudly he roars as your orgasm makes your pussy constrict around him. He pushes in a bit more, and you keep coming.

From that point on, it’s all a blur of sensations and emotions, so much pleasure you are blind to the world around you. His dick is barely inside, but it seems to be enough for him, and more than enough for you. You feel like he’s going to split you in two in the most amazing way. He feels so big inside of you that you think you might die if he keeps rubbing against all your special spots at once. And if you do… You’d die happy.

“Take me. Take all of me,” that’s all the heads up you get before he’s filling you, one last thrust inside before his hot seed floods your insides. It propels you over the edge one last time, the world fading into blackness.

You pass out.

When you come back to your senses, you are laying on a bed and there’s a warm body behind you. You sigh happily as he kisses your forehead and makes sure you are comfortable and warm. You feel such intense love for him in that moment, that you have to turn around and try how well it would feel to fit his human dick inside of you (this time all of him).

He feels perfect.

[luvzayne]

you invited sylus as a plus one to your friend’s wedding, and sylus, finding it as an opportunity to be presented as your arm candy, accepted it without further hesitation. 

the wedding was beautiful. sylus hands you a handkerchief while you teared up witnessing your friend recite her vows, feeling emotional as you can hear the raw emotion of love seep into her words. 

you loved love, and you loved seeing your friends experience love with their partners, you knew they deserved. 

the reception came, it was no less beautiful than the wedding, and sylus could already see the way your gaze fixates on the decor, how your eyes linger on the color palettes and tableware. 

he didn’t need his aether core to know that you were already imagining your own wedding. 

in the middle of the reception, you stood up as the women in the venue gathered in the middle, the bride turning her back on the crowd as the gentleman watched from the sidelines.

it was time for the infamous bouquet toss. 

sylus stands to the side, a relaxed smile on his face as he watches you stand by the side, not really drawing much attention to yourself. 

you were giggling with the other guests and bridesmaids, pointing playfully at each other, as if predicting who was most likely to get the bouquet. 

a countdown was held. the bride tossed it behind her shoulder, you and the crowd jumped to reach out for the bouquet. 

only for the bouquet to awkwardly dangle on the chandelier as it got stuck. 

sylus sees as you immediately step to the side, letting the guests jump and grab at the bouquet that was hanging by the ribbon. 

you met sylus’ eye, and smiled. 

you gave him a shrug; you were not about to fight over a bouquet. your pride wouldn’t let you. 

sylus, however had another idea. 

he places the wine glass he sported on the table behind him before he casually walks to where you stood. 

a yelp escapes your lips. you find your butt resting on sylus’s shoulder as he hoists you up, giving you a needed height boost. 

the women were left shocked as he walked towards the chandelier, you immediately got the hint as you reached for the dangling bouquet with no difficulty. 

he smirks, setting you down, planting a kiss on your temple before he steps back to where the other men watched with their jaws dropped. you couldn’t help the flustered giggle that leaves your lips as the women swarm over you, slapping your arm playfully while they whisper about your boyfriend. 

turns out, you weren’t the only one imagining a wedding in your head. truthfully, sylus was already planning to propose whether or not you won the bouquet toss.

though, getting the blessing of tradition was definitely a welcomed plus.  

inspired by that one tiktok i saw that went exactly like this <3 (just the reception bit)

[vals-lente]

At the aquarium, you get a darling old lady on the phone.

"Hello! Would you mind coming to take a look at the fish in my pond? He's been living with me for years now but he's gotten rather big, you see. I don't think I can feed him anymore."

You want to redirect her to a number for pet services, but she laughs.

"Oh, by fish I mean a merman! Yes, yes. He does have a human half. I just forget sometimes."

You write her address down and prepare to swing by to see exactly what she's dealing with. She greets you with a big glass of icy lemonade, and you exchange some small talk in the kitchen before she takes you to the backyard.

"My husband Ed and I practically raised him, you see. Ed is gone now, and I'm getting a little too old to manage," she says, hobbling down the creaky back steps.

She leads you to the pond. It's not that the pond is small, it's that the merman is huge. You stop short. The old lady laughs and clucks her tongue.

"Look at you, Penny! Having a nice little bask in the sun, eh?"

'Penny' rolls over lazily and opens his eyes, his slick scales shining in the sunlight. Each scale is edged with a rusty red. To the untrained eye, it looks like he's missing a couple of scales here and there, but you know that those spots are where the blood glands are. He's a rare breed of river mer with the ability to secrete acid blood, which wards off predators.

You stifle a gasp when the old lady goes right up to him, bending on her creaky knees to give him a good scritch on the tail, cooing at him like he's an adorable puppy, not a fifteen-foot-long death sentence. At any moment, he could start secreting blood that would strip her hands to the bone. You can tell she's been handling him like this for years, though, and for whatever reason, this normally elusive breed is perfectly content to inhabit a tiny pond and tolerate this human.

"So, what have you been feeding him?" You ask quietly, keeping your distance so as not to startle the mer.

"Mostly chicken breasts and beef mince," she says, pushing the mer's shaggy hair out of his eyes. "But he likes yoghurt cups too! He gets one every now and then for dessert. Cranberry is his favorite flavor."

Goodness. You feel your eyelid twitch. You really don't know what to say. "I see."

"So, do you think you could take him? I might be moving in with my daughter soon, and there'll be no one to take care of him," she says.

"Yes, we'll take him," you say, feeling for the tranquilizer in your pocket.

"Come here and let him smell you," she says. "That way he won't be scared."

"Uh... I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Oh, he's harmless!" She coos. "Aren't you, Penny?"

He coos back at her, rubbing his cheek against her palm and turning his vibrant green eyes in your direction. You take a few steps closer, carefully watching to make sure he isn't going to start spraying blood everywhere. Once you're as close as you dare, you crouch down and hold your hand out.

"Hi," you say softly.

He hauls himself over the lawn to get to you, his tail weaving through the overgrown grass like a snake. He curls around you in a way that suggests he's curious but not scared. You hold very still as he leans in and rubs his cheek against yours. He smells of mud and a trace of yoghurt, disturbingly enough. After a moment, he decides you're alright and piles into your lap to demand that you pet him as well. You take the opportunity to tranquilize him, using years of experience–and a bit of numbing cream–to make sure he doesn't even notice the needle going in. He puddles in your lap, falling asleep almost immediately, his face pressed into your stomach. You call for backup.

"Hey," you say to your coworker on the phone. "You'll never believe what kind of mer I've found."

@vals-lente

[bumpen-underbeds]

One of the little ones in your class is adamant you are going to be their new parent.

At first it was cute, the excitement they had as they presented you with a drawing of you, them and their parents all together, but soon they began telling everyone that you were going to be their new parent, even starting small fights to the point of bitting, with other kids when they would disagree with the idea of you being their parent.

While the little one is a Naga and their bite has no venom behind it right now, bitting other students is not acceptable.

Which is how you ended up here, sitting with the child in question and their parents after school, looking at the Naga couple and explaining that their child is lovely but has fixated on the idea of you being part of their relationship, to the point of bitting and getting physically involved with the other children. Gently encouraging them to explain to their child that while you definitely care about their wellbeing and education, you're not a part of their family unit as a whole. Only, once you're done speaking and leave the air open for them to respond they look almost curious, tilting their heads and flicking their tongues before sending their little one to go play in the back of the classroom.

The sound of toys and whatever childish story the little one was playing out filled the background of the classroom, a few more moments passed before the mother spoke up, almost like she was afraid you would bolt at her words, telling you that they won't be telling their little one to do any of that and that they were in this meeting for a very different reason.

You'd thought you got along quite well with this particular pair, even having been given a rather stunning bracelet from them for your birthday last year, but the atmosphere now feels serious, tense, almost expectant.

Placed on your desk is a mid term transfer request, they wanted to change their little one to another teacher, before you can speak the father is cutting you off. He explains slowly that it wouldn't be good for you if you continued to be their childs teacher, and to avoid accusations of favouritism they were going to transfer them out to a new class, smiling at his mate before looking back at you with a similar fond look.

"It's been almost a year since you took our courting token, and we thought it was high time to begin truly acting as mates."

The gold bangle on your wrist feels heavier with every word and soft look the two of them give you.

[bumpen-underbeds]

He had once been a treasured prince, adored for his looks and grace. Portraits and statues were made in his image. The height of looks and beauty was his to claim but that vanity, that call to glory, was his curses beginning. One wrong step, one missed-timed word, and it was stripped from him, found writhing in his bed as his body was buried with a curse meant to teach him that even beautiful things fade.

The moment the pain subsided, and he could face the world again, he wished the curse had simply killed him.

Looking at the polished wall of mirrors that were once so beloved by him, he wanted nothing more than to smash them, shatter the silver-backed glass and forbid any new ones from being installed as he looked at what had been done to him. The once long, strong legs had been changed, transfigured into a long violet mess of scales and patterns in gold banding, the perfectly kept nails now nothing more than talons scratching deep grooves into the hardwood of his floor, his hair had faded white making the scattered scales across his face and chest all the more prominent.

He had become a monster, opening his mouth to wail, to scream and bemoan this change he saw the fangs that had grown in. Sharp, long, terrifying things that made him sob at the sight of them, cries wracking his body as he slumped on the ground, maids too scared of the noise to open the doors to his rooms.

By the time the servants managed to check up on him, he had fled, making a long-gone but clumsy escape into the wilds around the castle he once called home. Messily sliding between trees and hissing as his new body bumped against things in ways he never had, he was too long now, less graceful and smooth, he was gangly and odd in all the wrong ways.

By the time news spread to all corners of the kingdom that the beloved prince was gone, it had been months, the shine in his hair gone, scales filthy, and his demeanour broken from the glorious figure he once was.

That's how you met him, your little home by the lake in the far corner of the kingdom, scrubbing the sheets you'd used for the last month before hanging them out and spotting the purple curl of a tail near the lakeside, carefully you approach, keeping a good amount of distance as you spot the strange monster laying by the water trying to wash his hair but sobbing as no matter how they scrub it won't clean back to what you think is white.

It's awkward how you speak up and offer the creature some soap for its hair, jolting when it looks up at you with deep brown eyes and a sad little pout on its face, sniffling when it slithers towards you, their hair dripping across his chest and back as it softly asks if you would wash his hair.

Nodding slowly, you ask them to wait there, coming back with your soap and a comb, you gesture to the water and have them get into a more comfortable position as you untangle their hair and wash out the grease that had built up. Once you're done they follow you back towards your home, offering a towel to them only to watch as they stare blankly at the cloth, before hanging their head and asking if you would help some more.

For what you had assumed was a potentially horrifying monster, he was a little pathetic, sniffling as you dried his hair and combed out the knots that had formed. Sighing as you found one you couldn't untangle, asking if he would like a small trim, taking the short nod he gives you and leaving him for a moment before coming back and trimming away a good bit of length and knots.

By the time you were done and had tied his hair off into a braid, the snake monster? Naga? Was crying, sniffling and wiping tears as they thanked you for being kind to a monster like them.

Before you can say anything more, they are slithering off into the forest around your home, leaving you with a comb and a mess of knotted white hair on the ground by your door. Sighing you kick it into the grass, hoping a bird will come and steal the mess of threads for a pretty nest, shaking your head before heading back to finish your laundry.

Perhaps you will see the snake creature again soon, maybe even get more than sad noises and sobs from the large man.

[bumpen-underbeds]

More needy naga prince pleaseee!!! I wanna pamper him soooo bad, he seems like he'd be such a boyfailure now! His servants probably did everything for him. Since we helped with his hair, I wonder if he'd let us bathe him! If he's left alone to do it, I feel like he'd try to scrub his body raw because he's disgusted by his scales and he hopes they'll magically come off.

Well anon, you'd be correct!

He is now a certified boy failure, a soggy man, guaranteed crybaby!

-

The strange Naga had come back a few weeks ago, soiled and muddy, simpering by your door as if it wasn't some great threat to any human not capable of wielding a sword. You'd thought it was a cat or wild dog from how it had scratched at your door, whimpering till you open the door, and the large snake man drooped, looking you in the eye for a moment before staring at the floor as they ask for your help, their body too large and unwieldy to wash on their own.

Sighing, you agree and gesture to the large tub you had acquired for washing sheets outside the lake, grabbing some buckets, you hand one to him and make him help you fill the tub.

Putting a pot on to boil after you told him to get into the water, only to come outside with the heated water and find him half coiled in the dirt, pouting as he mumbled about the water being cold. You dump the hot water and watch as steam rises a little before grunting for the snake to get in, already.

Grabbing your step stool, you settle yourself next to the tub and grimace as the water turns an ugly mottled grey not long after the Naga had managed to slide in. Sighing and undoing the horribly messy braid from when you had last seen him, you chide the snake monster and ask if his parents never taught him how to take care of himself, or if it was just a Naga thing to get this filthy.

You miss the flinch when you call him a Naga openly.

Shaking your head when he tells you his parents never showed him any of this, you tell him that they were not the greatest parents then. Helping him by washing his hair again, while you tell him to wipe and scrub the dirt from his tail, only to stop him once you spot how harshly he is scrubbing at his tail.

You pull the cloth from his hands and tell him to hold still, rubbing the last of the wash into his hair before tying it up again, you pull the plug on the tub and watch the water drain out, glaring at him softly and telling him to stay put as you double carry new buckets full of water to the tub and refill it with clean water to about half way.

Putting some on to boil again, as you take over scrubbing his tail, climbing into the tub and standing as best you can as you gently clean his scales, making sure to have him watch as you do. Once you're sure he will be gentle, you climb out of the tub, drying your legs and grabbing the hot water, slowly introducing it before going back to your step stool to finish cleaning his hair.

The entire ordeal takes far longer than you expected, and by the time you are done, you feel like you need your own bath. Getting the large snake monster back out of the tub, you admire the scales and patterns that cover the lower half of its body, nodding with satisfaction as you note the lovely purple and the soft white that have returned to its hair.

Unlike last time, he doesn't flee into the forest the moment you're done; instead, he follows you to your door, letting out little noises that almost sound like whines as you step inside, looking over your shoulder and tilting your head. He stares at the fireplace you had going this whole time, weakly asking if he can warm up by it, looking as pathetic as he had when he first appeared near your home.

Sighing, you agree and let him in, watching as he tries to coil up by the fire, but it looks somewhat wrong. It would be uncomfortable, and a few moments after he had settled, he shifted again, sitting in your armchair. You watched him, confused but intrigued, as he coiled and uncoiled over and over again until he got it right.

What a strange Naga....

[bumpen-underbeds]

Your new, unwilling, housemate is cute at times, others just plain odd.

The white haired Naga had claimed the rug in front of the fireplace as his own, coiling up on himself there every evening after following you around your homestead during the day, a few times now have offered to see about getting something nicer than the carpet made for him to sleep on or perhaps even heating some stones for him for over night, as your little cottage isn't the warmest during the wet seasons, but he declines, almost like he's ashamed to ask for more from you.

Eating with him is strange as well, you'd offer him raw meat on the occasion you had it, only to watch him recoil and gag at the sight of it. It's strange how different he is to the stories of Naga that you know, he almost seems to covet the baked vegetables you have, fire roasted potatoes and carrots being the main ones but he also devours anything else you cook on a good day, simpering and whining for cooked meat when you have them and are finished with your portion.

He truly is an odd creature, an enigma of a snake monster, almost sheltered in a way you can't explain.

Currently he is hiding his face in his hands, the flush of his cheeks visible on pointed ears as he coils up by your bed. It was was wash day, meaning you're standing naked with sheets and clothes bundled up under one arm and a bucket with soap and the wash board held in your free hand, he shrieked when you first began stripping down, clearly he had never been around humans before if this is his reaction to one of the most common monthly activities. When you reach across him to grab the last of the laundry, he lets out a pathetic little whimpering hiss, it's almost cute how he peaks between his fingers before hiding his face again.

Leaving the strange Naga in the cottage, you head out to the tub to get everything ready for the day.

Unlike the nobles you didn't have fancy oils and the like to make your sheets smell nice for longer, so you simply had to do all the big washing at once. Cleaning the laundry and then yourself, making a day of it and getting the most out of the soap you did have, the stuff was expensive after all.

Hauling water into the tub you hardly notice when your neighbour comes round and drops off your firewood for the month, she nods at your tub and comments that it's wash day back on the farm as well, her husband had already been at it for most of the morning. You wave her off and remind her that you'll be round the next day with her payment, grunting as you dump another bucket of water into the tub, expecting her gone but instead she tells you the capital is all in a huff, apparently the prince had gone missing and the knights are being dispatched to every corner to find him.

You look at her confused before shrugging, saying that you hope they find him soon, knights aren't good for people like them round here after all.

By the time she's gone your tub has enough cool water in it to do the smaller items, taking your boiling pail you fill it and set it on the outdoor fire you have going, pretending to ignore the eyes watching you from the doorway as you continue about your tasks. Washing and hanging your clothes you fall into the rhythm you'd learnt long ago, only stopping to top up the water or introduce just enough hot water that stubborn stains come out, emptying the used water onto the barren patch near the tree line occasionally.

Once all the clothes and sheets are hung to dry, it's time to see about a proper wash for yourself and likely the Naga as well...

Thinking of the last time he washed, you head back to the cottage and throw open the door, finding him still flushed and embarrassed as you stand naked grabbing at him as you tell him it's wash time and he needs a proper clean again. Remarking to him that he never wears clothes and you don't care, the stunned silence that follows is used to drag him out and towards the tub as best you can, the large snake monster heavier now after eating better with you.

Once he's in the tub you're undoing the braid and starting to wet his hair for washing, his ears are bright pink as he mutters something, making him repeat himself before laughing brightly at his embarrassed hiss of 'YOUR CHESTS TOUCHING MY BACK!'

He really is such a strange Naga.

Original Drabble and Follow up ask

[calebsfavoriteusedthong]

When you accidentally send them a (p)🌽 link...

Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to 🌽 videos on X for visual examples on what was sent. 🔞 MDNI🔞

Sylus/Xavier/Rafayel/Zayne/Caleb

Yeah*sigh*I'm ovulating again. Enjoy 😝

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, you’re spiraling down a rabbit hole you didn't even know existed.

Size kink.

You’d 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 woman’s 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 you’re 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. You’re picturing his heavy weight pinning you down, his eyes blown wide, filling you until you can’t even scream.

You’re 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, you’re a puddle of limbs and heavy eyelids. You’re 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 😳"

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.

🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

“Come on, sweetie, don’t give up on me now" Thrust. The impact is heavy, forcing a breathless gasp from your lungs. “You can take it, can’t you?”

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 he’s buried himself inside you.

“You wanted this, now you have to take it and you are going to watch.”

And there it is. The reality of it. It’s visceral. It’s exactly what you saw in that video, but it’s a thousand times more intense because it’s him. It’s 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.

“I've been trying to behave,” he says, and the words come out rougher than he probably intended, an edge of frustration bleeding through his usual composure “But you make it so difficult... fuck... by sending me your filthy little thoughts.”

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.

“Can you feel me here?” he asks, breath coming in uneven bursts. He’s 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 he’s pushing too hard.

He’s 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 it’s 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. You’re sobbing his name or maybe you’re just gasping for air, you can’t 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 that’s 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."

He’s incredible, truly, but you’ve noticed the way he pulls back sometimes. When he’s brooding or when that possessive jealousy starts to prickle at him, he becomes almost too careful. Like he’s afraid he might actually break you if he lets go of that restraint.

So, naturally, you’ve been doing a little "research" to keep the inspiration alive.

Now, you’re sitting on the edge of your bathtub, scrolling through your feed, a habit that’s 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 🤤 " and set your phone down.

Buzz. Buzz.

A notification lights up the screen. It’s him.

[Xavier]: 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. He’s so predictable, yet so devastatingly charming when he wants to be. Your answer is an immediate "sure" because you’d 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.

He's so indecisive.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

"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 it’s 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 you’ve 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. It’s 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 Tara’s 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.

“Omg Tara, look at this. Raf’s cock is so pretty, I swear if he’d just let me do this to him, I’d never leave the bedroom again 🥵💦”

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.

It’s not a "LOL" or a "Damn" from Tara.

It’s a notification from Rafayel.

Rafayel: 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: Don't just sit there blushing, cutie. I'm coming to your place and you are going to show me exactly what you want"

🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You’ve 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.

You’re 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. 

Thump thump. Thump thump. 

"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 you’ve 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.

It’s 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 he’s 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.

He’s 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.

“Was that pretty enough for you, cutie?” 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 he’s constantly checking to make sure you haven't vanished into the night. "Or do we need to do it again?"

It’s late, way past the time Zayne would usually be nudging you to sleep but he’s 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 man’s 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 he’s buried in medical charts and just... fuck yourself stupid.

You want to reach down and touch yourself but you’re a loud sleeper and an even louder moaner. If you start now, there’s 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. It’s Simone. She’s 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... he’s 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. He’s actually working. He’s reviewing files, typing out notes, behaving as if you aren't currently trying to melt into his lap. Every so often, he’ll 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."

He’s being difficult. He’s 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. He’s still working, yes but he’s 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.

He’s 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. He’s trying to maintain that surgeon’s calm, but his body is betraying him with every shuddering breath you take.

You’re 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. It’s 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. It’s 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. It’s 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. It’s a girl, her lace panties completely drenched. The guy in the video isn't even taking them off, he’s 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 you’re melting into the cushions. God, you’ve been craving that. The teasing, the slow, agonizing buildup. You’ve 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: “I really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the start😢”

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. He’d 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. That’s the part that’s driving you absolutely insane. The delicate lace is currently soaked, clinging to your pussy like a second, translucent layer of skin. He’s been working his tongue against the fabric, licks so long and heavy they feel like they’re reaching deep inside you. You’ve 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.

“This is the reason I usually take off those pretty panties you wear” 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.

“Your scent is so fucking addictive,” he groans against your skin, “Especially after wearing them all day... knowing you've been walking around, smelling like this, just waiting for me.”

Then, he says something that makes your heart skip a beat not out of fear, but out of pure shock.

“You have no idea, do you?” he pants, nose brushing against your clit. “Last 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 you’ve 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.

“Please,” you whimper, the word sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “Baby, please...”

You’re trying to force him to go deeper. But he’s 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 he’s 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 he’s 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. There’s 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."

[bumpen-underbeds]

Nnmghh finding a small hidden camera in your bedroom one day after you set up LED strips, catching the glint of it high in your wall and just sitting and staring at it.

Only, the last person that was in your apartment was your nextdoor neighbour, an older gentleman, a bull hybrid you're pretty sure, what with his horns and bigger size than most of the bovine hybrids you've met. His hair is now more grey than the rusty red orange his beard was, he'd put on some weight in his older years, still plays some form of contact sport in his free time to keep him active, and has laugh lines that show with every smile he casts your way.

He offered to help hang some shelves in your room for you after he had heard some swearing, and dropped tools through the walls, you'd left him alone in your room as he helped put them up but you didn't think it was long enough to have put a camera in alongside the shelf.

Curious, you didn't think he was that kind of person, let alone interested in you like that...

The thought of him watching you through this little camera was weird but also kind of flattering in an unnerving kinda way. Shuffling back up your bed and pulling off the layers keeping his little camera from seeing everything, stifling a laugh when you hear something drop through the wall and what might be muffled curses as you roll over and arch your back, making sure the camera gets a good long look before you decide how your going to either cover it up or get it out of your room.

Now if only you knew about the other two cameras he put up the last time you let him in your apartment...

[zephyrchama]

A thin line of table salt adorned the floor in front of your bedroom. You stood behind it and stared at the demons outside of your doorway. They were staring at the salt.

Leviathan laughed. It reminded him of a low-level defense from a tower defense game. "Is that supposed to keep us out? lol."

"Yeah. I think it's working," you said.

Satan put a hand on his hip. As far as he could tell, it was plain old table salt. No magical properties whatsoever. "How so?"

"Well, none of you are crossing it. Clearly, it's having some kind of effect."

Mammon balked. "Obviously, it's because we're respectin' your privacy!" He stood closest to the line, wanting to cross it most of all.

"You're respecting my privacy by... standing right outside my door?"

Mammon opened his mouth to counter, only to come up with nothing. He stood there with his fists clenched. The feather on his belt swayed as he tapped a foot impatiently, causing the nearest salt to shift a little.

The noise annoyed Asmodeus. "Mammon, go walk through the salt."

"Why me!?"

"This is ridiculous." Lucifer crossed his arms. "Clean this up. I don't even want to know how this will damage the floors if you leave it."

"It's not even doing anything," Satan pointed out.

"If it's not doing anything, then one of you should cross it," you suggested.

"Why don't you come out to us?" Belphegor proposed. "There's only one of you, seems more fair."

"Yeah!" Asmodeus took a step away from the salt, careful not to get any on his shoes, and raised his hands. "You can run into my arms if you'd like. I'll be sure to catch you."

Their stubbornness astounded you. "Or... You guys can just admit you don't want to cross this salt."

"It's regular salt." Beelzebub knew exactly what the substance was as soon as he laid eyes on it. Plus, the smell was unmistakable. His claim was irrefutable.

"Yes, exactly. Thank you, Beel. I've seen you eat it many times." You had even taken the bag from the shared kitchen.

"Did you try walking over it?" Leviathan asked. "How are we supposed to cross it if you won't?"

"I don't need to. I'm in my room."

"You should come to our room," Belphegor offered. He was getting tired of standing around.

"Come out this instant," Lucifer ordered.

You thought about it for a whopping two seconds. "I think I'm good. I'll be in my room. If any of you need me, feel free to come in."

You retreated back inside with the rest of the half-empty salt bag. The brothers stared at you with a mix of impatience and disbelief until the wall blocked you from view.

[monstersholygrail]

Yandere!Brother’s Best Friend

Male Yandere x Fem!Reader ||

Your brothers best friend has been in love with you ever since you were kids. Silently pining for you and convinced you were creating coincidental run ins for years. What will happen when his car runs out of gas driving you back to campus and you two are stuck all alone?

Yandere!Brother’s Best Friend walks in to your home like it was his. It basically was given he’s been coming around since elementary school for sleepovers. He knows every inch and corner of this place like the back of his hand.

Some might call him an expert on everything to go with your family. But he’d argue he’s an expert on the only thing that matters. You. His best friend’s little sister.

Way back then he was what you’d look at as the trouble kid. Meanwhile your brother was the shiny teachers pet. So naturally their teacher pushed the two together. Thinking your brother might be a good influence or something.

Originally he didn’t plan on sticking around for long. He’d humor the teacher and play along with your parents but it didn’t mean anything. A way to waste time. But then he came over and you offered to share some of your fruit with him.

He’s kinda been gone for you ever since.

“What’re you still going here, freak? Waiting to see me?” He asks you cheekily as he passes you by on the couch from his way in. Reaching down he playfully ruffles your hair and laughs as you try to swat at him.

Just like every week you two go through the same motions. Every time he comes over to see your brother you’re always on the couch. Despite spending most of your time in your room he always finds you here when coming over at the same time every week.

Almost as if you’re waiting for him. At least that’s what he tells himself. Nothing else would make sense based off your college schedule that he’s now since memorized. Even with college courses and work you still somehow make time for him. You must feel the same way.

“You wish! I’m just waiting for my ride to take me back to campus, then I’ll be out of your hair,” you tease back ironically. But your response has his heart dropping into his stomach.

He just got here, you can’t go now. It’s been days since he last raw you, his own work schedule keeping him from dropping everything and following you around like a lovesickfool. He had to provide for you and spoil you somehow.

Leaning over the back of the couch he peers at your profile, noting the way you tense up and purposefully avoid meeting his gaze. Like you’re waiting for him to do something about it. Hoping he gives the reaction you might be craving.

“That’s such a waste when I’m already here. Call ‘em and cancel. I’ll drive you back,” he offers casually while on the inside he’s nearly buzzing out of his skin.

You resist the urge to look over and meet his eye, knowing his face would be way too close to yours if you did. Making it harder to resist him. The idea of him taking you home instead is an intriguing offer. One you can’t help but want to accept despite everything in your head telling you otherwise.

Peaking up at him through your lashes he looks as infuriatingly perfect as always. What you’re unable to see is the excitement coursing through his veins or the thrill of success thrumming in his chest. So you try to appear as nonchalant as he seems to be.

“Alright, fine, if you’re gonna be so pushy about it,” you respond like you couldn’t care if he does or doesn’t drive you back.

Not wanting to look too eager you force yourself to wait a few minutes before cancelling your ride. Because you’re not, obviously. You couldn’t care less.

And that decision somehow leads to you being stuck on the side of the roar at night after Yan!BBF ran out of gas halfway through the ride. Now you’re holding a flashlight from your dying phone onto his trunk as he rummages around trying to look for the can of gas he swore he kept in his car.

“We’re gonna have to call a service, I don’t have any gas in here and I don’t think there’s a station around for miles,” he explains, flashing you a sheepish smile from over his shoulder.

“I never would’ve been in this situation if I just went with my original ride,” you complain through a long groan as you turn your back to him. A shiver runs through your body as you fight the chill in the air, rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself.

Seriously, there’s no way you can even look at him right now. Yet from the corner of your eye you see him snap back up to full height and look over at your words.

“Sure, sure… would’ve been a lot less fun though,” he muses, his voice getting closer till it’s right against your ear. His words trying not to sound panicked at the thought of you preferring someone else.

“What the hell is fun about this?” You grumble, a pout playing on your lips. Feeling the warmth of his presence you subtly lean back into him.

In the blink of an eye Yan!BBF has you in the back seat, back arched, and rising his dick like your life depends on it. His girth plows through your slick velvety walls, molding your hole to the shape of him.

The wet slapping of bodies echos throughout the car and your panting breaths fog up the windows, giving you both a weak sense of privacy and an obvious explanation over what’s happening inside.

“How you likin’ THIS ride, babygirl?” He breathes out heavily, nails digging into your thighs, marking up your skin.

Using his hold he starts picking up the pace until you scream out in response. That annoying smirk of his plays on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The ecstasy is blinding as you guides you up and down his big dick, the force causing the car to rock with his thrusts. Every time he bottoms out inside you, you can feel his angry throbbing tip kiss at your cervix, pushing the barriers of your sex and stretching you out further than you thought possible.

Gasps tears at your chest from one sensation rocking through your frame and the next. You can’t keep up with his hands that are worshipping your body like it’s all he’s been waiting for.

Or his mouth as he sucks dark purple bruises along your throat and chest. Making sure that any college boy can see you’re clearly taken.

“Try and talk now, honey. There ain’t nothin’ to complain about here,” he growls against your throat.

Broken babbles jumble out of your mouth as you try to fight and talk back but nothing sensible comes out. A smirk curls at the corner of his mouth as he actually starts mocking you. Mirroring your hopeless attempts at managing words through your noises of pleasure.

You immediately whine, tears pricking at your eyes. You wish you could hit him where it hurts by sliding right off his lap and denying him going any further. But the idea of stopping right now may break you completely.

So you do all you can and clamp down hard, rhythmically moving in time with when you go up and down his length. His choked moan and the way his smile drops brings you a sense of great satisfaction.

“That’s right, keep milking me nice and good. I can take it,” he grits out even as his balls tighten with the need to cum. He’ll hold off for as long as he has to.

Reaching between your bodies he delivers the most cruel and glorious form of payback as he finds your clit and flicks the sensitive bean over and over in time with his thrusts. Your body lurches forward into his chest.

Dammit. You wanted to torture him a little longer but the brutal slapping of his hips against yours and the way he works your clit sends you crashing over the edge. You scream his name as you clench around him, your body shaking with the force of your release.

He follows right after you, burying himself to the hilt and finally letting go. Marking you full with his cum until it creates a thick white ring around where your bodies are joined.

From that night on it becomes routine for Yan!BFF to drive you the decent distance between school and your family home. Just as it became routine to stop halfway through to… fill up… on gas.

So that no accident like that first night ever happens again. And totally not so that he can pound your pussy into oblivion for hours on end, get his weekly fix of you, and mark you up enough so that everyone knows you’re fully claimed.